#and i can see the red flags a mile away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lipglossanon · 2 months

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Red Flags and Long Nights

Real Dad!Leon S. Kennedy x daughter fem!reader (one shot)

hello hello 👋 this is the fic written for the milestone celebration poll winner (real dad taking accidental viagra); big big thanks to all of you who have gotten me here!! 💜 💜 I’m so thankful everyday that you guys choose to read/like/share/interact with my fics and just me in general! 🥰 so without further ado, I hope you enjoy this one shot!!!

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, INCEST, dead dove content, dad/daughter incest, groping, slight cnc, dirty talk, breast play, oral (m receiving), kissing, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread 😅 some of it was written while sleepy so hopefully it makes sense haha

title from Red Flags and Long Nights from She Wants Revenge

<<prequel: Oh By Gosh, By Golly>>

One day, your mom calls you up out of the blue wanting to talk about planning a family vacation this year. Somewhere with sandy beaches and clear blue water. Something over an extended weekend once everyone can take off work. She’s already talked it over with your dad and he’s agreeable as long as it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.

As she talks, you pull open your calendar and look over your work schedule. Once you find a date that works, she promises to text you the details of the Air B&B she plans to book. You bid her goodbye and hang up the phone, quietly excited about a beach trip even if it is with your parents.

You keep busy as you slowly count down the days; long graduated from college but still struggling to find work in your major, you’ve had to settle for any job opportunity that will pay the bills. Luckily enough, you were hired to work at the local post office. It’s not a glamorous job by any means, but you do get federal holidays off and your boss is pretty lenient with you. It’s a cinch to put in your PTO for the extended weekend you plan to spend with your parents.

The morning you drive down to the beach house is pleasant; it’s early enough you miss out on a bunch of traffic which helps you save enough time to splurge a little and grab some coffee. Following the GPS, you get to the beach house in the afternoon with plenty of sunshine left to enjoy. Your parent’s car is already parked outside so you don’t have to worry about figuring out how to unlock the joint.

You grab your small suitcase and make your way into the lovely three story home. As you walk up the gravel sidewalk, you take in how secluded the area truly is and how lucky your mom was in getting such a nice place. You’re pretty sure it cost out the ass, but hey who’re you to deny such generosity?

The door swings open before you touch the handle and your mom pulls you into a hug.

“Oh honey, I’m so happy you could make it!”

Breathing in the perfume embedded into your brain from childhood, you give her a quick squeeze back before pulling away.

“Me too,” you smile, “this place is amazing!”

She laughs and moves further into the house, looking back as you follow along behind after closing the door.

“A friend of a friend owns this place so it was pretty easy to get. Even your father can’t throw one of his little hissy fits about the cost,” she rolls her eyes and you breathe out a laugh.

“Where is he?” You look around but only see the open kitchen leading off into the dining room.

“Down at the beach,” she points to the sliding glass doors on the other side of the living room, “I told him I wanted to stay up here for when you arrived.”

You nod and smile at her again, “Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m gonna go put my stuff up and change then we can head down ourselves.”

She nods, “There’s a handful of bedrooms on the second and third floor. Your dad and I are staying in the master down here so you have your choice of rooms.”

“Nice, be back in a sec,” grabbing your luggage, you climb the stairs to scout out where you want to sleep.

You pick a cute room on the third floor; it has a little balcony with a couple of chairs that gives you a fantastic view for miles around. You toss your clothes into the dresser and quickly change into your swimsuit. Grabbing a towel and some sunscreen, you slide on your sandals and make your way back downstairs. Your mom, wearing a big floppy hat, is already standing outside the sliding doors.

You chatter with each other, just catching up on your day to day, while you both make your way down the little path that leads out onto the beach. As soon as your sandals hit the sand, you see a huge beach umbrella.

“Glad to know he won’t burn,” your mom laughs, toeing off her own sandals to walk barefoot over to your dad.

Following her lead, you take off your sandals and carry them over to the blanket underneath the shade of the umbrella.

“‘Bout time,” a groggy baritone meets your ears.

“Shush, Leon, it didn’t kill you to nap on the beach now did it?”

Your dad just mumbles a reply to your mom before raising up. He squints over at you, eyes heavy lidded from sleep as you set your stuff down.

“The drive okay?”

You laugh and finally look over at him, “It was fine.”

His blue eyes sharpen as they read your expression before darting down to give you a once over. Your nipples tighten against your will and his gaze seems to linger there for a split second before flicking back up to your face. Plastering on a fake smile, you sit down and grab your sunscreen.

“Want some help with that?” Your dad nods to the little bottle in your hands.

“S-sure.”

You kinda hope the ground splits open to swallow you whole, but instead you just move over to where your dad is sitting up on the blanket, hand outstretched to grab the sunscreen.

“Well while you two do that, I’m going to go take a dip,” your mom beams at you, completely leaving you alone to wallow in this newfound awkwardness.

Keeping your back to your dad, you feel his broad calloused palms drag the slick lotion all over your back and shoulders, deftly massaging it in. For the last few years, there’s been a line of tension between you and Leon. An accidental kiss under the mistletoe where you both used too much tongue to be appropriate (any tongue isn’t appropriate but you’re blaming the alcohol everyone had been drinking).

Since then, you’ve both watched the other. Glances too heated to be innocent, brushing against each other unnecessarily… and now with his sun warmed hands rubbing across your back, your brain empties as your body buzzes with arousal.

It’s why it takes a second for you to realize that your dad has moved on to rubbing in the sunblock across your ribs and over your clavicle. His hands come up and cup your breasts, stiff nipples showing through the fabric.

“Gotta make sure to get everywhere,” his breath gusts past your ear as his hands slip under your top and massages the fat of your breasts.

“Ohh,” you whimper quietly, cunt pulsing warmly in time with your heartbeat.

He squeezes and rubs across your soft skin, fingers plucking at your stiff peaks until you moan brokenly.

“Dad,” your breathy exaltation has him pinching and twisting your nipples before groping your breasts roughly in his hands.

“‘M almost done,” he licks the shell of your ear and your thighs twitch, “you’ve got such nice tits, princess. Don’t want’em to burn.”

You press your hand over your mouth to muffle the whine you let slip. With one last harsh pinch to your nipples, he lets go, scooting back away from you.

“Should be good to go,” he grins at your dazed look, “don’t keep your mom waiting.”

Shaking your head, you blink rapidly and slowly climb to your feet. As you pass by Leon, his hand reaches up and smacks your ass hard.

“Be a good girl, okay?”

“Y-yeah, dad.”

You pad out to the ocean, waving to your mom as she looks for seashells in the shallow water. Wading out far enough for water to hit your chest, you finally let yourself sigh out loud.

“What in the fuck?!”

You rub wet hands over your face as you gaze out onto the horizon. Flirting is one thing, but getting felt up by your dad is definitely crossing the line. You shiver, clit still throbbing as you reach down to press your palm against your cunt. Even as messed up as it may make you, you wish he would’ve slipped his hand down and fingered your pussy.

The sun glaring off the water makes you squint even as you enjoy the scenery, trying your best to squish all the other thoughts and feelings you’ve had in the past half hour down into a little box you can open later. It works for a time, until the squinting becomes too much and the glare is driving sharp little needles into your brain.

Leaving the water, you make your way over to your mom as she scoops up more shells with a net.

“I’m gonna head in, got a bit of a headache,” you wince as the sun bounces off her watch into your eyes.

“Let me walk with you,” she frowns, “you’re looking a little washed out.”

You nod and follow her back up to the beach blanket, eyes skirting over where your dad’s lounging reading a book.

“We’re headed up to the house, do you need anything?”

Your mom grabs her bag and your stuff as your dad sets his book down onto his lap. He looks at you then back to his wife.

“No, once I finish this, I’ll be heading up, too.”

She hums and takes you by the arm, helping guide you back to the house since the pain beats a tempo behind your eyes and makes your vision a little blurry. Once in the house, she helps you upstairs to your room. In doing so, she makes sure to stop in at the bathroom on the bottom floor to point out the migraine medicine in the cabinet.

Entering your room, she sits you down on your bed. She tucks you in and makes sure to close the blinds before walking back into the hallway. Turning, she gives you a concerned look.

“I’m going to head into town. It’s about an hour's drive from here so I won’t be back til later. If you need anything, call, okay?”

You hum in reply already drifting to sleep in hopes you’ll feel better once you crash for a few hours. The nap helps and by the time you come to, your headache is completely gone. Waking up is a chore however; it takes you a minute to realize where you are, eyelids sticking together, gummy with sleep.

Raising up on your elbows, you reach over to the side table and grab your phone. Eyebrows pinching together, you blink sluggishly until you can read the time. It’s only late afternoon even if it feels like you’ve slept through the night. Climbing out of bed, you change before leaving your room with a plan on grabbing some water from the kitchen.

It’s noticeably quiet as you finally step out on the bottom floor. Your mom must still be gone since you don’t see her shoes by the front door.

“Fuck.”

You hear the muttered curse from the half open bathroom door that you’re walking past heading to the kitchen.

“Everything okay?”

You slowly press the door all the way open and your dad fumbles with a towel before placing it over his lap as he sits heavily down on the edge of the tub.

“I thought you were out with your mother,” he bites out, tone sharp.

“No,” you frown, leaning against the doorjamb, “I had a headache and took a nap. Are you alright?”

He blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face.

“I’m fine. What time did she say she’d be back?”

You shrug, “Couple of hours I think. I don’t really remember.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Should I call—“

“No,” Leon nearly shouts, “no, don’t. It’s not a big deal.”

“Dad, I can help I just need to know what’s wrong,” you step closer into the bathroom.

He laughs without any humor, “Sure.”

You go to ask him why when your eyes catch on the bottle sitting by the sink. It’s similar to the migraine medicine you saw in the medicine cabinet earlier, the one your mom pointed out if the nap didn’t get rid of your headache. Who knew your dad needed help getting it up?

“Did you..?”

You trail off, feeling awkward and nervous and disgustingly turned on to think your dad’s dick is hard underneath that flimsy towel.

“Yes,” he sounds tired, “I thought it was the other medicine.”

“Ohh,” you bite your lip, brain completely in the gutter as your eyes drift down to his lap, “I mean, I can still help.”

It seems insane but your dad’s not stopping you as you shuffle closer to stand between his legs. His blue eyes stay steady on yours as you kneel in the floor, knees digging into the soft rug in front of the tub. Leon tugs his briefs down and his cock slaps against his stomach, precum drooling from the head. He’s so hard, the foreskin has drawn back from the tip showcasing how red and swollen his cock has gotten from the medication.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, eyes greedily taking him in.

“Fuck, don’t look at it like that,” he groans, hands gripping the tub so tight his knuckles blanch.

“You’re just really big,” you press the dough of your thighs together, trying to put a little pressure on your throbbing clit, “you’ve got the fattest cock I’ve ever seen, dad.”

You watch as precum blurts from the tip to drip all down his length while he moans low in his throat.

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth,” his pupils are blown as he gazes down at you, “since you like how big my dick is, sweetheart, why don’t you show me, hmm?”

Your tongue licks up all the precum leaking down his dick before softly suckling on the head.

“Oh fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, “suck that cock.”

Moaning, you bob your head down, tongue tracing the thick vein you can feel on the side as you sink down inch by inch. Your dad pulls out to trace your lips with his drippy tip, smearing precum across your mouth like sticky gloss. You moan and press a kiss to his dick, tongue lapping at the crown until he’s rocking back into your mouth. Humming low in your throat makes his cock kick in your mouth, precum coating your tongue.

“Damn, so good,” he groans, hand smoothing across your jaw, cradling it as he pulls his cock out, “never get head from your mom anymore. Feels so good.”

More slick wets your panties as you mewl, throat clicking as you swallow around his thick length. You hungrily suck his cock, tongue circling his head before dipping into the slit to taste more of his precum.

“Like sucking me off, sweetheart?” he tosses the fringe away from his eyes while he rocks his hips, pushing himself deeper into your throat with smooth strokes until you gag heavily.

“Love that, choke on it a bit more and I’ll be spilling down your slutty throat.”

Thick strands of saliva bridge between your mouth and his dick like shimmery spiderwebs as he slips out. You moan when he ruts his cock across your tongue. Leon groans and reaches down to tap his cock against your lips before feeding it back to you. Whining, you suck him deeper into your mouth, licking across the head before messily bobbing your head further down his thick length.

“I'm about t’cum, swallow it all up, princess,” he thrusts a few more times before pulling out until the tip is sitting fat and heavy on your tongue.

Leon grunts and moans as hot thick spurts of cum fill your mouth. Swallowing quickly, you try to keep his cum from spilling out around your lips, but it ends up leaving a sticky mess to drip down your chin in thick strands.

You watch as he groans, stomach flexing while you suckle on the head of his dick, making sure to not miss any of his hot jizz as his balls empty into your mouth. After giving the tip of his dick a kiss, you pull back and wipe the spend from your face with the bottom of your shirt.

Your cunt feels soaked, panties sticking to your pussy lips as you shakily stand onto your feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your dad stands up beside you, cock still hard and leaking, making you whimper. Pulling his briefs back up, he leaves his shorts and shirt lying on the floor. He grabs you by the forearm and leads you out of the bathroom and all the way upstairs into your room.

“No surprises if your mom comes home early,” he informs you, pushing you further into your room followed by closing and locking your door.

Heat radiates from your cunt, more slick dripping into the already soaked gusset of your panties. Leon shoves you back onto your bed before climbing on top of you, kissing you heatedly as he sinks down onto your body. You wrap your legs around his waist while you run your hands through his messy hair. You're so turned on you can’t think straight anymore.

“Thatta girl,” he coos, pulling back to drop kisses across your neck, “can’t wait to feel your wet little pussy, baby.”

You whimper and pull him back up into another kiss. This time he licks into your mouth messily, spit dripping from the corners of your lips to slide down your jaw. You feel him grind his cock against you before pulling away.

He sits back on his haunches and slips his briefs off, maneuvering until he can toss them into the floor. Next, he leans forward and grips the bands of your panties and shorts. You help him, shimmying to move your clothes down off of your legs. As he moves those into the floor, you slip your shirt off and let it too fall onto the pile of clothing.

“God, love your tits,” he groans, shoving his face into your breasts, mouth licking and biting every inch of skin they come across.

His mouth suctions around a nipple, tongue teasing the stiff bud as he tweaks the opposite one with his fingers.

“Dad,” you moan, nails digging into his scalp.

“What?” He coos, “your dad can’t show his appreciation?”

A whine rasps from your throat and Leon laughs meanly before biting the swollen bud he was sucking. With a grunt, he moves across your sternum, leaving hot open mouthed kisses across your chest until he can suckle and tease the other nipple, fingers plucking and pinching at the now wet one.

Your hips writhe, leaking cunt dragging against his stomach as his cock grinds against the cleft of your ass.

“Gonna let daddy stuff your tight wet cunt?” He chuckles as your eyes flutter as he lathes your nipples with broad swipes of his tongue.

“Yes,” you whisper, “wanna feel you split me open. You’re so big.”

Whining on the last word, you rock down, feeling his tip catch against your pussy lips and driving you crazy.

He growls and sits back on his heels, taking his cock in hand to smack it against your clit.

“So slutty,” his pupils swallow the blue of his eyes, “want daddy to stretch this little hole out? Show you how a real dick feels?”

Nodding along with his words, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking into the plush skin.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, spitting in his hand to slick his cock before pressing the head against your soaked heat.

Using his thumb, he presses his cock down so the tip slides into your hole. Keeping it there, he rocks against your hips, sinking inch by inch into your pulsing cunt as his thumb keeps his cock steady. Pulling halfway out, he flexes his hips and thrusts forward faster than before.

“Even your mom doesn’t let me go raw anymore,” he chuckles, bottoming out so fast you choke on air, “so this is a real treat, sweetheart.”

“Ohh god, dad,” you moan, voice high as he starts sliding his cock in and out of your pussy, rough thrusts that make your breasts bounce.

You whine when he grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing over your swollen clit just right. His balls smack against your ass on every thrust, the loud plap plap plap of skin driving your arousal even higher.

“Dad, fuck, s’too much,” you gasp out another whine, head feeling dizzy as your blood rushes, arousal making your pulse feel heavy in your throat.

He groans and drops his weight down on you, bare skin sticking together from the sweat building between your bodies. Leon kisses across your neck, mouth grazing your skin with barely there nips that makes your pussy flutter around his cock.

The thatch of hair at the base of Leon’s cock grazes your sensitive clit, sending little electric shocks of pleasure that brings tears to your eyes. You feel so good, you can’t stop the slutty noises from leaving your mouth. Rutting into your body, your dad’s fat cock grinds against the spongy spot along the front of your cunt. Slick gushes from your pussy as he hammers your g-spot so perfectly you can’t help but squeeze him tighter and tighter.

“Princess,” he murmurs in your ear, “is this little pussy gonna cum? You’re so soft and wet— I can feel you tightening up around me. God so much tighter than your mom, can’t believe I’ve been missing out.”

His words push you over the edge. You babble out little chants of dad, dad, dad until a guttural moan spills from your throat, thighs jumping as your pussy clamps down on Leon’s dick like a vice.

Your low moaning twists into a scream as his hand sneaks down to rub and tease your clit. Instead of your orgasm tapering off, it ramps up, gaining speed until it hurtles you into cumming again.

“Aww, she’s gripping me so tight,” Leon mocks sweetly in your ear, “yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.”

“Dad,” you whimper, tears clumping your eyelashes, “dad, please.”

A moan rumbles from his chest and he humps your cunt faster, cock never pulling completely out as he ruts inside your slick pussy walls. Half a dozen thrusts more and he’s growling down at you, pressing his cock balls deep into your cunt, thick cum spurting from the tip of his dick to stuff you full.

“Oh so tight, baby,” he sighs, hips pressed against yours as he spills inside your snug little cunt, “your little pussy fits me like a glove.”

Shuddering, your walls milk another small load of cum from his heavy balls and he pants noisily against your clavicle. He presses up onto his forearms, hips swiveling to pull his cock halfway out before sinking it back inside, a mix of your creamy arousal and his spend making a ring around the base.

“Good, huh,” his laugh tinges on mocking, “don’t worry, ‘m not done with my daughter’s cute pussy, gonna keep you here for as long as it takes.”

After that, it’s all a pleasurable blur. You're unsure how many orgasms your dad has given you at this point, but you know he’s only had three and his cock is still so thick and hard.

“Think this one will be it, princess,” he grunts, hoisting your limp thighs up, the bend of your knees slotting perfectly over the bend of his arms.

You can only pant in reply, mouth as dry as cotton. He notches the head of his drooling dick at your entrance, dragging the tip up to smear the cum from his last creampie all over your used cunt.

“One last load for your greedy little pussy,” he grins down at you, “then we can take a shower.”

He sinks his cock into your sore pussy at the same time he leans forward, pressing your sweaty bodies together. Your eyes roll back as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, thighs shaking against his arms.

“So deep,” he groans, “best cunt I’ve ever fucked and to think it belongs to my sweet daughter.”

Your pussy spasms and clenches down on his thick length as you cry out. Brain melting pleasure seeps down your spine as he pulls out to grind across your g-spot before fucking back into your cunt roughly.

“S’good, dad,” you mewl, mouth drooling as he hammers his cock into your sensitive hole, “so good.”

“I know,” he croons, “I feel good, too. Not g’nna be able to give up this sweet little pussy. She grips me too good, baby, I’m gonna want her all the time.”

Another orgasm slams into your body, pussy pulsing and sucking his cock into your hole as your head thrashes against the bed. Leon’s hands grip your wrists to push them down against the bed so you don’t scratch him.

“Fuck, milking your dad’s cock like you’re made for it,” he groans, humping into your pussy with deep strokes until you’re crying from overstimulation.

“Shh, shh, just take it a little more, ‘m about to cum,” he licks into your mouth, biting on your bottom lip before pulling back, “that’s it, take it, take your dad’s dick deep into that hot, greedy little pussy.”

Hiccuping a sob, your cunt steadily milks his cock as he buries himself all the way, as deep into your pussy as possible. He grunts against your skin as he grinds his dick against your cervix, spilling rope after rope of cum to paint your walls white. The sticky heat makes your clit throb even as your body aches, wanting to succumb to exhaustion.

The distant question of how your mom isn’t back yet buzzes at the corner of your consciousness. You must slur it out loud cause Leon laughs as he pulls his softening cock from your puffy leaking cunt.

“She texted you to say she got stuck in a traffic jam and the road’s blocked for a few hours,” he sighs as he slaps his cock down onto your messy pussy, a wet splat that makes you wince.

“Dad, ‘m sore,” you pout.

“So sorry, baby,” he coos, a grin overtaking his face, “want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Chest fluttering at the thought, you go to agree when your phone buzzes with an incoming call. Leon grabs it to silence it but turns to look at you.

“It’s your mom,” he chuckles, handing it over to you, “better see what she wants.”

Sliding it open, her voice rings out clear in the quiet of your room.

“Hey honey, your dad didn’t answer but I wanted to say I’m about five minutes from the house if you wanted to preheat the oven for this frozen pizza I picked up,” she laughs to herself, “well, it was frozen.”

Your dad sits down on the edge of the bed, listening in to the conversation.

“Okay, sure, we’ll see ya when you get here,” Leon nods at you, “bye, mom.”

After she says goodbye, you put the phone back on the side table.

“Well we should get cleaned up,” Leon helps you stand on weak legs, “I’ll help you to the tub and I’ll head downstairs.”

“Thanks, dad,” you smile up at him and he drops a kiss on your cheek.

“Of course,” he leads you out into the hallway, helping you inside the little bathroom next to your room.

He sits you down onto the toilet, turning on the shower to allow it time to heat up.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your temple, “I know it’s all kinds of fucked up, but I still love you.”

Heart beating double time, you give him a crooked smile, “I love you too, dad.”

He presses his lips together, looking like he wants to say more, but he blows out a harsh breath and walks back out into the hall.

“I’ll handle the oven and your mom, you just come downstairs when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you say as he swings the door shut.

Sitting there with your thoughts, you let yourself feel. Satisfaction filters through followed by a smidgen of guilt and shame. You hate that your mom is an innocent party in all of this, but you don’t regret letting your dad fuck your brains out. And since this is a complete one off, it’s just a little family secret that you’ll both be taking to the grave.

Once steam wafts from the shower, you stand up and step into the warm water. You whimper as the heat works on your sore muscles. By this time tomorrow, this will all seem like some really deranged fantasy you dreamt up. Finishing up in the shower, you dry off and make your way back to your room. Getting dressed, you descend downstairs, the smell of pizza growing stronger.

“Oh there you are! Feeling better?”

Your mom comes around the counter to feel your forehead.

“Yeah, I just slept it off.”

She ushers you to sit down at the table and brings the pizza over, your dad following behind with the drinks. Your mom sits to your right and your dad sits across from you both. He catches your eye and winks, making you look down at your plate out of shyness.

“Eat up, I’m sure you’re wore out from the hard day,” his mirthful tone draws your gaze back up.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and take a drink, “it’s been a hard day alright.”

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #mind the tags #dont like dont read #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #real dad!leon s kennedy x daughter fem!reader #resident evil fanfiction

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deltaromeo3 · 1 year

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𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎..? #3 ⋆ Charles Leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: in which the reader does not recognise the famous Monegasque Formula 1 driver; the very same one that was about to change her perspective on the sport and also her life.

— buckle up cos this is a long one yall…. a lil smau at the end? 👀

— you can read parts 1 & 2 here: #1 #2

You went on three more dates after the brunch date. You really enjoyed his company and agreeing to go for brunch with him was the best decision you've ever made.

Charles had popped the question on the third date and of course, you said yes. However, you still kept your relationship private but not secret. No one knew who he was dating and vice versa…. yet.

Today was your final paper for Uni. You had spent the last few weeks focused on studying so you couldn't meet Charles (and attend his races) as often as you wanted to but he was totally understanding and even had flowers delivered to your house to boost your morale.

You went to school with the notes you wrote clutched in your hands. You had a few hours to kill so you decided to have a light breakfast and head to the library to do last minute revisions with Emma.

The clock hits 1:30pm and all the students were gathered in the examination hall, seated in their respective places as the papers were being handed out. You turned to Emma who was seated a few seats diagonally behind you.

She shows a thumbs up and mouths 'good luck!' with a smile on her face.

You returned the gesture and then turn your attention back towards yourself.

Three hours later, you exited the exam hall and let out a sigh of relief. You took out your phone to text Charles, letting him know you were done with your final paper of the goddamn semester.

In the midst of typing, you bumped into someone.

"Oh god I'm so sor- Charles?!" You yelled out.

He laughs but was quick to shush you by covering your mouth, "Hi,"

You were shocked to see him as he was away for the British Grand Prix. You figured you had a few days left before he returns but as you just found out, he was back early.

You hugged him in joy and he embraces you in his arms.

"How was the paper?" He asks as he lets go, the two of you walking away.

"Good- but difficult. I think I'll do well," You hesitantly say.

His eyebrows furrow, "You think? Come on, don't say that! I know you'll do well,"

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Of course! You're my girl, there's nothing you can't do my love," He says as he kisses your forehead.

You smiled in response, feeling a little better.

"Let's go for dinner?"

It's like he was able to read your mind.

Fast forward, it was graduation. You did indeed do well. Your parents couldn't attend as they were miles away so they supported you via live stream. Charles however...

@yourusername posted on their story

@charles_leclerc posted on their story

Monza.

Monza was a particularly important race; Charles loved the Monza GP as much as he loved his home race- it held a very special place in his heart.

This was your first time attending, the atmosphere of the tifosi’s was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

You were with Emma in the Ferrari hospitality as Charles had paddock & VIP passes for the both of you. Of course, he couldn’t forget Emma. He said if it weren’t for her, the two of you wouldn’t have met.

The both of you were seated at the back of the garage with headphones on, focused on the race.

The race started off well. Charles was on pole, which was amazing, he even managed to maintain his position for the next 53 laps, keeping the two Mercedes drivers behind him at bay.

“Mercedes threw everything at him today- Charles Leclerc has coped brilliantly! He won in Spa, he wins in Monza!”

As soon as his car crosses the finish line and the checkered flag waves, you rushed over to the barricades, waiting for him.

As soon as he parks his car in the Parc Ferme, he rushes to the team donned in red.

He brushed past everyone as soon as he saw you at the front of the line. He runs over to you, immediately embracing you in a hug.

You hugged him back but was taken aback at his sudden action because your relationship hadn’t gone public yet. But today, Charles figured it was time the world knew.

You kissed the top of his helmet, afterwards pushing his visor up, eyes locked with the same set of green eyes you were first met with at the supermarket a year back. His eyes were squinting- he was smiling.

With his hands rested on your waist, he proceeds to place his forehead on yours, “Je t’aime. I love you. Je t’aime tellement. I love you so much.” He says loud enough so you could hear him over the screams and cheers.

You smiled. Your heart melts when the words escape his mouth because prior to this, the both of you hadn’t said your “I love you’s” yet.

“Take off your helmet,” You said and he quickly proceeded to do so.

You placed your hands on the side of his face bringing him in closer, kissing him. Once you let go, you said,

“Je t’aime aussi, Charles. I love you too, Charles.”

yourusername

liked by emmaharper, charles_leclerc, yoursister and others

yourusername I guess I’m a Ferrari fan now…🤭

emmaharper #ForzaFerrari 🤪🤪

charles_leclerc 😘😘 I love you

yourusername I love you too❤️

emmaharper ew

yourusername @emmaharper 🙄

yoursister SO THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT U R DATING CHARLES BLOODY LECLERC???

yourusername 😳😳

charlesleclerclover well now we know who’s the mystery girl…👀

charlesleclerc_fc new wag!!!!!

user1 ooh so she’s the doctor he posted about!

yourusername @user1 yessir🤭

yourfriend y/n you dating a f1 driver was NOT on my bingo card….

yourusername hehehe surprise…?

view all 136 comments

A/N: here it is, the long awaited part 3! and with that, the “and you are…?” series comes to an end!! hehe definitely didn’t expect there to he 3 parts but oh well! i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! thank you for all the love <3

ps. im open for requests :)

— taglist: @charlottemount @fangirlika @lunnnix @maryleclerc

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fic #charles leclerc fic #scuderia ferrari #f1 x y/n #charles x y/n #and you are..? 3 #and you are..?#charles leclerc imagines #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n

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eldaryasharbinger · 12 days

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MCL New Gen Ep 3 Review

I finally finished the episode! I'll give a more generic opinion about it here and put all the spoilers below the cut!

I think it was really nice, I didn't check how many APs I used but I saw someone else mention that it's around 1200 APs which I think is fair! I was scared about it at first because I'm not sure if I'm the only one who noticed that, ususally, the first episodes are either shorted/cheaper and that new episodes that come out are much more expensive... I hope that won't happen!

The outfits are pretty cute, also I noticed that if you want to, you can unlock the other outfit you missed for 150 hearts! It's just to unlock it in the shop without having to replay the episode, you still have to purchase each piece separately but I think it's alright since the prices are really cheap!!

I don't really know what else to add and still be spoiler free, so now it's time for spoilers! you've been warned!

I'm so so happy with how they get Candy to react everytime... I love that she changes expressions accordingly and it's much more fun!! Also I think I screenshotted(?) almost all of Jason's scenes,, I'm sorry I'm just so down bad I kept giggling everytime he said anything,, I think that's why it took me a while to finish the episode lol...

Petronilla you're so real for that... Me too... (he awakens the goblin inside me...)

Honestly I really think that we should keep this in mind everytime he opens his mouth because it's actually so true... Also how are you so obsessed... Keep it going...

He wants to kiss her so bad I just know it... He's like that one kid that bullies you just because he's into you and doesn't know how to behave

"Little kitten"

...

I'm so done with this guy he's so shameless and I love him for that,,

The illustration is very pretty! He's so handsome why can't he just do a backflip off of Goldreamz's roof (He's so pretty sometimes it p*sses me off lmao)

I think I'll try to edit this one soon too!

I think it's pretty funny that she calls him that, yeah I can see how he's a loser... (I be calling him things just cause he's pretty and annoying I swear)

She's so... I'm so gay leave me alone,,,,,

ALSO ISTG she's going to be the end of me and my wallet, I can't help but always buy both her's and Jason's special scenes (I still haven't understood if you can get the illu's without buying the scenes... help,,) and on top of that of course I'll say that I'm going for Jason's route and then buy Amanda's illus because I can't live without it,, Beemoov let me be poly for once, Petronilla has two hands for a reason!! Either let us (Me and 'Nilla) have the same outfits for both Amanda and Jason so that I won't have to spend 350 extra gems or idk;;-;

The doomed yuri... The forbidden yuri... Petronilla you're so gay... Idk I think I can hear "I wanna be your girlfriend" by girl In red from miles away... We're so over ;A;

If I get the time I think I'll try to edit this one as well!! So so pretty!

I also wanted to mention this... Man he's just like me this guy is autistic as F**K I'm telling y'all... I relate to that so much, especially the fact that he apparently seems to be thinking in percentages as well (By that I mean that at least I tend to make my decisions based on calculations and such... That's why I like to joke about having a computer for brains lol)

Looks like Beemoov's writers did their homework on this guy cause if he's actually autistic-coded I think they did a great job! Autism is a spectrum in the end but I really resonate with how they're potraying it with Thomas! Kudos!

Last but not least... Jason's text after finishing the episode... I'm shipping Jason and Petronilla so hard,,,,,, I love the blue&pink contrast, they were made for each other your honor... If we add Amanda they can be the Bisexual flag together...

#my candy love new gen spoilers #mcl new gen spoilers #mcl ng spoilers #mcl new gen #beemoov #beemoov games #my candy love new gen #my candy love #mcl #mcl ng #jason mendal #my candy love jason #mcl jason #mcl amanda #my candy love amanda #amour sucre #dolce flirt #mcl oc

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safetycar-restart · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 19: A/B/O [MAX VERSTAPPEN X READER]

NOTE: This is an NSFW fic with omega!max and alpha!reader. If you're under 18 or this is not something you're interested in, then scroll past. If you like what you see here, then check out the rest of my blog :))

This fic is part of a kinktober series where I discuss a different kinky concept with a different motorsports athlete every day. We also discuss the concepts in more detail through asks on my blog so if you have any thoughts, feel free to stop by!

(For a while now we've been discussing the idea of omega!max crashing and then going to heat when a marshal helps him out of the car, I thought that for today's kinktober we could finally give this concept it's own fic! If anyone wants to add their own thoughts or hear more about this, please send in some asks! I'll be tagging everything with 'marshal!reader')

You watch from your marshal post as a red bull goes wide and hits the barriers, the car spins twice and then settles, losing a wheel in the process. You wait until the yellow flag is out and then rush forward to collect the debris, as you have been trained.

You check on the driver, realising it's max when you see the number on the car. You try to confirm he's conscious, but when he spots you he motions for help getting out the car. There are other marshals already clearing the debris so you do as he asks.

The moment he's out the car, he's frantically trying to get his helmet off. He appears unharmed, but you can smell the fear off him from a mile away.

The moment his helmet is off, he takes a few deep breaths, looks at you, and then just drops his helmet and gloves and dives into your arms. You nearly both topple down, having not expected it, but luckily you manage to catch him.

He whines high in his throat, turning his neck to the side as he clings to you and that's when you smell it. The scent of slick finally making itself known.

You realise he's in heat.

You try to back away, knowing you're unmated alpha and that he must be reacting to you. But he whines and clings to you even tighter, refusing to let you go.

"Don't leave," he mumbles against you, "please don't leave."

The medical car arrives but max still refuses to let you go, trying to hide against your neck.

The doctor ends up telling you to come with him, knowing that trying to get an omega in heat away from an alpha they've chosen is a losing battle. You don't want to leave your post, but your instincts are completely honed into the omega who won't let you go.

You know you have to go with them.

Max is whining the whole car ride to the medical centre, hissing at the doctor when he opens the door when they arrive. You have to coax Max out of the car, promising him that you're coming with and that you won't leave him.

Not that you would ever want to leave him.

They end up injecting heat suppressants into his arm, which calms him down enough that you can convince him to let you go and escape out the medical centre.

It hurts so much, because all your instincts are screaming at you to go back and look after the omega who has chosen you. But logically you know that's not the case. Max must have gone into a shock heat when he crashed, and you were simply the first alpha he encountered. He doesn't even know your name, there's no way it's anything more than instincts and now that he's been giving suppressants, you're sure he's going to be mortified once he can think straight.

So you leave.

What you dont know though, is that the suppressants stop working after a few hours and he asks for the marshal who helped him. They offer him several toys and other alphas, even Daniel shows up to offer to help. Max turns everyone down, crying out for the marshal.

#kinktober tag #omega!max #mv #gn!reader #marshal!reader

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kpop---scenarios · 16 days

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Whiplash (3)

Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin

Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Violence, Language, Smut [18 + Minors do not interact!]

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @sheala--marie @kayleefriedchicken @chartrucewhore @cookiesnmilfx @thicccurls @aznstoner

Part One | Part Two

“You absolutely are not.” Hyunjin deadpans. “It's not safe.” You look at him and Felix with a less than impressed look.

“You guys hid this from me for years, I want to see what it's about.” You tell them. “Not to mention if it's not safe, then neither of you should be going.”

Both men look at each other as you look at Felix with a cute smile on your face, and of course, he caves, in record time too. He grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door with a frustrated Hyunjin in tow. You slide into the backseat of the car as Hyunjin gets into the front with Felix. You were nervous, but you were also excited to see what was going to happen.

You did your best to try and ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as Hyunjin drove to the spot. You had assumed it would be on some busy street, making it even more dangerous, but it wasn't. The three of you pull up to an abandoned road that is hidden by some trees. It went on for miles with a few curves, so to the racers, it was absolutely perfect.

“Y/N.” Hyunjin starts as he parks the car. “Stay behind us, please. There's a lot of dangerous people that will be here, and if we're not around, find one of the guys.” He says. The three of you get out of the car, walking towards the large circle of people that has gathered. There were even more people than at the party, you couldn't believe how popular this was.

“Who's racing?” You ask, linking your fingers with Felix and Hyunjin on the other side of you. The two men glance at each other, avoiding your question as they pull you through the crowd and into the middle of the circle, where San and his group stand across from the group of your friends. your stomach sinks as you watch each of them eye each other up. They all looked like they were ready to start and all out fight.

“Racers, step forward.” Someone yells. You watch as San steps away from his group, standing in front of them, with another man you didn't know. Chan and Changbin turn to look at Felix and Hyunjin, they both let go of your hands, each one giving you a small kiss before stepping out in the front, standing in front of San and the other man.

“They're racing? No, Chan, please. What if something happens?” You ask. He looks at you with an apologetic look. “Look, They're the best. They'll be okay, promise.” Chan half smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, giving you a small squeeze. You watch as Hyunjin and Felix get into a car you didn't recognize, Felix sitting behind the steering wheel. The cars start, both revving their engines as they wait for the flag to drop.

Seconds later, it drops, and all the tires squeal as they peel down the road, the cars drifting from the force. They leave your sight almost in a blur. You could barely hear the cheers of the crowd as your heart pounded in your ears. You were terrified something was going to happen to them. That couldn't happen. You had just gotten them. You needed more time. You reach down, grasping to Chan's hand as you listen to the revving of the engines, sounding so far away. Your grip doesn't loosen, especially in the minutes you stand there waiting to hear something, anything. You wanted to hear a motor, an engine, as long as it wasn't a crash. Please, don't let them crash. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you hear the cars coming closer. Your eyes shoot open, seeing them just around the corner, the red car Hyunjin and Felix are in, now taking the lead. Your grip tightens on Chan's hand as you watch them come closer and closer. You can see San screaming and swearing inside the car, hitting the steering wheel as Felix and Hyunjin cross the finish line seconds before him.

Felix and Hyunjin exit the car, victory grins spread across their faces. Seconds later, a crowd gathers around them, cheering them on. You let go of Chan's hand, running towards the group, pushing your way through the crowd, standing in front of them before they both wrap their arms around you. As everyone celebrates, you can vaguely hear San yelling about something.

“Nah, fuck them man, they fucking cheated.” He yells, pointing to Felix and Hyunjin. As you look up, San pushes through the crowd, shoving people out of his way until he stands face to face with Felix and Hyunjin. He doesn't say anything to them, just stares at them, fuming and vibrating with anger.

“How the fuck did you cheat?” He yells, shoving Hyunjin, which almost knocks you down but Felix catches you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Felix yells, grabbing onto your wrist, guiding you behind him.

“You two are my fucking problem.” He snaps. “There's no way you should have fucking won that, it's bullshit.” San snaps.

“Take the loss man, next time, just try to make sure you're better.” Felix smiles, patting San on the shoulder which very clearly pisses him off even more. San lunges for Felix. Felix is pushed back by San, hitting into you, knocking you into the ground. Felix turns his head, glancing at you quickly to make sure you're okay before he looks back at San. Before he can do anything, Chan is grabbing onto the sleeve of Felix to pull him away. “Cops!” He yells, pulling Felix and Hyunjin who is now helping you up. You're all running to the car, sliding in without seat belts as Hyunjin speeds off, kicking up rocks as he leaves the parking lot. The three of you pass 4 cop cars with their lights on and sirens blaring as they head towards the abandoned street. Worry fills up your stomach as you look back at them, watching them turn, and hoping they don't turn around to come after you.

the three of you pull up to the house, and you feel like you can breathe. While being stressed out, you also felt an amazing sense of adrenaline rushing through your body.

“Wow!” You exclaim as the three of you walk into the house. “You guys do that all the time?” You ask. They nod nod their heads.b

“I was so fucking nervous when you guys started racing, but the scattering before the cops got there was such a rush!”

“We get that all the time during the races.” Felix laughs.

Your eyes go wide. “Can I be in the car during one?” You ask.

Both men look at each other, unsure of how to answer. “Let us uh, think about that.” Hyunjin smiles.

“Thank you for bringing me and letting me into your world.” You smile, kissing each of them on the cheek. “Where are the others?”

“Probably at the clubhouse. They stay there often.”

“You have a clubhouse too!? What the fuck.” You laugh. “Anything else you wanna tell me?” You ask, letting out a big yawn.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” Felix says, guiding you to his room. You wondered how this was going to work, especially between the three of you. You walk onto the room, Felix begins rummaging through his drawers and then hands you a large t-shirt.

“You can wear this to bed.” He smiles as he and Hyunjin take off their shirts. You swear you would have started drooling if you hadn't stopped yourself.

“fuuuck.” You whisper as you wander to the bathroom to change.

“You know you don't have to change in there. We are your boyfriends.” Hyunjin yells through the door.

“Is that what you are? I thought we were friends.” You joke back. Yes, they were your boyfriends but it had just happened that night. You were going from best friends who had only seen you in your underwear and a bra by accident to being with them and being fully naked. It felt surreal and you would need time to remember that you're not just friends anymore. You come out of the bathroom, Felix’s shirt hanging off your body. Both men smile at you as they lay on opposite sides of the bed, your spot in the middle waiting for you. You let out another big yawn as you crawl into the bed, getting under the covers. You lay on your side, facing Hyunjin as Felix scoots closer to you, spooning you.

You want to talk to them more, be awake with them but you're exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off now. You close your eyes, only wanting too for a second but you fall asleep almost instantly with two men wrapped around your body.

The next morning you wake up, feeling slightly empty. You open one eye, seeing Hyunjin was already out of the bed and gone. It was just you and Felix, whose hard chest was pressed right up against you, along with something else that was hard, pressed against your ass. You close your eyes again, wiggling yourself against him, listening to his breathy moans in your ear as you press against him harder.

“Fuck. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He groans, rolling himself over, pinning your hands down to the best. He leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You take no time deepening the kiss, opening your mouth to let his tongue slide in. Felix lowers himself onto you even more, rubbing his hard cock on you, teasing you. You break the kiss, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please.” You gasp.

“Do you need more, baby?” He asks, a smirk on his face. You nod your head as he moves his body down yours. He lifts up your shirt, exposing your naked pussy. “I've been wondering how you taste.” He whispers as you lift your legs and spread them for him. Felix positions his face between your legs, moving in to lick a small strip up your pussy, causing you to gasp and buck your hips. He holds you down as he uses the tip of his tongue, gently flicking your clit, making you desperate for more.

“Please.. more.” You cry out, trying to grind yourself against his face. You can hear him chuckle into your pussy as he starts rolling his tongue against you, managing to get an almost perfect suction. You lift up your shirt, exposing your tits. You roll your nipples between your fingers as Felix uses the flat part of his tongue to lick you hard, moving up the length of your slit until he latches his lips to your clit, sucking hard.

“Oh fuck.” You cry out, trying harder to grind against his face. You could feel your orgasm bubbling up inside of you and you needed him to move faster. “Faster. Please. Fuck.” You gasp, your hands moving to his head, grasping onto a clump of his hair. Felix's tongue moves faster switching between swirling, licking and flicking your clit. He easily slides two fingers inside of you bringing your orgasm faster.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum.. I'm cumming.” You cry out, your hips buck up as he continues sucking on your clit, helping you ride your high just a little longer. You let go of his hair, running your hands through your own hair as you try to catch your breath.

“That was so fucking hot.” Felix says, licking all the cum from his face. He quickly gets rid of his boxers, sitting down on the bed. You crawl over to him, licking your lips at the sight of his large, hard cock standing up for you. You wrap your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue around it, licking up the pre-cum that had been dripping from him. You inch down his cock, little by little until he hits the back of your throat. Felix groans, thrusting his cock deeper, making you gag. You pull your mouth off of him and he leans back, leaning against his headboard. You move closer to him again, crawling up to him, squatting over his cock. You line yourself up, slowly sinking yourself down on him. You gasp loudly as he stretches you out. You throw your head back as you sit on him, slowly rocking back and forth. Felix places his hands on your hips, rocking you faster. He leans forward, wrapping his lips around your already perky nipple, sucking hard as you begin to bounce on his cock. He releases your nipple, holding you up to instead quickly thrust inside of you. You moan louder and louder with each thrust.

“Be louder for me, baby.” Felix groans, feeling his own orgasm coming quickly. You moan louder, crying out in pleasure as he fucks you harder and faster.

“Shit I'm gonna cum.” He grunts.

“Cum in my pussy. Please fuck cum in me.” You cry out, your own orgasm exploding through your body, tightening yourself around his cock. Seconds later Felix cums deep inside you.

You sit on his cock for a second, catching your breath until you finally roll off, your legs feeling like complete jello.

“I need to shower.” You breathe, trying to crawl out of the bed. You slowly make your way to the bathroom, only closing the door behind you before you turn on the water to hot.

As you wet your hair and rub the water all over your body, you hear the bathroom door open and then shut.

“Hello?” you call out. No one answers. The shower curtain is pulled back, revealing a naked and hard Hyunjin.

“Can I join you?” He smirks. A grin plasters on your face as you nod your head yes. Your pussy was sore, but you would never say no to either of them and if you ever did, something was wrong with you.

Hyunjin walks into the shower with you, grabbing your body and pulling you into him. He leans in, kissing you on the lips for a second, before moving to your neck and chest. As he peppers you with kisses you reach out, grabbing his cock. He moans in your ear as you gently jerk him, his head now resting in the crook of your neck. He pulls your hand off of him, turning you around and bending you over. your hands are on the wall of the shower as he shoves two fingers inside of you, making you cry out.

Fuck you felt needy. You desperately needed his cock to slide inside you right at that moment.

“Fuck me, please Hyunjin.” You beg.

“Mhmm that's what I like to hear.” He groans. He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing his cock inside of you.

“Holy shit.” You cry out, holding onto the wall a little harder. For a second he starts out slow, but then he pulls out of you before ramming his cock back inside of you, over and over again. He reaches around you, grabbing your tit as he thrusts deep inside you. His hand moves down your stomach, making its way between your lips, to your clit. He begins rubbing you, he loves feeling you squirm from it while his cocks inside you.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good.” He groans, rubbing your clit a little faster. You can feel your orgasm building quickly.

“Shit.. harder.” You cry out. He manages to fuck you harder and faster, until you finally cum, all over his cock.

“That's my girl.” He groans, his hands now on your hips as he rams his cock deeper and deeper. Your arms were getting weak from holding the wall now, you were exhausted and ready for a nap. Hyunjin rams himself into a few more times before pulling out, jerking his cock until he cums all over your back.

“Fuuuck.” He moans, as he milks himself for all his cum. You're breathing heavily as you stand up, your whole body shaking. Hyunjin quickly cleans off your back for you, making you laugh.

“Why did you cum on my back?” You ask.

“I just.. wasn't sure.” He chuckles.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear. “Next time, cum inside me.” You whisper, turning off the water and getting out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your body and your hair, stepping out into the room, Felix nowhere in there. Hyunjin comes out behind you, kissing your shoulder before heading to his own room to get dressed.

You put on your outfit from the night before and head out into the living room. The boys are all sitting around, while Chan is on the phone. Changbin, Han and Seungmin look at you, wiggling their eyebrows and snickering.

“Oh whatever.” You scoff, laughing with them. You had been a little loud this morning.

“Everything okay?” Changbin asks Chan, who sits in a chair, looking annoyed.

“San has requested a rematch. He wants to race you two again at a different spot.” He explains.

“We're not betting the mods again.” Felix deadpans.

“Nah, $50k this time.” Hyunjin and Felix nod their heads as you stand there with your mouth hanging open.

“I'm sorry.” You say. “Fifty thousand.. as in dollars?” You ask.

“Yes..” Chan replies. “Dollars.” He looks towards Hyunjin and Felix. “He sent the coordinates. Google it, check it out and make sure you know the route.”

“When's the race?” Han asks.

“Tonight.” Chan sighs.

Hours later you return to the house, in a fresh set of clothes and a pair of pj's and another set of clothes ready incase you end up staying the night again. Both Felix and Hyunjin insisted that you sit this one out tonight but there was absolutely no way you were missing it. As you, Felix and Hyunjin drove to the spot, the car was quiet. You were slightly worried that they were mad at you for not listening but you didn't speak up. You didn't want to upset them more before the race. An hour later, the three of you pull into an empty parking lot, drive through to the woods to find a very large crowd of people waiting.

San and his group were already there, drinking and being rowdy and you were nervous.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out before getting out of the car. They both turn their heads to look at you.

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“No?” Felix answers.

“Okay, just wanting to make sure.” You smile, hopping out of the car. You make your way through the crowd, finding Jeongin and Lee Know, grabbing onto their hands as Felix and Hyunjin stand before San.

“No fucking cheating this time.” San yells, pointing at the two. They just laugh, heading for the car that Han brought, the same one that made them win last time.

You watch all they rev their engines, waiting to be able to go. You see before the flag drops, San has already started moving. It drops and Felix and Hyunjin go, already behind San. You were worried now and wondered if you were the only one to notice that San cheated. You hear the squeals of the tires as they turn corners. It felt like a lifetime before they came back into view, Felix and Hyunjin in first place. They pass the finish line, with San only seconds behind. You run through the crowd to greet them and congratulate them but that worried feeling hasn't gone away. San comes storming over, again, yelling about them cheating. As he raises a fist, not even letting them talk first you step up.

“Why are you trying to pass the blame, San?” You yell. “I saw you. You started going before the fucking flagged dropped.”

You can hear everyone murmuring, talking amongst themselves about what you said. San looks around at everyone glaring at it.

“I didn't fucking cheat!” San yells, looking around at everyone.

“Did anyone record it?” You ask. Someone puts their hand up, bringing their phone to you.

“Why don't you just shut the fuck up!?” San screams, shoving you hard. You fall back, your head cracking on a large rock that was behind you. Hyunjin and Felix are at your side, you're unconscious, blood spilling from your head.

“Someone help her! Please!”

#felix smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #lee felix #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #kpop smut #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #skz x reader #skz imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop icons #skz scenarios

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tetsunabouquet · 7 months

Note

Could you do some nsfw yandere headcanons for imayoshi, hanamiya, kiyoshi (he'd be interesting with his morals and all) and lastly akashi (presumably bokushi would come out and act on his feelings)?

A/N: Because of Tumblr's word limit, I do have to keep the headcanons a bit shorter then usual considering you requested multiple ones at once. (18+)

Imayoshi

-Imayoshi's ability to be able to do exactly what a person's hate, evolved once you caught his eye. He has almost some sort of magical ability to find you when you're all alone. -This also extends to making you love everything about him even though the depth of his obsession repulses you at first. -Not the type to force himself on you, but the one who will try to seduce you to get you as crazy as you make him. -He'll climb in your bed and whisper how much he wants to get dirty for a change when he sees you in your ear, caging you in his strong arms until his words start arousing you. Because his ability to do what you hate, allows him to always find the spare key you hide around your house. No matter how often you change its location. -Imayoshi always holds you after filling up your pussy, and sleeps with you. It's your sleeping face he holds most dear. You often feel like he should add teleporting in his skillset, because he always miraculously leaves about ten minutes before your parents wake up.

Hanamiya

-Sadistic enough to engage in sexual abuse. -Will fuck you raw to show you that you belong to him. -However he's patient and will spin a web around you before he acts. He will slowly isolate you from your friends, until you have no one to run to. -Once you're all alone, he'll slowly break you. From blackmail to rape, there is nothing Hanamiya isn't capable off. -Hanamiya's preference for stupid girls has to partially do with these being the type of girls who won't outsmart or win from him. They're easy prey to this spider. -The only thing you can do is moan and cum like a brainless slut as he chokes you and whispers in your ear how you belong to him.

Kiyoshi

-Because of his personality, you don't detect his creepiness at all which makes him so dangerous. -He's intelligent enough to realize he has the element of surprise. His plan is to slowly worm his way into your life and heart until it's too late. -Your friends won't believe you at all if you notice a tiny red flag every once in a while, because they are as oblivious to Kiyoshi's dark side as you are most of the time. -Once Kiyoshi feels the time is right, he'll slowly start taking his steps to close in. Dark eyes flashing when you talk to other boys who mysteriously all end up having their lives sabotaged. A possessive hand at times groping you and playing it off as an accident all the while a unsettling smile plays on his lips. -When he finally gets into your pants, Kiyoshi has either two sets of behaviors. One is sweet and rewards you kindly when you've been a good girl. If you've ruffles his feathers by daring to speak up or talk with other boys, he'll fuck your brains our with no mercy until you remember you're his. -Whenever he calms down from these moods, he'll start pampering your bruises with kisses as you mentally tell yourself not to upset him next time.

Akashi

-He knows everything about you. Has secret cameras installed around your house everywhere, has your phonecalls traced and overheard, knows your parents work schedule. He knows every detail about you before he starts to operate. -Whilst you and your friends can see him coming from miles away, no one will help you. No one had enough power to protect you from Akashi. -Eventually has you kidnapped. -He'll breed you so he can use the children against you. Expect as much creampies from him as possible. -Can foresee your every escape attempt. -He'll pump you roughly but slowly, and as you look into those slitted demon-like eyes of his, it feels as if you might as well be taken by the devil himself and you hate how it turns you on.

#knb #kuroko's basketball #akashi #akashi seijuro #knb x reader #hanamiya makoto #kiyoshi teppei #imayoshi shoichi #yandere #knb yandere

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bensonsbobblehead · 1 year

Text

Misunderstanding- Spencer Reid x Mom!reader

pairings; Spencer Reid X Mom!reader (ft Daughter!!OC)

summary: Being called to your daughters school and being told not to bring Spencer, it was the worst day ever.

content warnings; talks of child abuse

wc; 1.3k

[masterlist]

Your heart was pounding. Exploding, prodding, falling out of your chest. The phone called seemed … horrible. You were instructed not to call your husband and to come straight to the school. That was the first and biggest red flag of the call. Spencer was your guide throughout this life.

Having him by your side through the good, bad, and ugly was the norm. So, when the principal of Amaterdam Elementary told you to come alone it scared you. Immediately asking why and being told Tyler is safe and we just have to get a few things sorted out, you felt sick to your stomach.

Tyler Noel Reid was your first and currently only child with Spencer. An angel since she was in the womb. Surprising both you and Spencer because of how chaotic you both are. A mix of you both would or should have been hell but Tyler wasn’t that way.

Spencer was currently in Colorado for a case. Even when he was away it never really felt like it. Always calling to see Tyler and how her day was along with the rants he goes on about how he bothers Derek. You two were close even when he is miles away.

This killed you but you had to pull yourself together for your daughter. You walked into the school that had hallways filled with drawings and bright colors but still feeling so dark inside. What happened to our baby girl? You stuffed it all down as the principal approached you.

As you walked into the office you noticed the woman in a skirt and suit with a visitor pass.

Standing up to shake your hand, “Hi, I’m Shannon with child protective services.” She smiled as if this was normal. Shaking her hand with furrowed eyebrows completely confused why they are here.

You quickly noticed your daughter with her head hung so low it hurt you. She didn’t even move to look at you but you still kissed her forehead. Curls finally dry causing her hair to look a mess just like her dad. Checking on your daughter before anything

“Ty, what’s going on honey?” Asking and you moved her hair out the way. She was tall for a 10 year old almost taller than you. The most beautiful girl with eyes and a nose like her dad. Of course her very Spencer-like smile. The sweetest girl you could meet she was everything and more for you and Spencer.

“I’m sorry mommy” tears fell down her eyes,

“You have nothing to be sorry for Bug. I promise.” You looked her in the eye, almost crying, you were so scared for her. Looking at the principal as she began to talk,

“I know this is a lot so we can get straight to it. We’ve noticed a huge bruise on Tylers thigh and arm as if someone pushed her. The gym teacher did a follow up when she noticed she could barley move her arm today.”

This explains why she’s been so closed off lately. She was getting older so you both expected it. Always teaching and allowing her to set her own boundaries. As her mommy you’ll always see her as that little girl.

She paused looking at Tyler and then back at you.

“When asked She told us that her dad pushed her down. We had no choice but to call cps.”

Your first reaction was anger because Spencer would never do this. Besides the fact he never ever hits anyone who doesn’t deserve it never his baby girl.

Swallowing that down you immediately pulled her into a hug. You couldn’t choose obviously but Tyler always came first for you and Spencer. Thinking about your next move you quickly talked with cps and the principal with Tyler out of the room.

You knew this was bad but you didn’t want it handled this way. You told child protective services that it was all a misunderstanding, that her father didn’t mean to hurt her. You didn’t know if it was true or not but anything to get child protective services off your back.

You took Tyler home in silence, nothing but her soft whimpers in the back. Finally breaking the silence,

“Ty, do you want to talk about it? Without your dad?” You said softly, she nodded her head, you hurried home wanting to get to the bottom of this.

Spencer pushed our daughter

You arrived at the house and Tyler went to sit down on the couch as you followed behind. All you knew is that you wanted to support her however. Growing up with your fair of “whoopings” disguised as beatings, you didn’t want her to feel how you felt.

“Ty, tell me what your dad did so I can hel—-“

You were interrupted by Spencer walking through the door, not taking your eyes off of her. She tensed up which also scared you.

“Hey my beautiful girls, I got back early so I thought we get ice cream.” He rambled as he was walking in the house with his things. Lifting his head up and immediately noticing the two of you and Tylers tear stained face.

“What happened Bug?” He said approaching the couch to sit next to her.

“I got bruises from when you pushed me and now the school knows. Please don’t let them take me. Im so sorry.”

Now Spencer did push her and it was hard but not in the way the school or you thought. They were playing a game of little league football, made up by Tyler. Now, of course Spencer could win a football game with children he just maybe took it a little to serious while getting a touchdown. It sounds ridiculous but he is stronger than he thinks. The worst part was that Tyler didn’t say a peep, she just got hurt and said nothing about the bruises.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry I didn’t know I pushed you that hard. Why didn’t you tell your mom or I you were hurt?”

Tyler wiped her tears and took a breath, “I know you told me to tell you when I’m hurt even on the inside but you never cry when you get hurt and I didn’t want to seem like a baby”

She told her dad honestly, and it was true Spencer never showed sadness around her.

“I cry alot Ty, and I don’t want you to hide when you’re hurt from me or your mom. We would never see your pain as a sign of weakness.” Pulling her into a hug as she cried harder.

You all went to the bathroom to examine the bruises and found the best way to heal them. After that you all got ready for bed. Spencer reading her a story tonight since he’s home. You waited in your shared bedroom for your husband.

“She’s finally asleep” he walked into your room and immediately into the bed and place a kiss on your cheek. You smiling in response still thinking about what happened today.

“You thought I hurt her on purpose didn’t you?” Breaking the awkward silence. Being a child who was hit and beat on just for being a kid it was hard to handle the situation.

“Truthfully, yes, you know how my childhood was, that little girl in me immediately believed you did it.”

You and Spencer never lied to each other partly because it was impossible to lie to him.

“But as your wife and the woman that loves you, I knew you would never hurt or harm her on purpose” moving in to snuggle him, you hated that this could possibly hand over your heads.

“I would never and will never hurt her, I’m sorry for even letting you thinking that.” He looked you in the eye as he talked as his tears fell. Wiping them off and placing a kiss on his lips as you both said I love yours and headed to sleep.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid dad #spencer reid daughter #spencer reid x mom!reader #dad Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid x daughter!oc #x mom!reader #criminal minds mom

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brbzonedout · 9 months

Text

Earth 42 Rio and Miles go grocery shopping!!

I saw this art by @bluumey and had to make something. Also, I wrote this all in one sitting so don't jump me too badly.

“No Miles…for the 47th time”. Rio sighs as she ducks into the driver's seat of her car.

He trails behind her and repeats the same motion on the passenger's side. “C’mon mami- hear me out! If you let me start driving now”, Miles clicks his seat belt into place. “I'll be a stupid good driver by the time I take my test”.

“And I’d be a stupid bad mother if I let my 14-year-old son drive through Brooklyn without a license or permit!…so we done here?” She pulls off from the street to the nearest store.

They arrive and park in a nearby garage then get out and make their way into the store then BOOM all hell breaks loose. Y’all know how moms (or other guardians) be in stores.

“De acuerdo, Hijo!” She snaps as Miles starts to walk away on his own. “No no, I need your help it'll be faster that way.”

Soon as he hears that it's over for him he knows that he's not getting out of this store until the sun goes down.

Rio drags him all over the store as he walks behind her picking everything off the shelf that she listed.

“Ma are these ripe enough?” Said as he gestures towards a group of plantains sitting in the produce section.

“Let me see…” The look on her face was confused as I don't know what, “Are they serious, putting these out knowing damn well they're not ready…you know what excuse me!” she exclaims as she flags down an employee.

“Oh lord-”

They finally grab everything from her list and make their way to the checkout line. Miles puts everything up on the conveyor belt, his job every time a trip to the store is taken. Rio hands over her coupons and cash to the cashier, everything is going great.

When all of a sudden they're about the walk back to the parking garage Miles hears…

“RIO?! RIO MORALES?! OMG!”

“Oh, a la mierda mi vida... cada vez...” Miles says folding his arms and laying down on the cart handle.

Mrs.Morales hears her name and spins around leaving him with the cart.

“You’re kidding!!! It's been so long!” They run up and hug each other.

“I know 7 years I think?! That's crazy, how’s the family- wait I'm so sorry about Jeff.”

“It's hard but you know one day at a time…”

“I know that's right- oh my god” The old friend looks behind Rio at the boy leaning over the shopping cart. “Is that the baby?!”

Rio giggle “Yeah that's him…not so much of a baby anymore…Miles! Ven aqui say hi!”

Poor Miles just wants to go home but reluctantly walks toward them the cart rolling in front. “Hi…” He waves with an awkward smile.

“Ah! He's so big…damn time really does fly what grade you in now?”

“9th…at Brooklyn Visions.”

“Oh ok! I see you gotta brain just like your mama..”

Rio and her friend talk for at least thirty more minutes. Until they finally hug and part ways causing Miles to get a lipstick mark on his cheek at just won't come off.

Finally, they make it back home and pull into a parking spot. “Ma…you know I love you but, please next time just send me down there with the list.”

Rio cracks up laughing, once again noticing the sunset and the prominent red kiss mark on his face. “Yeah, ok baby…maybe that's an idea for next time.” She says while licking her thumb trying to remove the stain.

“Stop- Mami!” he groans wiping the spit from his face, as she continues quietly laughing.

“Just stay still!!”.

That's all this definitely feels short and fast but I just wanted to put something else out! If y'all have any tips on how I can my writing sound more fluid let me know, thanks for reading<3.

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #rio morales #prowler miles #earth 42 Rio morales

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astroboots · 1 year

Text

RED FLAGS ║ PART 10

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

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

Summary: You and Steven try to get used to your new life together without Marc. Or alternatively: Marc is playing (the not ridiculous and totally mature version of) Hide and Seek.

Content: mild angst, implied mentions of child abuse (blink and miss it), reminiscing about fish death, otherwise quite tame for me.

Word Count: 10,000 words

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You

Steven and I were at a bookstore today and I saw a very grumpy pug that reminded me of you.

Steven wants a dog now. If you don’t want that you need to come back because I’m not gonna stop him.

Weeks have passed since Steven’s prodigal return.

It’s almost been a return to how things were before, with Steven picking you up from work, occasional romantic dinners out, and evenings cuddled up in bed reading together or watching documentaries on the sofa.

It’s almost perfect.

It ought to be perfect.

The only thing missing from your previous routine is waking up to the quiet noise of clutter in the kitchen and the smell of breakfast filling the room, to Marc.

Your intuition had been correct: Marc is avoiding you. Despite the fact that you’ve practically moved into Steven’s flat, you’ve not seen him once.

According to Steven, Marc still fronts in the middle of the night sometimes, but to do what, you don’t know. It’s one more thing Steven “can’t tell you right now” because it’s Marc’s business. And as frustrating as that is, you don’t push—at least, not with Steven.

Instead, you’ve focused your energy on attempting to lure Marc out. Texting him at random times of the day. Cluttering up the space, leaving yours and Steven’s clothes in random spaces, putting the dishes away in the wrong order—things you know will drive him mad.

You’ve even tried staying up all night in hopes of catching Marc in the act, but the only thing you caught was sleep deprivation. It’s left you exhausted and cranky in the morning, mistake-prone at work and ready to bite everyone’s head off.

Recognizing the futility of continuing to bash your head against the wall of Marc’s stubbornness, you’ve reluctantly settled into the new status quo while you consider what to do.

Tonight you and Steven are staying in. The rain is pouring down outside, making London wet and miserable, but you’re safely ensconced in the warmth of Steven’s flat, propped up in bed while he sits nearby in his worn leather armchair, reading glasses perched adorably on his nose as he peruses a thick tome.

But for once, his studies don’t seem to be capable of holding his attention, and you keep glancing up to find him staring off into space, brow furrowed, the book abandoned in his lap.

The first time you followed his gaze to the fish tank, you’d felt a stab of worry that you’d find Gus II floating belly-up in the water, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary that you can see.

The orange goldfish is swimming across the length of the tank, happily oblivious to his predecessor’s fate and the fact that he’s being observed. The journey continues until his little fishy head bumps up against the glass panel, and he turns around, repeating the process in reverse, only to do the same thing on the other side.

It’s hardly a riveting sight, but Steven seems entirely engrossed. He looks a million miles away, lost in his thoughts.

“Do you think,” he says eventually, “that goldfish ever get lonely?”

“Oh, um…” You blink at him, a bit startled by the soft question, though you’re not sure why. It’s hardly the first time Steven has expressed concern about the wellbeing of an animal—he’s a vegan after all—and you’ve seen him beside himself while watching a killer whale hunt down baby seals on an arctic beach on Animal Planet.

This feels different somehow.

“I’m not sure actually,” you hedge, wracking your brain for a proper answer, “I know guinea pigs get lonely and are meant to be kept in pairs, but I don’t really know if the same is true of fish.”

Steven nods solemnly, and turns back to the fishtank, eyes wide and melancholy, an unhappy slump to his shoulders.

Watching him watch Gus II’s lonely, pointless vigil back and forth, you wonder if it’s Marc that Steven’s thinking about now.

If he feels lonely, having effectively lost his newly revealed other half again so soon after discovering the truth.

If he misses Marc the way you–

You shake the thought away, taking a deep breath before you hold up your phone to catch his attention.

“Shall I google it?”

Steven immediately brightens up. Quickly marking his place in the book, he sets it aside and makes his way over to join you on the bed so you can google it together.

‘Do goldfish get lonely?’

Unfortunately, no matter how many pages of results you scroll though, there doesn’t seem to be any strong consensus.

Several websites are adamant that goldfish do not feel loneliness and can live a long and happy and fulfilling life alone. But there seem to be just as many saying the opposite. An article from the Telegraph strongly admonishes its readers that goldfish should be kept in pairs at least when in captivity.

Eventually, your hour-long Google bender finally ends with you two reaching the unsatisfactory conclusion of: ‘nobody knows for sure.’

You put away your phone on the nightstand and glance at Steven. He’s staring up at the fishtank again, wringing his hands in a way that makes your chest tighten. Somehow he seems even more unsettled than before.

“You know,” you point out hopefully, “nothing we found says that having a companion would make a goldfish unhappy as long as they have enough space. And your tank is certainly large enough for two.”

When Steven doesn’t reply, you prod gently, “Would you maybe like to get Gus the Second a friend?”

At that, the tension Steven is holding finally seems to thaw, his shoulders relaxing as he turns to you.

“That’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” he says, face alight with a small, soft smile.

You

FYI we did not get robbed yesterday. Steven tried to make dinner. He’s going to try again tonight. I know you hate messes so you might want to come back to stop him.

For two men who share half of their lives with each other, there’s a distinct lack of physical evidence of Marc in Steven’s flat.

Of the hundreds of books crammed into every nook and cranny of the wooden shelves sprawled across the flat, not a single one belongs to him. The messy closet filled only with Steven’s garish patterns and oversized items. In fact, Steven's personality and interests are writ large within this space—in the half-scribbled notes left on the desk, the postcards tacked on all random surfaces, the organised chaos that seems to reign. It’s obvious that this is Steven’s home.

But is it Marc’s?

You’ve yet to identify a single item in the entire flat that belongs to him. No proof of address. Nothing.

Now that you no longer wake up to him standing in the kitchen most mornings, pottering around in that quiet calm way of his, it’s almost like he never existed in the first place.

You hate it.

You look down at the handful of mismatched flatware you’ve just put back in the drawer then back up at Steven where he stands at the sink next to you, elbow deep in lukewarm dishwater.

Even the dishes are Steven’s.

“Does Marc have another flat?” you ask, unsettled by the idea that Marc might have another home that you know nothing about.

“Don’t think so,” Steven says, glancing up from the plate he’s scrubbing, “Why?”

“He doesn’t seem to have any belongings here. I was wondering if he kept his things somewhere else.”

“He’s got a storage unit. I’ve been there once. Marc had a sad little cot setup there. Not much in the way of belongings there either. I don’t think he owns much,” he says, rinsing the plate clean.

You stare down at the tea towel, twisting it in your hands, and your stomach twists with it.

A storage unit.

With a cot.

That’s even worse, isn't it? To think that Marc might not have a home anywhere at all.

And now he’s retreating farther than ever. Ceding the daytime hours, and even most nights to Steven. Keeping nothing for himself. Your lives wiped clean of traces of Marc, the same way the flat has been.

You feel sick at the thought.

Steven doesn’t say anything more, and you don’t either. The two of you work in silence, as he washes the dishes and hands them off to you to dry and then put away in the cupboards—a bowl, another plate, a sharp knife, and then a large plain ceramic mug.

Marc’s mug.

As Steven hands it to you, you have a flash of Marc taking it from your hands, full to the brim of the coffee you made for him. The memory of his quiet “thanks” makes your heart hurt.

Christ, get it together. You’re getting soppy over a bloody tea cup, for God’s sake.

It doesn’t even really qualify as Marc’s, despite being the only one amongst Steven’s collection of mugs without a quirky motif. Marc never claimed ownership of it in any way.

Shaking your head, you walk to the cabinet and tuck the mug back up into its usual spot. As you lower your arm, the old coffee maker in the corner of the counter catches your eye, gleaming in the light of the kitchen.

It looks... remarkably clean, which, for anything in Steven's flat, is an oddity in itself. You haven’t made coffee in weeks—not since before Marc disappeared—but the glass practically shines. Reaching out, you swipe a fingertip against the top surface and frown as it comes away dust-free.

“Steven, have you been using the coffee maker lately?”

“Hmm?” He turns around, arms sudsed with dishwater up to his elbow. “No, not for years. Had to stop drinking coffee ‘cause it made me jittery—or, well, worse than I am already. Why do you ask?”

“The coffee maker’s clean. There's no dust on it at all.”

Steven hums in reply, looking like he's deep in thought.

“That’s probably Marc’s doing. He drinks coffee sometimes when he’s up running around in the middle of the night, I think.”

You nod in response, your finger lingering over the button panel.

Does this old coffee maker qualify as something of Marc’s? Perhaps there is one thing that belongs to him in the flat after all.

It’s pretty banged up. The paint is chipped, and the control panel scratched up to the point that the labels are mostly worn away. It hadn’t mattered before, as all you’d needed to know was to push the first button—the ‘ON’ button, you suppose, though the lettering has long since worn away—to start the coffee brewing, but now you stare at the thing, trying to decipher the rest of the labels.

“What does this button do?” you ask, pointing to the second button. It reads 'lay b ew' which makes no bloody sense.

Steven turns off the running tap, putting down the wet plate in his hand, and comes to stand behind you where he can peek over your shoulder at the button you’ve indicated.

“That must be the delay timer button so you can set the coffee pot at night for the morning.”

You peer into the open cupboard. Instead of the mug you’ve just put away and the drab cupboard, all you can see is Marc is sitting by the counter. The faint morning sun streaming down his wide shoulders as he tips the mug to his lips and takes a sip. An echo of warmth tingles against your fingertip at the faded scene playing out in your memory.

You lean up until you’re on your toes and take the mug, cradling it in your hands. “Do you think perhaps I could set it to make the coffee for Marc? I used to make him coffee in the mornings when we had breakfast together.”

Steven smiles at you, soft crinkles forming around his eyes. “Of course, love. I think Marc would like that a lot.”

Buoyed by his encouragement, you grab the coffee from the top shelf, reciting the water-to-coffee ratio in your head—one scoop of coffee for each ounce of water.

Reaching for the spoon you start scooping it out, smiling a little to yourself as you imagine Marc discovering the coffee you’ve made just for him.

“Love, love!” Steven half-shouts, “What are you doing?”

You stop mid-scoop, look from Steven’s face, down at the mound of ground coffee in the filter, and then back up at him. Steven looks horrified, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and genuine concern.

“Making... coffee...?” you answer hesitantly, “Is this not right? I’ve always done it like this. This is how Marc drinks it.”

“I'm pretty sure no one in their right mind drinks coffee like that,” Steven says, eyes still wide, though amusement is creeping into his voice now.

You stop and frown.

You look back down at the packet of coffee beans as you think of Marc's fingers wrapped around the handle of the mug as he took it from you. The way he’d give you a small almost-smile, looking right at home as he finished the coffee you made him down to the last drop.

“Oh.”

You

I’ve made you some coffee using the delay brew setting. It should be ready when you get up.

Steven has informed me that my coffee is in fact not drinkable. If he's right, you might need to come back and teach me how to make coffee properly.

It becomes another part of your nightly routine: prepping the coffee maker and setting out Marc's mug. You still sometimes have trouble remembering the proper (according to Steven!) water to coffee ratio, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Regardless of how much or little ground coffee you add, in the morning, without fail, you find the coffee maker empty, mug and carafe both propped up in the dishrack to dry.

You're standing at the counter one Saturday morning, tucking them both back into their proper places, when you get a text from your old mate Sam.

Sam

hey fam! guess what!

You

Sam

guess!!!

You

Guess… what?

Sam

🤨 nvm

You

Sorry, what?

Sam

really making me work for it huh

remember my mate karim?

You

No?

Sam

🐠🐠🐠 guy?

You

Oh yeah! ofc.

Sam

he just got in a one-finned goldfish like your bf was asking for. he still want it?

Steven gives you a curious tilt of his head as he reads out part of the conversation out loud when you show him the exchange. “Fish, fish, fish... guy?”

“Yeah. He has a bunch of tanks in his cellar. It’s how we got,”—you gesture vaguely at the tank containing Gus II—“this one.”

“Oh, right. You did say.”

His expression turns from confusion to a bright expression, like someone’s turned on a cartoon lightbulb behind his eyes.

“I was just thinking that I did want to get Gus a friend after all,” he says smiling enthusiastically. “Right proper bit of good timing, that is!”

Steven tilts his head to the other side, as his eyes flit across the screen like he’s rereading it, then his eyes narrow in confusion. “What does he mean by your boyfriend asking for a one-finned goldfish?”

You eye the fish as it circles the water gracefully, both fins on full display, and recall Marc's constipated expression as he had stood by the tank glaring at those very two fins.

“Marc made a big fuss about wanting to find one identical to Gus,” you tell him, as you watch Gus II knock his head up against the glass again, “down to the single fin, and I guess my friend remembered.”

From across you, Steven's gaze is fixed on the tank with a slight frown on this face. He's observing the golden fish with a vacant look in his eyes like he's watching it but not seeing it.

“You all right, Steven?”

“Yeah, I'm just...” His eyes flicker across the length of the tank, then he turns back to face you, “What I don't understand is why Marc didn’t just leave Gus’ little fishy corpse floating in the tank.”

He turns back around to face you, as he continues, “It certainly would’ve been easier. And a dead fish is more believable than one regrowing a fin, isn’t it? Pets die all the time. I might not have realised anything was off at all if he'd done that.”

It's the very same thing you’d told Marc the night he had come to you for help.

You can still remember the way he had looked standing at your door, asking for your help, hair in an uncharacteristic disarray of curls. How besides himself he was with worry for Steven’s sake.

“Marc didn't want you to be upset,” you say.

Steven looks up at your words, eyes widening with surprise.

“He knew how much Gus meant to you, and wanted to protect you from being hurt,” you continue, “That mattered to him more than anything else, I think.”

There’s a brief silence as Steven processes your words, then after a moment he lets out a quiet huff of laugh and shakes his head in disbelief.

“It’s hard to imagine Marc behaving like a parent trying to get a replacement hamster from the shop,” Steven says, giving you a wry smile, “But that’s him, isn’t it? Wanting to protect the people that matter to him at all costs. Even from things we don’t really need protecting from.”

Neither of you say anything for a few moments after that, as the sound of the Blue Planet rerun on the telly fills the silence left behind. You vaguely register Attenborough’s soothing narration in the background, but don’t take anything in when Steven eventually asks, “When do you think you’ll go meet your friend?”

“He said he was free pretty much all day today, I was thinking of heading off soon, before traffic gets too bad in the afternoon.”

Steven gets to his feet and walks over to his desk, picking up his jacket that's been slung over the back of the chair and threading his arms into the sleeves. Watching him, you half expect him to make the same assessment his grouchy alter did: Men who keep fishes in their cellar are dangerous serial killers.

Instead, Steven flashes you a sweet and benign smile.

“All right if I come along with you? I can keep you company, yeah? I know how much you hate the DLR,” he says, glancing at you for approval, and you give a quick nod.

“Besides,” he adds, eyes bright with enthusiastic wonder, like a kid who's heading off on a school trip, “I'm quite curious about the cellar aquarium. Sounds like quite the sight, and I’d like to see it with my own eyes."

You break into a smile of your own. Two men that couldn’t be further apart, and yet even with diametrically opposed reasoning, the end result is still somehow the same.

------

It's just before noon when you reach the DLR station with Steven in tow. Thankfully the crowd is nowhere near as bad as the last time you made this trip.

Still, when you enter the train, most seats are already taken. The only unoccupied spot is splattered with something unpleasant-looking, so you and Steven head down the carriage in the opposite direction. You’re lucky enough to score yourself a safety rail to hold onto just as the DLR starts its bumpy journey.

As always, the train undulates like a boa constrictor that’s managed to get into the liquor cabinet. But this time you manage to keep your footing as the carriage lurches forward by gripping the railing for dear-fucking-life.

Steven isn't quite as lucky.

You barely catch the panicked “bugger” as he starts to lose his balance, about to tip over like a helpless tortoise, and you reach out without thinking, grabbing one of his flailing hands so he doesn’t fall.

“Are you all right there, Steven?” you ask, straining to hold your position as he uses you for leverage to steady himself, and then wrapping your arm around his waist once he regains his equilibrium.

“Yeah…” he mumbles, blinking at you for a moment, a flush tinting his cheeks, “Yeah, I’m aces. Thanks for the rescue.”

He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart flimmer erratically, and wraps his hand around the same railing you’re holding onto, fingers warm where they overlap yours.

“You’re welcome, but let’s stay like this until we get there just in case.” you say, wrapping your arm more firmly around him and snuggling into his chest. You can’t see his face but you can feel his head nod in approval.

Steven’s free hand comes up to settle over your back between your shoulders, holding you tight to him, the two of you steadying each other as the train keeps swaying forward. Even though his palm is resting over your coat, you swear you can feel his warmth through three layers of clothing.

You press your nose to the fabric of his jacket, inhaling the scent of him. He smells like his soap, the clean linens of your shared bed, and beneath that, a hint of coffee. The last one familiar these days, lingering like smoke after an extinguished fire, and it always makes you think of Marc. Irrefutable proof that he still exists in the world, even if he only ventures out into it after you fall asleep.

It’s a bumpy ride, but eventually the train slows to a stop at ‘Canning Town’ station. Just like last time, you find yourself thinking that it's almost a shame your journey on the DLR wasn't longer.

Unlike last time, a bright clear sun is shining down on you when you step out of the train, mitigating some of the November chill.

Steven’s hand curls over yours, tucking both into his pocket, and you’re glad for the added warmth as the two of you walk down the Docks, along the mismatch of newly built high-rise flats and small brick row-houses.

As you reach the familiar council estate, you spot Sam and his friends waving towards you from across the street, and Steven waves back, like they're old friends already. He’s already taking a step forward to cross at the traffic light, when you suddenly remember that despite the familiarity this will be the first time Sam and Karim meet Steven.

“Wait,” you hiss, flinging a hand out to grip his forearm, “They think you're Marc,” you warn, and Steven nods slowly with understanding on his face.

“Right,” he says, flashing you a cheeky grin, “So, emotionally constipated, perpetually frowning, and just generally a complete prat? Got it.”

His fingers come to his forehead, slicking back his hair with a touch of dramatic flair. Then he furrows his brows theatrically, lips pulling downwards into an exaggerated imitation of Marc’s frown, and you have to hide your grin as you turn to walk.

Crossing the street, Steven is visibly holding himself back. He’s pulling himself upright, as he juts his chin up in a brusque greeting, while schooling his features and tampering down the smile that you know is twitching at his lips. It’s a very commendable effort on his part.

But the moment you make it inside the house, and Steven catches sight of the hall lined with aquariums, his mock-frown falls away and his eyes widen with wonder. That uncharacteristic straight line of his lips, rounds with an audible, “wow” that slips out of him. Then he's all toothy smiles and excitement as he points to a particular colourful fish that glitters behind the glass of one of the numerous fish tanks.

You watch as he waves at the fish, and then turns around to Karim to ask a half-dozen more animated questions that the man answers with gusto.

Steven spends the whole time listening attentively as Karim gives a guided tour of his fish cellar, nodding along with undivided attentiveness as his eyes track the colourful fishes that are being introduced to him one by one.

The stark difference between Steven's and Marc’s behaviour doesn't go unnoticed.

“Your boyfriend’s like a completely different person today,” Sam remarks. “He's so… ”

He pauses mid-sentence, and hums consideringly as he observes Steven with an amused smile.

“I get it now, what you said last time—a big softie.”

Down the row of tanks, Steven is pointing excitedly at a puffy looking fish. It must be a rare one, judging from how elated he is. Despite the fact that Steven is absolutely blowing your cover, you can't help but smile fondly at his obvious excitement and joy.

“Yeah. Yeah, he really is,” you answer, as you feel a prickling warmth spread across your chest.

“So tell me,” Sam says as he grips his jaw in his hand, scratching his beard like a ponderous professor, “Which one is the real him?”

You freeze at the question, not sure how you can even begin to answer that.

Glancing over at Steven, you still see him wide-eyed and smiling, hovering over the very same goldfish tank that Marc was gruffly standing by as he was inspecting it studiously with a set frown for a replacement fish.

You give Sam the only answer that rings true to you:

“They both are.”

-----

Surely, you must be stuck in some kind of 80’s Sci-fi movie, because you seem to be trapped in a closed loop of deja-vus.

You're standing in the middle of Steven's flat, once again with a plastic bag in hand as you scoop (what is this time, a one-finned) goldfish into the large fish tank.

It lands with a distinct plop into the water, and then swims down with a pirouette around Gus II.

Steven is standing next to you by the tank, so close you’re shoulder to shoulder, huddled together, hunched over the glass, close enough for your noses to leave fog on the surface as you observe the two fishes dance around each other to become acquainted.

It all feels so similar that, when you feel his shoulder brush up against yours and that familiar pleasant tingle climbs up your back, you have to remind yourself that this time the person standing next to you is Steven, not Marc.

Turning your head, you look over at Steven who's watching the fishes intently. When he notices you staring, he slowly turns to you and smiles, eyes crinkling softly, and the joy of it lights up your chest.

You

We visited Sam and Karim again.

Say hi to Gus III. He’s the one with one fin.

Steven got very excited after seeing the fish cellar and is thinking of getting a second tank.

If you don't come back, I'll let him.

It's six pm and you’re in a hurry to get out of the office. Steven had texted earlier, asking if you wanted to try the new sushi place that opened up down the block tonight, and you are starving.

Exiting the elevator, you look around for Steven, surprised when you don’t immediately spot him. He almost always comes to pick you up now, even when you don’t have dinner plans. Perhaps he’s running late?

Susan must notice your confusion, because she catches your eye and waves you over.

“Over there, pet,” she says, pointing towards the front of the building, “Said he had to talk to someone.”

You follow her finger to see your wayward boyfriend standing with his back to you in the far corner of the reception area, phone held to his ear. The early dark outside has turned the wall of glass at the front of the building into an imperfect mirror, and you smile watching Steven gesture animatedly with his free hand as he talks to whoever’s on the other end.

“Cheers, Susan.” You give her a wave, heading off to let him know you’re done. Perhaps you can walk as he talks?

As you get closer, you can hear that there’s a plaintive tone to Steven’s murmuring, like he’s trying to plead his case to someone. You slow your approach, wondering who he’s talking to, but not wanting to interrupt in case it’s important.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he snaps suddenly, back going rigid, and you freeze in your tracks, because it’s not Steven’s voice, but a clipped, impatient American accent that you haven’t heard in forever. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re both better off without me.”

His eyes in the mirror are narrowed and impatient. A scowl pressed between the firm line of his mouth as he glares at his own reflection.

“Marc,” you gasp his name without thought. Marc is here.

He jerks around at the sound of your voice, and for a split second, you catch sight of Marc’s eyes, wide and pained under furrowed brows, then they widen even further, brow smoothing out as he blinks several times in quick succession, looking apologetic and a little bit shellshocked. Even before he opens his mouth to speak, a part of you already knows.

“Sorry, love,” Steven says in his thick South Londoner accent, and your heart sinks to your stomach. “Marc left, it's just me now.”

He turns back to the window, and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to tamp down the surge of disappointment and the ridiculous urge to burst into tears.

Watching Steven narrow his eyes at his reflection, you recalled what he’d said about mirrors. He hadn’t been on the phone at all, had he? Neither had Marc. They’d been communicating through the reflective surface of the glass. Talking to each other for the first time in months, and you had to go and ruin it by opening your big mouth and interrupting.

You wonder if Marc is still there in the glass, watching, but judging from the frustrated expression on Steven’s face you doubt it. He shakes his head in resignation before turning back to you, reaching over and gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t think he’s going to come back,” he says, giving you an obviously-forced smile, “Shall we go get dinner?”

“No, I... um...” You shake your head, forcing a smile that likely doesn’t look any more authentic than his, any excitement over trying a new place drowned out by the heavy weight of disappointment and regret that sits in your stomach like a stone, “I’m not all that hungry just now. Can we just go home?”

“Of course, love. Anything you want.”

If only that were true.

You

Steven made dinner tonight. You might have burn marks on your left hand. You better come back quick before he burns down the flat.

It’s another Saturday evening and you’re prepping the coffee maker to 'delay brew' another batch of coffee for Marc. You pause, bag of ground coffee in hand, before scooping it out.

“So it’s one scoop per serving, right Steven?” you call out, just to double check, but there’s no answer, “Steven…?”

Turning, you find him bent over in front of the fish tank. In the reflection of the glass pane, you catch Steven’s distracted expression, but it takes you a few seconds to register that even though he’s staring at the tank, his eyes aren't really tracking the Gus twins.

For a heartstopping moment you think maybe Marc is talking to him again, but then you take in the way his eyes linger on the upper corner of the glass and the postcards taped there. Postcards that are nominally from his mum, though you both know better now.

“Steven,” you call again, setting down the coffee and the measuring spoon, “Everything all right?”

Steven startles, bolting upright like he’s snapping out of a trance.

“Huh!? Oh. Yeah, yes. Sorry.” He gives you a sheepish smile as you come to join him in front of the tank. “Just looking at these.”

Reaching out, he traces a finger over the edges of the postcard taped back-out to the glass surface.

“It’s a bit surreal, reading this again now that I know Marc sent it, not mum.”

There’s something bittersweet in his smile, and the way his eyes shade into mournfulness makes you want to pull him into a hug and never let go.

“Paris is lovely,” he reads out from the card. “Wish I could take you! You’d love the museums here. Love you so much, Mum.”

Then he stops, and your heart breaks a little bit as he stares down at the handwritten message.

You’re sad for Steven that words of love he had believed to be from his mum weren’t from her at all. You’re sad for Marc that he had to keep up this pretence, lonely and isolated in the far-off corners of the world, carrying the weight of the truth for both of them.

With a sigh, Steven straightens up, reaches over to carefully unpin a postcard from the wooden edge of the bookcase next to the tank and reads that one too.

“In Cairo. The pyramids reminded me of the amazing work you do at the museum. So proud of you!”

He shakes his head in amusement, chuckling lightly as he reaches over to show it to you.

“He even put a heart on it at the end,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the image of Marc bent over some table, painstakingly signing off the card with a cartoon heart.

You watch as Steven carefully fits the pin back through the existing hole in the card and repins it to the wood before moving on to the one just below it.

“Happy birthday from New York. Wish I could be with you to celebrate with a birthday cake. You deserve the best day! Love, mum.”

That one gets a sigh, a sad smile and a small shake of his head before Steven repins it with the same meticulous care.

One by one, Steven gently detaches the postcards adorning the wooden shelves, over, under and on the sides of the tank, and reads each one aloud before returning it carefully to its place.

There must be at least fifty of them filling the space in his flat, from one remote destination after another.

Each message is filled with love and care. Words of encouragement, spelling out how proud she is of him. How much she wants for him to be happy. How she's always there for him. That she's just a phone call away. That he's never alone.

Then Steven goes quiet, head dipped, as he stares blankly at the postcard of Austria in his hand.

“The notes were always so loving and supportive, they always made me feel like I was a little bit less alone, you know?” he finally says, breaking the silence, and the corners of his mouth pulls into a sad smile again.

“I think... I think it must’ve been what Marc wanted to hear from our mum growing up but never got to. He must've wanted to make sure that someone got to hear these things from her… even if it was all just a lie.”

Shifting your feet, you simply nod at him, not knowing what else to say. Their mum is a bit of an enigma to you. Before today, you’ve only ever heard of her from Steven’s perspective as a loving and attentive mum.

But there’s no doubt, as you’re watching him now, seeing the pain etched into his face as he thinks of his mother, that the rosy image he’d painted previously is far from the full picture.

You recall that morning in the kitchen when you had first brought up the postcards to Marc. The way that Marc had hunched into himself, his usual confident stance crumbling before your eyes at the mere mention of their mother. The way he seemed to be trying to make himself invisible and wincing as if expecting a blow.

You know enough now about DID and the medical consensus on what causes it.

Steven doesn’t need to tell you much more than that, you can read between the lines well enough.

“Are you going to keep them, do you think?” you ask instead.

His head pops up, eyes wide as he blinks up at you in surprise, clutching the postcard tightly to his chest as though you might try to take it from him.

"Yeah,” he says, voice rasping quietly, then nods firmly and repeats it with more certainty the second time, “Yeah, ‘course I am. Of course. They may not have been from my mum, but they're from someone who cares about me.”

He pins the card back into place with reverent care, then lets his hands fall to his sides.

“Just wish that Marc could’ve had that for himself too, you know?”

You move forward until you’re close enough to Steven that you can slide a hand down his arm, your fingers brushing up against his wrist, and he takes a half-step closer, until his shoulder is pressing against yours.

“It’s a bit silly, you know? There was no need to go out of his way like this. I would have been none the wiser,” Steven says, smiling even as there’s a glossy sheen behind his eyes.

You know exactly what Steven means, and he’s right. It is silly. It’s also kind and unexpected and unnecessary and entirely Marc.

The easy option would have been to just leave a dead fish in the tank. It would have been even easier to not send handwritten postcards to him at all. In fact, the easiest option of all for Marc was to dump everything on Steven from the very beginning. It would have saved him a lot of headaches.

There was never any need for Marc to take all of this upon himself, carrying every burden come their way in order to spare Steven any hardships. No need for him to shoulder the entire weight of their world by himself. He didn't have to struggle alone, surrounded by millions of strangers in every corner of the world. And yet, you can’t imagine him doing otherwise.

This is quintessentially Marc, and as infuriating as it can be, you can’t fault him for it.

“Marc has his own ideas about protecting the people in his life,” you say, as you lace your fingers with Steven's, squeezing him tightly under your palm, “Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being.”

The two of you stand there in silence, interrupted only by the quiet bubbling noise coming from the tank. Surrounded by postcards written by a man who's not here, but whose presence can be felt in every nook and cranny of your life together.

Marc isn’t here, yet reminders of him are constant and inescapable. His absence is like an aching tooth that you can’t seem to keep from prodding with your tongue, a missing stair that you can’t stop tripping over.

He's everywhere you look.

Every cluttered pile of books that Steven leaves behind him when you stay in on a Saturday night, every messy detail makes you think of how Marc would want to rip out his hair, itching to clean if he saw the mess.

You're reminded of Marc on every crowded tube you take on your morning commute. Haunted by the phantom weight of his protective hand on the small of your back, the comforting pressure of Marc's arms wrapped around you to keep you steady.

Every morning when you walk into your office and catch a faint whiff of coffee from your cubicle, that fissure in your chest cracks open each time as you’re transported to the memory of waking up to the sight of Marc sitting next to you, drinking the coffee you make him with a stoic face.

Then there is the biggest reminder of all: the face of the man you love.

It's etched in the dark brown of Steven’s eyes as he smiles up at you and calls you 'love'. In the sharp line of his nose as he presses the blunt tip to your cheekbone to kiss you good morning.

Perhaps you ought to be able to ignore it and pretend that this is fine.

After all, you love Steven, and it'd be easy enough to pretend that you and Steven have reached your happily ever after. That this—your life together, just him and you, the way you’ve been since he’s returned—is your new normal, and that all of it is fine.

...But it's not fine.

You miss Marc.

You miss waking up to him lingering in the kitchen as he tidies up. Miss his half-smiles and wry jokes. Miss the comfort of his presence just by him being near you.

Somewhere along the line, in those quiet mornings together, Marc carved out a space for himself inside you. With him gone, it’s left a gaping wound in the middle of your torso, and you are haemorrhaging out without him.

Marc is important to Steven. He’s important to you too, you can admit that now. And you need to admit it to Steven as well.

You squeeze down firmly on Steven's hand, closing your eyes shut for a brief second as you take a deep breath to prepare yourself.

"Steven,” you start, “we... um... we need to talk.”

You cringe the moment the words leave your mouth, wishing you could take them back and try again. The last conversation you started this way didn’t start or end well and sent Steven into a tailspin.

Two seconds in, and you’re already messing this up. That has got to be some kind of a record.

To your surprise, Steven doesn't panic. Instead his expression softens, and he smiles indulgently at you.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea, love. There's a bit of an elephant in the room, isn’t there? A Marc-shaped elephant, yeah?”

His blunt cheekiness cuts through any lingering hesitance in you, and you nod.

“I miss him,” you admit, before trailing off, “I…”

You don't know how to say this.

There are no words in the dictionary that can adequately convey what you’re feeling. How you can love Steven so much, be so deliriously happy to be with him, but still feel like there are sharp jagged pieces cutting large holes into you because Marc isn't there.

“I know,” Steven says, filling the silence for you, “You care about him quite a bit, don’t you?”

You search his eyes for a moment, trying to get a sense of his emotional reaction to guide you.

There’s nothing but kindness and understanding in his gaze. Those warm brown eyes that seem to see right through you and accept you just as you are, and it helps to steady you.

“It’s all right, love,” he continues softly and gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze like he’s trying to emphasise to you that it truly is. “I care about Marc a great deal as well. The big grump grows on you, doesn’t he?”

And that’s just Steven, isn’t it? Never shying away from a tough truth.

You're so grateful to him for it.

You want to tell him how thankful you are to him for seeing you—for knowing you, even when you don't entirely know yourself. How safe you feel with him, even with this. How it’s his support that’s given you the courage to finally admit the truth to yourself... and to him as well.

“I think I...”

You look down at your intertwined hands, his thumb petting the back of your knuckles.

“I think I love him,” you finally say.

It’s terrifying to admit out loud, but it’s a relief too.

You draw your eyes up to meet Steven’s, half-expecting to see hurt or pain blossoming, but there’s none. You squeeze his palm gently in gratitude before you cup your hand over his soft cheek.

“And I still love you as well. So much.”

“I thought that might be the case, love,” Steven says, and slides one hand into the pockets of his trousers, as he looks at you earnestly, “and that leaves you with a bit of a predicament, yeah?”

You nod. The fingers of your free hand are itching to fiddle with your wrist watch, so you curl them into a tight fist by your side.

“I would never choose Marc over you, but I just– I–” you cut yourself off, shaking your head hopelessly because you’re not quite sure what you even want to suggest here.

You’re so fucking nervous, nervous that you might be fucking up everything between you and Steven with this wishy-washy confession of yours. But before you spiral, Steven comes to your rescue.

“So, I’m thinking, right,” Steven begins, “And– And stop me if this isn’t what you want, but what if–”

He pauses, holding up both his hands in an invitation for you to interrupt at any time.

“Look, nothing about our situation is normal. In fact, it’s rather abnormal, isn’t it?—and I reckon that means it has to be an inordinate solution.”

Steven looks at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s trying to suggest, and it must show on your face because he continues, “So what if we all… um… well. You don’t have to choose, I guess is what I’m saying.”

Your mouth works, opening and closing as you struggle to get out any words in reply, and Steven presses on.

“Marc’s spent more than half his life shielding me from all the bad stuff that's come our way, trying to handle it all on his own. He doesn't believe that he deserves the good stuff. That he deserves love. But he does. Maybe more than anyone. So I think you should tell him how you feel, and we’ll see if we can't figure something out, all three of us.”

“You– You mean…” you flounder, trying to find a delicate way to make sure he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But there is no such thing in these surreal circumstances. “You’re talking about my having a relationship with Marc as well as one with you? About… sharing me? …With him?”

He gives you a small awkward smile, as he shoves his fidgeting hands back down in his pockets like he’s suddenly grown self-conscious about how distracting they are. “Only if you’re okay with that, of course.”

“And you’re okay with that? You won't be jealous?”

“Jealous? …of Marc?” he begins incredulously, eyes popping wide open as if that option had never even occurred to him. Then he stops and really seems to ponder the question.

“You know, I'm not. Maybe I should be, but… How can I be? After all, I’m a part of him, aren’t I? And he's part of me. The fact that you love him… Well, in some odd way it makes me feel like you... you just love all of me.”

Time seems to slow around you as you process what Steven’s just told you, because that’s it. That’s just what it is.

You try to swallow down the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat, but you can’t. His words shift something inside you, the tangled knot of guilt and confusion and conflicted loyalties that have lived inside you for so long unravels, leaving behind a clearer understanding of your own complicated feelings for both Marc and Steven.

You love Steven.

You love Marc.

You love both of them and all of them, and it doesn’t have to compete with each other.

Once again you just marvel at Steven. At his way of cutting through your confusion, situational complexities, and convoluted emotions to put into words the truth you’ve struggled to understand, even as you’ve lived through it and felt it with every inch of you. All of it summarised in that simple sentiment.

“I do. I really do, Steven. You and Marc. All of you.” You breathe out, the tension going out of you until your spine softens, fully relaxes for the first time in a long time.

Steven is still smiling at you, his smile spreading wider and more assured the longer he looks at you, and it makes the tentative love and joy welling up in your chest overflow until you can barely stand upright.

“You’re really all right with this?” you ask one last time, and you notice that your voice is a little bit shaky because you feel like you are vibrating out of your skin.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it, if it wasn’t something I wanted, love,” Steven says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate timbre as he wraps his arm around the small of your back pressing you tight to him. “But only if it’s something you want too.”

“Yes, it... It is. Very much so,” you confirm, and you can’t hold back your ever-growing smile.

“Well then,” Steven says, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head, “I guess all that's left now is to tell Marc and convince him to come back home.”

You

Ratatouille is on channel 4 today and

...And what?

You pause to sprinkle fish food into the Gus twins’ tank, as you stare blankly at the drafted message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Today is the first time you’ve woken up without Steven in bed with you since his return. It means Marc has gone off somewhere again.

You chew on your inner cheek as you reread the half-finished message. It's a daily habit you have developed in Marc's absence. You text him throughout the day to share about frivolous ongoings in your life, the way you used to when you’d be sitting across him at breakfast.

There’s never any response. The only proof you have that he hasn't changed his number or blocked yours is the two little ticks that eventually appear, indicating that he's read the messages.

Dragging your finger down the screen, you scroll up through the message log, embarrassed at the number of unanswered messages you’ve left.

He really is planning to ignore you and stay gone forever, isn't he?

Your thumb drags over to the delete button instead, painstakingly erasing your message.

Deep down, you've always known these texts were just an excuse for you to hang onto the last tether you felt you had tying you to Marc, and you're sick of nattering on inanely, making cheeky jokes to camouflage what you really wanted to tell him.

It’s time to say what you mean. What you’ve always meant. The truth hidden between every line of every message you’ve sent him.

You

I miss you

Please come back

You hit send before you can overthink it, then stare at the screen, blood rushing to your head as your heart starts to palpitate in your chest. A million thoughts race in your head, as you start to imagine Marc on the other end reading this. Will he be annoyed? Angry? Will he finally block your number so he doesn’t have to receive your spam messages at all hours of the day?

You glance at the ottoman in front of you, about to set down the phone to keep it away from yourself, when from the corner of your eye you see that grey tick transforms into blue.

Marc's read it. He’s read it.

Your heart drums painfully sharp tucked beneath your ribs. Your fingers grip the cold body of your phone.

Marc's there. On the other side of the screen right now. A phone call away.

That’s what Steven said wasn’t it? That all you two needed to do now, was to tell Marc how you feel and convince him to come home.

That is, assuming he even wants to come home. Maybe he just doesn’t feel the same about you.

Still, your fingers slide open your contacts, scrolling down until you reach Marc's name and press call.

It rings out, loud and oppressive. Louder still when you press it against your ear.

Once.

You should’ve had a glass of wine before you did this.

Twice.

He probably won't answer. Why would he? You shouldn't have even bothered. If he wanted to speak to you, he wouldn’t have been avoiding you in the first place.

Three times.

The monotonous ringing continues, and your heart seems to sink in your chest, dropping, heavy with disappointment into the pit of your stomach. He's not going to pick up.

Four.

This is desperate and sad. You’re chasing after a man who keeps running from you. You're just going to leave yourself miserable.

Five.

This is so stupid. You should just hang up.

Six–click.

You jolt upright on the sofa. Every hair on the nape of your neck electrified. Legs tense and straining as you sit entirely still like you've encountered a deer in the forest and you're too afraid to move a muscle in case you might spook it away.

Did the line disconnect? Or did he–

You yank the phone away from your ear to stare at the screen. It's blank and black save for Marc's name and a timer, numbers counting up to indicate the duration of the call.

Marc picked up. Marc actually...

Your mouth is dry as you raise the phone to your ear again.

“He-hello? Marc?”

There's no answer.

“Marc? Are you there?”

Still nothing. The other end of the line is dead quiet. Maybe it’s a bad connection.

“Can you hear me?” you try again.

Maybe no one is there. Maybe Marc bumped it with his elbow. Maybe you’re just talking to yourself like a crazy woman.

“Marc, I–”

You lower the phone and check the screen again. The call is still going, but the silence on the line reveals nothing. You have no way of knowing if Marc is listening or not.

But if he is...

If he is, this might be your best chance—perhaps your only chance—to speak to him. Compared to that, what does it matter if you feel a little bit silly?

“So uhm... I-I don't know if you had a chance to read my message—the latest one, I mean. I know I've been sending you a lot of them. But if you're there? If you can hear me, Marc, I just– I mean it, you know? I miss you. Steven misses you too. We both do.”

It's still quiet.

Even if Marc is there on the other end of the line, it's quite obvious by now that he has no intention of answering you. Stubborn as he is, you know that no matter what you say, he's not going to acknowledge that he's there.

If he’s even there.

You press on.

“I don't know why you think you need to stay away, or why Steven and I wouldn't want you here. Because, yes, you're grumpy and your default setting is a resting bitch face, and yes, you can be a right arse sometimes, but…” You find yourself smiling, imagining the way his eyebrow would rise if you were saying this to his face.

“You've always taken care of Steven and... and of me too”.

Your throat constricts with a thick lump that you try, but can’t seem to, swallow away. You think of all the small but many, many things Marc has done for you since he entered your life. The way he’s learned to prepare your tea just the way you like it. The way he always pulls your quilts to your shoulders while you’re asleep so you don’t freeze in the middle of the night.

“I don't know if I've ever thanked you before. I guess I just– uhm. I want to thank you, you know? Thank you for cooking me breakfast every morning and for putting out my clothes for me so I didn’t have to search for them.”

You think of the way he had held you while you were crying like a child on his living room floor. How firmly he’d cradled you in his arms, and how he didn’t let go, even when you got snot all over his shirt.

“Thank you for comforting me when I was crying after everything with Steven.” There’s a stinging sensation behind your eyes, and you wipe at them with the back of your hand, trying to ignore that it comes away wet, as you continue to speak.

“And for letting me stay over that night. I know you’re not usually a touchy-feely person, and it... It meant a lot to me.”

You swear you can feel the phantom weight of his comforting hand on the small of your back, and you close your eyes as you imagine that he’s next to you.

You think of all the ways he’s pushed himself for you. Hugging you when you were crying, cooking you breakfast when you were hungry, befriending you because you asked him to for Steven’s sake—how every step forward in your relationship has been because he was trying to meet someone else's needs: Steven’s. Yours.

And now he’s removing himself from the picture, thinking he’s fulfilling another need.

“I know I said I wanted a simple, normal life with Steven, but I didn't– That didn't mean I wanted you gone, Marc,” you continue, as you tug at your overlong sleeve and wipe at your wet cheeks.

“You said you were going to fix everything, that we were better off without you, but how can anything be 'fixed' when I miss you so bloody much!? How can things be better without you here when I'm–” Your voice breaks, and you swallow around the thickness in your throat, trying to sniffle down the clump that won’t go away.

“God, I hope you're listening, and I'm not just pouring my heart out to your back pocket.”

You let out a wet laugh at the idea, and then inhale deeply, doing your best to steady your voice.

“I'm– I’m in love with you, Marc.”

You're not sure if it's just your over-active imagination inventing things out of pure wish fulfilment, but you think perhaps you hear a quick intake of breath on the other end.

“Steven knows. I still love him too, of course, but I told him how I feel about you, and he's okay with it. And if– well, if you ever wanted there to be something more between us, he'd be okay with that too. We don't have to be together that way if you don't want to, of course, but I just…”

Your throat feels tight again, threatening to close up, and you have to stop for a moment, suck in a soggy breath and try to get yourself under control before you can continue.

“I love you, Marc,” you say again, barely breathing for several seconds as you strain your ears, hoping to hear something, anything from the other line. But this time there's not even a hint of sound.

You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Feeling. Is he shocked? Angry? Puzzled? What does he look like on the other end of the line?

Are his brows furrowed into that pinched expression his face makes when he’s emotionally overwhelmed? If he were here, would he be looking at you with that same pained expression that night he put you in a taxi home? Or would he lean in and–

You don’t know.

And you’d give up the whole world to know what Marc is feeling in this moment. Give anything to have him back here with you so you could see it for yourself.

"Do you hear me, you stubborn, infuriating man?” you’re practically yelling now. “I love you! So there's not going to be any happily ever after for me unless you come back. You don’t have to love me the same way. It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be. But I need you here. Please. I miss you. Steven misses you. Please just come back.”

You close your eyes again, holding your breath. Hoping against hope that he’ll answer you or give you some sign that he’s heard you at the very least. But there’s nothing.

And you have nothing more left to say to try to convince him.

“Goodnight, Marc.”

Then you end the call.

~ Continue ~

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