#we can be heroes fanfic

[psychedelic-ink]

SIL - I love your idea for challenging yourself. (You never fail to impress me with the risks you take!)

How about Marcus Moreno with amnesia trope and a royalty AU?

Love youuuuu ❤️

Cat!!! thank you so much for this one! I don't think I've ever written amnesia before, or a proper royalty au for that matter, and I really enjoyed writing this. Though, I technically Marcus isn't a royal in this but hopefully, you'll still like it! Honestly, I could see myself expanding this one into something longer 🥺❤️ also looking at Marcus gifs gives me pain because he's so dreamy look at his eyes ghhhhhh I'm gonna die

I LOVE YOU MOREEEE ❤️

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing: marcus moreno x fem!reader

genre: amnesia trope + royalty AU

word count: 878

summary: After surviving an attack that leaves you with no memory of her past and who you are, you, the princess, joins a group of rebels fighting against your own corrupt family's regime.

warnings: brief mention of blood

The wind is a blessing. It can carry on the smells from far off the lands, warn you of either danger or peace. You remember as a child you would constantly sniff the air. Your parents would warn you constantly, berating you and telling you it was rude to behave like a bloodhound. They didn’t understand you. No one in your family did. They didn’t understand that you could tell what was happening by what the wind carried. Be it the scent of blossoming flowers and sunshine or ash that sticks to your lungs. They didn’t understand. 

Now the wind caresses your skin. It’s gentle. Trying to wake you from your deep slumber. The soft blades of grass brush your arms. A faint chatter reaches your ears. You begin to stir, eyelids fluttering as you wake. You witness the blue sky, the fluffy white clouds moving lazily above. You slowly get up, a sharp pain lodged in your temple. You inhale a sharp breath. Touching where the pain blossoms, you lower your hand and see blood. You part your lips in a silent scream. 

You smell water, and turning your head you see a lake. The surface is decorated with delicate water lilies. You don’t admire their beauty and rush towards it on all fours. Your heart beating in your throat, you attempt to splash the wound with water. You hiss out in pain. 

The next splash of cool water is to your face. Water droplets smooth down your skin. You breathe heavily. With pinched eyebrows, you try to remember how you got here. Your gaze drops to your rippled reflection in the water. You’re wearing a green dress, emerald earrings dangling from your ears, and a pearl necklace decorating your throat. You touch the cool stones. They do little to relieve you. 

“Need help with that?” 

You jump as you turn around, the damp ground slipping from underneath you. The man is quick to take a wide step, taking a hold of your hand before you take a dip into the lake. Still holding you, he kneels down. His fingers are warm against your skin. 

“Good morning,” he says softly. Only then do you notice a small camp forming in the background, people scurrying about. Your eyes widen when you notice the influx of weaponry being carried around. Your eyes move back to him. He must’ve sensed your fear because he squeezes your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You were already here, unconscious, when we came.” 

“I…” you swallow and pull your hand back. “Did you kidnap me?” 

“What?” he snorts, looking aghast. “No, we didn’t kidnap you. “Don’t you…remember what happened to you?” 

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. Your head throbs painfully and instinctively you touch the wet wound again. “No,” you whisper. 

The moment hangs in the air, a weighty silence punctuated by the sound of wind and soft waves washing over the surface. Your hand sinks further into the soil, the waves threatening to pull you further in. This is the first time you actually take notice of what this man looks like. His hair is a tousled mess of short brown locks, with a softness that beckons you to run your fingers through it. The curves and lines of his jaw and chin are accented by the subtle shadow of his beard. His eyes, a deep brown hue, seem to dart back and forth between yours, searching for some hint or clue about your past. His eyes don’t look like one of a criminal’s. You relax. Your shoulders fall, and your heart rate returns to normal. 

“You must be a noble.” he suddenly says, more to himself than you. His eyes drop momentarily, either to your lisp or necklace, you can’t tell.  “You must be.” he mutters again. 

“I…I really don’t know.” 

“Do you remember your name?” 

You shake your head, lips pressed tightly together. He gives you an understanding look and momentarily past you, observing the surroundings that lay behind you. 

“My name is Marcus,” he says barely above a whisper. His gaze moves back to you, your pulse thrums loudly under your skin. “How about we call you Lily for now?” 

You nod, still silent. He smiles. “Alright then,” Marcus stands up and offers you his hand, you take it. You feel the scars and callouses that seem to map the inside of his palm. “Let's get that wound cleaned and we can try and find out who you are.” 

“Sure,” you answer, grimacing at how scratchy your voice sounds. Swallowing, you gesture to the camps. “What is all of this?” 

Some of the men give you odd looks and your steps slow. Marcus squeezes your hands two times, you inhale slowly and follow him. 

“It’s a bit scary looking isn’t it?” a low chuckle escapes his lips, leading you into one of the tents. “I think it’s best for you if you don’t know. For your own safety.” 

Only days later, your memory still lost to you, does Marcus reveal who they were. A small rebel group preparing for their fight against the throne. Liberating one town at a time. He tells you that you need to leave, find your family, they would be leaving soon and he offers to drop you off at the city. 

But you don’t leave. Instead, you join them without knowing it’s your own family you will be fighting against. 

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: The Instructor chapter 9, Shopping Spree

Chapter 1: Lesson One | Chapter 2: A Rash Decision | Chapter 3: Good Intentions | Chapter 4: Chicken Soup | Chapter 5: Knotted Strings | Chapter 6: Crossed Blades | Chapter 7: Christmas Party | Chapter 8: Lesson Two | Chapter 9: Shopping Spree

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: We Can Be Heroes

Relationship: Marcus Moreno/Original Female Character (Kate)

Chapter summary: Marcus continues to educate Kate about the joys of sex.

Chapter tags: Dom!Marcus is a goddamn tease, (her) masturbation.

“Marcus.”

“Kate.”

There is something a little awkward to meet at the entrance to the cafeteria only a few days after that Saturday. It doesn’t help that Marcus has a little mini-me with him.

His daughter. Kate immediately feels like the pretty little girl knows exactly what this strange woman has been doing with her father. The kid is eyeing her with interest, and Marcus realizes he needs to make introductions.

“It’s Bring Your Kids To Work Day. This is my daughter, Missy.” He puts his hand on Missy’s shoulder. “Querida, this is Kate Shannon, our trainer.”

“You’re the one who knows, like, martial arts, right?” the girl asks, clearly excited yet a little shy. Kate nods.

“I am.”

“Can you teach me?”

“It’s only for employees,” Marcus interjects. “And adults.”

The kid pouts, and Kate struggles to find something to say, having no idea what’s okay for a child this age.

“I know a great kung-fu school if you’re interested. Tell them Kate sent you, and you’ll get to try out for free, okay?” The way the girl’s eyes start to sparkle, Kate knows at least did right by the child, if not by the father. But Marcus doesn’t seem aghast at the suggestion that his daughter take up martial arts.

“Can I, dad?” Missy looks up at Marcus, who smiles at her.

“Sure, we’ll check it out.”

He then directs his warm smile at Kate. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Missy?”

“Thank you!” The gratitude, albeit prompted, is sincere and delivered with a huge smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kate nods, then gestures down the hall, ill at ease. “I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Missy. Marcus.”

Bring Your Kids To Work Day. Figures. If any of Kate’s clients bring their kids with them to practice, she’s going on strike.

Thankfully none of them do, and she goes through the rest of her workday without having to deal with anyone younger than 30. Marcus’ smile is stuck on her retina for hours after the encounter, and when she gets on her bike at the end of the day to pedal home, she sees him walking towards his car, his daughter skipping next to him. His laughter carries across the parking lot to Kate.

To her surprise, the idea of Marcus as a father doesn’t turn her off. She still doesn’t want to be involved in his family life, have Sunday dinners with him, meet his kid and parents, but she's excited for their next rendezvous, which will be on the upcoming Saturday. Missy is going to a birthday party and Marcus has planned for him and Kate to go online shopping.

When she woke up the morning after, Marcus was still there. He was already up, coming out of the shower when she blinked her eyes open, a towel slung around his narrow hips. The sight had been so titillating she found herself asking him, almost shyly, if he wanted to have sex, just sex, no power plays. He did. He took charge without being bossy, guided her through the experience with a firm yet caring hand, praised her when she finally let the orgasm wash through her. She asked him to stay for breakfast, insisted that she cooked, and while they were enjoying scrambled eggs and smoothies, he wanted to know if she would see him again.

"Yes!" she had exclaimed, comically eager, and he had smiled across the table at her.

"Then we need to get some stuff. Can I take you sex toy shopping next Saturday?"

She sees an opening here, a chance to explore her sexuality, find out about pleasures she never knew she would be into. She likes Marcus, trusts him, is comfortable with him. Shopping for sex toys is going to be a brand new experience; her shitty vibrator was bought on a whim from Amazon and is constantly in need of new batteries.

Work occupies her mind well enough for the rest of the week and Saturday afternoon finally arrives with Marcus coming by her apartment in the afternoon.

"Hi," he smiles when she opens the door. He's once again irresistibly handsome in ludicrously casual yet stylish clothes. The leather jacket comes off when he steps in, and he pushes his glasses up with his pointer finger before asking if he can kiss her.

"Sure," she allows and Marcus immediately leans in, giving her a soft and brief kiss that leaves behind a tingle on her lips.

"I've thought about kissing you all week," Marcus confesses, looking a little bashful. She can't figure him out. He's dominant in bed but shy yet cheeky outside of it. She has a feeling most of the friends would call him perfect boyfriend material.

"Me too," she admits. It's true: since last Saturday, she's masturbated every morning before getting up, and every night before falling asleep. Their date night was more than a vitamin injection to her sex life: it was an enormous syringe filled with every steroid and upper known to man. Suddenly she couldn't help but think of his kisses, his hands, the way he handled her, took care of her, and she had to lie down and touch herself until her cheeks were flushed and her panties drenched.

It's madness.

She now directs him to the kitchen, where her laptop waits on the table, and offers him a glass of wine.

"Just the one." He sounds rueful. "I've got to pick Missy up in two hours."

Kate nods and opens the bottle and takes out two glasses, gesturing for him to sit down. Marcus, however, remains standing.

"Let's do it on the couch," he tells her in a low voice. The way he says do it makes Kate think of something else entirely, and the tingle spreads from her lips to the rest of her body. She hands him his glass, takes her own, and picks up the laptop.

"Okay, then."

Kate sits down, cross-legged, and sips the wine as Marcus takes control of the laptop and types in the address of an online store. A tasteful website that makes Kate think of soft velvet, exquisite lace, and the scent of vintage leather comes up. Marcus looks at her.

"What do you use when you pleasure yourself, Kate?"

She almost chokes on the wine but manages to swallow somewhat gracefully.

"I... have a vibrator but it's not that good. I mostly just use my hands."

"Have you ever used a dildo?"

Kate shakes her head. She never needed one and now she feels she has to explain herself.

"Look, I'm not a nun," she points out, a sharp edge to her voice. "I've had sex. I like sex. I just don't always find the time to date, and men don't always accept that I have a physically active lifestyle. Back when I still competed, it was impossible to maintain a relationship."

She shrugs. "I use martial arts to work out my frustrations. I've never thought about getting toys, I don't have the time."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Marcus says softly. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I just want to know what you like to use on yourself."

"Not much," she concludes and raises the glass to her lips, taking three greedy gulps.

"What do you want to use?"

She has no idea. "What do you suggest?"

There it is again, that dark intensity in his eyes. His fingers land on the laptop's touchpad and he moves the cursor around, clicks, and shows Kate the screen. She looks at it sceptically.

"Handcuffs?"

"Or ropes. I'd like to tie your hands together above your head and then..." He clicks around a little more. A stick with a feather at the end of it shows up. Marcus studies her reaction closely. "I'd tease your beautiful tits and your pretty little pussy with this until you're squirming."

A shiver runs down Kate's spine and her gaze goes from the laptop screen to Marcus's face, and back again.

"Yeah?" she breathes. Marcus smiles, displaying a predatory glint of teeth as he takes a sip of wine.

"Yeah."

He reaches for her, hand ghosting around the soft swell of her breast, almost touching but still not. The nipple puckers against the cup of her bra, and Kate finds herself wanting to thrust out her chest so that Marcus can grab her, fondle her, fucking touch her already.

"Like this," he murmurs, finishing up with a light brush over the nipple before sitting back with the laptop. "I think we'll add that to cart."

"Definitely," Kate agrees, a little weakly. Marcus shoots her a smile that's all boyishness and flirt, not seductive and teasing like only a moment earlier.

"What about the restraints?" he asks casually. Kate tilts her head, catching on to his little game.

"I don't have bedposts. How would you go about it?"

He reaches for her glass and puts it down on the side table, then takes her hands, raising both to his mouth. He kisses the inside of one wrist, then the other. The brief touch of his lips on her skin feels like a punch to the gut and Kate realizes that she's holding her breath. Her quick inhale becomes a small gasp when Marcus suddenly takes a hard grip of both her wrists and twists her arms behind her back. Her eyes fall shut when he leans in to nuzzle her neck.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he whispers before tracing his tongue down her jugular. "Is that because of me?"

"It is," she confirms in a breathless moan. "Marcus..."

"Hush." He nibbles on her earlobe, his breath warm in her ear when he continues: "You may not have bedposts but I can still tie your hands together behind your back, like this, or above your head, or I can cuff your hands and feet to bars and spread you open, and then tease you until you're weeping for me to fuck your warm, wet pussy..."

Kate’s head is swimming and she forces herself to take a deep breath in order to steady herself. It’s almost embarrassing how easily affected she is by his deep, seductive voice. When she opens her eyes, Marcus’s face is right in front of hers, watching her intently.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he breathes, and Kate nods.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles then, almost cheerfully, as he releases her wrists.

“Good, we’ll got restraints as well!”

Marcus redirects his attention to the laptop and sips the wine. Heat is throbbing hard and fast through Kate’s body as she shifts uncomfortably, her longing gaze resting heavily on Marcus’s sharp profile. A small smile is playing in the corner of his mouth, letting her know that he’s aware of her hunger. He is, however, making himself busy clicking around the site, the cursor repeatedly going over the Add to cart button.

“We’re also buying a Magic wand,” he rules, turning the laptop so that she can see. The vibator on the screen looks like a microphone and seems huge. A Magic wand is, however, something Kate has heard of, and she's not hard-pressed to try one. She wants to hear what plans he has for it, though.

“What’s it for?”

Marcus tilts his head, eyes darkening again as he changes from sweet and practical to smouldering.

“I’d use it on your clit until you’ve cum so many times that you can’t take it anymore, Kate. How does that sound?”

“That… sounds rough.”

“I think you can take it. Can’t you? For me?”

His hand is now playing along the waistline of her pants. Kate feels a strong surge of want deep in her belly, a heavy damp in her panties. Her mouth is dry as she tries to find her voice.

“Show me, Marcus. Please.”

“Such a sweet, desperate thing, asking so nicely…”

Marcus puts the laptop to the side and pulls Kate into him, his large hand cupping her between the legs, finger digging into the hard denim.

"Please," Kate begs again, chasing his lips for a kiss but Marcus denies her the pleasure with a sharp slap to the side of her ass.

"You know what else we need? A paddle."

Kate blinks in disbelief as Marcus turns back to the laptop. "A paddle?"

"I think you can take a lot more than my hand, Kate."

He shows her the screen and with a little frown between her eyebrows, she inspects the leather paddle on display. The memory of the exhilaration she felt after the spanking Marcus gave her a week ago makes her shiver in anticipation. The raised hairs on her arms don't pass by unnoticed.

"You're blushing, Kate." His voice is warm and a little teasing. Kate tears her gaze from the screen and meets his.

"It's the wine."

"You want me to paddle you, don't you? Want me to match your ass to your face before I slide my fingers inside you."

She swallows hard before beating her eyelashes coquettishly. "Get the paddle."

His grin is broad as he dips his head to reward her with a kiss that makes her toes curl.

They add a mask and a dildo - Kate picks an elegantly curved glass one - before Marcus declares that they're done. He clicks on to the shopping cart and pulls his phone from his pocket for his bank details. A little shocked at the total, Kate shakes her head.

"You're not paying for all of that."

"Of course I am, it was my idea," Marcus assures her, but Kate quickly grabs the laptop from him and holds it out of reach.

"No," she insists, "it doesn't feel right. I don't want... gifts from you. It would feel weird."

Marcus nods immediately, seeing her point. "You're right. I'm sorry, I should've thought of that."

"I want us to split, fifty-fifty." She sees that there's a part of him that wants to protest, some old-fashioned gentlemanly notion of not letting her pay, but he agrees. Only when she has made sure he has Venmo does she relinquish the laptop to him so that she can pick up her own phone and send him the money.

"Can I have it all shipped straight to you?" he asks. "It's easier if I don't have to explain mystery boxes to Missy, or try to keep my secretary from opening it."

"Sure."

He smells so good, why does he smell so good? Now that their shopping spree is in the bag, so to speak, Kate begins to feel jittery. She's soaking wet, flushed, and there is still time to do something about it before Marcus has to leave. When he closes the lid of her laptop and puts it to the side, she all but scrambles onto his lap.

"What a state you're in," he tuts at her as she tries to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. "No, sweetheart, that's not how this works."

Lower lip caught between her teeth and heart in her throat, Kate sits back and waits for him to give her an order. Marcus softly caresses a red lock of hair from her forehead and cups her cheek.

"I want you to take your pants off, lie down on the couch, and touch yourself. Can you do that for me?"

The split second of hesitation must show on Kate's face because Marcus immediately lifts his left hand to her other cheek and makes her look him in the eye.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

His eyes are chocolatey, warm, deep. Kate tries to swim in their sugary thickness but finds that she'd rather drown.

"I'll try," she whispers, and Marcus rewards her wih a possessive kiss that takes her breath away. When he releases her, it's only to make room for her on the couch. Kate rises, her legs like jelly, and manages to take off her jeans. Only when she kicks off her panties does she realize that she could have put on a little show, slowed it down, maybe danced a little for Marcus, made him squirm. Maybe next time.

A little awkward about being so exposed, she lies down on the couch, both knees bent and pointing towards the ceiling. Marcus places his big palm over one knee and pushes it gently to the side, making her open her legs.

"This leg down," he instructs her, nodding when she slides her foot off the couch and down to the floor, separating the thigh from the other. "Yes, just like that. Now go ahead, touch yourself. Don't mind me. Just think about what you usually think about when you masturbate."

That's easy: all she's thought about lately is him. She closes her eyes, needing nothing but the smell of his cologne is in her nostrils and the warmth of his body so close to her when she reaches between her legs. Already sopping wet and horny, she goes straight for her clit, circling it eagerly with two fingers. The relief of her own touch makes her moan and the heat inside her starts to thicken and rise from the very core of her. It's embarrassing how quickly she reaches a desperate height, her hand working frantically to throw her over the edge, there, right there, just a little further...

"That's enough, baby."

Kate doesn't register the meaning of the words, only the sweet tone of his voice that makes her grab onto the couch with her free hand, her spine starting to arch as she nears her peak - only to be rudely interrupted by Marcus, who grabs her hand and pulls it away from between her legs.

"I said enough." He sounds a little more determined now, yet still patient and warm, like he was telling a child it's time to go home from the park. Kate opens her eyes just as he brings her hand up to his face and starts to suck the slick off her fingers.

"Marcus," she whimpers, "what are you doing?"

He kisses the tip of her pointer finger with a smile. "I have to go."

"What?"

"I gotta pick Missy up." He leans over her and brushes his lips over hers. She can smell and taste herself on him, but her brain is still frantically scrambling to understand what's happening.

"Marcus, I... I have to... I need to..."

"I know you want to cum, baby," he soothes her with a smile that's all concern and care. "I know. I see it. But you're not allowed to. You're not going to touch yourself for the rest of the day, okay?"

Kate blinks, still desperate with need to be fucked by either herself or him, her clit throbbing amid the slick that she can feel all the way her thighs, heart beating like after a particularly hard training session.

"Do you understand me?" Marcus stares down at her, suddenly bossy. Kate finds herself and nods.

"Yes, I understand." Her voice is small, pitiful. "But Marcus..."

"I'll call you tonight. No touching until then."

He rises from the couch and she sees from the front of his jeans that he's not unaffected. It gives her some comfort.

"I'll show myself out. Have a good afternoon, Kate."

Cheeks burning, Kate watches him leave her apartment before she slowly sits up. For a moment she considers going against his command but decides not to: he must have some kind of reward waiting. Isn't that how this works?

She gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash herself before changing into clothes for running. Putting on her killer playlist and earbuds, she leaves her apartment in the hopes of running it off.

When Marcus calls her later that night, she's almost managed to forget about the incident but her skin starts to crawl with anticipation when he asks her to put the phone on speaker, take her clothes off, and finish what she started earlier.

"And I want to hear you, baby," he tells her. "Make sure I hear you."

Kate lets him hear it all.

[baronessvonglitter]

Getting Dirty With a DILF

Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: the night before Father's Day you share a little fun with your boyfriend

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, established relationship, bathroom counter sex, fingering, spanking, soft dom!Marcus, daddy kink, fluff, smut, fucking in front of the mirror

Author's Note: of all the daddies in the Pedroverse, I felt like Marcus needed just a little more love and wrote this for him.

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wearing nothing but Marcus Moreno's bedsheet around you, you traipse to the bathroom, playfully glancing behind to see he's catching up to you. Once inside, you pull him in and the sheet falls away from you at the same time that his arms wrap around you from behind as soon as the door shuts. He kisses the back of your shoulder, wearing a little lovestruck smile. "God, I'm crazy about you."

You smile, watching both of you in the mirror, naked. Your body is still flushed pink from the pleasure still coursing through your veins from moments earlier. Saturdays were your date nights, he made sure of that despite his busy schedule and his family life. Tonight you'd have him, and tomorrow he could spend time with his daughter for Father's Day.

"What are you smiling about?" Marcus smirks, nuzzles your cheek with his nose.

"I just.. think we look good together," you smile back, watching his hands roam your body. His arms wrap around you, holding you from behind as he looks at your reflection with you. He pulls you close, pressing your back to his chest.

"I like this view," he murmurs, his large hands cupping your breasts, feeling the heft of them in his palms before gently tweaking your nipples, earning a sweet sigh from you for his efforts. There's a pale ring of color around his left ring finger; he'd stopped wearing his wedding ring when he started dating you, something you would never have asked of him, but his insistence that he could let go of his past while entertaining his future was something that truly touched your heart.

"I like this view a lot," Marcus reiterates, watching your body's response to him. You tell him to keep going, and he kisses the back of your head as his hands gently squeeze your breasts. "Beautiful," he mutters. You bite your lip, savoring his delicate, reverent touch as heat flushes your skin even further. He presses a thigh between your own, separating them a little. He loves how you react to him, how a simple touch from him can make your heart skip a beat and cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. He loves knowing he has that effect on you. His lips wander your neck as he watches your reactions in the mirror, studying the furrowing of your brows, the slackness of your mouth while he kneads your flesh. He whispers into your ear, "Bend over.."

Barely able to suppress a gasp, you do as you're told, leaning over the bathroom counter, bent over in front of him as you watch him with wide eyes through the mirror. He moves forward and angles himself behind you, his hands greedily running from your hips to your thighs, feeling the heat from your drenched pussy.

Oh he needs to see it, craves to see your slippery cunt. Marcus first plants a soft kiss on your shoulder before leaning back to view your heart-shaped ass, your flower-like folds open to him, damp with your dew. He gently traces it with his finger, licking his lips when you mewl softly in want. He presses in with one finger, then two, fucking you slowly.

You move back against him, asking for more, demanding more. He removes his fingers for a moment, nearly growling to feel them covered in your thick slick, and uses them to smooth over your clit, circling and adding pressure before dipping back inside you, fingerfucking you harder than before.

Your cries ring out against the tiles of the room, your neediness almost vulgar, but to him they're the sweetest sounds in the world. "You like that, hermosa?" his voice booms over yours, and you grow even more excited to see this side of him, the beast beneath the man. "Put that pretty mouth to good use and tell me what you want, or I'll stuff it full of my cock," he grunts, slowing his movements to give you a small respite in which to get out of your brain fog.

"I want you to fuck me.." When you say it it almost sounds plaintive, but he's more than happy to oblige you.

"Only because you asked so kindly. Although I didn't hear a 'please' in there." Marcus's hand comes down to land a stinging slap on your ass, leaving a nice pink handprint. You wince, though a little of your come dribbles out, revealing the truth.

"Please!" you gasp. "Please fuck me!"

"That's better." Though he lands another spank just for good measure, and delves his fingers inside you again, leaving you unable to distinguish pleasure from pain. When you're on the verge of coming, he pulls away, giving you his fingers to lick clean. "That's a good girl," he coos, his eyes soft behind his thick square-rimmed glasses.

He lifts one of your legs, bracing it on the counter. You're completely exposed to him, cunt opened wide, pink and absolutely sopping wet. Then he positions himself behind you again. When you try to push your hips back he keeps you in place. "Stop that. Look at me."

His tone leaves you no choice, sending a thrill through you as you gaze at him through the mirror. "Don't you dare close your eyes, mi hermosa.." he warns, and with your eyes on each other's he slides into you just a little at a time.

Marcus never gets tired of that look, the way your eyes open wide, lips parted and full as he slides his cock into you, filling you up and stretching you out. You whimper, pushed forward by the force of his first thrust, and your entire body warms and buzzes with feeling. All concentration is on one area of your body. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark as he watches your face, his gaze drifting down to your hands that seek purchase on the countertop, fingers splayed. His grip is on your hips, keeping you steady, using slow and teasing thrusts as his tongue peeks out to slowly lick across his lips.

Each slide in feels like heaven as he slowly draws out your pleasure, teasing and testing you. "Yes..yes!" you moan with each thrust. He picks up the pace, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "You like that, corazón?"

Both your heart and your stomach flip flop as you exchange glances in the mirror. "Yes.. I love it, daddy."

In response to your pet name his grip on you tightens, a low growl escaping him. He thrusts harder, deeper into you. "You want daddy to give you more?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "God! Yes, daddy!" The sounds you make are absolutely shameless, giving back as good as you get, your flesh colliding in the most profane sound you've ever heard. Marcus loses a modicum of control with each of your sweet, needful moans, your torturously tight pussy. One of his hands lets go of your hip and reaches up, grabbing the back of your neck, bringing your head to the side enough for him to capture your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. His lips meld against yours, capturing every sound you make. When he pulls back it's only far enough to where he can press another, shorter kiss to your lips. His forehead rests against yours as he presses against that sweet spot inside you he knows makes you see stars.

You whimper, your thighs threatening to buckle beneath the pressure, but he keeps you steady. He holds your face to the mirror so you can see yourself. You're wrecked. Your hair is messy, lips red and swollen from kissing, eyes blown black with desire. Marcus has never seen a prettier sight. He gives another rough snap of his hips, watching your ass cheeks ripple with the force of it. "Fuck, I can't hold on much longer, daddy," you moan.

"Let go for me," he grunts. At his command your self-control melts. A needful cry leaves your lips as your legs quake, your pussy pulsating around him. He almost comes undone right with you, but his hands grip your hips, holding you up as he rails you through your orgasm. "My girl," he says proudly.

You're weak when the pleasure subsides, and Marcus smiles, loving to see you like this, so undone, so satisfied. He gently pulls out of you, wraps an arm around your waist and turns you around, pulling you to his chest. He kisses the top of your head and cradles you against him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you answer, finally catching your breath and breathing deep of his scent. He cradles your face in his hands, leaning gown to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then his arms wrap around you, holding you close as he rests his chin on top of your head. "Daddy didn't get to finish, did he?" you ask, taking his length in your hand, still rock hard.

His body stiffens and a hiss of pleasure leaves his lips. "Mm. No, I didn't."

You hop up on the edge of the counter, bracketing his hips with your thighs. "Let me help you with that." You shift your hips, pussy drooling in anticipation as he teases you with the first few inches. "You're such a tease, daddy," you whine.

He leans in close, resting his forehead against yours as he takes hold of your legs, letting them rest over his forearms. "And you're impatient," he says, and sneaks a peek between your bodies, watching as he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. His heart skips a beat hearing your delicious moan. He cups your face gently, as if caring for something delicate, something precious, and kisses you, softly, deeply, lovingly. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too.." your whisper back, body buzzing with heat. "Take me how you want, Marcus."

A switch flips in his brain. You set something off. He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, over and over again. He groans when you dig your nails into his shoulders, your moaning in unison with his. He wants you to leave your marks on him. A claim. Ownership. He uses his height and strength to hold you in place as he fucks you. The sting of your scratches on his skin feels good. Later he'll look in the mirror, satisfied with the marks. He snaps his hips forward, with purpose. Hard. Forceful. Leaving you breathless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Each sound you make, he wants to hear forever. "Just like that, just like that," he mutters, feeling you clamp around him, signaling that you're close. "I'm not gonna last much longer.."

"Neither am I," you gasp. "Don't stop.."

His grip on your thighs tightens, knowing he'll probably leave his own marks on you, but he doesn't change his pace. "Come for me, baby," he groans. "Let me feel that tight pussy milking my cock."

"Fuck!!" you shout, body trembling as you come. Marcus follows right after, burying his face in your neck, pressing a messy kiss to your skin as his hips jerk, emptying himself into you. You stay joined for a long while until he finally pulls away, giving your thighs a tender rub.

"Now how about that shower?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[musings-of-a-rose]

Marcus

Pairing: Marcus (Pike, Moreno, Acacius) x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I saw a post from @pimosworld innocently asking for a Marcus bachlorette style fic and, while this isn't exactly right, this is what my brain came up with. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble and helping me, as well as @vanemando15 for being a cheerleader!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Marcus Pike Masterlist

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

“Thanks for coming to Level Up Comics!” I smile at the customer as I hand them their bag, a quiet grunt all I get in return before they head out the door, the little bell jingling with their exit. I stretch, walking around from behind the counter and heading back towards the display case where several boxes sit in front, unopened figurines and collectibles pouring from them. My family and friends thought I was crazy for opening a physical media store in this age of digital products. They said no one would come in let alone want to actually buy “this crap.”

But here I am, a few years after opening, and I’m doing pretty good for myself. There are still collectors out there who want their favorites in case something happens to their files. They want the figurines from the original manufacturers, rather than printing them themselves. I can’t blame them. There’s something different, something magical about reading the printed word, having a figure of your favorite character that was made decades ago by something other than a 3D printer in someone’s basement.

The bell jingles and I yell out a greeting, shoving a few more figures in the back of the case before standing and turning, a pair of dark brown eyes meeting mine. I can already feel the smile on my face. 

“Hi, Marcus!” Shit, was that too enthusiastic? If it is, he doesn’t let on, his own smile shyly spreading across his face. “How…how are you?”

He rubs the back of his neck with his large hand, his eyes darting away from mine. “I’m..I’m good. You?”

“Good. That’s good. I mean, I’m good. Good. It’s all…good.” What the fuck?

He chuckles lightly, looking anywhere but at me. “Good.”

We’re both silent for several moments. He’s so hot. Way out of my league hot. And the weird thing is, I don’t even think he realizes just how attractive he is. 

“Did my back issue of X-Men come in?”

“Oh!” I slap my forehead. “I almost forgot! Yes. Let me get that for you.” Trying desperately to hide the heat in my cheeks, I quickly walk around the counter, kneeling to sift through the special order pile. 

“You got more figures in?”

“Yeah,” I yell from my crouched position. “There’s a few bins in the back I haven’t emptied yet. Feel free to have a look!” 

“Thanks.” I hear him shuffle off towards the back of the shop just as I locate his order. The door bell dings again and I stand, smoothing down my jeans. A man stands at the counter, his bright blue eyes roaming up and down my body before her plasters on the most ingenuine smile I’ve ever seen. 

“Hi. How can I help you?” I ask him as I place Marcus’s order on the counter.

 “Hi beautiful. I’m looking for a comic.”

I internally sigh. I already know where this is going. It happens several times a week.

“Well you’ve come to the right shop. What are you looking for?”

He chuckles, intending to be endearing. It isn’t. “I’m looking for a very specific issue of Hawkeye. You know who that is?”

Seriously? “I am very familiar with Hawkeye. Are you?”

He scoffs. “Haha. You’re a funny, pretty thing. Anyway, I’m looking for a specific run of his. Do you know what that means?”

Anger surges through me and I grip the desk to ground myself. Out of the corner of my eye I see Marcus at the back of the store, standing and turning towards us but not moving. He’s even hot in my peripheral. 

“Which run are you looking for? Or are you wanting a recommendation?”

He laughs, the vile sound of it echoing off the walls. “A recommendation? From you? What would you know? You’re just a pretty little girl.”

A clunk from the back of the store and I see Marcus trip over one of the boxes. He doesn’t go down, but turns to fix the boxes that he’s kicked over. The man in front of me is unphased, his eyes still on me, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Well?” He spits out. 

I look at him, giving him a smile. “Well, if you’re asking me personally, my favorite run is the Matt Fraction run. Not only because of his artistic style and great story, but the fact that they weaved in Clint’s deafness, drawing him wearing his hearing aids, and even doing an entire issue completely in American Sign Language. A great story and representation of a marginalized community from, in my opinion, one of the best and most relatable Avengers. Now, would you like the individual issues, an omnibus, or the digital version?”

The smug smile slowly fades from his face, his eyes hardening. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“I do when customers act like a bitch.” 

He grabs the fliers on the counter and throws them at me, turning towards the door. “Fuck you and this place!” He tries to slam the door behind him but he fumbles with the handle, flipping me off one final time before disappearing around the corner. 

I sigh, bending down to pick up the fliers. A hand reaches out, large and inviting, carefully helping me pick up the scattered papers. I look up at him, at Marcus, sweet Marcus. Who had heard all of that. 

“I’m sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have lost my cool.”

He hands me the small stack he’s collected, meeting my gaze. “You don’t have to apologize for standing up to a sexist asshole. I should be the one who’s sorry.”

I combine our stacks, both of us standing as I tap them on the counter to even them out. “Why should you apologize?”

“I should’ve come to help,” he rubs the back of his neck, his ear turning slightly pink. 

I shake my head. “No, Marcus don’t worry about it. I get assholes like that all the time. Really, it’s ok.”

He shakes his head. “It’s really not-”

To my own surprise, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “Really, I’m ok. Thank you, Marcus.”

He smiles at me, opening his mouth to say something, but his phone rings from inside his pocket. “Sorry. Sorry.” He pulls it out, tapping on the clear screen only he can see. “Shit. I have to take this. Work. You sure you’re ok?”

I smile, trying not to show my sadness at his leaving. “I am. Hope everything’s ok at work.”

“Thanks. I’ll uh…see you around.” His eyebrows pull together as his phone rings again, his eyes moving down to the screen before he turns around and heads out the door, pausing to give me a wave through the window before he disappears into the crowd. 

I’ll never meet a man owning this shop. They’re either assholes, taken, or hopelessly out of my league. My own phone beeps and I pull it out, scanning the clear screen with my reservation confirmation. I tap the confirm button, nerves flooding my system. 

I can’t believe I signed up for a virtual version of the bachelorette.

—----

I closed the shop early and rushed home to get ready for that night. I arrive promptly at 7pm as they requested, the giant VIRTUAL LIFE logo on the side of the building bathing the sidewalk in bright blue light. I take a deep breath and walk inside, the door disappearing momentarily to let me in before reappearing behind me. The front desk assistant guides me to a row of elevators and instructs me to head to floor 28. I’m the only one in the elevator, the lights illuminating each floor as we pass it. The elevator stops and the doors open to a small waiting room, black leather couches and chairs surround a coffee table with several tablets, each loaded with some form of entertainment. While it looks like there are windows, if you look closely, you can tell they’re simulated, trying to grant us as much privacy as possible. Although, I think it may be more about guarding their own technology secrets. 

“Ivy?” a woman calls my name from the only doorway in the room aside from the elevator. I nod, standing and smoothing down my dress. 

“That’s me.”

“Right this way.” She leads me into another small office, a simple desk with a single chair for me to sit in. She sits opposite me at the desk, tapping in mid air at what I’m assuming is the computer screen in front of her. 

“Ivy it says here you signed up for the bachelorette program to meet a compatible mate. Is that correct?”

Swallowing down my embarrassment, I nod. “Y-yeah.”

She taps a few more things. “Great. Do you know how this works?”

“You guys take a picture of my brain and show me a story?”

She chuckles, the first time her professional demeanor has broken. “Almost but not quite. After we’re done here, you will be taken to the simulation room. You’ve already done your physical-”

“Yeah. They had me put on this suit and they captured the way I moved. Motion capture, I think?”

She nods. “Yes that’s it exactly. This way, your avatar inside your world will move like you. It helps with immersion.” I nod. “They also completed your brain scan to find the most viable dates and look of mate that you are searching for. You indicated you’re looking for a male mate, is that correct?”

I nod. “Yeah. Yes.”

She nods. “Alright. If you’ll go through the door, someone in scanning will take you. Good luck!” She gestures to a door on the opposite wall from where we entered. I go through the door and another woman greats me, leading me to chair where she has me sit and get comfortable. It reminds me of what the dentist chairs used to look like except way more comfortable. She turns to me, holding a helmet with different little lights on it. 

“Any questions?”

“Yeah. So what will he..I mean, how will I know who he is?”

“You will just know. Sort of like in a regular video game, where you can tell who is important to talk to.”

“Ok..but…will he look like him or?”

That’s reassuring. But then she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t forget, he will be there too also looking for you.”

She shakes her head. “Your algorithm took in your scan and will give him the appearance of someone you find appealing or comforting. We’ve found it’s easier to accept someone if they have an outward appearance you’re already familiar with.”

“So you base connections on personality as opposed to looks?”

She nods. “Those relationships have the highest success rate, so yes.”

“And after, will you show me who he is?”

She nods. “In the simulation, you’ll go on 3 dates. They may be something as simple as communicating in an office to being a superhero or even traveling back in time. The algorithm takes both of your likes, dislikes, and desires and places you in situations. The more you play along and immerse yourself, or yourselves, into the simulation, the better the outcome, meaning a closer connection. And don’t worry - you cannot be physically harmed. And if it’s too much or you want to stop, you only need to say “End simulation”. Please be aware that time may pass differently in the simulation, but you will only be in for an hour. After, you will both meet here, in reality, and can determine whether you’d like to continue with a relationship or not. Any more questions?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.”

She places the helmet on my head, the nodes all changing different colors as it comes in contact with me. She squeezes my shoulder and I look up at her. “Just relax and try to go with the theme. It’s more fun that way, ok?”

I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

“Good luck!” She taps a button on her clear screen and my vision fades to black so just a couple of seconds. But then I’m blinking awake, the tips of my fingers tingling and my toes feeling like they just woke up. My vision starts to clear and the room comes into focus. I’m sitting at a bar, a fancier bar, which explains the nice dress. As my hearing levels out, I realize that the blonde man to my right is talking to me, his body shifted in my direction. His grey eyes are slightly unsettling. This can’t be my mate, can it? 

“...and so I had them fired! Can you imagine? I asked for my steak to be medium and they brought it out medium well. That will teach that guy to listen to the customer at his next job.” Grey Eyes chuckles and takes a sip of the drink in front of him. He nods towards the glass in front of me. “Do you want another?”

“What? Oh, uh sure.” 

He flags the bartender down and orders a rum and coke before making a show of leaning on his beefy arm against the bar. “I’m glad you finally saw reason and agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah. Same here.” This doesn’t feel right. Maybe they got it wrong? Someone bumps into me from behind and grey eyes catches me, glaring at the person who bumped me, who had moved on. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah. It’ll take more than a drunk asshole to bring me down.” Grey Eyes laughs, picking up his glass and holding it up towards me. “I’ll drink to that.” I glance down to grab my drink, only to find it wasn’t there. I look back at Grey Eyes and see him frozen in place, the smirk on his face completely gone, his glass shaking as he continues to hold it in mid air. My glass appears next to his, lightly clicking against his glass. 

“Now that’s not very nice.” That voice. I would know his voice anywhere. My entire body relaxes as I turn to look into the dark brown eyes that I love so much.

“Marcus!” I exclaim, ignoring the vein in grey eye’s neck that’s threatening to pop. Marcus on the other hand, looks good. I mean, he always looks good to me but he’s dressed in nice black pants and a light blue button up shirt with matching black jacket. I’m not sure how a blue shirt makes his brown eyes pop, but it does. Marcus pushes his black frames up his nose.

“Hey, Ivy. Sorry to interrupt your date, but this not so kind gentlemen put a little something in your drink.”

“He what?” I blink rapidly a few times, trying to pry my eyes away from him. Grey Eyes vein relaxes somewhat and he sputters out.

“Fuck you man! We’re on a date! What….what are you doing to me?”

Marcus shrugs. “Well, you wanted to make it so she can’t move. Only fair if I return the favor.” 

Grey Eyes goes to say something else, but then seems to recognize the man standing next to me, his eyes going wide.

“Aren’t you the guy that can move metal?”

My eyes snap to Marcus, who is smiling. “I see I have a fan.”

Grey Eyes tries to backtrack. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I was just trying to get her to loosen up a bit. Have some fun.”

Marcus looks at me, his brown eyes wide and smiling. “Ivy, do you wish to continue your date with this man?”

“Nope.” I pop the “p” sound at the end of the word. “Little hard to have fun when my date is trying to render me unconscious.”

Marcus waves the bartender over. “Call the police. This man is in possession of Freeze Me.”

 A handful of what felt like seconds later, several officers show up and arrest Grey Eyes, who barely puts up a struggle. I turn towards Marcus, my smile stretching my face as I grab his arm. “My hero.”

His eyes dart around the room, his arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”

Gosh he’s so cute when he does that neck rub thing. Wait. Gotta play along. 

“Is Marcus the Metal Bender actually acting shy around me?”

He chuckles nervously and I think how perfect they coded him. Like he was picked out of my brain. Which I guess he was. 

“Just trying to be respectful.”

I wish he wouldn’t. Wait, are we even allowed to have sex in here? Wow, getting ahead of yourself there, Ivy.

“Youwannagetoutofhere?” He speaks so fast it all comes out in a jumble and I cock my head to the side. 

“What?”

He swallows hard and I can’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Hell yeah I do.” 

—-

It’s a few weeks later, or at least it feels like some time has passed. That lady did say time passes differently here. Now I’m in an office building, a stack of files in my arms, walking down the hall. A quick glance around tells me I’m in the Heroics head quarters. Marcus appears from around the corner and looks up at me, smiling and walking towards me. But then a man in a much too tight blue suit with a glowing M on it joins him, Marcus’s shoulders sagging slightly as he gives me a sad little wave.

“When are you two going to go on a date already?” A woman with bright pink hair appears next to me. 

“I uh, me?”

She slaps my shoulder. “Yes, you Ivy.” She leans in closer to my ear. “Aren’t you the one who confessed to having a crush on our heroic leader?”

I will the heat rising in my face to not show. “Oh, I uh..I-”

“You know he likes you too.” Her jaw drops when she sees the confused look on my face. “Oh don’t tell me you can’t tell! That man can hardly look at you and he’s taken down alien forces by just staring at them.”

She feels like a close friend so I go with it. “Yeah, ok I like him. Keep your voice down, will you?” She continues walking with me to the end of the hall where I deposit the stack of files into several slots, each one making a small whoosh sound as they’re whisked away to their destinations.

When I’m done, Pink Hair gently grabs my face and turns me to her. “I love you, Ivy. You know you’re like the sister I never had. So please listen to me when I say ask that man out before something happens and you regret not ever trying.”

Well fuck. That is…really spot on to reality isn’t it? 

I never get a chance to answer her as the entire building suddenly shakes, alarms and lights screeching and illuminating the halls. One of the tall filing cabinets starts to topple in my direction and I can only look on in horror, frozen in place by the rumbling building. I throw my hands up, as if that’s going to stop it, but nothing happens. The cabinet is laid gently on its side, floating to the ground. 

“Come on!” I look up into those dark eyes, Marcus extending his hand to me and helping me to my feet. “We have to get out of here!” He tightens his grip and somehow leads us out of the chaotic building out into the streets. Which is also nuts. People are running everywhere and…wait. Is that an alien spaceship coming towards us??

Marcus pulls me behind a wall, glancing around it and waving hand signals to a small group of heroes across the street behind another wall, Pink Hair amongst them. He turns back to me, his face full of worry as he starts to take his shirt off, exposing…not skin but a uniform? No. His hero costume, which is a black shirt,and arm bands. He sees me staring down and he shrugs. “I normally have a tach vest but we’re out of time.” 

“Should you not go out there without one?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I have to support my team. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I mean, people safe.”

“You could just stay here with me? The others can handle-” my words are cut off by a giant laser beam cutting through the street, coming directly from the ship. 

He takes my hand and squeezes it. “Get yourself to safety. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to be safe.” Another laser beam, the sound of some smaller buildings crumbling to the ground. “Go! Get to safety!” He releases my hand. 

I get a glimpse of the deep craters that lasers had left in their wake through the cement of the street, the piles of rubble and dust, and this spurs me on.

“Marcus?” He leans against the wall, readying himself, but he looks at me. 

“Yeah?”

Mustering up my courage, I lean towards his hunched body, softly planting a kiss on his lips. When I pull back, I see his chest heaving, his eyes moving between mine.

“Please make it back, Marcus.”

Before he can answer, the ship comes into view and his team moves out, following behind Miracle Guy, who had flown right up the ship and started punching it. Marcus’s head whips around, assessing the situation and I squeeze his arm once more before quickly moving out of the immediate area. I know I should move more, but I can’t get hurt so… 

The fight that ensues between the ship, the aliens inside, and the Heroics team is nothing short of brilliant. They may argue in the halls, but in the field, they all take direction from Marcus, who is a brilliant leader, playing all of their strengths. Marcus bends metal like it’s made of playdough, a beautiful dance of destruction and strength. Then the ship comes crashing down, everyone moving out of the way except-

“Marcus!” I emerge from my hiding place at a full run as the smoke around the alien ship that’s currently scraping along the road as it crashes and envelops Marcus. The ship stops, groaning as it falls back and lays still, no other life forms moving or detected on board. For a few moments, no one moves. Then Marcus emerges from the smoke, his face soot stained and a small gash in his shirt and along his cheek, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Marcus!” I run to him, his eyes finding mine, his entire body relaxing as he realizes I’m safe, just before I launch myself into his arms, our lips crashing together as my right hand fists in his shirt, my left tugging on his hair. Miracle Guy wolf whistles but I couldn’t care less. I feel his tongue gently lick out and I part my lips, letting him take whatever he wants. But before it can go any further, my vision starts to blacken, the last thing I see is Marcus’s eyes going out of focus as he succumbs to his own transition to the next simulation.

—----

I find myself blinking awake for the second time in what feels like weeks, but I know in reality it’s only been maybe 20 minutes that I was in there. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my vision and hearing clearing and I find myself in…a breakroom. Am I back at the Heroics? The slight weight in my hand takes my focus and I realize I’m holding a cup of tea. I must be on my break. I walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking outside. I’m not back at Heroics - the cityscape is all wrong. I hear the door open behind me and I turn, the smile on my face widening as Marcus enters the room. His hair is shorter than the last simulation. And his face is clean shaven, which is a look I’ve never seen on him before. Not that it matters - he’s beautiful no matter what. I wonder what he’ll look like when he’s a little older. Probably hot as-

“Hey, Ivy.” Marcus smiles down at me, grabbing his own mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. I notice the FBI logo on the mug and figure that must be where we are.

“Hey,  Marcus.” I take a sip of my tea as we both watch the other. But then the door opens again, another agent walking into the room. He claps his hands together, looking at us.

“Hey! Congrats on finally cracking that art case, you two! 8 months is a long time to do an operation like that. Great work!” He shakes both of our hands as we thank him. Marcus catches my eye and, with a small movement, jerks his head towards the door. I nod, thanking the other agent again and follow Marcus out of the tiny breakroom and down the hall, stopping in front of an office door labeled MARCUS PIKE. I wonder if that's his name back In reality. He extends his arm towards his office and I head inside, smiling at him as I do, noting how his eyes dart around, that hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he closes the door behind him.

“I uh…great work, Ivy.” 

“You too.” 

He puts his hands in his pockets and finally looks me in my eyes and he nods once. 

“Listen. Do you..uh..I mean, would you like to…this is coming out all weird.”

I squeeze his arm and he looks down at my hand, taking a deep breath. 

“Would you like to get something to eat?”

My stomach erupts in butterflies. “Like on a date?”

The redness in his eyes spreads down onto his cheeks as he stammers, gesturing around vaguely. “No! No, not uh. Not a date.”

I can feel my face falling. “Oh.”

“Uh, unless you…uh…unless you want to? Make it a…a date?” His eyes are wide and bright, like a damn puppy. 

I smile, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love to go on a date with you, Marcus.” 

His smile is bright, lighting up the room. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He let's out a sigh of relief. “Great! I found this great pancake place.”

Pancakes? I love this man already. “It's nearly dinner time!” I can't help the small giggle that I let out. 

“Yeah, well you said your favorite food is pancakes. And they're open 24 hours.”

He remembered my favorite food? I'm so screwed. Damn this program is good. “You're right! I'd love to get pancakes with you. On a date. For a date. When will this date be, by the way?”

“Oh. I uh, would it be too weird if we went tonight? Is that too soo-”

“No! I mean, yes! No it's not too soon. I'd love to go!” If my heart could stop beating through my chest, that would be great. It's not that I'm some young girl getting asked on her first date. I just really like Marcus. Or whomever this is. My heart sinks at the thought of it not being the Marcus I know in reality. 

“Great! I'll pick you up at 7? Unless you'd rather meet me there? I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Marcus, we just spent 8 months together on assignment. I think I'm comfortable around you.”

He chuckles. “Fair point.” His office phone rings and he apologizes to me, picking it up. I wave ro him and he mouths “See you at 7!”

—----

He picks me up with a flourish of flowers, all long legs and button up shirt that I'm really dying to unbutton. If that's even allowed here. 

But what's more than that is the conversation. I thought I had learned everything about him over the last 8 months. I was very wrong. 

“You were a bass player in a band?” I ask, choking on my drink.

He laughs, holding his hands up in front of him. “What can I say? I wanted to meet more people.”

“I bet you had all the girls hanging on you.”

Marcus shrugs. “Not really. They all want to date the drummer or the singer.”

“Really? Not the sexy bass player?”

Marcus takes too large of a sip of his drink and coughs, pounding his chest. “No, not the…you think I'm sexy?”

I set my fork down and meet his eyes. “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be here.”

We spend several moments, just looking at each other and then I remember that he's not a simulation but a real person on the other end of those eyes. My heart squeezes thinking about how it won't actually be Marcus. Despite that thought, we really get along well and the conversation flows freely between us. Sooner than I’d like, we’re leaving the small diner, heading back to my place. Marcus parks in my driveway and turns to me, his eyes bright and wide like a damn puppy. We had been talking about books, one of my favorite topics.

“..and I know everyone complains that Tolkien takes 20 pages to describe a flower, but I really love that attention to detail. It makes it more immersive for me. One of these days I’ll get you to read Lord of the Rings!” I tap my fingers on his bicep to emphasize my point.

Marcus rubs his neck. “I uh…I already have.”

My jaw drops. “What? When??”

“When you told me it was your favorite book. Or books, I should say.”

I think back. “Marcus, that was…months ago!”

His eyes meet mine, the light from the street lamp outside adding a sparkle to them. “You said they were your favorite so…I read them.”

My stomach does flips, my heart beating. “You read them all for me?”

He nods. “Even the Silmarillion.”

I can’t help it. This is so fucking hot. I reach out and grip his shirt, pulling him to me, his soft lips pressing against mine, the heat between us quickly rising. His large hand cradles the back of my head, holding me to him as his other hand settles on my hip, squeezing it lightly. We make out for several minutes, Marcus kissing and nipping a path down my neck. 

“Do you want to come in?” I ask breathlessly. 

He pulls back and looks at me. “I do but-” he whispers. “Are we allowed?”

“I…I’m not sure. We could try to-” 

But then my vision starts to blacken around the edges, and before I pass out, I hear Marcus say “See you in the next one!” before we both black out.

—----

Now familiar with the way I wake in these simulations, I wiggle my fingers and toes, giving myself a moment to figure out where I am. The room looks…ok, this isn’t from my time. Roman decor and pillars line the grand bedroom, some food laying on a small table for, I’m assuming, me. A quick glance down shows me in a beautiful white garb and I marvel for a moment at how clean it is. 

BOOM!

The ground shakes and I duck down, completely caught off guard. It’s only after the boom dies down that I hear it - the distant sound of clanking swords and men yelling. I walk to the small window set into the wall and look out, my brain taking a moment to process the scene in front of me. 

I’m several floors up in a sort of round building, a castle I realize as I see the lower tiers, more square in their shape. I’m sure the grounds would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the massive amounts of soldiers fighting in the streets. I can make out their bodies, the blood, sweat, and dirt spreading almost like a disease. Spear and swords burst from chests or stomachs, limbs separating from their bodies to be lost to the throngs of soldiers. The seem to be moving closer to the castle, which I’m not sure if I want to happen or not. Turning on my sandaled heel, I walk to the door, pressing my ear against the wood to listen. Hearing nothing, I try to open it. Nothing. The door doesn’t open or move, the handle locked into place.

Well, fuck. 

Before I can try and figure out how far down the next ledge is out the window, or if I can even fit out the window, I hear a commotion outside my door. It’s not loud, but I hear a man gurgling and sputtering, a small bit of crimson blood pooling under the door. I grab an iron rod by the fire and hold it up, preparing to defend myself. I know they said I can’t be hurt but damn this feels real. The door opens and a man walks through, wide, muscular shoulders under his Roman armor, Medusa proudly engrained on the front. I lunge, the iron rod above my head but the man turns and grabs the rod and I  would’ve fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught me.

“Ivy! Here you are!” 

It’s him. Marcus. Only he’s older, probably closer to 50. Grey streaks in his curls and patchy facial hair only accentuate his beauty, a new scar forming across his nose, bleeding lightly down his face. He’s covered in dirt and blood and ash, but I throw my arms around him anyway.

“Marcus! Thank God, what’s going on?”

He cups my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful, my love. I would bring every army from the entire world to rescue you from this horrid Emperor.” And then his lips are on mine, urgency behind them, but a desire to show me how l much I am loved. This man apparently started the battle outside, for me, and still wants to make sure that I know how important I am to him? 

“We have to flee. Come!” But before we can leave, the door flies open and 5 guards file in, grabbing Marcus and holding his arms out to his sides. I pick the iron rod up from the floor and run towards them, unsure of what I would do but I know I’ll beat the shit out of them until they let him go. But another hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting it hard so I drop the rod. I look up into the eyes of a man that I’m assuming is the Emperor, his golden robes flowing around him. He looks vaguely familiar, like that one asshole from the comic shop.

“Now, now my dear. What were you planning on doing with that?”

I open my mouth to reply, but then he smacks me across the face and I slam down onto the floor. Ok, that hurt. Didn’t she say I wouldn’t get hurt? Maybe she meant I wouldn’t die. Marcus swears, cursing the Emperor for hitting me. 

“Are you alright, my love?” Marcus grunts as the men punch him in the stomach. 

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. You’re kind are dying out. I told you to just accept your fate and take your banishment, but instead, you stayed behind and fell in love with a woman. How…stupid.” Marcus tries to speak but he’s punched again, his body hunching over. I try to stand, but then I’m drug up by my hair, the Emperor’s fingers digging at my scalp as he pulls me to his side. 

“This one?” His eyes rake over my body. “She is attractive, I’ll give you that. Even if she is attracted to a brute like you.” I jerk my body, trying to get out of his grip but it’s too tight, my hands gripping his arms to try and get some relief from the stinging at the back of my scalp.

“Let her go. You can kill me, I don’t care, but let her go.”

The Emperor looks from me to Marcus, a sick smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have you give up. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do instead. LOOK AT ME!” The Emperor bellows from beside me, Marcus’s eyes moving from mine to his. 

He steps closer to Marcus, dragging me a little beside him. “Such a wild man. How about this: you watch as I take her. Then, I’ll drive my sword through her belly so she can slowly bleed out on the floor. Only after the light has left her eyes will I either kill you or lock you up to suffer the rest of your days. How does that sound?”

The darkness that settles over Marcus is unforgiving, his eyes hardening in resolution. He growls and screams, throwing the soldiers off him as he grabs his sword from the ground, swinging it and taking out all of the soldiers in only a handful of moves. He spins, aiming his sword at the Emperor, who has now moved me in front of him as a human shield, a knife to my throat. 

“I’ll kill her, Marcus! You are too weak to save her!”

Marcus’s gaze moves briefly to mine and I release my weak grip on the Emperor’s arms, letting them fall to my side. Marcus shifts his body ever so slightly before he throws something from behind his back. The object whizzes past my cheek, scratching it slightly as the blade buries itself in the Emperor’s neck. He drops his knife and clutches at his throat, his eyes wide with fear. He crumbles to the floor and sputters for several moments before his body stops moving. I run to Marcus, throwing my arms around him again. He grunts and I remember the soldiers hitting him.

“Are you hurt?”

He clutches his side. “I’ve had worse.”

“You are so fucking hot right now,” I speak quietly to him and he smiles. “I’m covered in dirt and blood and sweat.”

“Stop trying to turn me on more I already said you’re hot.”

He laughs but then inhales sharply at the pain. “I’ll take it, I guess.”

“No, that’s my job.” I bring my lips to his, pushing him back towards the chaise lounge chair on the other side of the room. He sits, pulling me onto his lap as I straddle him, my dress getting dirty as I shift my hips. He groans, his large hands sliding up my bare thighs under my dress and fuck! My vision starts to blacken and I hear Marcus whine out some expletives as we both are brought out of the simulation. 

—---------------------------

Hopefully for the last time, I blink awake, wiggling my fingers and toes as I look around the room. The helmet is gently lifted from my head and the woman that had put it on me moves into my eyesight.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m here.”

“Good. Wait just a moment for your body to fully catch up. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah why did you stop us having sex?”

She studies me for a moment. “It is not allowed in the programming.”

“I cross my arms. “Well your programming is stupid.”

She chuckles so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “The algorithm wants you and your mate to match based on personality and emotions, not just physical.”

“I can guarantee you it wasn’t just physical.” 

She helps me stand and I shake my limbs out, full feeling returning to them. I smooth out my dress as she readjusts my hair. “Are you ready to meet him?”

Him. My reality man. “Y..yeah.” 

“Right through that door. He’s already waiting for you.” I move towards the door but she stops me. “I just have to say, I’ve been doing this for years and I’ve never seen a situation like yours and his.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

So smiles softly. “So…rooted in reality.”

Yeah that’s not confusing. But she doesn’t explain further, turning back to the chair and helmet, starting to clean them. I take a deep breath to steady myself and open the door, walking through and closing it behind me. The man on the other side of the room, my mate, turns towards me and we both gasp.

“Marcus?”

“Ivy?”

We meet in the middle of the room and I cup his face, Marcus tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is it really you?”

He nods. “Yeah. You? Real?”

“Real.”

He pulls my face to his, kissing me deeply, but then pulling back a moment later. 

“I’ve been dying to ask you out since forever. I never thought I’d be paired with you, here of all places.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re entirely out of my league.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the other way around.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I put my finger on his lips. “I think we went through several first dates in there. Plus, we’re already friends. Can we…that is, can you take me back to your place first? Then we can eat?”

Marcus’s eyes darken, his hands finding a place on my hips as he pulls me against his body, letting me feel how into that idea he is. 

We’re married a year later.

—----

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[justaz]

semi-dark king merlin au, someone from ealdor tells king cenred about merlin and he is captured and held as a slave in essetir. since merlin despises captivity and servitude, he’d rather be dead and free than alive and in chains so he acts out and pisses people (especially the king) off so they’ll think him too much trouble and kill him. at first they stick to beatings until merlin manages to get his chains around a few necks and now has a body count so they kill him…..only he wakes back up a few hours later and king cenred is Intrigued and keeps him close. merlin keeps acting out but no matter how many times they kill him, he won’t stay dead. merlin has this moment after waking up perfectly fine after his twenty seventh death where he is hopeless and believes there to be no escape, not even thru death. a few other sorcerers in chains come and help him clean up and give him a lil peptalk, realizing him to be emrys, and then they revolt and take over the kingdom and crown merlin as king and now uther is like “wtf” bc his neighboring kingdom who was kinda sorta on his wavelength about sorcery, though uther did not approve of keeping them alive, is now a kingdom ruled by magic. he goes to war with them but with magic running free and fucking emrys on the throne, they don’t make a lot of headway. anyways merthur meet on the battlefield, enemies to lovers, you get it

[wardenparker]

Congrats on your milestone! Can you do a Marcus Moreno w/ “I’ll protect you”?

Marcus Moreno. 4,451 words. "I'll protect you." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Mentions of a stalker/reader in danger. A sprinkling of yearning. Some referenced nudity. Co-workers to lovers.

We loved this one so much we're planning a follow up!

Getting called into Ms. Granada's office was never a very comforting thing. Most of the time, missions would be announced in the Heroic conference room. Open to all, but this is a meeting that the leader of the Heroics program had taken special pains to keep quiet. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Marcus Moreno taps on the heavy steel door and waits for permission to enter, feeling the draw of the metal to his palms and licking his lips as he concentrates on not moving it by mistake.

"Come in." The call comes from the speaker above the door of the soundproof office, crackling slightly from the effect of Marcus's powers on the machinery.

Inside the office is the standard furniture -- the large desk and supportive chair for Ms. Granada faced by two armchairs for visitors. Or for those she has summoned. In this case the summoning is more accurate, and the figure that had been nervously perched in one of the two chairs shoots up at attention when the door opens.

You've only worked at Heroics HQ for just over two months. Your position as communications officer for the team of beloved superheroes isn't without its challenges, but the one you're facing now has set in quickly and -- to you -- was rather unexpected.

Marcus frowns slightly at the presence of someone else, unsure of your name, but he knows how you are. "You wanted to see me?" He asks, directing the question to the always elegantly poised Ms. Granada who is standing behind her desk in a vivid fuchsia suit.

He glances back at you again, noticing that you are nervous. Unable to be still as you stand facing him. What is your name? He knows it but he can't quite recall it right now. Even if he's seen you on tv for the press briefings more than a few times. Always impressed by how poised you are.

"Please sit." Granada motions to the empty chair when Marcus Moreno shuts the door and resumes her seat at her desk. "We have something of an issue on our hands, Marcus. And as the leader of the Heroics I would like your input."

"Okay...." it's rare that someone asks his input for press releases, so it can't be that. He sits down and looks between the two women, your name instantly coming to mind, and he relaxes slightly, not feeling foolish anymore. "What's going on?"

"Our new communications officer is receiving some very overt and unwanted attention." Ms. Granada shuffles a stack of suspicious letters in evidence sleeves on her desk before sliding them closer to Marcus. "And not the sort that we can easily brush off. Or identify."

You're shuffling anxiously in your seat, folding and unfolding your legs, picking at your cuticles and fingernails compulsively. "I--" You open your mouth to speak and your voice breaks. The first time you've ever betrayed any nerves in front of any of the Heroics team and you hate it. "I knew there were dangers when I took this job," you say, after clearing your throat. "I suppose I underestimated how quickly it could happen or exactly how I would feel about it."

Taking the pages, Marcus scans them. At first they seem to be filled with admiration and star-struck wonder. Frowning when he sees the shift to obsession and he lifts a brow when he reads about following you home. "A stalker?" He is slightly confused about why this would be something to bring to the Heroics attention rather than the police. Until the next sentence talks about powers. "A....villain stalker?" He huffs, looking back up at Ms. Granada. "Do we know who it could be?"

"We have a few ideas." She nods gravely, not willing to admit in front of your face that they don't really have any good ideas. "But they're escalating. And very quickly."

"I went home on my lunch hour today," you explain, fingers twisting around each other in your lap. "And my apartment had been broken into."

"Shit." Marcus's frown deepens and he looks back down at the pages again. "You obviously can't go back there." He knows that it had to be scary for you and even though he has nothing to do with any of this, he feels guilty. He feels responsible for everyone in this building in some capacity. He rocks his jaw for a moment and shakes his head. "She needs to go to the safe house." He tells Granada, not liking how quickly the messages devolve into the manic ramblings of a mad man. "She's obviously targeted."

"I completely agree." Granada nods, turning her head slightly to type something into her computer. "What I wanted your input with is who her protection should be."

"Tech-No would probably not be the best option." Marcus flips through the potential list of candidates in his mind. "He's working on some new gadget and would get distracted." He shrugs and looks over at you. "Would you be bored to tears to have Miracle Guy talk about himself for hours on end and probably have you take photos for his social media?"

"I can't imagine posting social media photos from inside a safe house is a good idea," you point out gently. Although Miracle Guy is nice enough, being in that close of quarters with him does sound...tedious at best.

From the small smirk at seems to tug at the other woman's lips, Ms. Granada wasn't asking Marcus for his assessment of the team, she was asking him to volunteer. "Missy is at her grandmother's." He volunteers. "Since school is out."

"Oh, I--I couldn't possibly--" It's not that you couldn't. It's that you have a massive crush on Marcus Moreno and you're going to be so fucking distracted being in close quarters with him. Not that you would ever think anything could happen. But you'll be thinking about it.

“Perfect.” Ms. Granada smiles, deciding the matter is settled. “I will have some clothing sent over to the safe house. And groceries.” She nods. “Use the underground tunnels to leave today.”

"Yes, ma'am." That's it. That's your dismissal. And you'll swallow your stupidity and just try your best not to think about being closed up in an intentionally private space with the handsomest man you've ever seen in real life.

Marcus stands and puts the letters back on the desk and turns to you with a reassuring smile. “Come on, we will need to get settled.”

"I'm sorry to pull you away," you murmur as the two of you exit Ms. Granada's office together. He has a family and responsibilities, and he is having to step away from those in order to look after you. It's...well, it's more than mildly embarrassing. If you weren't actually afraid you would feel positively humiliated.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Marcus promises. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You don’t deserve to be afraid.” He guides you towards the hallway where his office is located. “Let me get my stuff and we can go.”

"I have a go bag in my office, too." Situations like this were not unheard of, after all, and you had been told by your predecessor to be prepared for anything. That included a go bag and having coffee and snacks in your office.

“Good girl.” Marcus opens the door and moves over to the locker where his Heroics tac vest and his bag are located.

That should not be sexy. That should absolutely not be so damn sexy. Studiously ignoring any sort of natural reaction to those words coming out of his mouth, you wait in his office for him to gather his things and shift awkwardly in place while his words play over and over in your head in spite of yourself.

Marcus zips up his back and turns back to you. “Let’s go your office.” He tells you.

"It's upstairs from you." He has never had to go to your office for anything before, being typically the best behaved of the Heroics, and you doubt he ever had to visit any of your predecessors either. "This way."

Marcus dutifully follows you, feeling more secure in the Heroics headquarters than he would on the street, but he still glances around. Making sure that nothing is out of place. The security has been breached before. His eyes dip down to your ass on the stairs and he feels guilty, remembering that you’re scared and vulnerable as he pulls his eyes back up to your back.

"This way." You murmur, turning down the second-floor east hallway to your office which glows cheerily in the morning sun. All those windows have been unnerving these last few weeks. You can't help wondering if you're being watched at work as well as at home. "I'll grab my things quickly." Your go bag is a carryon bag to make it look less conspicuous, because you often travel for work, and you grab your purse along with it but stop to tuck some snacks from your bottom desk drawer into your purse. Anxiety makes you snackish. "Okay. That's everything."

Marcus can see that you are scared and he reaches out to take your bag off your shoulder. “Don’t worry.” He flashes you a small grin. “You’ll be safe. I’ll protect you.”

As scared as you are, as shaky as your hands are when he comes close enough for the two of you to brush against each other, you can't help but believe him. "Thank you." Soft. Relieved. And entirely honest. The words are too little, but they're all you have right now.

“Come on.” He opens the door for you. “We will get to the safe house and you can tell me what snacks you shoved in your purse so we can make sure we’ve got more ordered.” He chuckles. “I’m more of a Shark Fin cookies man, myself. What about you?”

Biting your lip sheepishly, you reach into your purse and pull out a little blue pack of the frosted shortbread cookies that your niece and nephew got you hooked on. "My sister's kids went through a phase of eating only these and nothing else. And then of course they got sick of them and haven't touched them since. So the Costco crate of cookie packs that she had left went to me. I love these things."

.”Missy likes those.” He chuckles. “And I have to admit they are good dunked in a cup of coffee.” Getting you to open up and relax slightly is a good thing as he guides you towards the elevators that lead to the sub levels.

"Frosted cookies shaped like sharks," you laugh at the simplicity of it. Laughing is good. It's...better than a panic attack, anyway. "What's not to like?"

“Exactly.” The elevator is quick to arrive and completely enclosed. “We won’t be coming into the office until they track this guy down, but they will. Don’t worry.”

"I just..." The elevator door closes swiftly and Marcus pushes the button for one of the subterranean levels, which makes your stomach flip all over again and you tuck away the cookie packet. "I don't know what I did to make this person think the advances are welcome..."

“A lot of times….no one does anything.” Marcus admits. “It’s- whoever it is, they are ill. You are just the unfortunate person they fixated on.”

"Thank you." Two words and yet they're all you can really think to say in the moment of quiet the falls between you. "I know that this...this is your job. But I appreciate it. Really."

He hums as the door open to the parking garage and he pulls his keys out of the jacket he is wearing. “It might be my job, but it’s more than that. You are a part of our team. Our family.”

"Ya know." He opens the car door for you and you're momentarily flabbergasted, but this is Marcus Moreno. He's the closest thing to an actual Superman that the world has. "Most of the time when a workplace says that, it's a corporate bullshit way of saying that people bicker and talk behind each other's backs but smile to each other's faces. This is the first place I've ever worked where it means that people take care of each other."

“We have to.” He flashes you a grin. “The work can be soul crushing, the hours suck, there’s no personal life and the coffee in the breakroom is terrible. We have to take care of each other.”

He rounds the car and gets behind the wheel, and you find yourself actually laughing again. For the first time since all of this got serious you don't feel alone or isolated, and it's bolstering your mood. "We could just get better coffee, you know. It's not hard."

“Every time we do, Tech-No adds his “special ingredient”.” Marcus rolls his eyes. “Shit tastes like motor oil.”

"Don't let Tech-No near the coffee pot. And don't drink coffee if he has been." You nod sagely at the inherent advice. "Got it."

The tunnel for the secret Heroics exit is only used for emergencies and special circumstances, needing an access card to open the gate to its entrance. Everyone had that access who works in the building, but the record will be logged and kept tract of. The window slides down and he presses his badge against the pad to allow the steel door to swing open. The tunnel will let you out five miles from the gates surrounding the headquarters.

"Is it a long drive?" It doesn't make any sense to ask him where you're going. It doesn't matter where the destination is, you're going somewhere safe. But if you need to pick out some driving music it's best to know if this is a pop album kind of drive or more of an occasion for lengthy rock anthems.

“Only about twenty-five minutes away.” Marcus tells you, the florescent lights of the tunnel bouncing off the narrow road.

“So not long enough for an entire rock opera, got it.” When he sort of half raises an eyebrow at you plugging in your phone, you shrug. “I never drive anywhere without music. Do you have a favorite? Or something you hate?”

Marcus chuckles and shakes his head. “I haven’t gotten to pick the music since Missy was about four years old.” He admits. “It’s on whatever she left it on.”

"Well..." You're fiddling with your phone, making sure anything that could broadcast your location is shut off, and look over at him. "I don't have a ton of music on my phone without an internet connection, but I have enough. Should I just put it on shuffle?"

“Nothing wrong with being surprised by the next song.” He reaches down and hands you the cord to plug into the car. “Here you go.”

The effort to distract yourself seems so small and insignificant but the irony of "Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law..." coming out over the car speakers makes you visibly fluster. "I...really like Styx," you laugh, shrugging sheepishly.

He nods. “Although the lyrics are a little ill timed.” He admits with a snort. “Hopefully this guy isn’t law enforcement.”

"I feel like it could be anyone." And that fact alone makes you feel a little helpless.

“We won’t let him get close to you.” Marcus promises, aware that you have to be feeling nervous about everyone right now. “Granada will have him figured out soon and we’ll make sure that he’s taken care of.”

He's probably right. That is her reputation anyway, and you're just going to have to put aside whatever stupid adolescent crush you have bubbling under the surface to survive a safe house with him. "The only thing for us to do now is wait, I guess."

“Waiting is probably the toughest thing out of all of this.” Marcus admits, glancing over at you. “We’ll have to keep you distracted.”

"I hope you have some ideas." A sort of half-disbelieving laugh huffs from your lips. "Because I don't suppose the safe house is going to have a closet full of board games or a spacious home library for us to pick through."

“It’s a regular house.” Marcus explains. “With upgraded, state of the art security.” He shrugs slightly. “I know that there’s tv and a large kitchen?”

"Well, that's something." After all, you'll have to eat. So at least you'll have time to cook, which you never have time for in your daily life anymore.

“I can have some books sent.” He offers. “When they deliver fresh groceries.”

"Is reading enough to keep you distracted, too?" It occurs to you, that despite finding him handsome and having noticed a few little quirks about Marcus Moreno around the office, that you don't really know that much about him.

“The last time I read a book?” Marcus chuckles. “I swear it was ‘Goodnight Moon’.” He admits. “It might be a refreshing change from the reports that make my eyes cross in boredom.”

“We could be an odd little two-person book club.” It’s a sweet, harmless thing to say but it makes you laugh with nervous embarrassment nonetheless. “If we like the same sorts of books, I mean.”

“You’ll have to give me tips on what’s good.” He hums, slowing down as he reaches the exit of the tunnel and prepares to scan his badge again for the exit to open. “Really? The last book I read was probably one of my late wife’s romance novels. She was a sucker for them.”

“You read her romances?” That surprises you, mostly because you don’t really think of men as being big consumers of the romance genre. Sure your best friend does, but you’ve always considered him to be the except that proves the rule.

“Yeah.” He might be a little embarrassed to admit that, but it seems like the kind of information that you might like. Or at least make you feel a little easier about being cooped up with him in a strange place for some undetermined time. “She had a lot of them. Always said that while it was female porn, if you wanted to know what women really wanted, read their romance novels.”

“She’s completely right.” You agree immediately. “Although, some of my favorites are both.” Why are you telling him this? You really don’t have any idea yet you can’t seem to stop yourself. “Romance and porn in one.”

He scans his badge and rolls the window up. “Those are my favorites too.” He huffs shamelessly. “For obviously single reasons.”

When he lost his wife it was front page news all over the country. The world even. Not even superpowers could stop cancer. But something in you tells you to stay positive for him, and not let him descend into grief when it isn’t necessary. “Do you like fantasy settings? Otherworldly creatures, faeries, magic, that sort of thing? Or maybe historical fiction?”

“Pirates.” He tosses you a grin. “Arrrrrgh. Always wanted to be one when I was younger.”

Pirates. It could be such a sweet, unassuming answer. Or it could mean he likes spicy romances with reverse harems. Both are equal plausible. “Then we’ll have to find you some pirate romances to read.”

He smirks slightly and wonders if you are just being nice to him in a difficult situation or if you have some idea of how that could be taken. “We will have to exchange notes as we read.”

“The world’s smallest book club.” It sounds charming when you say it this time, instead of slightly damning, and you manage a smile. “We can make it fun.”

Merging onto the roads is smooth and Marcus makes sure no one is following. “Just think of it as a book retreat.” He jokes.

******

It’s well past sunrise when his phone rings, but with the curtains drawn it’s hard to tell. Sleep has been deeper for the last several weeks, and days more relaxed despite the obviously very tense reason for being in a safe house.

Almost six weeks, but this morning it’s the sound of a phone call that wakes him, from a private number on a secure line.

Marcus gropes blindly for the phone, groaning as he shuffles and nearly drops it before he squints and taps the button to answer. “Moreno.” He rasps out, voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” Ms. Granada’s voice chirps down the line. “Sorry to have woken you, but I think you’ll be pleased to hear that you are safe to return to civilization as of this morning. The stalker has been apprehended and is being held without bail.”

“That’s good.” His eyes focus and he shifts slightly, sitting halfway up and talking quietly. “I- I’ll let her know.”

“I’m requiring you both to take a week to reacclimate yourselves.” Granada adds, almost as if she is tacking it on at the end of a thought. “You’ve been in isolation for six weeks. You need some time with your families and to breathe.”

“I’m sure that will be appreciated.” He clears his throat gently. “Thank you.” He ends the call and sets the phone back on the nightstand, deciding that he will talk to you about it later. He turns back and curls around you, thankful you had turned over when the phone rang.

“What was that?” You half mumbled, curling backward into his arms the moment you feel him turn over to wrap around you. Air conditioning keeps the house cool and you feel asleep naked and sweaty again last night so his warmth is the perfect defense against the chilly air of the safe house. “Delivery day early this week?”

“No.” Kissing the expanse of bare shoulder available to him, he hums softly. “We are free to leave the safe house.” He tells you quietly. “He’s been caught.”

Such a small, simple announcement makes you pause for a moment before rolling over in his arms, searching Marcus’s face for any trace of hesitation or concern. A trace that might telling you he isn’t telling you the whole truth. But there is no such trace — only his soft and loving eyes taking in your features with as much concern as you feel. “They…really?”

“Really.” He leans in and presses his lips softly to yours. “We are to take a week to get used to being around other people, see our families.”

“You must be thrilled to see Missy again.” It’s been far too long, and you feel guilty admitting that you would be just fine staying cooped up in this little house with him. It took only a week of being each other’s constant companions for you to fall into bed together, and since then a part of you has feared what will happen to this bond when your time together was arguably over.

“It’s been a long time.” He admits, although he’s talked to her on the comms like and video chatted with his teenage daughter. “Anything special you want to do?”

“I should check in with my sister, probably.” It was imperative to keep your whereabouts unknown, so while Granada had contacted your sister on your behalf, you haven’t seen or spoken to her in weeks. “She’s probably out of her mind by now. She was worried about me taking this job.”

“Yeah.” He bites his lip, hating how his first reaction to this is disappointment. He hates that he’s disappointed that the stalker has been arrested, that you won’t be sequestered here with him. “Do you-“ he stops himself, knowing that it’s selfish to ask.

“Do I…?” You prompt, nervous from the look on his face that he might prefer to end things here. As much as you might have dreamed during these last few weeks, the reality may be that he doesn’t want to change his daughter’s life in that way.

“Do you want to maybe….” He gives a one shoulder shrug and smiles self consciously. “Go out on a date? Let me take you to a restaurant?”

The concerned pinch of your eyebrows smooths instantly and you nearly laugh, but he looks so worried. Like he actually thinks you might say no. “A little old fashioned isn’t it?” You tease, wrapping one arm around his waist. “To ask a girl out more than a month after you start sleeping together.”

“Haven’t exactly had an opportunity to be a gentleman.” He snorts. “Missy knows.” He admits softly. “She told me that I would be a ‘bone head’ if I didn’t take you out.”

“Missy knows?” That’s news to you, and your eyebrows shoot up in response. You really hadn’t thought that he would have told her yet. If at all.

“Are you okay with that?” His brow furrows in concern, worried that he had overstepped.

“Of course I am.” You surge up to kiss him, soothing away any concern he might have. “I just…I know I told my sister about you but I guess I never really expected that you would have told Missy already.”

“I figured it would important to let her get used to the idea.” Marcus admits, but he chuckles. “She told me it was about time.”

“That practically sounds like a ringing endorsement.” In a way that makes your stomach flip and flutter downright girlishly.

“It is.” He chuckles in relief and his fingers start to stroke your stomach from where he is curled around you. “And I’m not exactly happy about the idea of not sleeping next to you.”

“We’ve gotten used to it, haven’t we?” It’s been constant. Practically every second — sleeping or waking — has been spent together like a honeymooning couple instead of people hiding out for safety. “I don’t like the idea of it either, if I’m honest.”

“We will have to figure out a way to make sure everyone is happy.” Marcus muses.

“Everyone?” When you raise an eyebrow at him this time it’s playful, although there is an admitted note of worry underneath. “Even your formidable mother?”

“Are you scared?” He teases, knowing that despite her age, Anita Moreno was well respected and slightly feared at Heroics Headquarters.

“Honestly?” You’d be insane not to be, and you pride yourself on doing your best to make sense of most things. “I’d have to be out of my mind not to be at least a little scared.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” Marcus smiles as he leans in and kisses you again, struck by how he had said these words six weeks ago, and now they have a far more intimate meaning. “I’ll protect you.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[yonemurishiroku]

My heart is broken over another devastating loss.

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 8- Cockwarming

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word count- 1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- I miss writing for sweet himbo Marcus!! I can't believe it's been since last October when I wrote for him!! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

The morning sun hit your eyes and you let out a soft groan. You weren’t ready to face the day yet, not when you were so comfortable in bed. In Marcus’ bed. In his arms. You smiled to yourself as you let your eyes gently close and savored the feeling of his strong arms around you, holding you close and safe.

Nothing separated your bodies as you laid together under the sheets. Marcus’ body heat was all the warmth you needed as you both fell asleep tangled up in each other. Safe and comfortable and completely disconnected from the rest of the world, you never wanted to leave his bed.

Marcus groaned softly as he too started to wake. He mumbled your name in a sleep-ladened voice as he placed a series of light kisses along your shoulders and your back. Anywhere he could reach with his skin, Marcus kissed, worshiping your body in the morning sun.

“Marcus,” you breathed. 

“Morning, baby,” he murmured between kisses.

He worked his way up your shoulders and to your neck, playfully nibbling and biting all the spots he knew were sensitive. You let out a stifled giggle as you bit your lip and craned your neck to allow him better access. Marcus hummed in approval as he ran his tingle along the taut muscle of your neck, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you leaned your body into him.

Marcus snaked his arms around your body to caress your chest, kneading and squeezing you to pull even louder moans. He groaned as he bucked his hips against your ass so you could feel his hardening cock against your body.

The two of you were alone in the house; Missy was away at a training camp for the rest of the week, so you could stay in bed as long as you wanted. And you both could be as loud as you wanted without fear of her hearing your bedroom activities. You absolutely adored Marcus’ daughter, but at the same time you were grateful for the alone time you got to spend with him while she was away.

He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around your body and one hand trailed along your front to cup at your groin. You moaned loudly as he worked you between your legs, making you feel so good. Marcus was always good with his hands, and he could play your body like an instrument, and pull the most beautiful sounds to his ears from you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” Marcus murmured into your ear as his skilled hands fondled you.

“You have me, Marcus,” you whispered back as you turned your neck and took his lips with your own.

He moaned into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was slow yet passionate, and full of feeling. You rocked your hips in time with his hands as you started a new rhythm with him. Every time you backed up, your ass grazed against his cock, and you made sure to rub yourself against him.

Heat rose between your bodies as you both became more desperate for the other. Breaking away for a deep breath, you rolled yourself around to face him. Marcus looked at you with those big, dark eyes that you could never deny, and he reached out and cupped your face in a tender moment. You leaned in as you both breathed the other’s name before kissing him once more.

As your tongue danced with his, you shifted yourself so that you straddled Marcus’ waist. His hands never left your sides as he helped guide you while never breaking away from the kiss. It had just been since last night that he was inside you, but you both needed it again regardless. 

You rocked your hips along his length, pulling low moans and hisses from Marcus as he broke the kiss to let out a cry of pleasure. He sighed your name as he looked up at you with a glossed over expression. His hands roamed all over your body, caressing your sides as if he tried to memorize every inch of your skin.

“Sweetheart…” he murmured. 

“I know,” you whispered.

Slowly, you positioned yourself on his cock and lowered yourself down. Both of you gasped as his cock pushed past your first ring of muscle and entered your body inch by inch. Still wet from the night before and mixed with your need for him, you took his cock easily even first thing in the morning.

When your hips met his, you collapsed forward and laid down on his chest, and Marcus immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. You felt his heart pounding in his chest as you ran your hand across his bare skin. This time, it was your turn to kiss wherever you could reach, and you felt Marcus let out a soft laugh as you tickled his skin.

“You feel so good, baby,” he purred as he caressed your back, his fingers trailing along your spine.

“So do you, baby,” you murmured as you contently closed your eyes.

Marcus loved to be inside you; he craved it every moment of the day when he wasn't. And now that he was, he felt like he was in heaven. He kissed the side of your head as he adjusted himself slightly so you both were comfortable. Neither of you wanted to move anytime soon, not when you laid connected together like this. And you had no plans or responsibilities for the day, so you were free to stay as long as you wanted. 

“Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?” Marcus asked in a hushed voice, careful not to disturb the comfortable quiet that fell over the room.

“You just did,” you quipped back with a soft laugh.

“Well, you are,” Marcus joined your laughter as he kissed you again and tightened his grip on you, “I love you, baby.” He closed his eyes, ready to settle in like his as long as you would stay on top of him. His harden cock stayed buried deep inside you, but he didn’t feel the need to fuck you just yet. Right now, he just wanted to savor the feeling of you around him. He could always fuck you later, and this afternoon, and tonight, and tomorrow, and forever.

You hummed as you smiled against his skin and your eyes fluttered shut as well, “I love you too, Marcus.”

It was a long time before the two of you finally moved.

[yah1dka]

when everyone is fighting shigaraki, denki explains that katsuki always pays attention to his surroundings.

can it partially be influenced by the fact, that, while struggling against the sludge villain, katsuki blew up and threw on fire everything around him and it was the reason why presenting heroes didn't save him? yk katsuki is the boy who cried, because he "ended all might", so could blamed himself for the attack that time too

[xhfics]

hi loves can i ask mtl xh's member that into degrading and whyyyyyyyy

Most

Jiseok

Gunil

Hyeongjun

Jooyeon

Seungmin

Jungsu

Least

This was kind of a difficult one ngl!

I just really think Jiseok and Gunil would be into it if you were too! Both of them know what they like to say and what you like to hear, so they're very tuned in on what they can say. Jiseok's mostly letting himself go and if you're okay with it he would 100% be down calling you a dumb whore or something. I think Gunil would be more 'gentle' and call you things like his little play toy for him to enjoy or something like that.

For Junhan and Jooyeon, it depends on their mood! If you're really being bratty and they're in the mood to call you names, like slut, they're gonna do it. Junhan would speak his words loud and clear, Jooyeon grunts them teasingly and mockingly as he has his way with you.

Personally I don't see Seungmin and Jungsu be into this. I think Jungsu would be too flustered or nervous even for it, he might even feel bad ngl. And Seungmin idk he'd be more of a dirty talker than really degrading. He could call you 'degrading' names if you really, really wanted him to, but they'd come out too endearing bc he doesn't get off on it otherwise.

[kacchanot-fucking-deal-with-this]

another episode of will i continue working on my fanfic or succumb to the tumblr doomscroll once more?

[annadriesen2121]

I could look at this picture of Willems for the rest of my life... my heart beats like a drum! 🥳

WdS and WH during Ensors after party! We've been waiting for this photo for years!

[huntingingoodwill]

an adult dinner party (m.m.)

masterlist

desc: when your attempts to help out marcus with a dinner party go south, he swoops in to save the day. not all heroes wear capes. some of them wear aprons.

a/n: a fluffy fic for the @happypedrohours charcuterie writing challenge based on the prompt poppy seed crackers w/ marcus m!!!

“Poppy seed crackers. Like the stuff they make opium from?” Marcus said, squinting at the ingredients list printed on the back of the box.

“I’m sure they’re not selling expiring opium at the grocery store clearance section.” You laughed, the words already sounding doubtful as they left your mouth. Would they sell opium at the grocery store?

“What’s opium?” Missy said, looking extremely bored as she lounged in the shopping cart.

“Google it.” You said, words overlapping with Marcus’ as he said, “You don’t need to know.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad for you.” The two of you said in unison.

“Are we having opium at the dinner party?” Missy asked.

“Nah.” Marcus said, ruffling her hair. “Doubt that’d go down well with the other parents.”

You felt the box of crackers crinkle beneath your tense knuckles at the mention of the other parents.

As a member of the Parents’ Association at Missy’s school, it was Marcus’ turn to host a dinner for them tonight. You were determined to cook a feast to end all feasts for him, but you were definitely feeling the pressure.

“You’re gonna crush them.” He chuckled, extracting the crackers from your iron grip and tossing them to Missy, who caught them and placed them next to her in the cart.

“I just really want to help you make a good impression. I want to put on the perfect Adult Dinner Party.” You placed special emphasis on the last three words, aspirational ideas of sophisticated conversation over aperitifs flashing through your mind.

“Adult? Like X-rated?” Marcus grinned, killing your images of civilised chatter and hors d’oeuvres served on silver platters. His smile was illuminated by his phone as he skimmed over the frantic grocery list you had sent him, full of typos and vague ingredients.

“What’s ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’?” he said, pointing at the words that flashed across his screen.

“I feel like ‘MEAT THE COLD KIND’ is pretty explanatory.” You said, drifting towards the cold cuts, tossing some prosciutto into the cart before steering towards the self-checkout area.

As you packed your groceries away, you watched as Marcus aimed the scanner at Missy, red lights flashing over her frame.

“Nothing.” She said, staring at the till where, naturally, no product registered. “Guess I’m worthless.” She joked.

“You’re priceless.” He corrected, turning the scanner on you. “And so are you.”

You rolled your eyes at his corniness, melting into his touch as he reached to cup your face in his large, warm hands, thumbs skimming the lines of your cheekbones.

“You’ll be fine tonight. Everything will be okay.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pointedly ignoring Missy’s pleas for the both of you to get a room.

“I’ll be fine.” You repeated, taking a deep breath that seemed to usher out all the anxiety that lingered in your body. “Everything will be okay.”

“Everything is NOT okay!” You wailed later that evening, flying into Marcus’ arms as soon as he came into the kitchen. You had only ushered him out of the kitchen an hour earlier to get him to set the dining table and clean up some of the everyday clutter accrued in the living room, but it was already apparent that things weren’t turning out as you hoped.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, holding you tight in his embrace.

“Turns about, despite my hopes and delusions, I am not Julia Child.” You groaned into the crook of his neck. “I can’t even fold the meat elegantly.” You said, gesturing at the haphazard ribbons of prosciutto splayed out on the charcuterie board.

“Can meat be folded elegantly?” Marcus said, arching an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me! I wouldn’t know!” You threw your hands up in the air, sardonic words dripping in frustration.

He smiled, the image of calm amidst a kitchen that looked like a tornado had ripped through it, before using his thumb to swipe some flour off your cheek.

“That’s from the Beef Wellington.” You sighed.

“Honey, I’ve always loved your ambition.” He smiled, planting his hands on your shoulders.

“I think the parents of the association would love elegant prosciutto more than my ambition.”

He opened his mouth to protest, the shrill ring of the oven timer interrupting him.

“Help me get the Wellington, please.” You said, carving slices out of a block of cheese spotted with blue mould for the charcuterie board.

“Um, is the Wellington supposed to be so… pale?”

You dropped the knife, panic beginning to swell in your chest.

“How pale are we talking?”

“A grain of rice in a snowstorm?”

You dashed toward the oven, the swell of panic burgeoning into a wave of horror that crashed over you as you saw Marcus holding a Wellington encased with completely raw dough.

You stuck your hand in the oven, letting out a defeated wail.

“It’s not even on! It’s so cold in there, an ice cube would get goosebumps.”

You flopped onto the tiled kitchen floor, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

“You win, Adult Dinner Party. I surrender.” You breathed, exhausted.

“Mr and Mrs McCartney are here.” Missy said, appearing in the kitchen’s entryway.

“HELP!” You cried.

“Missy, stall them outside for a little. I’ll bring them in in a second.” Marcus sat down next to you as soon as Missy made a beeline for the door, smoothing stray hairs away from your face.

“Just go upstairs and get ready. I’ll handle it.” He soothed.

“Are you sure?” You sniffed.

“I’m sure. I can’t undercook the charcuterie board, can I? Charcuterie is French for ‘slap it on a wooden block and call it a day’.”

“I think Duolingo is lying to you.” You said, the smile returning to your face. He always knew how to do that.

“Maybe.” He smiled, offering you his arm and bringing you to your feet, the movement making a strange crunching noise that prompted the both of you to look at the floor.

You had managed to knock the box of crackers off the counter during your earlier flurry of movement, and he had stepped on them, reducing them to little crumbs that sprayed across the tile.

“Those crackers are driving me crazy.” You sighed.

“Same.” Marcus sighed, taking a peek out of the window to watch as Mr and Mrs McCartney pretended to listen to Missy tell an animated story out on the porch.

He ushered you toward the stairs.

“You’ll be okay?” You said, shooting an anxious look over your shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” He said, his calming voice washing over you with a wave of relief.

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning to give him a parting kiss.

It was only 20 minutes later when you descended the stairs, greeted by a crowd of elegant parents, nibbling on charcuterie and cocktails made out of the week old carton of orange juice that had been sitting in the fridge, and the dregs of whatever liquor Marcus could find in the kitchen cupboard.

“You look amazing.” Marcus said, reaching for your hand, staring at you with a glint of awe in his eye, even if all you did was freshen up as quick as you could and thrown on whatever nice old thing was hanging in the closet.

“You are amazing.” You whispered, pulling him into the kitchen, poppy seed crumbs still underfoot.

“So are you.” He grinned, warm palms travelling over your sides and finding their place on your hips.

“The meat was folded very elegantly, and the poppy seed crackers were scarcely missed.” You muttered, lips upturning as your hand skimmed the front of his shirt, travelling up his chest to fix his tie. “I love you. You’re perfect.”

“You’re pretty wonderful yourself.” He chuckled. “Wellington’s in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner and the pizza delivery guy said he’ll be here in five minutes. Is it the X-rated pizza party you were hoping for?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking him playfully on the arm.

“It’s Adult Dinner Party.” You corrected. “And yes, it’s everything I hoped for and more.”

Stealing a moment away from the party, the mild chatter continuing outside the door, your lips met in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other tight amongst powdery spills of flour, cracked eggshells and poppy seed cracker crumbs. The perfect embrace in the most imperfect of places.

[inknopewetrust]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐈.

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐞ñ𝐚 [𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬]

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚��𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 [𝟏𝟖+].

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐈 & 𝐈𝐈

𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫’𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 [𝟏𝟖+].

𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰.

𝐀 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐄𝐀’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐭á 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐨 [𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬]

𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝟎𝟏 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝟎𝟑 | 𝟎𝟒

𝐈𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬’ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 [𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐥𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐀 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞. 

[wardenparker]

What Happens in Vegas, part 1

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

******

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[quinn-of-aebradore]

“You will come back.” Essek says and it is not a question or a statement; it is a plea.

Caleb huffs a sigh, stroking his husband’s cheek. “Schatzi-“

“You will,” Essek’s gaze shoots from the floor to Caleb. “I will not be there to protect you. So you will promise me that you will protect yourself.”

“Essek. Liebling, you know I cannot make any guarantees.”

Caleb catches a glint of fang as Essek grits his teeth, the hand at his side clenching for the briefest of moments.

“He will not take you from me.”

Angry tears bead in Essek’s eyes, blurring the silver lining them and spilling down his face. Again, he breaks Caleb’s gaze and stares at the floor. Caleb’s chest aches at the sight of it, knowing he can do nothing to end the pain, only lessen it.

“I sold my last home away for him,” Essek mutters after a moment, voice scalding with the hurt it contains. “He cannot take my new one from me too.”

The last words break on a sob and Caleb catches him just as he pitches into his arms. Tight as a vice, he holds Essek to his chest as he weeps, face buried in the scarf he himself knitted.

“Come home to me, Caleb Widogast,” he begs. “Please don’t leave me.”

Caleb has not heard him sound so broken in years.

“I will,” he whispers, ignoring the sour bite of uncertainty in his throat, and presses a kiss to Essek’s curls. “I’ll come home, my love.”