T // WC: 1.8k // bodyswap shenanigans begin, and Marvin is beyond stressed and then some. what ever will happen to date week now that this has happened?? // masterlist // series masterlist
Marvin had his head down and strained against his fists as his elbows rest on his knees.
He was doubled over, praying quietly beside you in Hughie's body, and for peace of mind.
He’d settle for just enough of it to be able to think of a plan to fix this or to keep him from killing someone else in the room.
His mind, against his will, not unusual since the death of his family, would carousel through the worst possibilities, every worst case imaginable. They pop in his head, and ruminate, refusing to leave.
When he was a kid, if he checked the burners three times a night, they’d go away. That was the action his brain pushed him to do to keep the bad thing from happening or getting worse, but right now there wasn’t any.
Just bad thoughts in a bad situation, and neither showed no sign of ending.
“You a'right there, mate?” Butcher asked as flippantly as he could pretend, but the glint his eyes revealed his concern.
He was stared at his hands and watched as Marvin balled them tight. He must have started tapping his fingers, but as always, he preferred not to talk about it.
You stirred, a whine coming from your lips— Hughie’s lips.
It was almost Deja vu. Marvin remembers Hughie sleeping similarly when Butcher first brought him here, making similar noises and faces in his sleep, but he knew you better.
Hell, he even knew Hughie Mitchell better these days as well.
The eyebrows furrowed much closer, his face more tight and expressive in your mournful sleep in his body.
Somehow Hughie, when he was actually in his own body, sounded girlier compared to you.
“Swapper'll wake up, and they'll be back in their own bodies in no time.” Butcher graveled in a poor attempt to comfort him.
Marvin glared at him but didn’t say anything.
“What are we … what are we telling Grace?” Wrong. Everything about you looked wrong with Hughie in your skin.
He slouched, making Marvin notice that you held yourself high at all times.
Hughie had your shoulders slumped. He had you shifting your body side to side and making very unsure expressions on your face. Timidness and being uncomfortable in your skin, uncomfortable being you— was unlike you.
You had your troubles, your own insecurities, but you didn’t show them. Not with your body language, not completely. At least not from what he’s seen and how he’s come to know you. To a normal person they remain hidden and unknown, but with Marvin's line of work and the skill he picked up from being in the military to now, He noticed. He could see you for you.
You fidgeted with your hands a little when you were nervous, but other than that, you held yourself together fairly well. You took pride in your appearance.
When you got your hair, nails, or anything done, your head raised a little bit higher, everything about you even more surer, but As Marvin studied the new braids you had gotten done, the stray curls that fell from the updo you had chosen for their date, the small insecure looking woman before him filled him with dread— Anger.
“One of you better figure out what I can tell her,” he leaned back, looking nonchalant but as usual around these fools, he couldn’t be more pissed, “maybe we can buy some time until this motherfucker wakes up.”
You rub the face in the mirror with a hand.
There was a little bathroom at the office, and you’ve been in here for perhaps three hours now. You aren’t sure.
No matter how hard you try the tears won’t stop. Despite how tired you are of crying, the tears keep falling.
Someone keeps pounding at the door, but not saying anything, and you ignore it.
“Kimiko, leave her the fuck alone!” you hear Marvin call out.
“Zhe is not zee only one who can use zee bathroom! If it was anyone else you would have gone bzerk by now! Tell her to let Kimiko in, huh?!”
You open a door with void expression. The commotion ridding you of your woes.
“My bad.” is all you say, the voice coming out of your mouth grates against your ears, foreign to you in every way. You arms entirely to long, everything too low beneath you. Proving your point, your knee hits the corner of a desk and you hit your arm on the back of the couch as you unceremoniously flop down into the seat next to Marvin. Your leg– Hughie's, touches his and you move it immediately scooting over a little afterwords, so your body doesn't touch his.
Marvin says your name, but you don't look at him. “Baby.” he tries again softly if not slightly awkward.
“That's how its gonna be?” he tries to tease, but you don't bite.
You sigh, not sure why you cant look him in the eye or why you are treating him this way.
He lets out a loud defeated sound, too harsh to be a sigh and nowhere soft enough to qualify s a huff. It rumbles in his chest and tingles against Hughie's, making you feel warm inside. Just as quickly a wave of nausea follows it.
“Give me your hand.”
You turn to him on the couch.
“Wha–”
“Don't argue with me, don't say anything.” he interrupts, “ Just give me your hand.”
You blink, scrunching your brows in confusion.
No longer waiting on you he grabs your hand. Hughie's hand, and he interlocks your fingers with his.
You swallow thickly.
You want to turn away. Maybe even to stop it, but the longer you look the stiller you become. The warring overwhelming emotions in you subside, only by a small amount, but they lessen. The heaviness in your chests dissipates and you start to breath a little easier.
Marvin's hands are much thicker than Hughie's—stronger than the extra long and slender hands you now have. He swipes his thumb over your hand in small unhurried patters, and for a moment, without even thinking you do too.
"How do you feel?" He asks softly, leaning towards you.
You pull back slightly, but you don't fight him or push him away.
"Right now?" You wince at the voice and way it cracks as it leaves your lips , but Marvin remains still, patient and watchful, "or like, in general abo—about this whole thing?"
"All of it baby." He holds you a little tighter. "I want to hear all of it." Somehow he softens even more , his shoulders relaxing as he leans in closer, his face and how his eyes seem to sparkle, reflecting light of a new morning's sun as it fills up the room through the windows close to the ceiling.
It was too much.
You quickly turn away.
"I- I don't know." You stammer, unable to think clearly, of something better to say.
"Alright," he doesn't push you. "But if you want to just know that I'm here. . . And that you literally turn red now, so it's not like your getting away with anything."
"What?!" You snap your head back at him and shift awkwardly in your seat. In your own body it would be small. A barely noticeable movement, but with these long arms and legs you feel like your floundering around.
Marvin is the one looking away now, but there's nothing nervous there. His body no longer holding a tenderness or concern.
"I don't know." He noncommittally shrugs, keeping his head turned from you. "You tell me. . . You're the one with the bright red cheeks."
You give him a frazzled look.
"You—" he raises his brows as he looks back at you, stopping you in your tracks. " he raises them higher and crosses his arms, making you stop again, "Fuck you." You lament weakly. Unable to commit to your sour mood, a laugh bubbles from your lips.
Marvin chuckles softly, bringing his hand to your cheek. This time you don't move.
"Okay, baby." He says gently.
You swallow, ignoring once more the warmth that fills your chest, and covers your cheeks.
Fuck!
. . . That turn red. You were actually turning red for once in your life.
How the fuck are there people that live like this with other people just knowing whenever you felt . . A way about things by watching your skin change color.
It was horrifying.
Flashes of memories surge through your mind. A moment of Marvin giving Hughie advise, patching him up, and even given him a hug, sometimes he was yelling or he looked angry, but you looked at his eyes through yours, or rather, Hughie's eyes, and think about the way Marvin looks at him in these moments, and her chest— Hughie's, fills with love. A strong sense of care and comradery.
You swallow, giving Marvin a different look as you regard him with different eyes that see him as a friend and a confidant.
"Like me. . ." You finally say something.
He turns slowly, his face unchanging in a way Hughie finds unnerving, but you find utterly and completely endearing, funny even. What you wouldn't give to be back in your own body and join in on the little game. "For the first time since last night. In this very moment," You continue in a slow quiet voice, as if hearing Hughie's voice at a normal octave would scare you, because it would, in every way it would scare you, "I feel like me."
Marvin clamps a hand down on your thigh.
He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.
His face falls into something heavy, weighed down with emotion.
You both sit in silence, letting it stretch.
You fight the urge to slouch down further in your seat, so you could lay your head on his shoulder.
"We need to go somewhere." he says suddenly. "You have to come with us. It's. . . for work."
You nod, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything.
"Okay." you finally say something and he nods back. Patting you once more on the knee and he rises. He takes a step, but abruptly moves back and wait on you.
"You don't have to wait—"
"Sorry, I'm used to leaving Hughie to fuck off on his own" he takes a breath, visibly taking a moment as he half way raises his hands and almost closes his eyes. "Bu I wouldn't leave you. I don't want you to think that I dont care about you. I would never—"
"I know, Marvin." You look down at him and smile, but it almost wavers. You shouldn't be looking down a him like this. "I know."
"Right." He nods and you're both on you're way.
.
.
.
.
.
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Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
E // MDNI // WC: 1.5k // lowercase letters because I don’t believe I’m capable of getting too crazy, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Consider this your warning // more M.M. here!! // masterlist //
AN:// Special treat for hiphop lovers. iykyk
shoutout to @blackburnbook and @slutsareteacherstoo for playing a little game with me and making my day. This fic is their prize, so everybody say thank you!!
"Hey baby." You greeted Marvin in a low soft voice as he made it to your shared bedroom. "You tired?" With one sweep of your eyes up and down his body you could tell. It never failed to make his heart flutter.
"Not too tired." He groaned. "Just drained," he added, "emotionally more than anything."
You nodded. "Well you go take your shower. I'll be out here."
He hummed in response. He couldn't wait to get in his own fucking bed for once.
He took his time in the shower, washing off the horrendous time he had to spend away from everyone he loved. Hiding out because he couldn't fight against his better nature, because whenever he's given the chance, he just has to fight back against those god damn fucking Supes. Even if its the detriment to his family, his self. . . you. He won't stop. He probably can't
If not him, then. . . .who?
He tries to wash those thoughts off too, letting the hot water wash over his head.
He turns off the spraying water with a huff. Before he can make it out the bathroom good, you're already there.
"Can we do that thing we talked about?" You slide your palms up his bare chest. He didn't bother putting on much, standing only in his briefs because he had a feeling.
however much on the same page you were about that feeling, yours was halfway turned on something else.
Marvin sighed, looking up at the ceiling with a roll of his eyes like you asked him to wash the dishes or take out the trash when he didn't feel like it.
"Are you really asking me or are you trying to take advantage of my current emotional and physical state?" He huffed down at you with a hint of a smile in his lips.
"You need a release, and your tired."
He crossed his arms, and titled his head down at you. "As I've said, I'm not that tired."
"Well think of it as me taking care of you, because if your not tired and your fine, then the only thing we have to worry about is if you really want to do it?"
Fuck. . you were really asking.
"Okay." he sighed.
You squealed clapping your hands before putting them back on his chest, not at all bothered by his somewhat of an attitude.
"Safeword?"
He hummed before smacking his teeth in thought. "Juice." He decided with nod.
You scrunched your nose and smiled. "You. are. too. cute." You kissed him in between words.
"Yeah yeah." He moved his head away from you in protest of being called cute. He was a grown ass man. The only thing cute in his life was is daughter.
"Remember," you began to kiss down his neck. "its for anything your uncomfortable with. It can be words, actions, how your feeling, "You trailed off murmuring into his skin as you mouthed at his neck, ". . anything."
He swallowed, his chest starting to feel little tight as he took in what you were saying, starting to understand that this was really happening. He focused on what was familiar to him, what he liked, the feeling of your lisp on his skin.
It was nice, but he was usually fucking you by now, not that he couldn't provide a little foreplay.
This was just. . . different. It—
"Marvin," You half sung his name in a low sultry voice that snapped him from his thoughts.
"Huh?" he questioned with parted lips, his brows raised in trepidation.
"I need you to tell me you understand."
Your voice was so different than what he was used to. It was laced, thick with . . something he couldn't put a finger on, not in the moment.
He licked his lips. "yeah."
"Say the words." You tilted your head up for emphasis, holding his gaze with your own. Your face still sweet, but he was beginning to see the edges of a strained patience slip through. Your voice pulling taught with reprimand.
"I understand you baby. " He relented in a low voice, sounding gruff.
You sweetly beamed at him and warmth spread across his chest.
This was nice. He could do this maybe.
Slowly you wrapped your lips around his nipple. You sucked on it hard, making him grunt a short moan.
You slid your hand down his chest and cupped him over his briefs, fondling his dick until he got harder and harder.
He braced himself with putting an arm on the wall. You weren't letting him sit down or lay on the bed anytime soon.
You moved to his other nipple and he sucked in a breath.
What could you be getting out of this?
Your hand freed him from his boxers and you stopped for a moment, watching his dick bob against his stomach before you slide your hand back up his chest to tweak at his other nipple with your hand.
The way you twisted and pulled started to sting.
"Waitwaitwait w—," he sputtered a moan because you wouldn't stop, ignoring him as you lathed at his other wit your tongue, wrapping your mouth around the soft pillow of plush skin that sounded the opposite nipple, sucking on the breast of his chest in a way no one has ever done before. The entire sensation foreign.
He was aching, his dick was feeling heavy. He was hyper aware of every sensation. The distant warmth that signaled you were close, but you refused to touch him. The surrounding air was cool but suffocating. His balls we're straining. Every inch of him was desperate for something —anything.
An embarrassing amount of precum spilled down the length of his dick, with each bob against him, it smeared onto his skin, making a mess from his belly button and down, uncomfortably trickled down over his balls.
"Baby," it came out in a whine. Somewhere high in the back of his throat with parts of his vocal cords he didn't know was there.
"Oh, Marvin," you cooed and his dick jumped, "you're doing so good baby. Can you hold it for me? Just a little longer?"
"N-ngh," he tried to say no, "I-I can't." He tried to keep his voice even but his body wasn't listening to him. The keening whimper that kept spilling from his lips was not his voice.
You laid your hand over the head of his dick and squeezed, making him let out a long drawn out whimper.
"But your doing so good already baby." Your slid your hand down devastatingly slow, tracing each vein and curve of his dick before jerking it back up, repeating and repeating the action. Not even moving harshly, your hand was firm and gentle, but with how bad he was aching, it felt enthroned times worse.
He placed a hand on his chest, not even sure what to do with himself, not caring about the high pitched moans spilling out of his mouth, or keening whimpers bubbling up his throat, the tears running down his face.
You stopped jerking his dick and wrapped your hands around his balls and gently squeezed them, massaging your thumb across the tender skin.
A particular sputtering of precum shot out of him as you did, spilling over his chest.
Something inside him broke.
"Juice." He whined, squeezing his hand over his heart.
"Oh fuck," your entire body language changed as you jumped off him, "Are you okay? Did I take it too far? Do you need anything? Water? A towel?"
You reached toward him and he froze.
"Don't touch me!" He closed his eyes falling back in the wall. too overstimulated to care about sounding too harsh. He'll find it in him to apologize later.
"I'm good," he licked his lips. "Just. . . I just need some space for a second. Go sit on the bed or something."
He took in a few deep breaths until he felt. . . Normal.
Then he got to moving.
He got his own towel and cleaned himself off. Then he grabbed himself a glass of water one for him and one for you. Just because.
"Here." He handed you your glass and downed the last of his in one swig.
You only took a sip before placing yours on the nightstand.
"Are you—"
" 'Need you to turn around."
You huff, grabbing a pillow to lay on while he climbed on the bed over you.
You were laying flat on the bed, but he had other plans.
"Up." He chided in a low voice, grabbing your hips while you moved.
Without any other warning or prompt he sunk his dick into you in one smooth thrust, easier than ever. You were soaking wet. Your walls offering little to no resistance as he pounded into you.
You moaned into the sheets, fisting them tightly.
"To think you got this wet over sucking in a pair of titties." He huffed low in an unimpressed voice.
"Marvin." You moaned and he slapped your ass, making you tense around him.
"Fuck baby," he grunted, "you feel so good. . . Stay right there," he praised, "Just . . Like. . ."
He trailed off as he came inside you. Just how he liked. You let out a long moan, almost whining. The sound never failed to make his chest feel warm.
You didn't know it yet, but he was never doing that shit with you again.
T // WC: 3.8k // day one of date week & special surprise and more! // masterlist // series masterlist
“Barry.” You wave to Shaniya as you close the door to his office.
“Stop screaming.” He groaned. He was slumped sideways in his office chair, feet propped up on the desk.
“I’m not screaming.” you rolled your eyes and placed several files on his desk, “this is all the data you need for your presentation. Numbers and results are a priority.”
Barry sat up.
“Please tell me you didn’t do the whole thing.“
“Of course not,” you scoff, “not unless you wanted to give me a little something.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
“Don’t let anyone catch you giving it to me when you ultimately do.”
You plop down on the couch in the sitting area of his office. It was all dark wood and various textures of black, leather, suede, canvas and metal accents. He was fond of random shades of color. Deep hues of red, earthy greens, and striking deep mustard yellows. His space is littered with pairings you sure don’t mean anything, or if they did, he wouldn’t be able to tell you.
Barry was all money status and power– on the outside.
However, you knew who he really was.
He gave you an odd look as you plopped down onto the small sectional in his office. The gesture rang loud in the comfortable silence that was beginning to stretch between you two.
“You’re so different now.”
“I have Momo now.” You look down, shifting slightly in your seat.
“You used to drink just as much if not more than me every night and somehow still be the best employee this place has ever had. You’ve turnt out more clubs are parties than I ever could aspire to and somehow be a full functioning adult that could take care of themselves.”
“Kids change things.” You shake your head, trying to find the words as you do. This was not a conversation you wanted to have with any of your friends.
Barry flashes his teeth, a slight sadness to his smile. “They don’t change us though.”
You huff, giving him a similar one, “they never will. We’re too stubborn to let that happen.”
Work ended fast. Barry was able to finish his work and on time, thanks to a little encouragement and company from you. It was like old times.
Saimaira CC’d you to an email and provided a copy to you as she made further confirmations and plans with Barry. Turns out they had a large new client.
The firm was making more moves to diversify outside of Vaught. Things didn’t look so sure and sound on their own now that the truth has come out that Superheroes aren’t chosen by God and on top of that, the whole Nazi debacle.
It was time to divest.
But you don't want to think about that anymore.
Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.
It was actually happening now.
Marvin had called, as promised, and you’ll cherish that call forever.
You’ve never been more happy to talk to someone over the phone, Hell, you'd never been so happy to actually anticipate a phone call before.
In four breathless seconds Marvin opened the door. He had a rich deep crimson type burgundy shirt. The material was glossy, maybe sheer, something unique. Some of the top buttons were undone, proudly displaying his gold chain on the He paired it with black slacks.
“wow.” You look him up and down.
“I think that’s my line.”
You had definitely done up yourself, but your outfit was simple. A cute long black bodycon dress and a more dramatic makeup look that brought out your eyes and made your lips pop.
“I didn’t know you had clothes outside of your uniform.”
He huffs, his face scrunching slightly. “Do I even want to ask?”
“You wear jeans—or cargos, a t- shirt, and a leather jacket every single day.” You list each item on your finger, “excuse me for being surprised you actually own other clothes.”
“Well, you look nice.” His voice drops low and soft as he ignores you, and you can’t help the way his expression warms you into a matching smile.
You thank him softly.
“Before you come up in here, there are rules we need to establish.”
“Okay,” you cross your arms and smile, giggling, “what are they?”
“No talking about kids,” he holds out one finger.
“Oh no, how will we cope?” you mock.
“No talk about work,” he ignores you again, holding out another finger.
“Is that one for you or for me? Because I never talk about work?” You tilt your head as At brought crosses your mind. “And I don’t even know what you do for a living. This isn’t a good rule.”
“— okay.” He smacks his teeth. “Bad choice of words. That’s on me.”
You can’t help the way your eyes fall to his mouth as he licks his lips in thought.
“Just no talk about how it stresses you out, but yes talk about what it may be.”
“And lastly— pay attention because this one is important.” he adds “If you don’t follow any other rule you have to follow this one.”
You nod along and then jut your chin when he doesn’t say it.
He raises his eyebrows with a look which makes you smack your teeth.
“Yes?” You shake your head. “Okay? I understand.”
“No, helping me in the kitchen.” He pokes out another finger.
“Fine, I accept your little rules.”
“Ain’t nothing about me little, girl.” He swings open his door, “now get up in this house.”
It was the same apartment you’ve always entered, but it couldn’t look any different. The lights were dim, there were several lit candles and on his island was the table setting for two in a moody red and gold.
“It smells good in here.”
“Of course it does.” He grins.
“I like you when you're all arrogant and cocky.” You take a seat, “I mean, you are cute when you're all modest and humble, but I like this other side of you.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks as He rolls up his sleeves, chopping shallots before washing his hands and grabbing an oven mitt. He pulls something out, but you can’t see it past his wide shoulders. A heavenly scent graces your nose.
He carefully plates it before turning around, “tell me what you like about this”
You gasp. “Are these?”
“Stuffed mushrooms.” He answers for you, “but you can also keep talking about me.”
Parmesan, garlic, a cream based sauce, but not dairy.
“Did you make this sauce with cashews?” You say excitedly. “Or was it almonds?”
He takes a lemon and delicately squeezes it over the rest.
“I’m not telling.”
You open your mouth to say something, your face drawing into a pout, but he stops you.
“Eat your mushrooms.” He turns to drop freshly chopped shallots into a pan, adding a touch of garlic, then shaking it. He pops open a bottle of wine and douses the pan with it before pouring you both a glass.
You would complain or perhaps pour, but it was your first date after all. You’ll save it for the fourth or fifth one. The first three dates are for outing your best self forward still and being cute.
You hum as you eat another one. They got better with each one, the sauce more complex on your tongue.
You must marry him. Right now, you have to.
You will marry him and get the recipe for this sauce if it’s the last thing you do.
“Let me get one of those before you eat them all.” It was supposed to be cheeky, perhaps teasing with a lilt of fondness to it, but his eyes glow with an adoration so strong you feel you could touch it in the air between you. Here you are, just sitting at his kitchen island, eating mushrooms, but he’s looking at you like you hold the entire world in your hands. Like you’re the only thing that matters.
Licking your lips, you gently stab one with your fork and extend your arm over the counter. His eyes dip, following the movement of your lips, and then he looks back up.
Without breaking eye contact he places his hand over yours and puts the fork in his mouth.
He grunts in appreciation, giving you a heavy look.
You do your best to nonchalantly grab your wine glass and take a modest sip, but it doesn’t help. You keep a moan from slipping from your lips.
Heaven.
The wine went so well with the mushrooms and made everything in your mouth taste more amazing, leading you to think what it might taste like on him.
You swallow thickly, “I think you might wanna check on your food. It could be burning.”
“It’s not.” He doesn’t let up, his voice thick with an emotion you weren’t sure why sounded so intimidating to you.
“We’ve spent so much time together, but I feel like I don't know that much about you.”
“Uhm,” you shake your head slightly, placing your hand in your lap and willing them to be still, to make yourself not fidget with them,”well I don’t do it intentionally. . . Uh, what do you want to know?”
“Of course you don’t,” he says softly, his expression falling into a soft reassurance, he leans forward once more, somehow not knocking over anything on the island between you. He was so close to your face, but barely. You could taste the wine on the faintest whispers of his words, but they didn’t fan across your lips. You couldn’t feel the breath of his words on your face. “I wanna know everything.”
“I-I. . .” Floored. You dip your head with a smile. Your stomach twists in knots and you feel light headed.
“But of course,” he continues, following your head with his, not letting you hide from him, keeping his eye contact with you, “I’ll settle for anything you want to tell me whenever you want to tell me.”
You avert your eyes, still unable to find the words.
He lifts your chin with the slightest wisp of a touch from his finger, tilting your chin in his direction.
Stubbornly, you continue to look at the corner of the wall.
He brings his thumb to meet his finger and lightly squeezes your chin, jutting your face from side to side until you break into a soft laugh.
“Okay,” you relent, temporarily setting aside your rebellious nature, “I. . . I want you to get to know me.” you start slowly, earnestly. You pull at each finger of your left hand with your right under the counter, “And I want to get to know you.”
Slowly, he lets you go, nodding.
He doesn't smirk or give you a sly look or smile at your expense.
His eyes glow with a light of reverence similar to before, reminding you once more of his adoration for you.
“Alright,” he confirms with a wrap of his knuckles on the counter, hesitating to turn to tend to the food and plate it, “we can talk over dinner.”
And what a wonderful dinner it was.
The wine seared lamb, the fancy long broccoli you forget the name of, and a fancy mashed potatoes you’ve been corrected to call them all night.
“Marvin’s, I. . . I had a different life before Momo, before my brother's accident.” You placed your drink down, balling and unballing your hands before holding one to keep them still.
You were too full for dessert, so he happily packed it up for you to take home, and you both resided on the couch with cocktails.
“Take your time.” He places a hand over yours. You can’t help the fall in your expression as you see he’s still smiling.
Will he still look at you like that once he knows the truth? Everything about you? Will he still be here or will he be like Raheim your ex boyfriend and leave you?
“I’m not this responsible adult that you know me as,” you pause, silently thanking him for not interrupting you, “I. . . Before I had Momo and it was just me, I was the type of girl who’d go out every night. A party, a club, anything and everything, and then I’d go home, shower, change, and then kill it at work like nothing ever happened. I was doing all that and I’m still the best employee.” You smile at the thought of it. The proud feeling of truly having it all was hard to shake off.
“And this is supposed to make me change my mind about you?”
“Marvin, I’m. . . I’m a fake. I’m a fraud. This image of who you see is—“
“She’s real. She’s just as real as what you call the old or inner you.” He takes your other hand in his and you give him an odd skeptical look as he dazzles you with another smile, looking as if he might laugh, “do you think I was this responsible put together man when I had Janine?”
“Don’t answer that.” He stops you after seeing the look on your face. “Because I wasn’t,” he dips his head, terribly concealing his amusement, “I haven’t told you much about what I do for work, but it can be. . . A lot. It took me away from Monique, I had odd hours, and sometimes she’d never know when I’d be home again or where I was. . but then we had Janine.”
“Yeah?” You search his eyes and he softens, noticing how everything was really getting to you, how you truly felt.
“Yeah,” he confirms, “and that’s when I became what I am today. I did it all for my babygirl. No one is perfect and plans to be the most responsible and prepared when they have a kid. You have a kid and then it happens.”
“I’m not done.” You say meekly.
“Lay it on me.” He crosses his arms. “Whatever it is, I'm sure it changes absolutely nothing.”
“I used to smoke a lot of weed.” You squint, waiting for his reaction. His face twists into a hint of a scowl before going back neutral, some of the amusement leaving his eyes, “ok, the days I don’t go out, if work gets too much, I would just go home and light up to take the edge off. That was my go to for dealing with stress, but since Momo is with me I had to cut it out.”
As you explain his face has gone full disappointed dad and now you have to hide a laugh.
“That,” he sighs trying to hold it in, “explains so much about you.” He says carefully.
You let out a matching sigh, softly smacking your teeth and already regretting having said anything about it, “you can say it. You can say you’re disappointed in me.”
“I’m not disappointed,” his shoulders fall, “I just didn’t expect it. I’m glad that it’s not a part of your life but if your situation changes, respectfully,” he quickly adds, “I’d like for you not to pick that particular habit back up.”
“Uhmmm,” you perhaps say for too long of a time, “yeah.” You croaked, your voice cracking a little at this new situation.
You had hoped your brother would wake up and he’d have Momo, you truly did.
One of these days he’ll be out the hospital, Momo will go back to her Dad and you’ll figure out how to carry forward, but also that was the time you were going to start smoking again and now for the first time you have to consider quitting for good when the only thing keeping you sober was the fact that after it’s all over you could just smoke again.
Marvin gives you a serious look and you smile weakly.
“Do I need to make myself clear?”
Your stomach drops. “No,” you narrow your eyes, “I haven’t made any plans to smoke again, but saying it out loud makes it feel weird.”
“Good.” He narrows his eyes back.
You talk some more. He brings up your friends, the people in your life before Momo, and you dodge the subject.
He considerately doesn’t push or keep bringing it up. You ask him about some of the art and photos on his walls. He tells you about his pro black with pan Africanist views. The difference between what that is and Afro centralism and a few other terms you weren’t familiar with.
Surprising. Enlightening. You’ve always been pro black and down for the liberation of black people worldwide, but to know there’s a word for some of your own ideological beliefs and ideas was liberating, it was exciting.
For something so tired to talk about in today’s age and something that’s just been a part of you for so long, it felt like it had a new life. It’s been a while since you’ve had a fruitful conversation about something that gets run into the ground on the internet every single day.
And apparently. . . you’re a pan-africanist.
“It’s getting late.” he says thickly, licking his lips.
Dread fills you as you look over to the clock. “I guess I have to go.”
“I guess so.”
Neither of you move, looking at one another.
He sat on one end of the couch and you sat on the other. You had one of your legs curled under the other and you regret not sitting closer to him. He was right next to you, but with your impending departure creeping up, you couldn’t have felt more far away.
“Let me walk you out.” He reaches out, his long arm not having far to go as he places his palm on your cheek.
You fall into his partial embrace, savoring the warmth of his hand.
You close your eyes, just for a moment.
You’ll see him again. In fact you have the entire week together. You tell yourself all the reasons why this shouldn’t be such a forlorn goodbye, but for some reason it doesn’t work.
You move on autopilot, watching yourself inside of your own body as he walks you outside. You somehow convince him you’ll be okay, your car right across the street, less than ten steps away.
You can feel him watching you.
You smile, wondering what tomorrow will bring and then you hear a scream.
You startle, turning your head to see a man hurling towards you.
His skin looks molton the texture of his skin distorted and mangled, rough and pink. You take a step back, but you’re too slow.
He grabs you by the arm, what’s visibly clear on his face twists into a malicious smile, a scream forms on your lips but you can’t hear it, everything goes dark and you can’t see, but once it’s over you're looking outside of yourself.
You're out of your body for real and you can see yourself choke on a sob and stop screaming.
You look at your hands and your heart races, thundering painfully in your— no, a stranger’s ribcage.
Your hands are long, slender and white. The blue veins you see behind pale skin are foreign to you.
These were man hands.
A wave of nausea floods over every sense of you in this new body, but the disgusting freak was still grabbing at your actual body.
“Hey,” you yell, the voice cracks, sounding almost petulant, not as manly as you’d thought it would be.
The thing turns and you smack it in the face with your fist, using the force of the body, making sure to pack a real punch.
“Fuck!”
“Shit!”
You both yell at the same time.
You shake the fist.
Not strong like a man either.
But someone rushes up behind you.
A dark haired man and an Asian girl start wailing onto the creature man thing.
While the girl keeps hitting him, the man grabs some sort of gun and aims it at its head. A beam of light so bright flashes in its head and the thing screams in agony as the light covers his entire head.
You turn away, squinting to not hurt your new eyes.
“Fucking hell, Hughie,” the dark haired stranger grimaces, “you were supposed to guard the door.”
“Who the fuck is Hughie?!”
“What did you think I was doing?” You watch yourself scream, “I told you it wasn’t going to work in the first place!”
“Guys what the fuck?!” Marvin burst through the doors out of his building. “We had a plan! Why did you bring him all the way out here?”
“Because you’re plan was shit and Hughie fucked it up!” The man spit on the ground. “Frenchie’s little cage didn’t hold ‘em and he scampered past Hughie right out the door and he might have figured out where you live.”
Marvin huffed, ignoring his reply and calling your name.
“I’m fine.” Your voice wasn’t cracking anymore but it wasn’t yours.
The hackles of Marvin’s shoulders visibly rose. Would have been cute or funny if you weren’t scared out of your mind.
“M.M.” You tried to say Marvin, but it wouldn’t come out. You tried again and again. You choked on a sob. Putting your head in your hands to keep from screaming. “Who the fuck is M.M.?!?!”
“Baby,” he stuttered. Marvin’s face twisted in concern and horror. He cupped both sides of whoever’s face you had in his hands, looking into your eyes.
You were looking down at him and it was so wrong.
“It’s me, M.M.” You choked on a sob, “I keep trying to say your name but I can’t.” Tears started flowing down your face which made you cry even more because you were trying so hard to keep them in.
Marvin cradled your head unity he crook of his shoulder, forcing you to lean down a little and you subconsciously- against your will tried to fight it, but he ignored whatever was happening in this strange body that would not let you be held.
Something about crying in his arms made its brain scream at you. The sensation that you were breaking a rule and doing something you shouldn’t, overwhelmed every thought and feeling you had.
“I’m so sorry.” Marvin apologized in your ear. His voice thick with emotion. “I’m gonna fix this. I promise.”
He apologized over and over. You held tight to him. The large white hands twisted into the fabric on his back.
“I’m so scared, Marvin.” You were finally able to say. It came out choked and ragged and a physical pain erupted through every sense of the body. Everything sounded too loud, Marvin’s touch started to hurt. You had to close your eyes to keep what little light that shone from the streetlights from creeping in them.
Marvin called your name and all the strangers clamored around you both, but they faded farther and farther away until you couldn’t see or hear anything anymore.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
T // WC: 1.6k // masterlist // series masterlist //
“Hey,” MM said casually walking in with bags of food Monique told him to bring, “Where are the girls?”
These days instead of asking for Janine, he was asking after both her and her new friend Monice, the pair now inseparable.
“Outside with the rest of the kids.” She smirked, pointing her head to the glass windows that gave an overlook of the backyard. It was decorated with oversized picnic blankets, fancy plastic silverware and platters to match that previously held the fanciest little snacks and pastries, a foldable table was to the side, filled with various drinks. “Apparently, a day at the pool isn’t enough.”
He smiled as he looked out. The kids running around and giggling, fully enthralled by whatever game they had made up. Evidence of food, or whatever was left of it, was littered about on the highly decorated plastic platters filled with crumbs. A wooden board still held a few stray pieces of cheese, but the little sweaty blocks were long forgotten.
“If they all ate what are the burgers for?”
“You,” Monique pointed. “and her mostly.” You were passed out on the couch. From the slow rise and fall of your chest, and how loosely taught your face was pulled into something soft and smooth. . . peaceful.
He didn’t know much about you, but he knew about your brother. The unexpectedness of taking care of your child and battling whether or not you’ll lose a family member or not.
“You need to be careful.” Monique gave him a look.
His eyebrows furrowed.
‘What are you talking about?”
“Marvin,” she sighed with a hint of frustration. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was there, “How long have I known you?”
He wasn’t sure where this energy was coming from, but he knew when she was asking a rhetorical question. He looked at her expectantly, throwing his hands in the air to show his defeat and wait for her to respond.
“Just because we’re over doesn’t mean I don’t know how you look when you have feelings for someone. Hell, anybody might be able to tell by the way you look at her,” she said pointedly, “and I’m not judging.” She quickly added. “I’m actually really happy for you. It’s time you moved on too. I’m not sure what you're sitting on your hands and waiting around for, but it's obvious.”
He nodded. Her words were unintentionally digging. He wasn’t sure why, but they did.
“Monique, this is. . . She’s different. It’s different.” Fuck he sounded a mess. His words weren’t coming together. He didn’t want to have this conversation, least of all with Monique.
“Just do whatever you did to get me. You're not a bad guy, Marvin,” she huffed out a laugh, “I’d say more but I’m the last person who needs to be singing your praises, and you don’t need anyone to either.”
“We were kids.” He shook his head. “It was just me and you back then, but now I’m divorced, I have a daughter who's amazing. . .shit job. . . . but it’s not me I’m worried about,” he looked over at you, still soundly asleep.
You’d been through enough. The last thing you probably wanted was something new.
“You need to be careful.”
“I know,” he huffed, “the thing with her brother, she’s now got a kid, her life’s been turned upside down and she’s grieving—“
“And the last thing she needs is your unresolved shit affecting what she’s already going through.”
“I know,” he said slowly, “that’s why I said that it’s different.”
“How? Because it was so easy for me to accept your bullshit?” She said with an edge.
He winced.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He apologized. There’s not much else he can say about it, conversation ending itself.
“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you right now–’
“And we don't have to. We’re not fighting.”
She gave him a look and he only raised his eyebrows.
“You can’t hide it forever.”
She didn't give him a chance to respond, making her way over to you. She rubbed gently at your back in small circular movements.
You opened your eyes with a frown. Your brows scrunched together before blearily falling into a neutral expression.
“What time is it?” you stretched.
“Food’s here.” was all Monique said, holding back a smile.
“You didn't wake me when the food got here.” you said pointedly, your voice starting to raise.
“It just got here, and I just woke you up!”
‘No you didn't!” your face pulled into a pout. “It smells cold. You did not wake me as soon as it got here!”
“It smells cold!” She laughed with a perplexed look, “How does food smell cold?”
“Don’t play dumb, Monique.” You huffed, making your way to the kitchen and carefully taking the bun of your burger as well as the cold toppings before putting the rest in the microwave, “it’s not cute.”
Beginning the process of getting your onion rings to put them in the air fryer, you finally noticed him. As a smile spreads across your face. It was the same smile that always graces your features whenever you first see him. It never failed to pull at his heart and pull the corners of his lips even if his was a bit more guarded.
Your warmth was intoxicating.
“Did you bring the food?”
“You asked me too.” He said matter of factly.
“No I didn’t.” You smiled, looking back at Monique, and then back to him.
“Yes,” he laughed, “you did.”
“You did.” Monique raised her eyebrows.
“I literally have no memory of that ever happening.”
“Eat your food before it gets cold again.”
You playfully rolled your eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
“What are you so tired for anyway?” He asked, genuinely intrigued, but you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, your mouth full.
“She’s been up since 2 AM, making the fanciest picnic feast for a bunch of soon to be fourth graders that don’t deserve it.” Monique answered for you, stealing an onion ring off your plate.
You mean mugged her and pulled up a fist like you were going to hit her, but Monique only cackled at you.
You swallowed with a frown.
“They do deserve it. Momo and Janine really wanted it and making some food and throwing a picnic blanket on the grass isn’t hard.” You said placidly.
“So pulling Momo out of bed at 2 AM to be here by 3:00 to cook up until 7:00, still decorate the yard, get Momo dressed, and then clean the kitchen,” she listed each in a finger, “ is not hard work?”
“No," you shook your head with a smile, “I mean I guess it is, but I like making Momo happy. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s for her.”
Marvin noticed your smile was not as genuine as it was before. How your shoulders were slightly tense as you shrugged them. Your eyes glossed over briefly with a terse gaze, squirming slightly.
To anyone else you’d look fine, but he had a trained eye. He didn’t know you well enough to say something about, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend like he didn’t know something was off with you. He’d usually be on his game about that, but everything about you threw him off.
He ignored the way Monique looked at him because even if she couldn’t notice something was off with you, she knew how to tell things were off with him.
“There’s nothing wrong with going above and beyond for your kid. It’s natural,” he phrased, licking his lips, “but you still need to take care of yourself. You’re just as important.”
“. . .yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll do better at that.” You purse your lips. “For the school year.” You ended definitively, strategically ending the conversation.
He wasn’t having any of it. Opening his mouth he was going to push back. Confront you on your answer and insist you not wait so long even if the school year was weeks away at this point. Perhaps just one month away would be more accurate, but Monique gave him a look.
He’d have to talk to you about it alone.
Whenever that would be, he didn’t know. He bit back a sigh. Not wanting to let you know something was up.
You were practically done with your burger, a few bites left, but your eyes were fluttering shut. Your fist propping up your head.
“You’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?”
“Why would I do that?” You questioned like it wasn’t obvious.
“You can’t drive home in the state your in.” He scolded, “you can’t even stay awake to eat your food.”
“I’m done eating!” You waved a hand at your plate. “Maybe I was just resting my eyes!” You defend with an actual roll of your eyes.
“Well you can keep resting them on that couch over there for the night.”
“No,” you defiantly stood up and crossed your arms, “I’m going home!”
“I don’t know how you’re getting there since you're not driving, and I’m not taking you.”
You huffed, turning towards Monique.
“He’s right.” She gave you a look, much kinder at you then the way she's been looking at him.
“Ughhh,” you groaned, going back to the couch and aggressively lying down and pulling the blanket over you, “leave me alone, and don’t wake me up,” you huffed. “I’ll wake up whatever time I want to tomorrow and I don’t want to hear anybody complain.”
M // WC: 1.3k // warnings: eventual smut, potential descriptions of mild violence, but mostly fluff, mostly sweet, typical romcom shenanigans // masterlist
“I don’t wanna go to the party.”
You sucked in a breath, holding back a sigh of frustration.
“I don’t wanna go to the party.”
You sucked in a breath, holding back a sigh of frustration.
“TT, you need to make friends.”
Life was not what it should be, especially when 8 year olds are worried about your social life and general well being.
“Momo, I’m an adult,” you started softly, mustering all the cool calm collected and comforting and safe space energy you could, “and I take care of you. Not the other way around.” You put a hand on her shoulder, sliding it up and down her back.
“Thank you for thinking about me and caring about me. I love you just as much.” You studied her, hoping you weren’t making anything worse, “but you don’t need to worry about me. There’s nothing to worry about. Go have fun with your friends, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to go or the party ends. Deal?”
“Will you at least be on your best behavior?”
You sighed.
“Go play with your friends.”
“But I just—“
“Now, Mo.”
Kids. You shook your head and grabbed the tray of food you made per the list that was sent out.
“You made it!” One of the mom’s wrapped her arms around you. You did your best not to look as uncomfortable as you felt.
“Thank you for having me.” You smiled and gave her the tray.
“Uhm, Sweetie. . . What are these?”
“Pigs in a blanket. Slightly charred A grade beef sausages, the mini ones of course, wrapped in a croissant dough, dusted with a caramel Dijon mustard and pepper sauce.”
“They’re third graders.” Sheila blinked at you.
You pouted with a huff.
“They’re just pigs in a blanket!”
“Sheila stop giving her a hard time.”
“Hi, I’m Tracey.” She looked back to you with a smile.
You introduced yourself slowly to all the other parents.
“So you’re Monice’s mother?”
You squeezed your hand.
Of course they all knew. At this point who didn’t.
“Uhm,” you took a breath for courage, “I’m actually her Aunt. Her mother didn’t make it through the accident.”
That’s what you had to call it, but it was far from an accident. Your dead sister in law and your brother in critical condition in a comma is not what you call an accident. Especially, when the forces that caused it had enough power in the world to prevent it if they weren’t such careless fucks.
But you couldn't say that part out loud or you’d get sued. . . or worse.
Some people gasped and you wanted to shrivel up and disappear. You wanted everyone to stop looking at you like you were about to break because you were, but it’s hard to keep it all together or at least pretend to with so many eyes on you.
“How are you holding up through all this?”
“We’re uh, we’re good. Monice obviously needed some therapy after what happened, and she wouldn’t do it unless I did it with her, but I honestly needed it too.”
Someone had made you a plate.
The pasta salad was amazing and the ribs spectacular. It was good to be around your people. You ignored the growing ache of your family. You all had been in shambles since the accident. Your mother barely talked to anyone. Your father was angry, but somehow rather a calm in the eye of a storm. He was holding it together for everyone, but at his age, he did not need to be doing anything like that, and nothing you said calmed either of them down.
“And you’re doing this alone?” Someone chimed in with a hand over their heart.
“Well, I had a boyfriend, but I guess he,uh wasn’t ready. He basically said he couldn’t be there for me.” You realized that might sound harsh, so you continued in an effort to diffuse the reality of your words, “he took me on a date to this beautiful restaurant we loved.”
You smiled at the thought, fighting tears.
“It was all so nice. . . And then he just started talking about how emotionally draining being with me was. How he didn’t want to start living with a kid and change his whole life around. That he still wanted more time and that it was just too much for him.” You picked at the roll on your plate.
“I always thought I had more time too, but none of that matters. Momo’s entire life has been turned upside down, and she doesn’t know if her father will ever come back into her life or not. She’s scared all the time.” Your voice cracked.
“And this past Monday I was on the phone with my therapist just opening up trying, just trying, to get to a good place so I can be there for Mo, but she overheard me say I Feel like I’m alone and drowning with everything and that I just want my big brother back, and now she’s so worried about me being alone and always asking me about my friends not being there for me like they were before and I just—“
Fuck you didn’t mean to say all that. You don’t mean to cry.
“Should we?” Sheila looked at Tracey who only shook her head.
“Maybe you should talk to Marvin?”
That’s all everyone in this community says.
“I heard Monice used to go to a different school?”
You bit your lip. Unsure what to say.
“She was suspended.” You said matter of factly.
“After everything she’s been through?” Tracey asked.
“Everyone experiences trauma different. I want to curl into a ball, stay in my bed, and cry all day.” You sighed at nothing in particular, “Momo gets angry. Other kids still love superheroes and she lives in a world where superheroes took her family away. Long story short I’m in an office and they're telling me she’s a bully and has to go because her behavior is unacceptable.”
“That can’t be right.”Sheila said, aghast. “She’s a little black girl. It must be some sort of a mistake. You know how they are when we aren’t perfect all the time and I heard it was a pretty prestigious school.”
“I’d love to believe that was the case, but it’s not. She owned up to it. Told me everything and now we have to face the consequences of our actions, so bye bye old school, old friends, and all the other stuff.”
Everyone kind of stared at you.
Fuck.
You said something wrong. Or you don’t look so heartbroken and beaten down and broken enough, Or was it your parenting?
It was probably all of it.
You got overwhelmed, you wanted to chill out, you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, but you got through it.
Doing your best to politely end the conversation and questions, you do your best to play along and get through the day, but you can only hold back so much. Your forget what type of world you live in versus everyone else and you say the wrong thing. Quietly, you make your escape outside when no one's looking.
You looked out at the kids running around with large bubble wands and toys galore.
Momo seems to be having the grandest time with another little black girl. They chased each other with large bubbles, attempting to pop them on each other’s head.
She made a friend.
All of a sudden your shoulders were falling back and down into something relaxed. You were exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Were you that tense the whole time?
You shook your head and made your way to the desert table once more.
There were these croissant donut things or some type of pastry. It looked so good, but you couldn't tell which one you wanted most. Between the decadent looking chocolate and the mouthwatering matcha strawberry. You couldn’t tell which one might taste better.
You only wanted one.
“You must be related to Monice?” A rich deep voice interrupted you.
You slightly turn around to meet warm brown eyes and equally comforting dark skin.
Butterflies filled your stomach. You chased the feeling down by fiddling with your fingers, still looking at him so it doesn’t come off as awkward as you felt.
“What gave it away?”
“You both stick your tongue in your cheek and pout when you can’t decide between more than one thing.”
You huffed a laugh through your nose. Your eyes rolling dramatically around not sure what to look at.
“I do not pout.” You crossed your arms. “I’m not a child.
“Well you're acting like one.” He picked up both croissants with a napkin and placed them on two plates. He gingerly cut both in half with a knife and swapped one of the halves. “Here, now you can have both.”
You held out both your hands. Looking at the plate and back up to him.
“How-how?”
“What do we say?” He ignored you. Taking a step into your space, leaning down so his face was in yours and staring.
“Stop.” You laughed but he didn’t move.
“Ugh, fine.” You smacked your teeth. “Thank you.”
“I’ll take it, but you could sound more grateful.”
“Mm.” You grunted at him and took a bite of the matcha one first.
He followed as you sat on the edge of the patio to continue to watch the kids play outside.
“Why don’t you come back in with the rest of them?”
“You mean inside with the women?”
He gave you an unamused look.
“You know what I meant.”
“Well, they started playing fuck marry kill for the Vaught dummies.” You picked at the corner of your paper plate, “and I excitedly yelled kill Homelander before anyone could say anything.”
You expected him to empathize. Maybe even give you a: damn, that’s tough. In the way some black men talk when they can’t express emotions, but what you don’t expect him to do was laugh.
“It’s not funny.” You muttered into your chocolate pastry as you took a bite.
“What did they say?” He bellowed and put his hand on his stomach.
“Nothing!” You laughed as he wiped a tear. “And that’s what makes it worse. I sorta lied and said I had to go to the bathroom and I’ve been out here ever since.”
“Well it’s nice to not be the only one around here.”
“The only one around here what?”
He looked at you. Really, looked at you.
“Who hates Supes.” He said lowly, leaning in so no one walking by could hear you.
You didn’t say anything and took another bite of the matcha one. You winced and he sort of turned to you, extending a hand as if he was going to hurily fix whatever was wrong.
“It’s fine,” you explained with a lick of your lips, “the matcha one doesn’t taste as good when you take a bite of the chocolate one before it, “it took me by surprise.”
“Oh.. right.” He put his free hand back on his plate, taking the piece of matcha pastry and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth, making him look 30 years younger. Like a really- really big kid.
You wanted to tease him for it.
But instead you handed him a napkin.
He silently took it before popping his thumb in his mouth and placing it on your cheek. You held in a breath as he wiped it across the corner of your mouth.
“I—“ you started.
“Bad habit. I have a—
“DADDY!!”
A little girl squealed and ran up to you both.
You held a hand over your eyes to block the setting sun.
The man you wished you had asked a name of did his best to discretely lean away from you without his daughter noticing how close you were.
His daughter didn’t notice, but Momo was studying his every move.
Fuck, how were you about to explain this? Or rather, what is it that she thinks she saw and were you about to have a conversation you did not want to have. . . How much did she see? What is this? Was there even anything you need to explain in the first place?
“This is my new friend Monice! She goes by Momo or Mo!” His daughter went on and on to her father about every little fact about Mo, filling you with absolute glee.
Kids had that effect on you.
Whatever they were feeling just filled you up to the tips of your toes on steroids. Whatever she was about to ask him for you hoped he said yes. Who could say no to her? Certainly not you, but other adults seemed immune by this supernatural power obtained by every child. How? You’d never know.
It was your kryptonite.
“Can she spend the night?”
“Or can she spend the night at my house TT?” Momo excitedly interjected.
You looked up at, Daddy from where you were sitting on the patio. He had his arms crossed in thought but as he looked down, you could feel him telling you to pull yourself together.
You bit the inside of your cheek. A habit you developed whenever you were deciding how to parent.
“Maybe some other time when me and Mr. . .”
“Milk” He filled in for you.
“Can talk about it? Okay?”
“What she said Janine.” Was all Mr. Milk said.
Janine was about to open her mouth to say more, but Momo knew better and pulled her away with a sigh.
“I can never have anything!” She frantically exclaimed as she dragged her friend away.
“But we —“
“No. We can’t!” Momo yelled back just to make sure you heard her.
Kids.
“You let her act like that?”
You narrowed your eyes and bit back a smile.
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.” He stuffed the other pastry in his mouth and brushed his hands together to get rid of the excess crumbs, making sure they didn't hit his clothes, “you’re spoiled too.”
“What makes you say that.”
“Spoiled children raise spoiled children.” He said it matter of factly, like it was wise somehow, and pulled a wet wipe out of his pocket. He handed you one as well before neatly putting the packet back in his jacket pocket.
“Sounds really funny coming from you.” Was all you said in the same casual tone he used before, taking the wipe and cleaning the excess sugar and sticky residue from your hands.
“Oh yeah.” He challenged, crossing his arms.
A cheeky grin slowly formed on your face. .
“Not when your daughter is clearly a Daddy’s girl.”
“Let me stop you right there—“
“—Who clearly gets everything she wants and more from you.” You raised a finger to his chest and he leaned in letting it touch him.
You don’t realize how excited you had got. Your cheeks were puffy with tears from laughing and your chest heaving from raising your voice for so long.
“And you love it.” You added with a huff and parted lips.”
“Takes one to know one.” He huffed. Perfectly still and unaffected, a wall of calm, but you saw the twitch of his lip.
“Look who’s pouting now.” You smirked.
He pulled away from you with a smack of his teeth and a groan.
“You got lucky.”
You curled your feet in the grass before you. Taking in the sounds and sights around for the first time, letting them wash over you, truly enjoying them since the first turn you arrived.
You were lucky.
.
.
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in next chapter:
notes: finally the long awaited M.M fic <3 i love this man so much he drives me crazy… summary: ever since you started dating, you realised just how much M.M loves ravishing you. warnings: soft M.M, mature/explicit content.
Marvin glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Nine o'clock. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was home alone, the stillness of the apartment only amplifying his longing for you. He picked up his phone, paging you once more, wishing you'd come over to his place. He needed you here, now.
"Hey," he started, trying to keep his voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside him. "I'm just sitting here, thinking about the last time you were here. Hit me back when you can. I miss you, babe."
He put the phone down and paced the living room, trying to distract himself. Every second felt like an eternity. He replayed the memories of your last visit, the way your skin felt against his, the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your touch. It was all he could think about.
The phone buzzed and Marvin's heart leaped. He grabbed it, seeing your name on the speaker, soothing yet laden with anticipation. "I got your message. I just finished my shift. Heading over now. Can't wait to see you."
A smile broke across Marvin's face as he glanced at the clock. It was 10:10. "Where have you been all my life?" he teased, his voice low and intimate. "I've been waiting, reminiscing about you, about us. Drive safe, but hurry. I miss you so much, babe."
The next hour felt like an eternity. Marvin tried to keep busy, tidying up the living room and setting the mood with soft candlelight.
He made sure everything was perfect for you when you arrived.
Finally, at exactly 11:30, he heard your key in the door. His heart raced with anticipation.
The door swung open, and there you were, looking as beautiful as ever.
You barely had time to drop your bag before Marvin pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.
The intensity of the moment took your breath away. "I've missed you so much," he murmured against your lips.
"I missed you too," you replied, your voice breathless and filled with desire.
Marvin didn't waste any time. As soon as the door clicked shut, he backed you against it, his hands exploring your body with an urgency that made you shiver. "I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. "About you, about us. I can't wait any longer."
He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom. The candles cast a warm, flickering glow over the room, creating a perfect ambiance. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.
"Marvin," you whispered, your voice filled with anticipation. "I want you."
"Say no more," he replied, his voice husky.
He stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The raw intensity in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.
You reached for him, pulling him down to you. His body was warm and solid against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, wanting to savor every moment. "I love the way you talk dirty," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "It drives me crazy."
He kissed you deeply, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring his body, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.
Marvin's kisses became more urgent, his touch more demanding. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs. "I've waited long enough," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I need you now."
You moaned softly as he entered you, the sensation overwhelming. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling, but soon the intensity of his desire took over. His pace quickened, and you matched him, meeting his thrusts with equal passion.
The room was filled with the sounds of sex, the only light coming from the flickering candles. You lost yourself in the moment, in the feeling of being with him, the world outside disappearing.
"Marvin," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "I'm so close."
"Me too, babe," he groaned, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back any longer."
With a final, deep thrust, you both reached the peak of your passion, your cries of pleasure mingling in the air. Marvin collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breathing heavy.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this night to end."
You snuggled closer to him, feeling sate and content in his arms. "I love you too, Marvin," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.
"And as long as we're together, it never has to."
As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what, you would always have these moments, these nights of passion and love. And that was all that mattered.
