#marcus lopez

[edilzzi]

𝑊𝐻𝑂 𝐼𝑆 𝑊𝐻𝑂?

(ft. Mattheo Riddle) 18+

✧[Summary]✧ You have an enormous crush on Mattheo Riddle. Although, you're way too busy pushing your nose into books and being an angel for such a popular guy to look your way. That never stopped you though, your little 'harmless' ways to stalk him around hogwarts has gotten way more ridiculous than ever, as if your eyes lingering on him for way too long wasn't enough. But as time passes by, you slowly notice his figure disappearing within your sight. That's when you realize.. With how frequent you observe his presence in front of you, you never acknowledged watching behind you.

✧[Content]✧ Mature Content, nerd!reader, stalker!reader, fem!reader, stalker!mattheo, obsessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, pervert!mattheo, size difference, masturbation, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praising, swearing, teasing, smut with plot, no use of y/n, mattheo loves to tease you because you're always such a goody two shoes, but little does he know what he's about to find out..

✧[A/N]✧ Y'all need to speak up my inbox feeling real lonely 😔 Anyways, my second fic with a different guest, I hope it hits all the right buttons in your complicated brains. Luvlubs, cherubs!

✧[WC]✧ 4.4k

"He looks so ethereal." A random girl practically moaned out 'whispering' to her friends in the quiet library while pointing a long manicured nail at Mattheo Riddle leaning at a bookshelf laughing with his friends. Fuck these girls, why is he so damn popular?

Not that you don't agree with them. Ethereal? Hell yeah he is. He was carved by the finest sculptor of all time, it seems. His effect being on level with the past, present, and future. The image of him lingering with failed restraint and the presence of his name fluttering your heart, but the thoughts of Riddle scattering the inner walls of your brain was expertly masked by a sharp minded perfectionist every academic achiever fears.

Ironed uniform, ends of the white button up neatly tucked underneath your dark pleated skirt, tie securely wrapped below the collar, black robes folded somewhere in your dorm—the summer heat really got to every student, including him, seeing as you weren't the only one without it. Riddle had his black robes off long before he strode in the library—the fabric hanging on his shoulder. His tie loose, top few buttons were undone, shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, both hands in his pockets, looking fine as ever.

You didn't bother to lower your shameless stare as you sat a few tables before him, books stacked left and right, a couple laid opened in front. To be fair, you were actually studying, but that was until he had to disturb your peaceful study session and decided to walk in. Why is he here anyway? Especially around this hour when he just chatters and jokes around with his group of friends. The hallways are dead silent, why not be there like he always does?

Whatever—you study at this specific table daily right after classes, surely it's fine if you finish a little early and take a break. And when you mean break, you mean staring a little more. You know his whole week schedule like the back of your hand, as if it was yours, but lately he's been missing a few classes, rarely shows up at the great hall to eat, and doesn't go on little smoking trips at night that much anymore. You hate how you notice—it's ridiculous. Your eyes trail as he takes a look at the expensive watch wrapped around his wrist and exits the room—perfect. The clock near the doorway signals that it was time for his quidditch practice (and when your study session ends).

When you arrive at the quidditch stands, there's no greater thing to have than a good guy friend that plays quidditch in the same team as Riddle—Graham Montague, whom you were partnered with once in class. Which also meant you get to watch them especially Riddle every single practice at fridays. It was known by everyone that Graham obviously had interest in you, but being too much of a 'goody two shoes', you were too oblivious to see and ended up pushing him into friend zone more than a couple of times. He was a known heart breaker anyways, he doesn't have any right to deserve you in any way, but you were always too nice to everybody, unknowingly spiked his hopes up with your kindness.

You sat with a book and two water bottles beside you—one for you and one for Graham. He always insists you bring it to him after the practice, but you bring it during just in case anyway. Being the good friend that you are, you occasionally give the sweetest smile man has seen and wave your hands at Graham every time you make eye contact—missing the way Riddle's stare flickering between you and your little friend who is smiling back a little too happily for his liking. His glare was firm, yet behind it, he couldn't hide the jealous storm rumbling within.

"Montague!" He yelled out from a distance, broom flying closer—your eyes switch from Graham's to his. "I chose you to be on this team to play, not to magnet attention. Back on track, c'mon." He patted Graham's back, leaving behind slightly before flashing you a grin with teeth before trailing back to the team. Your heart stuttered violently, thankfully you were sitting down because your knees weakened, as if coordination itself abandoned you.

It went on for couple minutes, and while sipping on your water, you couldn't help but glance more than just a few times at Riddle's focused face as they practice. His brows slightly furrowed, sweat slicked skin, and messy hair. You also noticed him being a little rougher when it comes to giving Montague directions.

Right after the last whistle at sunset—which indicates that their time on the pitch was done, you stood up and rushed down the creaky stairs to give Graham his water that was still ice cold (thanks to magic).

"Thanks, I really owe you one." Graham smiles while panting before he chugs his water down in seconds, some dripping on the sides of his mouth to his neck. You respond with a small smile back, "It's no problem really—"

"May I?" Riddle signals to your bottle that's half full, breathing heavily. Your eyes widened slightly, eyebrows lifting. "Uh—sure!" You squeeked out, blood rushing to your face—he thinks it's absolutely adorable.

"Thank you, sweetheart." He grins at your reaction at the nickname—thighs visibly clenched together. He takes it and twists off the bottle cap, the veins in his hands slightly flexing. You gulp as you quietly observe him tilting his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he drinks the given water, your bottle seeming a lot smaller squeezed in his large hand. After he was done, he licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand, handing you back the empty bottle—fingers brushing a little longer than intended.

To be honest, your neck ached a little looking up at him, but anything for that eye contact. His gaze moving up and down to your small frame. "Hey beautiful," Graham jumped in, causing you to take one tiny step backwards. You hummed in response, completely different to how Riddle reacted—his demeanor seemed like he wanted to rip the guy in half—kind of scary, oh well. "Come with me." Graham continued before capturing your wrist and dragging you with him to the changing rooms.

You struggled to keep up with his long strides and was in the process of protesting before you two came to a sudden stop. "Wait for me, okay?" He pants, sitting you down on one of the benches right outside the showers before entering in one of the shower stalls. Oh. It's this again. Dragging you all the way here just to make you wait for him to shower. He only did this once before when Riddle was in detention and couldn't monitor, now twice. You had no clue why, but considering you weren't familiar with his infatuation with you, it was no wonder you keep up with this shit.

He does it so you can see his bare torso, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. It honestly isn't even worth it. It takes him about an hour to shower, probably doing everything but taking a proper shower. Fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and ignoring a few other teammates other than Riddle roaming around, half an hour passed—only Graham's shower stall still running water. You hear a snicker and looked up, seeing Riddle leaning against the doorway. Shirtless. He only had a pair of grey sweatpants on, hanging low right where his v line ends, hair still damp from showering. Muscles flexed as his arms were crossed. Your cheeks burned at the way his eyes playfully narrowed at you as he caught your eyes wandering a little too low—he didn't mind at all.

He stepped closer, leaning down until you could feel his minty breath on your face. You tried to scoot backwards in your seat—heart beating faster when your back meets the wall and his face gets even more closer. Just when he's only centimeters away is when he stays still—eyes forcefully burning into yours, down all the way to your thighs that are clenched shut, then back to your flushed face, to which you can see that his pupils had dilated.

"What's a such good girl like you doing in the men's changing rooms, hm?" He spoke lowly, but clear enough so you could hear. You parted your lips to respond, but he cut you off, "Or maybe you're troublesome unlike what everyone portrays you to be." He teases, smirking.

"I'm just waiting for Graham." You huff, voice betraying strength. "Well, Graham can wait for himself." He knew Montague's tricks all too well—it wasn't the first time he's used it on someone. He softly grabbed your wrist, bringing you outside.

As soon as your face hit fresh night air, you sighed, relieved. "See what I mean?" He chuckles softly, "Montague isn't worth your time."

You give him a cheeky smile—cute. Moments of comfortable silence and occasional jokes and giggles passed before you both hear Montague's distant voice.

"Guys?"

⏤͟͟͞͞☆

After you both separated at the dorms, offering each other goodnights and doing your before sleep routine, your mind went crazy and your heart threatened to jump out of your chest as soon as your back hit the bed. Although your brain is absolutely about to burst out of excitement, your body can't help but slump against the bed as it's exhausted. It's Friday, understandable. You flutter your eyes closed, sending you to dream world where all dreams happen.

Next thing you know it's morning. Despite it being summer, you've been met with the very cold morning breeze. Rubbing your eyes, it regains focus specifically on a window that's ajar. So that's where the cold wind came from. You stretch for a good second before standing up to shut the window properly—your owl out of sight, it probably escaped, wasn't the first time that happened. Checking the small clock on your nightstand, you should probably dress for—

Oh.

It's Saturday. Damn it. Whatever, you always go to hogsmeade on Saturdays anyway. Whether its to buy clothes, food, read books on a really cold or really hot metal bench, or just walk around, it's basically a part of your weekly shit.

Rummaging through your clothes, you couldn't find single pair of one of your favorite underwear. You swear the number of it is decreasing by day. Finally deciding on a good pair with decent clothes, you took a quick shower, brushed your teeth, changed, and went out for breakfast.

As you passed by the great hall doors, you took some steps back for a sneak peek to check if Riddle was at breakfast.

Dang it—he's not there.

You wonder where he might be during his times of disappearing. Actually, you didn't have to as you walk in a straight line to smash your face right against his chest—thump!

You almost fell, but the image of embarrassing yourself this early in the morning makes you mentally retort and immediately take small steps backwards to balance.

"Looking for someone?" Riddle smirks down at you, "You should at least know by now that Montague sleeps in at Saturday breakfast, no?" His smirk fades away, blinking when he realized that you were probably checking up on your friend after leaving him unresponded yesterday.

"I wasn't—" You closed your lips shut, if you had said that you were totally not peeking through to check up on Graham, all your efforts of being 'sneaky' down the drain. "Mhm, yeah right." Riddle mutters and walks right past you like he never said a word.

What's his problem?

One minute he's taking long heavy strides down the halls, then leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette. He stills for a bit, thinking, you were on your way to hogsmeade by now. Maybe if he runs fast enough he could catch up like he always failed to do.

He shakes his head as if saying no to the voices in his mind. He thinks it's ridiculous, but really he shouldn't be saying anything when he stole a handful of underwear right next to your sleeping self and shoved it down his pockets last night. He shuts his eyes at the thought. He should really give those back, but he didn't—actually he found doing that pathetic, you're not getting those back.

He couldn't care less as he jerked himself off with it. He was absolutely fond of the idea of your underwear covering your cunt all day, the way the fabric fits in all the right places. His dirty fantasies doesn't stop there. Just a glimpse of your big curious eyes looking up at him has him crazily aroused. Oh and that smart mouth of yours has him wondering what other stuff it can do other than speak about complicated potion recipes, how warm your soft lips probably feels when it wraps around his—okay maybe he should stop there. He snaps himself awake from his little imaginations and walks straight to his dorm before he gets caught red handed with a boner.

Later that evening you had a hard time sleeping than usual. Just flipping and tossing around in your bed, eventually giving up and laying limp with your eyes focused on the ceiling. Tomorrow's Sunday, then after that it's Monday, then Tues—ugh—time flies fast. Since sleep neglected you now, you reach out deep into your thoughts looking for something that might help the boredom.

Ah, perfect—Mattheo Riddle.

You remember the way he stared in a specific way at you in potions, the way you made eye contact with him during his practices, the way his veiny hands were buckling his belt when you were peeking in his window while he was getting ready for school, the way his face was so close to yours yesterday at the shower rooms—what if you just leaned in?

His soft lips against yours, that would've felt heavenly. You sigh, this wasn't really the worst thing you've done, so why not? You decide as your hand reaches down to your clothed heat and pressing down on the sensitive area.

You push off your shorts and panties in one go, fingers dragging the dripping arousal right on your little bundle of nerves. Hair disheveled, eyes closed, lips parted as soft moans and whimpers escape, your fingers deliberately circling on your clit. Despite your perverse doings, you looked like a fucking angel.

That's exactly what Riddle thinks—as he shamelessly watches you masturbate and occasionally whisper moan his name through that same window he came in and out of last night.

Fucking hell—his mouth literally waters at the sight. He never knew such a sweetheart like you could ever be touching herself to someone that he thought you had no interest in.

Such a naughty girl, fuck—the way you squirm under your own touch. Such a cute little pussy too, just like how he imagined. Who knew his night could turn around like this just because he wanted to return your stolen underwear while you were—what he thought was sleeping.

As much as how badly he wanted to climb in and help, knowing he's exactly your target, it was wrong of him to do so. That doesn't mean it won't happen, now that he found this little secret of yours, it won't be the last time he gets to see you like this.

While your eyes were shut, desperate to chase that coiling feeling at the pit of your core, Riddle took a ripped piece of paper from your desk with the use of magic and burnt it with the tip of his wand to write on it. With a precise flick of his wand, the stolen relic was returned, neatly placed on your bedside drawer along with the paper.

Although his initial task was done, he didn't leave. From all the way over here, he could tell you were close. He also wishes you would call him Mattheo more often. Maybe then he'll remember this valuable piece of memory as if he would ever forget about it.

Staring intently into your fingers that had graduately sped up, he keeps on watching until at you reach your high and at the brink of gaining consciousness, he's already walking outside like he never passed by.

Fluttering your eyes open and breathing heavily, you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and came back with a lingering sense that something changed.

Gaze darting across the room until it lands sharply on the bedside drawer. Isn't that your underwear?

How considerate—Riddle had the courage to give you one of the four panties that he stole.

"Where have you been hiding, hm?" You inspect the garment, it seems clean. As you picked it up, something slipped from the drawer and onto the floor. A paper. You picked it up.

Troublesome and naughty too? Who would've thought..? Other than me ;)

Oh fuck.

You read it for about a hundred times before throwing it across the room. You lay slump on your bed, palms covering your eyes. You just wanna fucking sleep, but how can you do that when you know there was definitely someone that saw you masturbating to someone you definitely shouldn't have been masturbating to?

Whatever this shit was, it was a dream. Yeah, a dream.

...

Please fucking wake up right now.

You didn't wake up.

Fuck fuckity fuck.

You curled up in a ball and hid under the covers. Eventually you did fell asleep, but not without having to stress yourself to death. Whoever saw you did what you did, you'll deal with it tomorrow.

Minutes later.. You found yourself wide awake under the moon. Staring at the ceiling. Troublesome? Sounds quite familiar, no? There was only one person who could've gave you that paper—and the missing underwear.

Mattheo fuckass Riddle.

What in the actual fuck was he doing in your room? And more importantly, why the fuck did he steal your stuff? Your heart thumping, you soon realized that you eventually have to confront him, now that he knows it's his name you're moaning when you touch yourself.

But at the same time, it kind of excites you. He literally stole your undergarment(s). What else did he do with them?

Only one way to find out.

After getting ready and changing into appropriate (or not) clothes, you hesitantly went down to the corridor leading straight into an ongoing party, if there was one thing to know about Riddle, it's that he never misses one.

Music blaring in your ears as you enter, glancing from person to person right until one of those eyes were staring right back at you. He gets closer till he was standing in front of you, ears blurred out the music, filling it with the quickening beat of your heart.

"That was you?" Your voice confronting, yet weak as he stepped even closer. He narrows at you, "Knew you're a smart girl, wasn't expecting you to figure it out so easily, huh?" He thinks for a bit, "Don't you think you shouldn't be the only one doing the confronting?" He smirks.

"Riddle." You gulp while looking up at him.

"It's Mattheo." He counters.

"Mattheo." You respond, the name tastes familiar on your tongue, but you never used it to actually address him.

His vision lowered down to your attire. You didn't think much of it as it was rushed, but clearly it made him think a lot more than just a short dress that barely covers anything. You never wore it out before, oh but it hugged your figure perfectly, showing the flesh of your thighs and cleavage that you swore to cover. He audibly groaned at the sight, hands finding the curve of your waist.

Even with all the bright party lights in his eyes, you knew in that moment, whatever he wanted, his eyes told you it was real.

And then it happened. Before any thought could resurface, before restrained unleashed, his lips found yours.

Raw, aching, and claiming. Both hearts thundered, a kiss that burned and drowned in chaos. It took strength to pull away, even to breathe. And once you did, it left you gasping.

His glare was harmless, but it meant something—desperate. His heavy grip, unfaltering, not ready to let go just yet. But then, he loosened his hold.

Instead, his fingers wrapped around your wrist in one swift move and leads you straight to his dorm. Except, he halted right at the door.

"I want you to tell me you need this as much as I do." He breathes, gaze softening.

"I want you." You didn't hesitate one bit.

His palms slide under your thighs and carries you into his dorm as his lips captures yours once more. You gasp into his mouth in surprise when he closes his door by pinning your back onto it.

Fingers grasping and curling against his scalp earns you a groan into your mouth that sends jolts to your core. His lips fierce, but his fingers were gently as it's securely under your thighs supporting your whole weight. He can feel warmth radiating from your body.

Still deep into the kiss, he walks you over to the bed and sits you on his lap. Removing his shirt, it cuts off the kiss. While your at it, you kneeled down on the ground in level to the unmistakable tent in his pants.

His eyes widened, "Darling, you don't have to—" You cut him off with a peck.

"I want to taste you, please..?" You beg and give your best puppy eyes, though you didn't have to, you on your knees for him was already more enough.

"Fuck, baby.." How could he ever resist you?

You watch him unbuckle his belt in full view, in all honesty, it just makes you pool even more. You impatiently pull down his pants and boxers at the same time.

He chuckles while you gawk at his size before reaching down to the ends of your dress and pulls it off as well, leaving you bare with just in a bra and panties. Slowly, your hand reaches to wrap around his length.

My goodness.

Your thumb does not reach the rest of your fingers around him. You mentally prepare your jaw before spitting to lubricate, then wrapping your warm soft lips around it. He groans, perfect.

You lower at least halfway in and do the rest of the job with your both of your hands.

"So good f'me." He rasps.

He slightly jolts in pleasure and whimpers as you swirl your tongue around his tip before bobbing your head up and down again.

You look up at him while he tilts his head back, eyes shut. He's undeniably close, but he hasn't even fucked you yet. Once you pull away to breathe, he takes his chance and throws you onto the bed.

While kissing and trailing hickeys on your neck, he slides a hand under and unclips your bra. A whine escapes past your lips as he latches a nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking and doing the same to the other.

He gradually moves down while the tip of his nose is firmly dragging tingling sensations all over your lower half. He halts right above your pulsating cunt and takes off the final piece of undergarment.

Your breath hitches as his tongue goes contact to your entrance and drags up to your clit, wasting no time. It was his dirtiest fantasy coming to life. His cock throbbing to replace his tongue, a competition, a test to Mattheo's resistance. Although his greediness won over in an instant, as he already planned out to do both.

The pulsating bud begging for air under his tongue makes him no less hungry. "Mmgh—Mattheo!" Your voice struggling to keep up with how much he's lapping you up.

One last lick before his warm lips suck on your clit. "Oh—shit..!!" You tremble as a tight rope inside you just snapped. Warmth gushing your lower half, Mattheo never stopped.

Your mind burns into flames as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Hands gripped onto his hair, not knowing whether to pull him closer or push him away. Vision blurring, he eventually stops.

He claims your lips in a kiss and positions his tip right to your soaked entrance, collecting arousal. His head drops to your shoulder, placing light kisses as he sinks in. The stretch burning so satisfyingly.

"So perfect 'round me.." He holds your head to his chest when he bottoms out, groaning.

"Yeah—please, mhhm." You choke out eagerly, your pussy swallowing him whole.

"I know, baby.." He groans, holding his high so he can make you feel good first. The first few thrusts had you moaning so heavenly for him. He wasn't quiet either—moans so pornographic it should be illegal.

Speeding up, his cock flush deep inside, skin slapping. He supports his weight on one arm above your head, the other had a soothing thumb grinding deliciously right on your sensitive clit.

Tears brimmed, you looked at him with all your might. His eyes glued at the way his dick slides in and out of your greedy pussy that's securely around him, then up to your teary eyes.

"Yeah that's it, baby. You're doing so good." He forces his words out of his throat. You cry out his name, his steady pace getting harder each thrust.

The tight rope that broke earlier had tied itself, tighter and tighter, until it snapped, hard. Your walls rippled around him, clenching while your legs quivered.

His thrusts finally had it's moment and stutters. He groans and splutters his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim. Panting, he pulls out. In awe of his cum dripping out of your pussy.

"No one else ever gets to see you like this ever again." He was tired, but his words were sharp and sure.

"What does that even mean?" You pout, unsure if he's gonna keep you in the dark to have you to himself or well, nothing else.

"You'll find out."

What have you put yourself into?

Although you can't really hide that a part of you doesn't give a flying shit as long as you're in his hands.

I wonder how Graham would feel after finding out his captain fucked his girl(in reservation) 😛

Work written by me. Some dividers aren't mine and credits go to those who owns them. Please do not copy, translate, or feed my work to AI.

Respectfully yours, Edilzzi.

[stqrgirlie0]

wait maybe best friend!mattheo (or theodore) to boyfriend!mattheo. like his traits when he's your best friend and in love with you until you start dating and yk

⋆bsf!mattheo to bf!mattheo⋆

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d actually try to sabotage anything you had going on with guys you liked in your year because he liked to annoy you, but really subconsciously he hated the idea of you being someone else’s girlfriend

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d flirt with you as a “joke” but would love how you’d get all flustered and annoyed

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d actually listen to all the tea you’d tell him, and he’d literally ask for more

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d automatically hate girls that you’ve had the slightest problem with, or have had the slightest problem with you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d treat your room as his own and would pull up to it whenever he wanted AND without knocking🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d only do extra studying just to spend time with you alone in the library

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d slowly fit you into every aspect of his daily routine, so much so his friends take notice

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who got proper defensive when draco slightly hinted at mattheo having crush on you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d start acting weird and awkward around you only because he’d consciously acknowledged that he may actually like you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d get caught lacking staring at you in every lesson by his friends

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d low-key enjoy getting shipped with you by all his friends

⊹ ࣪ ˖ bestfriend!mattheo who’d never even been scared or nervous to talk to a girl, especially if it was you, his best friend, but still had to muster up courage to ask you out

⊹ ࣪ ˖boyfriend!mattheo who is still his goofy self because really he’s only dating his best friend, so why should he ever need to act normal around you ever again?

⊹ ࣪ ˖boyfriend!mattheo who knows your most ticklish spots, and never fails to try and tickle you in front of everyone during dinner

⊹ ࣪ ˖boyfriend!mattheo who reluctantly shares his food with you, because after all you are his girlfriend

⊹ ࣪ ˖boyfriend!mattheo who always ends up distracting you during your study sessions in the library (we know what kind of distractions im talking about right?..🙂‍↕️😏)

#is it too late to say happy new year?🫣🫣

[biscuits-and-gracie]

Trip and Fall in Love

summary: marcus can't understand how on earth this girl is supposed to be an assassin. characters: marcus lopez. clumsy! reader. warnings: none. word count: 1.2k

Marcus thought King’s Dominion couldn’t surprise him anymore.

He thought he’d seen it all - the goths, the punks, the cartel kids, the actual royalty of the criminal underworld. Every brand of psycho you could imagine sharpening knives in the hallways.

But then you burst into his life - literally.

It was his second week at King’s, and he was still getting his bearings. Memorizing which hallways were safe, which teachers might actually kill you for being late, which kids you absolutely didn’t want to owe favors to.

He was rounding the corner by the poison lab, head down, mind full of survival strategies-

-and then you smashed into him, hard enough to knock both of you sprawling.

"Shit!" he hissed, landing flat on his ass, his books skittering across the cracked tile floor.

You landed face-first beside him with a strangled little oof, your own bag exploding open, notebooks, pens, and a suspicious number of crumpled gum wrappers spilling everywhere.

Marcus blinked at you, stunned.

You groaned into the floorboards. "Ow. That was not stealthy."

He stared as you pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead and squinting at him.

You didn’t look like you belonged here.

You were... bright. Not in a colorful way - you still wore the black uniform, black blazer, black converse that were a little scuffed up - but in a way that glowed out from the inside. Your eyes were too wide, too curious. You smiled too easily, like you hadn’t realized yet that doing that around here was basically waving a neon Target Me sign.

"You okay?" Marcus asked warily, gathering his books.

You grinned sheepishly. "I think I broke physics. Or my nose. One of those."

He blinked. Was this girl seriously making jokes right now?

You scrambled to collect your stuff, knocking over another kid’s pile of books in the process. The guy snarled and stomped off, muttering curses in Russian.

Marcus shook his head, amazed. "You’re gonna get eaten alive."

"Yeah, probably," you chirped, stuffing loose papers back into your bag with zero organization. "But hey, maybe I’ll trip and fall on someone important before they can stab me. Like, as a defense mechanism."

He couldn't help it - he laughed. Actually laughed, full and surprised, the sound bouncing off the cracked walls.

You lit up at that, beaming like you’d just won a prize.

"I’m Y/N," you said, sticking out your hand, smudged with ink and something that suspiciously looked like blood.

He stared at it for a second before shaking it cautiously.

"Marcus," he said.

You grinned wider. "Nice to meet you, Marcus. You wanna be my bodyguard?"

He snorted. "What makes you think I won't be the one you need protecting from?"

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder and nearly decapitating yourself with the strap. "I dunno. You laughed. That’s gotta mean something."

He watched you for a second longer - this chaotic, smiling, walking disaster of a person - and for the first time since he’d arrived at King’s Dominion, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of survival pressing so hard against his ribs.

Maybe it was the insanity of it. Maybe it was the fact that you clearly had no fucking idea what you were doing.

Or maybe it was just... you.

Either way, he found himself grinning, despite every better instinct.

"Yeah," he said, falling into step beside you as you headed for class. "Maybe I’ll keep you alive. Just to see what kind of mess you get into next."

You bumped into him again - completely by accident - and Marcus just laughed.

He had no idea what he was signing up for.

But somehow, he knew even then:

You were going to wreck his whole life.

And he was going to let you.

Later that day, Marcus found Billy and Lex hanging out at the graveyard, passing a blunt back and forth like it was any other apocalypse afternoon.

He needed answers. Fast.

He spotted them and jogged over, ignoring the way Lex immediately smirked when he saw Marcus’s face.

"You look like you just saw a ghost," Lex said, plucking the blunt from Billy and taking a lazy drag.

"Worse," Marcus muttered. "I met someone."

Billy perked up instantly. "Oh shit. What’s his name?"

Marcus shot him a look. "It’s a girl."

Lex made an exaggerated gagging noise. "That’s even worse."

Billy elbowed him, grinning. "Nah, man, let the poor dude talk. Maybe it's true love. Or, like, mutually assured destruction." He turned to Marcus with a gleam in his eye. "Spill it. Who’s the girl?"

Marcus ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a little. "I don’t know her name. Well - I know her name’s Y/N. I just—" He paused, trying to find words. "She crashed into me. Like, full-on body slam. And then she tried to apologize by knocking over another kid's shit and almost broke her own neck with her bag."

Lex snorted smoke through his nose. "Sounds about right."

"And she asked me to be her bodyguard," Marcus added, voice climbing with disbelief.

Lex and Billy stared at him for a beat - then burst out laughing.

"Bodyguard?" Lex howled, doubling over. "Oh, my god, she’s gonna get you killed faster than anything at this school ever could!"

Billy wiped tears from his eyes, wheezing. "Bro. You found the human version of a banana peel."

Marcus folded his arms, scowling. "Seriously. Who is she? Why is she even here? She’s... she’s like a walking horror scene waiting to happen."

Billy shrugged, still grinning. "New recruit. Word is, her parents are small-time mobsters. Got caught up in some turf war in Jersey."

Lex chimed in, "They wanted to send her somewhere to ‘harden her up.’" He waggled his eyebrows. "Real good plan. Send a chick who trips over air to the deadliest school on earth."

Marcus stared at them.

"They sent her here to become an assassin?" he repeated, disbelieving.

Billy patted his shoulder solemnly. "The American Dream, man."

Lex smirked, nudging him. "You’re so screwed. You’re already soft for her, aren't you?"

Marcus opened his mouth to argue - but hesitated.

Because the truth was?

You had knocked into him like a wrecking ball. You had smiled at him like he wasn’t just another piece of meat in King’s Dominion’s grinder. And he had found himself wondering, even through all the chaos, what it would be like to actually have someone - something - to finally care about.

He clenched his jaw, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks.

"I’m not soft," he muttered.

Lex and Billy immediately whooped, jeering like drunk pirates.

"He’s so soft!" Lex crowed. "Little marshmallow Marcus, gonna trip and fall in love with the girl who can’t even walk straight!"

Billy leaned in, grinning. "Better start practicing your first aid, bro. You’re gonna need it."

Marcus rolled his eyes, flipping them off - but inside, he knew it was already too late.

He was doomed.

And when he glanced across the graveyard and saw you laughing at something Petra said - backpack half unzipped, shoelace trailing, absolutely oblivious - Marcus felt a stupid, helpless grin tug at his mouth.

Yeah, he thought grimly. I’m so fucked.

[innohurrytoshout]

they told me love is patient ᥫ᭡ l. marcus

from the moment you met, something told you Marcus was going to be different–but he’s a Rat, and you don't associate with Rats...right?

who: marcus lopez x prep!reader genre: angst/fluff (comfort) wc: 5,2k content warning: : mentions of parental issues/parental cheating/feeling alone/unsure of how to express emotions/... a/n: sorry for the longest wait in history, please enjoy !!

Your boots scuffed the floors of the hall, they were clean, but they were likely to be dirtied within a few hours. A yawn escaped you as you found your locker, and not even five seconds later came some Rat hollering down the hall. It was too early for that, you cursed under your breath and checked your cellphone, your mother hadn’t replied and there was a string of messages from your father that you didn’t want to answer.

The likely reason was that she had caught him cheating again. But really, who cared? She was probably going through one of her expressive episodes again. Your father had submitted her to an institution a few months back, using the excuse that she was in France visiting her family.

“Stupid politics,” you scoffed under your breath, though, of course someone heard it. A Soto Vato no less.

“What’s wrong? Mommy and Daddy fighting again?”

“Piss off, dog,” you narrowed your eyes and shook your head at him.

A laugh sounded around the group of boys, you couldn’t care less about what some gangbangers thought of you and your family. The only people that mattered–that should have mattered–were you and your parents.

Though, things didn’t always work out that way, did they? There was always someone your father was trying to impress, always someone you had to keep up an image for. What bullshit. 

The group left you in the hall, more students began to pile around and soon chatter picked up. It was February but the sun peeked out through the windows. You smiled into it, loving the warmth you felt on your face–the comfort it gave you, even if it was just for a second.

You gasped, trying to keep your balance, “Hey watch it!” One of the guys affiliated with your legacy shouted, pushing the kid off you.

“Hey,” the kid held his hands up, “it was an accident,” he turned to you, holding a hand to his chest, “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, collecting yourself, “it’s fine.” You didn’t recognize the kid, his black hair curled in whisps at the top. He was cute, he looked Mexican, so maybe he was a Soto Vato? Though the thought that he could also be a new Prep crossed your mind, you were sure word would have spread if you were getting a new member, so that couldn’t be it. “What affiliation are you?”

“Don’t bother,” the guy beside you said, he wasn’t your friend, but to be fair you only stuck to a few people. You preferred being alone most days and you weren’t that socially active. You were typically the last to know about things, in your family, at school–it seemed like you were doomed to be at the bottom of the pyramid forever. “He’s a Rat.”

A Rat. This kid was a Rat? Funny, he didn’t look like the sort, you didn’t know why or what it was, but there was something odd about him. At least that’s what you would normally say if this were a normal high school, but it wasn’t–so perhaps this kid–this boy–would fit right in.

You smiled; a sharp, dangerous thing, and sighed, “I see,” the boy’s eyes twinkled, though he wasn’t smiling. You wondered about his name, you wondered how old he was, and about his birthday. What was his story?

“Come on,” you weren’t friends with this guy, but you followed him anyway.

“See you around, Rat.” You meant it, you hoped to see him around, but of course, you couldn’t just say something like that.

The way he tilted his head, confused, calculating, and partly amused, led you to believe he didn't quite believe your act either. You felt a pull as soon as you were two steps away. You wanted to turn back around and continue talking to him.

It was days like these that had you hating life. Because with people like him, you were reminded that you did not get everything you wanted, regardless of what outsiders saw.

There was a party tonight, thrown by Shabnam, one of the guys in your legacy. You didn’t talk much with him, he annoyed you, really, but you had never outright said anything. When you’d heard he was throwing a party, it was the first time you’d had to take a step back and really reanalyze a person.

You were going, but not because you wanted to get drunk and forget about the world like most of the other students. No, you were going because you were hoping to see him. 

Sure, you saw him at school almost every day–he was in your AP–but almost every day you were a bitch to him when he tried to talk to you. You had no choice, you were always surrounded. 

You wanted to tell him you didn’t mean any of the horrible things you said, and you had said some pretty horrid things. It tore you up inside to humiliate him like that, but what would your parents say? What would your legacy say? They’d turn you out and you’d have to spend the rest of your three years as an outsider–that was worse than being a Rat.

You shuddered at the thought. You hated your situation, but it was yours and regardless of how much you complained about it, you knew how privileged you were, maybe in fewer areas than more, but still. Over the three weeks Marcus–that was his name, you now knew–had been attending Kings Dominion, you had been able to obtain some information about him through the grapevine.

Mostly about where he came from. He was an orphan, though you didn’t know how his parents died, he had yet to share that part. He had been living on the street before coming to school, and he was on the run from the cops because–as you had come to learn his reputation–he set fire to the orphanage he’d been living in. A boy’s home. Just the thought sent a shiver up your spine, it didn’t sound like a fun place.

Music blasted through speakers you couldn’t see. The Dixie Mob had taken over the kitchen table, you rolled your eyes at some of the things spouting from Brandy’s mouth–they were too old-fashioned for you. They needed to wake up, they were in the 20th century and the 21st was right around the corner. But apparently, that was the price of going to school with the future of every live syndicate in existence.

You huffed, noticing a few familiar faces, you blinked when Shabnab ran past you, Lex, a Rat, chasing him with a giant, pink dildo. You had to hold in a snort, what the actual fuck was wrong with the people at this school?

You noted one of your friends near the counter holding bear bottles and plastic, red cups. You didn’t associate with Rats, but Petra–you thought–was alright. You didn’t claim to be friends outright, it would mean social suicide for you and make her “uncool” to her friends. 

Petra didn’t have any female friends, if she did, you would be the only one. But Petra didn’t really think she had any friends. She had the group she associated with, and Billy wasn’t an ass most of the time, but she didn’t consider any of them friends. Still, she smiled slightly when she noted your presence, “did you see–”

“–yeah, it was huge,” you nodded, dragging out the last word as you leaned your back against the counter.

“Hit?” Petra blew smoke from the weed she had in her hand. You waved your hand, declining the offer.

“Any wine?’

Petra laughed, nodding back toward the cabinet, “Just for you.”

“I love you,” you walked around her, spotting the exact bottle she was talking about. A whistle came from between your teeth while you began pouring some into the cup Petra held out for you.

“I know,” she sighed. You didn’t like to get wasted at these kinds of parties. You didn’t like to get wasted period, it was unclassy and well, just stupid. If no one from your legacy was watching you, you might as well be dead, it was as good as being a Rat. It was dangerous.

“So, that new kid, Marcus,” Petra hummed, taking a sip out of a different cup, “what do you know about him?”

She shrugged, “he’s a loser–they all are,” you knew she was talking about the guys at your school, but probably the girls too. You didn’t understand Petra and you didn’t really want to, but she was the realest person you’d ever meet at Kings Dominion.

“Yeah, I know,” you sipped your wine, “but, I mean–what’s his deal? His parents died, he’s an orphan–what else?”

“What else is there?” Petra scoffed.

“I don’t know,” you spoke into your cup, trying to keep your voice from wavering, “there has to be something.”

Petra paused, you heard it when she opened her mouth to respond with one of the usual “Who gives a shit?” replies, but she didn’t. She glanced at you, taking in your attire, your hair, your makeup. You noted the slight raise of her brows and the decision to not ask any questions cross her mind, “do you really care?”

You didn’t know how to respond, here was someone you had never lied to. Someone who was always real with you, someone you would stand up for if the time called for it, albeit subtly, but still–it was Petra.

You bit the inner corner of your cheek, ready to admit defeat when she shook her head, “it wouldn’t matter if you did,” she took another puff of her cigarette.

“Why not?” You raised a brow, your frown deepening.

“He’s into that chick from the Soto Vato’s, Maria.”

“Maria?” You scoffed, “the one from AP?”

“The one and only,” Petra rolled her eyes.

“But that’s Chico’s–”

“How do you think he got that scar on his nose?” Petra’s eyebrows finally scrunched together completely and she shifted to fully look at you, “real talk, have you been living under a rock?”

“Possibly?” You tried for amusement, the truth was, your mother and father had called you back home for a few days. They’d wanted to talk to you–oh and talk they did. They were splitting up. Of course, they weren’t getting a divorce, that would just “...be too messy and with the upcoming elections…” you rolled your eyes at the mere memory. They couldn’t change it. It was inevitable. You knew it was, but still, it broke something in you. You’ve been silently screaming for weeks and ironically, you’d been the quietest you had ever been since learning the news. 

Yeah, they fought all the time and it had already felt like they would never be as happy together as they once had been, but you would’ve never expected them to say it out loud. You forced the tears away, blinking a couple of times as the conversation with your parents rushed to the forefront of your mind again.

You blinked, your attention being drawn to the seen beside you. “What the hell?” Petra muttered. “That’s–”

“What the hell is he doing?” You left Petra at the counter, approaching the kitchen table right as Marcus threw whatever was in his cup at Brandy. Thankfully, you weren’t caught in the crossfire.

“–shithead–”

“Alright, Brandy, give it a rest,” you tugged at her arm, but she yanked it out of your grasp.

“Eugh, get off of me!” Her makeup was incredibly ruined, you felt bad for her–what the hell even happened? 

Where’s Marcus? Your thoughts were overcome by the need to find him. 

There. Your eyes met his, Saya–the leader of the Kuroki Syndicate was pulling him back, it pissed you off slightly, did they know each other? If so, how? You weren’t close to anyone outside of your legacy and you were barely close to any of them. Petra was about the closest you got to any sort of kinship–and even then, it wasn’t okay for you to outright be friends.

Petra was a Rat, so she and Marcus ran in the same crowd, she should have warned him about shit like this, why was he going and causing a scene. First the Soto Vato’s and now the fucking Dixie Mob? Did he have a death wish? He was a character, you’d give him that, but maybe he should pick his battles better.

You stormed forward, angry at everything and everyone, you didn’t know which had you gritting your teeth at the moment though. 

Maybe it was your parents, maybe it was the fact that you liked Marcus and you weren’t supposed to, maybe it was the way you knew a relationship with him wasn’t possible and if you did pursue one, it would be doomed from the start. Or maybe, it was the way Saya was grabbing him–regardless, you were pissed.

“Come with me,” you snatched up one of his wrists and he let you pull him away from the forming crowd, “are you an idiot?” You were spouting, doing your best to ignore the looks being thrown your way, you needed to find an empty room and cool off–he needed to cool off. 

You felt like you were going to burst into emotions you didn’t know how to describe–and there were so many conflicting, you didn’t know which was stronger.

You found a locked room, “dammit,” you huffed, you began walking away, continuing your pursuit, but Marcus grabbed your arm and held you back.

“Wait a minute,” he snatched a clip from your hair and messed with the door for a few seconds. As he crouched down in those few moments, you paused, reanalyzing the situation. 

What were you doing? Why were you here–with him of all people? This was stupid, weren’t you just the one saying Marcus needed to pick and choose his battles better? How would this look? “Opened,” he glanced up at you, looking like a proud puppy.

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, “Don’t expect a compliment.”

“I wasn’t,” though you couldn’t see his hands, you knew he had them up.

“What is this?”

“Oh–gross is this–Shabnam’s parent’s room?”

“Looks like it,” your nose scrunched as you picked up a picture frame and held it closer to your face.

“Thank God I don’t have any of those,” Marcus whispered over your shoulder making a face at the photo.

You snorted and spun around, shoving it into his eyes, “you don’t have any naked baby photos?”

“Auwgh–get that thing away,” he made another face and smacked the photo.

You snorted and set the framed picture back down, “look they have a balcony,” you made your way toward the ceiling glass door, “Shabnab’s parents have money.” You whistled.

“What, like your parents couldn’t afford this?”

“They could,” you assured, “but they wouldn’t be so stupid,” who would waste money on such a tragic design? You shook your head, stepping out onto the small terrace. The city lights were so…evident–to say the least, it was beautiful “This view is amazing.”

“Good job Shabnam’s parents,” his tone was airy and awestruck.

“This–I would pay for this.”

“Oh-ho yeah.” Marcus’ snort led to you laughing uncontrollably.

“Gosh,” you sighed leaning against the railing, “you’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Yeah, I think you’ve said something similar before.”

You frowned, “shut up, I’m being serious for a change.”

He gave in and mimicked your actions, “I know, I know–it seems like all I ever do is,” he shook his head, “fuck shit up.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you do keep fucking shit up.” He threw you a glare and you held up your hands, “Sorry, I thought we were being honest.”

“Yeah, well,” he turned toward you, using one arm to prop up his head, “if we are being honest, I don’t think you really hate me.”

“I never said I hate you,” you replied, your tone clipped.

He smiled, snickering a bit, “Yeah, you don’t have to, it’d written all over your actions.”

“Then what makes you think I’m not serious?”

Marcus sighed and shrugged, now leaning his back against the railing, “Sometimes it feels like everyone here at this Godforsaken school hates me,” he shook his head.

“Everyone? What about Billy?”

He huffed and pressed his lips together, “Nah, I’m not talking about him–I mean people like,” he glanced at you, “people like you.” You nodded, trying to take no offense to his insinuation. “But then you go and do something like this,” he waved his hands.

“I wasn’t protecting you,” you frowned, averting your gaze. It was a lie. That was exactly what you were doing. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, and those eyes,” he held up a finger, stepping toward you, “there’s something about your eyes.”

You scoffed, “Something about my eyes? Yeah, okay–”

“–I’m serious,” he cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know what it is, you just look so…sad…I mean everyone at this school looks like that even if they don’t know it, but you…” he stared over the railing and clicked his tongue, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Don’t worry,” you huffed, “I’ll make it easy for you: you don’t have to.”

“No, but I,” he bit his lip, “sure, whatever.”

A trembled laugh fell from your lips and you sighed, a smile attaching itself to your lips despite your harsh words, “...You’re an idiot, Arguello.”

“I know,” Marcus murmured, an uncontrollable grin forcing its way onto his mouth…. “Why do you do that, though?”

“Do what?”

He hesitated only a second before launching into his question, “why do you act like a bitch at school and then do,” he motioned between you two, “this in private.”

You frowned, not really wanting to talk about it, “it’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t seem complicated to me.”

“I know–” you looked away, unable to keep his gaze, “and I’m sorry.”

Marcus sighed, he wanted to keep going, but he could tell you were out of it already. He wanted to make you smile–for whatever reason, and clearly, he was doing the opposite. “Never mind, it’s not that important.”

Though it was…kind of…to him.

You found your eyes rolling out of their sockets when —, a girl a year older than you in your legacy, stopped you in the halls, “What’s up?”

She resigned a small shake of her head and looked down, a frown spreading her lips thinner than they naturally were,  “I just wanted to talk to you about something I’ve heard.”

You sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “What is it you’ve heard, then?”

She bit her lip and kept pace with you as you began to walk toward your next class. You had AP next, and you were anticipating seeing Marcus, you hadn’t seen him over the weekend. Cops had shown up and crashed Shabnam’s house party. Without thinking, you’d snatched Marcus’ hand and led him down an alley–a shortcut back to school.

You were laughing the whole way, it felt like a movie scene–one where the girl and the guy finally made up or became friends–if they hadn’t been already. You wanted to hurl afterward–though it was all worth it; the thrill in his eyes–it gave you something. Something you hadn’t known you were looking for.

“What’s that smile for?” — asked, your lips reformed a straight line as you huffed a sigh, “You don’t normally smile, I mean, I’ve never really seen you smile like that. You never eat in the cafeteria with everyone else. I’ve told the others in your grade to make you come, haven’t they told you?” You shook your head, stopping outside your classroom door. — glanced at it and recognition washed over her, “You’re in AP?”

“Yep,” you gave a tight-lipped nod.

She bit her lip, her smile fading as she pulled you to the side, allowing the others in AP to pass you without consolation. The AP classes were separated from the others, just another hierarchy within this abnormal education system. “Okay, listen,” she lowered her voice, though there was barely anyone lingering in the halls, “I know you didn’t choose this life–trust me none of us did–but we still have to live it, okay?”

You nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

“All I’m saying–” she cut herself off as Marcus approached you–seemingly coming out of nowhere.

“Hey,” he waved at you, glancing at — for a brief second.

You smiled–trying to keep the memories of Friday night at bay, “Hi.”

He spared another glance at — before saying, “See you inside,” and heading into the classroom.

It was quiet for a moment, but then — ran a hand through her perfectly styled hair, a red headband holding her curls back, “Look, I care about you, you’re my legacy sister and as your upperclassman, I’m just trying to look out for you.” She jabbed a finger at where Marcus had stood, “He will not do you any good–if only you heard what everyone has been saying. We were born into this life–that kid,” she shook her head, eyes almost popping out of her head, “he earned his way into this place. He chose to be here.”

Your eyes narrowed. You’d heard the stories about Marcus, and you knew his reputation–but still, you hated the way she was talking about him You couldn’t help but look down on her for it. Marcus hadn’t spoken about his past in that boy's home and you hadn’t asked. You weren’t really friends to begin with. You couldn’t be friends with a Rat, you knew that, but sill you bit out, “None of us chose this.”

She gave you a pitying glimpse before stepping back, “You might think that now–but it won’t be forever. What would your parents say?”

Her words were like a slap across the face and as she spun around, her flats clicking on the black-tiled floor as she walked away–you couldn’t help but think, what would Father say?

“Choose partners.” Your first thought was Petra. But Billy stole her, apologizing to Marcus in that tone that suggested he wasn’t at all sorry. You didn’t mean to watch the scene, but you did, and somehow got distracted.

Brandy snickered as you walked past her desk, you couldn't care less about what she thought of you–it was your parents that had your panties in a twist. If Brandy–or anyone in her circle found out–there was no telling how fast they’d get wind of the information–or worse, she’d hold it over your head and make you her slave.

You shuddered at the thought.

“—?” You blinked, turning toward the voice. Marcus chuckled, “Are you gonna sit?” The sound of your name on his lips somehow made the rest of the classroom vanish. You nodded and took your seat, smoothing out your gray pleated skirt before scooting your chair closer to the desk.

As Master Lin began explaining the rules of the project, Marcus leaned over and whispered, “Ignore them.”

You kept your head straight, but your eyes darted down and toward him, “what if I can’t?”

He paused, his eyes illumining slightly–he licked his lips, the action capturing your vision. You felt dizzy and you had to focus back on Master Lin in the front of the class before you said something you shouldn’t.

You heard him scoff, but it sounded like he was trying to hide a laugh. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you playful smacked his thigh under the desk you were sharing. He watched you from the side, propping up a hand to cover the smile that wouldn’t disappear.

He felt lighter–and though he couldn’t possibly know, the girl beside him was falling faster and faster in love with him. 

A gasp escaped your throat as the ringing on your phone echoed throughout the empty hallway. You pulled it from your bag and huffed, debating whether or not you would answer it. It was your father, again. He’d called yesterday and the day before too–always at the same time.

You should have expected it by now, but of course, you didn’t. You clicked the answer button–had you waited any longer, you would have talked yourself out of it.

“Hello, Father.”

“Ah, —,” he sounded as if he was greeting an old friend. “How are you?” You recoiled at the croaky tone his voice took on.

“Fine,” a sigh escaped your mouth and floated through the speakers. You wondered what shocking secret he was going to reveal this time.

“Why do you sound like that? Are you not liking school? You want to come home for a few days?”

Actually, that is the last thing I’d like to do, thank you. You gritted your teeth, and forced out a, “No, I’m alright–just this new project for AP.”

“Oh, I see, well,” he shifted in his seat, you could hear better now that you had the phone up to your ear rather than on speaker. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“I thought we already had this conversation,” it took everything in you not to slam your locker shut.

“Eh… we did, but uhm, there’s…something else.”

What? What could possibly be worse than the hell you were living at the moment? The life you were being forced to live–it was crushing your heart every second you kept up the act.

“Sweetheart?”

“What is it?” You let out a shuddering breath, “just tell me.”

Just get it out. You felt the tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You had AP right now, but it had been canceled at the last second–something with Saya and her family, or whatever. Maybe you could make it to your room without being seen? You started walking, attempting to hold the tears at bay until you got to your dorm. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Now, your mother might be against this–but…you’re going to be a sister.”

You hung up. The tears were falling, you were trying to use the wall to hold yourself up, but it wasn’t helping. He’d gotten that whore pregnant? He really–you were swiping at the tears now and your wails could not doubt be heard throughout the hall. Students began turning around different corners to see what the commotion was.

Your face burned. You wanted to scream, your chest raged with the need. Marcus was looking for you, he wondered if you were going to study in the library like you usually did when class got canceled. 

His heart fell to his feet when he heard you screaming, he shouldered past a few kids, nosily sticking their heads around a corner. None of them actually cared. No one seemed to care in this school, not even the teachers. But you–you were…something else. He saw it in the way you looked out the windows when you thought no one was paying attention to you, you longed for something more–something better.

Your phone was on the floor, he snatched it up. You couldn’t have gone far, he threw open every classroom door until he found one that was empty. He listened, and there it was. Subtle, but there. 

The darkness you found yourself in hugged you from every side. You didn’t know what you wanted but you knew you didn’t want to think. You didn’t think you wanted to die, but you felt very close to it. You wanted to strangle him and that woman. Could you even call her that? She was a mistress–a homewrecker–a harlot!

How could he call that thing she was carrying in her stomach your sibling? It was a bastard. The closet door opened abruptly, the lighting was dim, but you could no longer say you couldn’t see your feet.

You had your knees pulled up to your chest, your skirt rode up your thighs, but Marcus didn’t notice as he scooped you into his arms. You were sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do, he didn’t know how to comfort someone, he had never been comforted himself, but somehow, he managed to calm you down, whispering any and everything that came to mind.

He kissed your hair and your forehead a multitude of times, he rubbed your back and his arms tightened slightly every few seconds. You weren’t sure how to react, no one had ever comforted you, not like this. Your nanny had her own children to worry about, though she took you baths and got you ready for the day in your childhood, all of her emotional attention was given to her own.

You didn’t think there was a single emotional bone in either of your parent's bodies. Sometimes you wondered how they ever could have loved each other. That thought had occurred more than once in the past few weeks.

You didn’t know how to say how you felt, but with Marcus, you didn’t think you had to. “Take me,” you murmured into his neck.

“What?” He pulled back slightly.

You nuzzled into him further, refusing to look him in the eyes. How could you? Everyone in your legacy was telling you that you were making a mistake and Petra had said Marcus had a thing for Maria–hell he’d gotten into a fight over her. But you know what? At some point you just had to say fuck it, though, your rendition sounded more like, “Take me far away.”

Marcus paused, considering your words carefully, and a few moments later a smile braved his lips, “Come with me.”

Your laughter mixed with his as you ran through the streets of the city. A car honked at you as you crossed the street without looking. You turned to each other–high off the cold night air–and screamed like you were going to die tomorrow. 

You had stopped at a food booth and ate without paying, and you’d run from the food vendor–the old woman shaking a stick at you–Marcus took your hand in his, pulling you around every corner. The city lights soon grew distant, red, yellow, and green hidden behind tall, oversized buildings that were shadowed in gray and black. The weight on your shoulders fell over the edge of the world and for just a few seconds, you were okay.

“Why are we doing this?” You flipped onto your side, finding Marcus already watching you.

He moved one arm behind his head and looked toward the sky, “because we can.”

“We’re in the middle of the street,” you laughed out, planting your hands on your stomach as you turned to watch the stars with him.

“Yeah, but who cares.” He hummed, reaching for your hand again.

Your cheeks flamed and your eyes burned, you squeezed his palm and he squeezed back. You heard it at the same time, a pickup truck was heading your way, but neither of you moved. You looked toward him, but your head stayed planted on the road, he looked downward, a calming smile stretched across his face.

The truck came, honking–eventually, it swerved to the side, nearly missing Marcus’ head. You knew, then, that you had gotten too close to him. Your heart wouldn’t have dipped and you wouldn’t have tugged him toward you in the last second if you hadn’t.

Fuck. Your face fell, wondering if this is what your mother felt when she first met your father. But we will be different. You thought with assurance–and suddenly, as you gazed into his eyes, the words I love you didn’t seem like enough anymore.

Marcus couldn’t help but question you as he fought the urge to kiss you. What the hell is that look in your eyes? 

a/n: thank you for reading and please let me know what you think !!

[lycheeolo]

why the fuck was there no season two of deadly class fuck you

[lilyswritings]

fate — xix

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: thank you all for still being here!! your passion for this series has really kept me going, and i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you who's still here. i am still following closely to the show, but as we are swiftly approaching the end of the tv show (ruh roh!) i will be making some changes. without further ado, please enjoy part nineteen!

wordcount: 2,819

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix || part xx

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

"Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. "Ew! You and... Both of them? EW!" You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

"In my room?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

"It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God, if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

"Whatever, Mom." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you."

Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

"Oh, Marcus..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

Speaking of... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together.

"You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

"Not one bit," You shake your head, eyes wide. "Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

"What, all of them? Like, at once?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

"If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private."

You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

"You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

"Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

"I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

"Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

"His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

"Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

"He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything. He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

"Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

"What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

"Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

"Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

"We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

"I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

"No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

"I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

"Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

"Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

"I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

"We need to talk." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma, and we need your help."

Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

"We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word 'we' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

"Fine. I'll help." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

"Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry, Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want—"

You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

"My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened."

Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could."

Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out."

You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.

[ageofstarkey]

nervous energy ✰ m. riddle

summary: it’s just been one of those days, and you seek out matthéo to make it better.

pairing: best friend! (but maybe something more?) matthéo x reader

warnings: nothing really!! just some very vague mentions of anxiety related thingssss

note: another lil baby matthéo blurb!! just love-sick théo being an absolute softie for reader :’)))) also if you’re new here - i headcanon matthéo as french (hence the accent on the e!! so his name would be pronounced muh-tay-o, and théo would be tay-o bc i think it’s a cute nick name) okay okay anyways hope you enjoy!! feel free to submit hp requests (marauders or original era!! no smut!! <3)

masterlist

reblogs & comments are so appreciated <3

✰ ✰ ✰

with a quiet little sigh, you knock at the door of the boy’s dormitory. you’re filled to the brim with nervous energy, fingers worrying at the sleeves of your sweater as you wait.

after what feels like a near lifetime, the door swings open with a loud, familiar groan. matthéo stands on the other side, and the mere sight of your best friend causes you to lose any semblance of composure.

before he can even so much as say hello, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. “woah - hey” he stumbles back but quickly steadies himself, wrapping tentative arms around your waist. “what’s wrong?” his voice is soft in a way it only ever is around you, and it takes everything in you not to break down and cry.

“bad day” you murmur weakly into the fabric of his t-shirt. your voice is muffled, but his arms tighten around you in silent understanding. “i just feel weird”

“d’you wanna talk about it?”

you make an awkward attempt at a shrug, arms still wrapped firmly around matthéo’s neck. “i don’t think so.”

“okay. that’s alright.” he’s quiet for a few seconds, one hand stroking up and down the length of your spine absentmindedly. “is there anything you need?”

you sigh softly as you pull away from matthéo. your arms fall back to your sides, and you try to ignore the way one of his hands remains firmly on your waist. “can i just… stay here for a little?”

his lips turn upwards in the barest hint of a grin. “you can stay as long as you’d like.”

[enfaerii]

so uh why am i searching 'marcus lopez arguello' and only getting fuck ass mattheo riddle fics? if thats you !STOPPP! I want deadly class not harry potter