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m00nsbaby · 9 months

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Clumsy.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant x F! Reader. (Ft Jake Lockley) Next part to Sleepwalking. (Or "Already over" part 3.)

Final part. Clumsy II.

Tags & warnings. Sensitive themes, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of mental health, angst but not as bad as the other parts lol.

Word count. 3.2k

Summary.

I flew too close to the sun, Fell back to earth like a stone. I got too high on myself, Too young and stupid to tell. I was bound to make a mess of things, Mixin' fireworks and gasoline, Never meant to make you fall with me.

Your definitive breakup with Steven marked a point of no return for all three involved in the situation.

Marc had to force himself to learn to live without crossing a word with Steven, and his solitary life suddenly felt emptier than it had ever been. All of a sudden, it felt as if there was a void in his chest that nothing could fill, not alcohol, not Layla's occasional company, nor missions that put his life at risk.

Marc's biggest fear came true when he realized he had lost his routine completely. His life had taken that 360-degree turn he never wished for.

"Steven?"

"Mhm?" He didn't even raise his gaze from his book to look at him in the mirror's reflection in front of him; he simply turned the page slowly.

"Did you tidy-up?"

"No."

The only thing that broke the silence for a few seconds was Steven's page turn, while the other observed the apartment that seemed slightly tidier.

The topic wasn't discussed further. In fact, nothing else was talked about, and Marc silently observed, as he had for the past month, wondering if he was going crazy, if Steven was lying to him for the sake of it, or if his chronic depression was clouding half of what he did during the day.

That day, he didn't claim the couch; as it started to get dark, he chose to 'disappear' rather than spend another night listening to Steven's sobs as he clung to the scarf you had forgotten in his apartment, the one that no longer smelled like you.

If broken hearts had a scent, it would probably be what was impregnated in the yarn of it, Steven's tears mixed with his own cologne.

And a hint of whiskey, from the nights when Marc would steal the garment while asking himself over and over again, 'What have I done?'

The next day, to the surprise of neither of them, more things seemed to have changed during the night. Steven had woken up wrapped in his bed's covers, not on top of them, wearing his favorite pajamas, and your scarf neatly folded on the nearby piece of furniture.

More organized books took their place on the bookshelf where they belonged before Steven had started piling them up on the floor.

"Steven?"

"No." His head remained on the pillow, his eyes still closed. He was tired of answering Marc's questions, which, in his eyes, never made sense.

Who cared if a book was here or there? He didn't even remember what he had eaten for breakfast the day before, if he even had breakfast at all. With even less reason, he would remember if he got up in the middle of the night to rearrange things in the apartment.

Steven didn't take long to fall asleep again. The only slightly bearable aspect of this situation was that, for the first time in their lives, both Steven and Marc were starting to sleep more, enough hours at night and a few extra in the afternoons. It turns out life becomes more tolerable when you're not aware of what's happening around you.

Even counting the vivid dreams, the constant dissociation that was nothing new for them, and the lost time that could be used for anything other than sleeping.

You were... better, all things considered, as it had been exactly 26 days since your breakup with the person you would forever consider the love of your life.

Of course, you still cried at night… and sometimes in the afternoons, rarely in the mornings when the sudden realization of what had happened struck. But taking care of a pet proved enough to keep you distracted for most of the day. Thanks to your little ball of fur, you managed to get up in the mornings and took constant showers just to go out for walks with him.

The only contact you maintained with Steven was once a week when you sent him a photo of the kitten. You always picked the best one for him, and he patiently waited to ask you a thousand questions he knew wouldn't really have answers.

No matter how desperate he was to have you back, he would always respect your decision to want space. He'd sooner die than make you feel uncomfortable, and he genuinely preferred anything over risking the only contact he had with you. So, he never pushed much further, although he never forgot to make it clear how much he missed you.

He's beautiful! Looks so much like his mom. (You) How's he doing, apart from being really cute? How are you? I hope you're doing incredibly well because I'd hate it if you weren't. I miss you so much, and I know Marc does too. Do you think it's possible for us to talk one of these days? If not, I understand. It's not a problem for me to wait if you change your mind at any time. I'll always be waiting for you. ❤️ Have a great week.

Unfortunately, in every moment you assured yourself you were moving on from Steven (and maybe even Marc), you found yourself smiling at his messages, even when you weren't willing to reply.

Marc ended up losing his last remaining shreds of sanity when a month and a week had passed since he last saw you. He was doing his best to reassemble the pieces of his life that had fallen apart, but unfortunately, every time he tried to put a fragment back together, another seemed to crumble.

When Layla welcomed him, she didn't kiss his lips as usual, and mentally he thanked her for it. Physical contact with her hadn't felt the same for a while.

It's funny how at some point in his life he had found himself deeply in love with his wife's small but strong hands. Now, he could only think about how rough she felt touching him and how they didn't compare to your hands when you used to play with Steven's curls.

It was torturous realizing that there was nothing that didn't remind him of you.

"We need to talk," she said, turning her back to him. All Marc could see as he entered the apartment were her curls.

"What's going on?" He knew exactly what was going on, of course. He had been waiting for this for a while now.

"We can't go on like this, Marc."

In a horrible déjà vu, he could swear you had told him something similar, or maybe it was Steven, who was attentively observing the scene from the headspace.

"What do you mean, Lay?"

"You know what I'm talking about." It hurt him to realize his tears no longer had an effect on him. When did he stop loving her? "You're not the same after what happened."

The upside was that this was the most they had talked since they started their relationship, without shouting or either of them storming off.

"It's like you're not here. You come, we have sex, and then what?" There was that irritated look, filled with resentment that maybe he deserved. He had seen it in you, in Steven, and now in Layla.

Marc was so tired of fighting that he had no strength left to keep his pride up. He nodded silently and decided to take whatever she had to offer. Maybe receiving a bit of the pain he had distributed among different people would be enough to heal one of the million wounds inside him.

"Is it because of her, huh?"

'It's not about her, it's that I'm falling apart inside.' He thought.

After denying it for so long, he never thought that the first time he would acknowledge his feelings for you would be to Layla.

He nodded.

"You're broken, Marc." And he was, there was no denying it. "You're so shattered that you hurt everyone who tries to get close to you." If she only knew the pain he had caused Steven, she might turn the metaphorical knife she was stabbing him with. "You're going to end up alone, Marc Spector, completely alone."

When did she start hitting his chest accusingly? No idea. He had disassociated after hearing the word 'broken' from someone other than himself.

"Marc?" Steven's soft English accent called his attention from the other side of the room. His tear-filled eyes couldn't locate which reflection he was calling from. "Let's leave."

And that was another stab right in the heart. After all he had done to hurt Steven, was he still trying to protect him?

Maybe he really was the awful person life was trying to prove him he was.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing that came out of his throat, his voice nearly inaudible due to the painful knot within.

Layla laughed at him, as was logical. How foolish he had been to think that saying sorry was enough to fix such a huge mistake.

"Let's leave." Steven's voice was so reassuring it gave him the strength to move his legs that seemed rooted to the ground.

"You understand that I'm breaking this up, right? I don't want you to come back here."

He felt like he was running out of breath when he nodded. He barely managed to clumsily leave the place; he was so confused. What hurt so much? As curious as it might sound, the breakup wasn't his main problem.

Maybe it was realizing everything he had caused through his mistakes, that everything could have been resolved if he hadn't been so stubborn.

The pain in his knees momentarily brought him back to reality. His body was giving up, and he could swear he was about to throw up in his now ex-partner's building. He didn't want to forcibly trigger a switch with Steven, but when the flashes of white and black appeared in front of his eyes, he knew it was better to just let it happen.

A week later, your hair was dripping as you rushed to open the apartment door, having just stepped out of the shower. You expected to find your upstairs neighbor, that sweet elderly lady who occasionally stopped by to ask for things like sugar or eggs. It was the highlight of your week, as it often resulted in desserts gifted to you a few hours later.

Ah, and she adored Sekhmet, who was already by the door acting as a second doorbell, eager for you to open up.

"You better not run off, silly," you said before swinging the door open.

You almost screamed curses until your lungs gave out when you found him on the other side. Holding a bouquet of yellow flowers and wearing black leather gloves you'd never seen before.

"Steven?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him, and almost immediately shook your head. He didn't have Steven Grant's perpetual shy or embarrassed expression.

Nor did he have Marc Spector's eternally furrowed brow, a look of constant stress. Although, right now, without any knowledge of what was going on, he was your best guess.

"Marc?" The only sound for several seconds was the purring of Sekhmet, rubbing against his legs repeatedly.

What a traitor.

He seemed just as surprised to see you, as if he hadn't been the one knocking on your door. You furrowed your brow when he offered his free hand.

"Jake." You took his hand to shake it. "Jake Lockley."

"Are you kidding?" That was all you said, not even annoyed or scared, just confused.

When he shook his head, you accepted that answer because you knew your boys well. Neither of them would joke about something like this. But what the hell was going on?

"Come in." You did your best to smile as you stepped aside to give him space when you noticed his intention was to enter your apartment.

"Ah, I… These are for you." He extended the flowers, and your chest tightened. It was like seeing Steven on your first date, but with an extra dose of confidence. "The yellow flowers are for an apology. They symbolize hope for a quick reconciliation."

You took the flowers in your hands and looked at them closely for a few seconds. They were beautiful.

"And why would you have to apologize to me, Jake Lockley?" You closed the door behind him. Being disoriented helped you take in this situation better because if it weren't for that, you'd probably be in the middle of a crisis.

You cleared your throat as you leaned your back against the apartment door. You studied him closely, and there was no doubt in your mind.

That wasn't Marc, and definitely not your Steven.

"Marc's foolishness," he commented. The yellow suited your complexion. He noticed when you brought the bouquet closer to smell it. When you closed your eyes and took a deep sigh Jake thought he fully understood why Marc and Steven's lives were now in pieces.

He would be too if he had lost you.

Thankfully, they had their protector, the one who didn't give up at the first obstacle, luckily for Marc since Steven seemed as persistent. And he seemed to have watched enough novelas to have the smooth talking of a 90s casanova.

His plan was trying his best, though, you were the first girl in Jake's life. And considering the circumstances, probably the only one.

"Marc is forgiven," you smiled with a weight on your chest as you placed the flowers on the central table in your small living room. The cat wouldn't leave Jake alone, and you knew it was because, to him, Jake was Steven, the one he missed so much. "When Steven and I…"

His gaze refocused on you. He wanted to let you know his full attention was fixed on you.

"Shouldn't you explain your presence first, Jake Lockley?" You questioned with that same smile that revealed how emotionally and physically exhausted you were. Still, he nodded, running his fingers through his curls to put them back in place.

An action that made you audibly swallow.

The hours passed quickly. It turned out that Jake spoke about everything that Marc and Steven seemed to keep to themselves. He knew very well that based on the memories of both boys, there was no one better than you to understand his situation.

You learned that Jake was a protector for both of them, and neither Marc nor Steven were aware of him until now. His priority was the two of them, and he knew you perfectly from both of their points of view.

It was surprising to you, but somehow comforting to know that there was someone to take care of Steven when you couldn't. Jake confirmed your theories that he was as hurt as you were by the breakup, that he missed you as much as you missed him.

Oh, and in the same vein, you understood that he had felt the need to take control more in the last few days. It seemed Marc wasn't in the best condition either. Ironically, you could believe everything Jake said, even though you had only known him for about three hours. But Marc remorseful? That part sounded like a fairytale to you.

"I'm here because I need…" He cleared his throat, his fingers playing with each other. A while ago, he had gotten rid of his gloves. "I would like to." He corrected himself. "I would like for you to give Marc a chance to talk to you, hermosa."

You wondered if he was trying to sweet-talk you or if the endearing nicknames rolled off his tongue so easily because he still shared a body with Steven and Marc.

"I can't do that right now, no, I hope you can understand why." You cleared your throat. Your nerves stood on edge when Jake got up to sit on the couch next to you.

He offered you his hand, and you looked at it doubtfully.

"Jake, no."

"Please."

Those stupid gigantic brown eyes were fixed on you, and beyond the expressions that differentiated Jake from others, all you saw was Steven's sweet gaze.

Your Steven.

You swallowed hard and reluctantly gave him your hand.

He cradled it between his palms.

"Marc is devastated." His fingers gently tightened around yours. "And don't get me started on Steven. I can see that you're not well either."

His voice was so soft. Velvety.

You allowed yourself to be fragile in front of him because how could you lie? You were breaking apart, and the loneliness, not having someone to tell every night how much you missed the love of your life, was killing you.

A pout formed on your lips slowly.

"Please, I need you to listen," he whispered as he leaned down to meet your sad, wounded gaze. "Would you do that for me? I'm begging you."

Your eyes were brimming with tears as you looked at him, for the third time, forced to face this awful situation. Once again, it was your responsibility to be reasonable and tolerant, to swallow your pride, and worse, trample your dignity.

For Marc, again.

"I can't. I won't."

He drew your hands closer and gently kissed them, your fingers, your knuckles, the back of your hand. All while maintaining eye contact.

"Hermosa? You don't have to do anything." You were breaking his heart. "Just listen to him, okay? Not now."

When you hesitated again, he knew he had to play a low blow,

his last card.

"For Steven, could you?"

With a sob, you nodded, and Jake didn't hesitate to encircle you with his arms, pressing you against his chest.

"Shhh, hermosa." You didn't have memories of yourself in this situation. You were usually the one offering comfort, not receiving it. It felt good, for once, to have support and companionship.

It didn't last long before you decided to regain your composure. With a red nose and teary eyes, you straightened up, and Jake let you go without protesting.

"Do they know you came?"

"I told you, they don't know about me, darling." He covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and wiped the tip of your nose. In any other situation, you would have refused and said that was gross, but at that moment, the gesture just made you smile childishly. "I'll call you, okay? So you and he can meet and… talk."

By this point, it seemed like a work arrangement, but you had no choice but to accept it. You nodded in silence and did your best to smile at Jake, who looked at you with compassion, although mentally you were confusing it with pity.

"I have to go; they think… they're sleeping." He elicited a very slight laugh from you. If you were confused, you didn't want to know what it was like for them. You just nodded and opened the door for him to leave.

You said goodbye with an almost awkward hug because while he wondered why his arms clung to you as if they were Steven's, you questioned whether this was just a formality for Jake. Whether he just wanted to go back to his normal life, and that's why he was doing this. Either way, you appreciated the gesture, or whatever it was. At least the company in the afternoon had been nice.

You had a lot to think about, clearly. Nothing was stopping you from ignoring Jake for the rest of your days and never clarifying the darned conversation he wanted you to have with Marc. However, deep down, you did want to lay everything out when it came to him.

Needless to say, you cried all night, confused, hurt, sad. Just like the previous nights, with Sekhmet in your arms, meowing because he missed the smell of Steven.

Just like you did.

i know i know this feels like we got nowhere but i have to get you ready for the end of this, ok?? from now on everything depends on marc so lol good luck for y'all

LOVE YOUUU thanks for following this thing that was supposed to have just one part lol the next one will finally be the end >:)

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piratefishmama · 11 months

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Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 7

Never let it be said that the Harringtons knew how to go small. They didn’t. The quaint little two bed they’d been living in was always going to be temporary if Steve came home. Even if it was now… technically theirs. It was a nice house, perfect for many a small family, which technically they were.

But they were also… filthy stinking rich.

The Harringtons didn’t really know how to go and stay small. Which is why by the following weekend, Eddie’s release from hospital looming upon them and the two bed house feeling more and more cramped by the day, they already had a cash offer in place on a five bedroom estate in Bloomington.

Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a finished basement games room, just under eight acres of land, a pool, and an extra little pool house outfitted as a detached bungalow on the property.

The little house they’d lived in… given it was theirs, well. They had no real plans for it yet. Selling it on was a potential, it was too far from the estate to even contemplate handing the keys to one of the families linked to theirs through their children’s shared trauma, although that’d be a nice gesture on their part, the idea of separating their kids after such an ordeal?

Nope. They’d clung to each other. Kept each other alive. They needed each other.

One of the reasons they even chose the bigger property was because “It’s big enough for you all to be there.” That’s what Lynda had told Steve when he’d asked about it. “It’s not going to happen for another couple of weeks, so the house is still going to be a little cramped with everyone in it, but…”

“We have no intentions of separating you from your family, Steven.” John finished for her, nodding over Steve’s shoulder to the multiple sets of eyes watching them. “Like your mother said, what we have now is too cramped, this new place will have plenty of room for everyone.”

“And… what about when their parents turn up?” Because it was a when, not an if. “Just gonna go back to an empty house?” They were operating on when. Nevermind that they’d never seen their parents get out of Hawkins. Nevermind that the only parent they knew for certain was alive and well outside of Joyce and Hopper, was Karen Wheeler, Ted having put himself between his kids and a Demogorgon during the early days and hadn’t come out as the victor. It didn’t matter that they’d seen horrors beyond anything a child should have to witness.

The kids needed to operate on when.

“Then we’ll help them find homes in the area, but until then, the house will be… a home base of sorts. A comfortable starting point for all of you so you’re not too far away from each other, it’ll never be an empty house, Steven. I know it might look like we’re just spending money for the sake of it but… it’s not like that anymore.” They weren’t doing that anymore. They’d found a better way than being away from home all the time. John worked from a home office and delegated important tasks and jobs to others to free up his time, and Lynda decided she wanted to be at home.

They were just glad Steve was allowing them to just decide to be there for him all of a sudden. He didn’t have to.

“…Forgive me if I still doubt that.” No amount of tearful apologies could erase all that history “But thanks, for… for thinking of us. It’s true, we kinda stuck together like glue after Mr Wheeler…” he trailed off. After they’d gotten Karen and Holly out of that house while Ted held back that shaking door, huge, clawed fingers tearing through wood. He still remembered Holly’s screams, still remembered Karen crying, begging them to go back as Nancy and Mike dragged her out, Holly running straight to Steve. “We were never far apart from each other.” It’d be weird without them, unsettling when the dust finally settled. When parents returned to claim their kids.

“And you wont be.” John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, firm, squeezing it in comforting reassurance. “You won’t be.”

“Aaaand this is your room.” Had it not been for the fact that Eddie had been in a coma for the last god only knows, where he could, with rules, conjure ridiculous shit, he’d have probably assumed he was still out.

He had a room. In what was essentially. A mansion. But he’d never seen it before, so he wasn’t still in his funky little void because he wouldn’t have been able to conjure it.

Only what he’d seen, only places he’d been.

He had his own room. Bigger than his old one at the trailer because of course it was. Currently empty of personal belongings, void of personality, but Steve was holding boxes. Boxes with stuff in them, rolled up tubes of paper, stuff wrapped in newspapers, and he was setting those boxes down one by one inside the room. “…What’s in those?”

“Shit we saved from the trailer, it’s not much but… it’s something.” Eddie silently turned to just. Stare at him. Brows furrowed, confusion so evident Steve had to ask “what?”

“…How long has it been since I died, Steve?” He had to ask again, just to be sure of something, even if it was a weird question to ask.

“Bout two years, why?”

“… And in that time, Hawkins basically ate shit, right?”

“Yup, where’s this going?”

“How’d you save my stuff for that long? Why did you save my stuff for that long? Shit couldn’t have been easy to keep safe, right? So… why?” Steve fell silent, his jaw shifting, lips pursing, visibly going through all the possible reasons he could have saved that stuff, all the reasons why he would have saved that stuff, all the potential excuses, the boy would be terrible at poker.

He settled on shrugging his shoulders.

“Because I did. Because I could. Like I said, it’s not much.” It was so much. Not quantity wise, no… Steve was right there wasn’t much in those boxes, probably why Steve could carry multiple at a time but it meant so much. Steve obviously wasn’t going to go into the why’s or the how’s with him though. He was going to brush them away, without answers. “We saved some mugs, there’s some posters in here, uhh, I got a bunch of your tapes and your deck, I wish I could say I saved your guitars but… I’m sorry man, it was just too risky carting around something that could make noise. I think… they might still be there but—”

“It’s fine, Steve… this—this is way more than I could have asked for.” He could always get a new guitar, eventually. It’d mean saving up somehow, or using some of the hush money that the government had promised him for signing, he was planning on using that to find Wayne though.

It’d been over a week, the hospital had slowly been cleared of survivors, the Sinclair’s were the only parents who’d made it thus far, having been staying with Sue’s sister a few towns over doing the exact same thing as the Harringtons. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for news on their kids, any news. Anything.

They’d taken the Harrington’s offer to stay in the converted pool house with Karen until they could get housing arranged, the kids staying in the main house with everyone else.

“Yeah well… we’ll sort you out a new one eventually. Can’t leave the bard without his instrument, right?” Eddie’s wide eyes were on him again, a beaming smile spreading across his lips, dimpling his cheeks, stretching the scar tissue on his jaw, and Steve had to look away, he had to, because otherwise he just might fall again, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t make that mistake twice.

“Be still my beating heart, was that a D&D reference, Harrington?” He could feel the warmth seeping into his cheeks at the attention, as Eddie leaned in a little closer, got into his space, it’d been so long since someone had paid him any attention. Even if it meant nothing to Eddie, even if he was just being silly, be still his own beating heart.

“Maybe. Now get to unpacking your shit.” He put the last of the boxes down on the bed, purposefully turning away from Eddie to hide his reddening face, to hide what he knew Eddie had never wanted to see. “We’ll be heading out into town in an hour to find us all some new clothes, maybe some new stuff for the rooms too. Hop to it.”

“You’re not gonna help lil ol me unpack? I just got out of hospital!” Eddie called after him as Steve made to leave the room.

“With a clean bill of health! You can manage a few boxes!” And he was gone. Running away. Like a coward.

#PirateWrites #ForgivenNotForgottenFiclet #Steddie #Post!S5 #Mentions of Kas Eddie #Hurt/Comfort #Miscommunication

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Truth or dare

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Side pairings: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Warnings: angst, Steve being an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage, strong female leads, crack, redemption

A/N: I wrote a hopeful ending. Not a fluffy one.

“Steve, why don’t you wear the blue suit? You know the one I bought some weeks ago. It’ll match the dress I’m going to wear tonight,” you look your husband up and down, smirking as he looks stunning in the suit he chose to wear.

“We won’t match,” Steve is grumpy tonight. He’s usually gentler and softer around you. “No ladies tonight. This meeting is about business and forming an even stronger bond. Things you don’t know shit about.”

“But-“ you frown deeply. “Pepper said she’ll be there. Natasha and Sarah will come. Darcy will bring her better half too.”

He sighs so deeply you fear he’ll stop breathing. “Fine. It’s a meeting for wives,” he waves you off with one flick of his wrists.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?” you are confused as hell. “The ring on my finger means I’m your wife. I think I didn't get the memo we got divorced.”

“Our marriage was an arrangement to help your father out,” he bites back. His tone is filled with venom, and you flinch when he steps toward you. “Do you know why I agreed on this marriage?”

“My father was in trouble and had the money to get him out of said trouble. You wanted me in return,” you meekly reply. It’s the first time you don’t feel comfortable around your husband.

“No. I wanted to stop looking for someone I can fuck. I married you to have a warm place to put my dick. So, you can stop trying so hard to be a good wife. You are all I want. A warm body for me to use.”

You visibly flinch at the blow he just threw at you. That hurt. His words cut so deep you are not sure your heart is still beating.

Arranged or not. Your marriage was special to you. You cherished the bond you believed you have with your husband. Now he claims to not even love you.

It takes you a moment to push the tears away and keep the sob down your throat. You clear your throat and put on your best-faked smile.

“Well, then I can stop trying, Steven,” your voice is even, but inside you are dying. “You should’ve told me so much sooner. I wasted so much time on this marriage. What a shame.”

Steve watches you straighten the dress you are wearing. A dream of blue and silk. His favorite color.

You sigh deeply as you look down at your body. “This dress was fucking expensive, and I can’t return it. Maybe I can sell it on eBay or shit,” you shrug. “Some other women will kill for a second-hand designer dress like this.”

He swallows thickly as you kick off your heels and make your way toward the bathroom. “Have fun with your friends and allies. I hope Pepper is not too disappointed I’m not going to be around. We had plans. You know.”

You enter the bathroom and silently close the door. As you sink to the ground and cradle your face in the palms of your hands, Steve leaves the room.

He slams the door shut, and curses.

“How could I be so wrong? He only ever wanted to use me…”

“Hey, where’s your lovely wife?” Sam cocks his head to search the room for you. “Steve? Where is Y/N?”

“At home, where she can’t disturb business. She knows her place now,” your husband bites back. He scrunches up his nose and shrugs as Pepper and the other women gasp audibly.

“Punk don’t tell me that you took Rumlow’s comment to heart,” Bucky sizes his friend up. He frowns as Steve tells his best friend what happened tonight. “He said that you got soft to fuck with you. He was all over Y/N that night. She turned him down, you idiot!”

“Steve, no!” Sam runs one hand down his face, groaning loudly. “You got us in big trouble! My sister will murder you and me…maybe even all of us!”

Sam points at Sarah who already makes her way toward the other women in the room. Pepper’s head snaps toward Tony, and Natasha, well she opens her clutch to get a knife out.

“Oh-fuck! I won’t ever get laid ever again. Natasha will castrate all of us and make it look like an accident if she gets to know what you did,” Bucky almost whines when his wife and partner in crime stalks toward him.

Tony panics as his wife gets the gun she hides in her clutch out. “We are fucked guys,” he hiccups. “It seems like someone messed with Y/N!”

“It was him!” all men point at Steve. They take a step back and pray their wives won’t punish them for the shit Steve pulled. “We didn’t know.”

Clint starts sweating, he swallows audibly as his wife is ready to rip him a new one. “I swear, we didn’t have anything to do with this. Rumlow said that Steve got weaker and softer. He blamed Y/N for it.”

“Brock Rumlow is not one of us,” Natasha snaps at Clint. “What he says or does is of no interest to us. But—” she points her knife at Steve, “this bastard dared to hurt Y/N. So…we will hurt him.”

“Agreed,” Pepper smirks darkly. “Ladies…get him…”

“Do you remember when you married Y/N?” Natasha circles Steve like a lion waiting to pounce on their prey. “Didn’t she look beautiful in her wedding gown? All for you, you moron.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “You have to understand, a man my stand can’t let a woman rule his life. I need to make sure no one damages my reputation. If not, people will think I'm easy prey. Just like my family and friends.”

“You’re not an easy target because your friends protect you,” Pepper snaps at Steve. “Because all of us are a family we protect each other. We welcomed Y/N into this family, and you hurt our sister.”

“Damn right,” Sarah slaps the back of Sam’s head. “Don’t you have anything to say to your friend, Sammy?”

“Steve…uh…maybe you should go home and fix things with Y/N?” Sam offers. “I bet she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly. “You’re not helpful at all, Wilson.”

“You may think you and your allies rule this world,” Natasha clicks her tongue. “You are dead wrong.” She sneers as Bucky, Steve, and Tony glare at her.

“We, the women behind all of you make sure no war breaks out. Do you know how often an afternoon tea with one of our enemies’ wives saved your ungrateful asses?”

Natasha slaps the back of Bucky’s head. “Because in the end, you are all just angry children trying to get a new toy. Rumlow’s fiancé will set him straight too. We called her, his mother, and every female family member we could reach.”

“Oh-uh…he’s fucked too,” Bucky chuckles. “At least he will go down with all of us.”

I’m going to experience a dry spell,” Tony sighs deeply. “Again…Thanks, Rogers. Thank you so very much for fucking with your wife.”

“You!” Sarah points at Steve. “You will go home and apologize to Y/N. If she sheds only one more tear because of you, you’re going to lose more than your reputation.”

“BALLS!” Pepper exclaims. “We will cut them off.”

“Along with your dick,” Natasha grunts. “Now, off and you better make things up to her.”

“Darling?” Steve silently tiptoes inside the mansion. He has a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Baby doll? Uh-I’m back home. Doll? Y/N?”

He sighs as you don’t run toward him. Usually, you would drop everything and run into his arms to pepper kisses all over his face. Or drop to your knees to get your hands on his dick. Depends on your mood.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers,” Peter, the youngest member of Steve’s organization stutters. “Mrs. Rogers retreated to one of the guest rooms.”

“What?”

“She said that you could have the bedroom and that you can visit her when you feel the need…” Peter’s face turns crimson as he must tell his boss about all the things you told him. “Marriage duties…uh…Sir…please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Rumlow,” Steve grunts. He pushes the roses into Peter’s hands. “Put them in a vase and bring them to my wife. Tell her to come back to the bedroom.”

“Sir. I think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Steve yells now. “She will come back, or I’ll make her come back. It’s up to her.”

“Sir…I think you should…”

“One more word and you can look for a new job.”

Steve storms off. He’s fuming. There he was, believing you lie awake, waiting for him to come home and make things up to you. But no. You moved out of your shared room to be a brat…

“Mrs. Rogers, good morning,” one of the maids' chirps. “Do you want to make breakfast for Mr. Rogers again?” She smiles softly.

In silence, you pass your husband sitting at the kitchen counter without even looking at him.

“No. Someone thinks that I should stop trying to be a good wife. I’ll go for an apple. You can ask Mr. Rogers if he wants breakfast this morning.”

You open the fridge to get a bottle of water. Steve flinches as you slam the door shut. He watches you grab an apple and leave the kitchen before he can even say a single word.

“Sir, do you want breakfast?” the maid meekly asks. She doesn’t know what happened between you and your husband. But she knows it’s better to duck your head and stay out of Steve Rogers’ business.

“No. I’m already fed up,” he grunts and gets up from the stool, knocking it over. “Take the day off. All of you. I need some time with my wife…”

Steve enters the living room, huffing as you pump up the volume. Lily Ellen yells ‘Fuck you’ at him, and he makes a face.

“We need to talk.”

You ignore his presence, even shy away when he sits next to you on the sofa.

“Doll, look at me.”

You don’t look at him. It hurts too damn much to look at the man you believed is an angel when in reality he’s a cruel demon.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he groans as you shut off the TV and get up from the sofa. You don’t speak, or at least look at him.

He’s left behind with fond memories of the last time you watched a movie together. You were seated on his lap and played with his hair.

Steve tried to convince you to watch the movie but you crawled off his lap to open his fly. You got his dick out to play with little Steve while he struggled to focus on the movie.

He closes his eyes, basking in the memory of your pouty lips when you insisted on sucking his dick. Steve gave in. As so often. You only had to bat an eyelash and he caved in.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers," Peter pokes his head inside. He feels his cheeks heat up as Steve cups his crotch. “Do you want me to drive Mrs. Rogers?”

“Drive…what?” Steve realizes what he was doing and drops his hand from his crotch as he stares at Peter. “What are you talking about?”

“She said something about lawyers."

Steve hurriedly steps inside the guest room, watching you undress. “What are you doing? Doll, I tried to talk to you and now you are…”

“What the fuck? Can a woman not change clothes without you creeping on me?” you snap at Steve. “Get out!”

“You love it when I watch you undress.”

“I made you believe I do,” you chuckle darkly. “I’m damn skilled at faking things. Aren't I?" you ask as you glance at Steve. “All these times I pretended you made me cum or turned me on? I should get a fucking Oscar.”

“Doll, don’t go there,” he warns.

“I had to play with my toys before you came home to get wet for you. I never wanted to marry you. And I never had feelings for you.”

Steve knows you are lying. The way you tend to his wounds after a fight, gentle yet determined tells a different story. You always worried about him.

After a particularly hard day, or rather after you tended to a deep gash on his lower back you wouldn’t let him out of sight for a week. You clung to him like you were glued to his hips.

“Why not? All you want from me is a dripping hole, right?” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. “I’m nothing to you.”

He steps closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You know that I only tried to protect my reputation.”

“I will go on a short vacation with Pepper, Sarah, Darcy, Natasha, and Okoye. If you need to get off in the meantime, use your hand, Steven. I think you’ll remember how to jerk off by the end of my vacation.”

“Vacation…what?”

He gasps when you shove his hand off your shoulder. “If you would excuse me now, I need to pack a few things for my little getaway…”

Steve watches you storm out of the guest room. He huffs and curses his damn pride. If only he didn’t listen to Brock Rumlow.

“I didn’t have sex for three weeks thanks to you, Steve!” Bucky complains loudly. “Natasha and I do it daily. Now. Nothing. Not even a handjob!”

Tony nods in agreement. “Same.”

“Don’t ask me,” Clint grumbles. “I will never see a boob in my life.”

“Our wives are officially on strike,” Tony buries his face in his hands. “Pepper said they won’t do shit for us, or with us if you don’t make things up to Y/N.”

“Do something, punk! I want to have sex in this decade again!” Bucky threatens. “If not, I’ll make your life living hell!”

“How? She refuses to talk to me, Buck! I tried to apologize, and she decided to go on vacation with your wife and the others. I tried,” Steve replies.

“Try harder then, punk.”

Steve gives his friend a stern look before deciding it’s time to get his wife back. He won’t back down now. “I’ll get my girl back. No matter what!”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Why are you here, in my room covered in blood?” you put your hands on your hips as you drink your husband’s appearance in. “Why are you hurt?”

His tie hangs losely around his neck. Someone ripped his shirt open. Steve’s hair is a mess, and his face had to endure a few punches at least.

“I got into a fight with security at the spa,” he huffs. “They are damn tough for security guards at a spa! I told them I want to see my wife.”

“Well, it’s their job to keep creeps out of here,” you sass. “I see now they did a poor job of keeping you out.”

“I’m not some creep, Y/N.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives you a puppy dog look. “I came here to apologize again. You know I didn’t mean a thing I said that night.”

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you are damn serious to me that night,” you quip and turn your back on Steve. “Maybe you should file for divorce. A hooker is cheaper than a wife.”

“I was wrong,” he moves toward you. Steve sighs as you shy away again. “One thing wasn’t a lie.”

You sniff, ready for another blow.

“You are all I need," he says as he wraps his arms around your waistline. “I would’ve helped your father a thousand times to get you, doll. You know that. Deep inside your fractured heart, you know that I love you.”

“I’m not sure about it.”

“How about I reassure you that I love you, Y/N?” he offers. “I’ll take a whole month off and we will fly to Paris just like you always wanted.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” you won’t give in so easily. Steve hurt you deeply. Even worse. He made you feel unwanted, unloved, and worthless. “For now, all I can offer is to fix the mess you call your face.”

He grins. “That’s a start…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mobster!steve rogers x fem!reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia au

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girlactionfigure · 4 months

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THURSDAY HERO: Benjamin Levin

Killing Nazis at age 14

Benjamin Levin was a young resistance fighter who, as one of the notorious “Avengers,” spent World War II hiding in a Lithuanian forest, emerging only to kill Nazis or bomb their supply chains.

Benjamin was born in Vilna in 1927. His father Chaim was a successful businessman and the family lived a comfortable life. In 1941, however, Chaim was tipped off that Nazi Germany was about to invade Lithuania. As Jews, that meant the Levins’ days were numbered. Chaim quickly sold his business at a loss, used the proceeds to buy weapons, and went into hiding with his family.

At the time, Benjamin was a 14 year old juvenile delinquent who’d started smoking at age 8 and was member of a street gang. After the German invasion, he chose not to stay with his parents in their hiding place, instead joining the fierce resistance group known as the “Avengers” led by Abba Kovner. Benjamin was an immediate asset to the group due to his unique combination of exceptional bravery and diminutive size. His baby face and unassuming appearance enabled him to avoid attracting attention, even in enemy territory.

Hidden in a Lithuanian forest, the teenager and his fellow Avengers killed Nazis, bombed their transportation lines, and smuggled life-saving food and medicine into the Jewish ghettoes. It was later estimated that the brave band of guerrilla fighters had killed 212 Nazis. Their policy was “take no prisoners.” In 1944, the Jewish fighters helped the Russian army liberate Vilna, after which they marched through town looking for Nazi collaborators to execute.

Benjamin’s parents survived the war in hiding, but when they returned to Vilna to reclaim their home, their former neighbors murdered them on the spot. With nothing to keep them in Europe, Benjamin and his sister moved to pre-state Israel, where he joined the Jewish militant group Irgun, fighting the British occupation of Palestine. Benjamin was in charge of helping Jewish survivors in Europe relocate to Israel. Benjamin’s street smarts and people skills served him well as he traveled through Turkey and Syria with European Holocaust survivors.

The Soviet army did not appreciate Benjamin’s work rescuing Jews from behind the Iron Curtain, and in 1947 he was arrested and sent to a Siberian gulag. After a year, Benjamin was released from the gulag and hitchhiked his way to Southern Europe, where he reconnected with the Irgun in Italy. The organization arranged for him to enroll in college and earn a degree in mechanical engineering. He was assigned to the engine room of a ship that sailed around the world, collecting money, weapons and volunteers to fight for the Jewish state.

The ship was called Altalena, and headed to Israel with hundreds of Holocaust survivors on board, as well as Jewish volunteers from around the world, and a cache of heavy ammunition secretly donated by France. When the Altalena reached Tel Aviv and tried to dock, the ship came under fire by the Haganah, a rival military group. Under machine-gun fire, young Benjamin leapt off the ship and swam to shore, then snuck into the country unnoticed. He had been through so much in the previous several years, had lived so many lives and assumed so many identities, that he actually forgot his own birthday. Later, he decided to make Passover – the festival of freedom – his official birthday.

Benjamin met his wife Sara, a Hungarian immigrant, in Israel, and ironically she was serving with the Haganah when they fired on the Altalena. Together they had two children, and moved to New York in 1967, where Benjamin worked as a mechanic and owned a gas station. In the 1990’s, Benjamin was interviewed extensively by Steven Spielberg as part of the Shoah Foundation oral history project.

For decades, Benjamin was an in-demand public speaker at New York high schools, where he spoke about the Holocaust and his remarkable life. Toward the end of his life, Benjamin was unable to speak, but he insisted on continuing his school appearances, with his son Chaim – named for Benjamin’s father – doing the speaking for him. Chaim remembered how much Benjamin loved interacting with students, and described his father as having “an enormous amount of energy and joy and love.”

Benjamin Levin died on April 13, 2020 at age 93. The last survivor of the Avengers, Benjamin died during Passover – his adopted birthday.

For heroically fighting Nazis and saving European Jews, and for educating generations of New York schoolchildren about the Holocaust, we honor Benjamin Levin as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero

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missingexaltation · 2 years

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How Eddie wins over Mr Harrington (by barely trying)

(in ten simple-ish steps)

Basically, how I imagine Steve's dad to be. I kind of think they have more in common than they don't, and maybe his son being queer is the *kick* that he needs to be a better human being (just like Nancy was for Steve).

Richard Harrington unexpectedly comes home from a business trip to find his son in flagrante delicto on his couch with an immediately antagonistic young man, (Edward, he later discovers), he waits in the kitchen, seething with disappointment and rage. Steven takes his things and leaves without a word, leaving the Munson boy to very purposefully throw Steven's house key at Richard's feet, keeping eye contact as he does so. The disrespect is blinding, and that night Richard drowns his anger in whiskey.

Days later his son comes home to collect his remaining belongings, supported by the Munson boy and his uncle. Wayne Munson is a enigma; on the one hand, clearly a soft liberal, but also a no-nonsense, sensible veteran with family values. Edward doesn't acknowledge Richard at all, too focused on guarding Steven from him. He watches his son cry like a child in the backseat, half listens as Wayne encourages him to keep in contact, and inwardly flinches when he sees Edward glare at him through the car window. He's not sure why his chest aches. Steven chose this path, he tells himself. Steven chose this.

Richard returns again to Hawkins, some weeks later, detouring past the store his son works in. He finds himself parked opposite, watching as Steven dances childishly with a female colleague through the shop windows. He's smiling and laughing and Richard's chest aches again. The passenger door opens and that boy gets in without permission. 'Stevie doesn't need you', he says, bold as brass in leather and covered in tattoos and chains, 'but he'll forgive you if you ask'. It hurts, and the only way Richard can breathe again is to invite them both to dinner later in the week. The subtle relief on Edward's face is immediate, and Richard hates himself a little less, though he's not sure why. He spends the drive home wondering at what point his son's life became unknowable.

Dinner starts awkwardly. Steven barely speaks, but Edward refuses to be quiet. He's a vocal young man, argumentative and strangely principled. They have polar opposite opinions on politics, and while Edward's not shy about his opinions, Richard is more than his equal on the topic. It's the sort of conversation Richard enjoys, trading viewpoints and internalising their differences. The evening ends on a warmer note as both Steven and Edward shake his hand as they leave. Formal. It's only a few steps to the car, but he notes that the boys hold hands nonetheless, as his wife tightly holds his. Middle ground, he thinks. They're not condoning the relationship of course, but accepting it for now. There's time for Steven to come to his senses.

Richard next meets Edward when he has to visit Thatcher's. His driver side tyre has a slow puncture, and although Edward's working on another customer's car he swaps with a colleague so he can see what the issue is. A simple 'he's Stevie's dad' gets him a family discount, and Edward changes the tyre himself when it's deemed too damaged to repair. As he works, Richard learns through his unending monologue that this job is temporary, as Edward's internship at the tattoo parlour doesn't pay, and won't for at least another year, that he needs the money now, as he and Steven are saving for their own place. Richard's immediate instinct is to give them the money himself, but knows it wouldn't be accepted. He takes comfort that Steven's in good hands at least. The Munsons seem to be a practical, friendly people.

Weeks later, when he's back in Hawkins again, he bumps into Edwards uncle, who's insistent on getting coffee and clearing the air. Richard guiltily confesses he's not comfortable with the idea of his son being one of them, that he's not sure he ever will be. Wayne simply points out that at least he's trying, and to keep trying. Apparently Edward's father didn't even do that much. Richard later relays the encounter to his wife, of how overtly proud Wayne is of Edward (my Eddie, he'd said). Richard's not felt proud of Steven for a few years now, only infuriated that he's intent on throwing his life away, but Wayne had plenty of happy stories of him too. As parents, they feel equally guilty and spend the evening drinking and reminiscing on Steven's childhood. It feels like they're reminding themselves of their son more with every day that passes.

He's still in town on the following Tuesday evening, and decides to take Wayne up on his offer and visit the bar that he recommended. He discovers that Edward's a talented musician. Even if it's far too aggressive and loud for Richard's own tastes, there's dedication, commitment and passion in each of the boys on the stage. He remembers his own music idols, how passionately they preached against the war in Vietnam, and he wonders when exactly it was that he stopped noticing the injustices of the world, when it was that his business suits became a comfort instead. He's quickly cornered by Wayne, Jim Hopper and David Jones ('my son's on the drums', he says, proudly). But they're all proud of their boys, he adds, and equally appalled by their music tastes. He goes on to say that the parents take it in turns to keep an eye on the boys each week, after what happened earlier in the year. Richard's in utter shock after hearing that there was a murderer on the loose not long ago, and plans to stay in town more after hearing that both boys were involved. He's clearly out of place and out of touch, but they're kind enough to not mention it. He buys the drinks for the remainder of the night, as penance. He has nothing else to offer, but hopes that's enough to start. His son could have died.

As is habit now, when he's in town, Richard drives past the video store to glimpse his son through the window. Further down the street he catches Edward balancing takeaway coffees whilst trying to open the door to the tattoo parlour. It takes moments to pull over and offer his assistance, and it hurts when Edward is surprised by the gesture. Richard's invited into the shop, and although Edward's busy, 'of course he has time for his father in law'. The phrase knocks him emotionally off balance, but Edward doesn't notice, simply updating him on their house hunt, and inviting them to the house warming, pending Stevie's approval. He shakes Edward's hand when he leaves, and when he turns back to his car, notices Steven quietly watching him from the window of his store. He waves, and after a moment his son waves back. He's alive, and there's hope, at least.

He and Kathleen invite the boys and Wayne over for dinner. He sees Steven smiling in the car as they arrive, and although it's faded by the time Richard opens the door, it returns tenfold when he shakes Edward's hand and greets him with 'hello son'. Richard's still very much uncomfortable (especially with how 'hands on' Edward seems to be) and if he finds himself in the kitchen knocking back a few more drinks than usual then it's his own business. It's worth it at the end of the night, when Steven invites them to their housewarming, and actually seems to want them there. He feels Wayne's approval through their goodbye handshake, and it makes him feel as though he's on the right path.

Jim Hopper lets them in through the front door. It's a small house, clean and characterless, and full of people Richard doesn't know. In the yard, Steven's at the grill with some other boys his age, and Edward is in the middle of the lawn, spinning a curly-haired teenager around like he weighs nothing. They look happy. Settled. Edward spots them first, waves them over and starts introducing them to the other adults. Steven brings them drinks, is beaming behind his sunglasses. (He can't remember the last time Steven smiled at him.) Hours later, when they leave, Edward shakes his hand and thanks them for coming (for trying, but that's unspoken), and Steven hugs him for the first time in so, so long, burying his head in Richard's shoulder like he used to as a child. Kathleen cries on the drive home, and he's not much better, but they're happy tears. He's a slow learner, Kathy too, but they're learning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #i dunno...i just like the idea that both Steve and his dad are passively bigoted until their beliefs are challenged...then they change #season 1!Steve was an ass...if he hadn't had his lightbulb moment he could have ended up just like his parents IMO #Eddie is the catalyst...the opposite of what Mr Harrington stands for & challenges every one of Mr Harrington's principles just by existing #might actually write this one out long style as i have so many thoughts #wayne munson #Wayne Munson carefully 'gentle parenting' the Harringtons is also kinda hilarious ngl #tw: mild homophobia #i also don't know why Richard fits...maybe because it's usually shortened to 'Dick' and he really does seem like one in canon

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 8 months

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Neighbourly

Summary: Whilst hiding from your ex in a new city you meet your rather strange neighbour. Now with a strange artifact bound to you, you must rely on his help as well as his flat mates?

Warnings: unrealistic London flat pricing, past abusive relationship hinted at, slow burns, spiders

Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, eventual Jake Lockely too

Part one

A move to London was perhaps a rather extreme move to get away from an ex but all things considered not the worst decision you'd made recently. You'd found a lovely open plan flat, a job at a local coffee shop and even adopted a cat for company.

You were happy to settle into a quiet chapter of your life. Well quiet apart from you neighbour. It was just you two on this floor at the moment and he wasn't loud. The oddity came from the few times you'd catch him in the halls.

Sometimes he'd practically shove past, almost knocking shoulders but seemingly unaware of your presence. Other times he'd be wearing a similar scowl but side step you. Most often though he'd awkwardly smile, wave or even squeak out a hello while avoiding your eyes.

You much proffered the latter. He was cute, really cute but his odd temperament was strange. It seemed to mainly happen at night though so you'd brace yourself if you saw him past midnight. Probably just tiered or something.

Work had been slow today, not a lot of tourists making their way down to the cafe. So when the little bell rang it startled you. A familiar head of curls entered out of the afternoon rain. It'd been a few weeks since you'd run into Steven in the lift. Finally getting him to squeeze out more than one word to you.

You'd introduced yourself properly offering him your hand. He'd taken it babbling out his own name and a few apologizes. Including one for shaking your hand too long. You'd just laughed a little before eyeing his stack of books. Turned out he was a big ancient Egypt buff and ranted the rest of the way to your door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to talk your ear off...." He mumbled.

"Ears still attached." You grinned back at him, the topic was rather nostalgic for you. He'd returned the smile before awkwardly stumbling off to his own door and bashing off the door frame.

The firm expression he came with today concerned you slightly and you wondered which attitude you'd have. He didn't glance at you just yet, his eyes were fixed on the metallic coffee machine and set in a bemused frown. You chose to focus on the cleaning you'd been doing while he figured out whatever had him so focused on the espresso machine.

"Hey." He finally spoke. You rose your head, smiling politely at your neighbour.

"Afternoon what can I get you Steven?" You asked brightly. His eyes shifted up and stayed on the board, awkwardly ringing his hands as he shifted his weight.

"Just a black coffee to go please, Y/n." He mumbled. You nodded trying not to make him anymore nervous. You were no stranger to anxiety, perhaps you'd been overly friendly.

"I was wondering..." He started behind you. You glanced back to him from the cup you'd prepared. "I'll be gone a week tomorrow, my friend can't look after my fish. Would you be able to come in and feed him?" He asked suddenly meeting your eyes. His tone was smoother, posture straighter, smile charming, though there was something off about his voice. Despite that you felt a little heat rise to your cheeks as his deep brown eyes stared so firmly back at you. God he was stunning.

"Sure!" You smiled as you passed the coffee over the counter. Trying your best not to sound too excited. "You'll have to tell me what to do though."

Steven's fingers brushed yours as he took the cup and you pulled back your hand quickly. You cleared your throat and told him his total, avoiding his quirked brow. He paid before his eyes settled back on you with another bright smile.

"I'm home tonight just come round and I'll show you." Steven offered. You met his eyes again and returned his smile.

By the time you made it home you'd began to regret agreeing to come over. You were a mix of nerves, half excited at the opportunity to get to know Steven better, half way to a panic attack. Being alone with a guy again set your adrenaline spiking. Still you'd feel guilty not going now.

You headed from your door to his and paused outside for a moment as you collected yourself. Inside you could hear Steven talking, arguing maybe? His voice was raised but you still couldn't make out the words. There was no other voice though so you just waited a moment until it was quiet again before knocking. You could hear a slight yelp before chains jangled on the other side of the door. The door cracked open, wide dark eyes staring through the gap.

"Hi." You waved. Steven pulled the door open suddenly with a slight squeak. You stood in the door frame with him a moment while he stared at to his left before his wide eyes returned to you.

"Oh! Y/n poppin' round, yes yes, for Gus... yeah..." Steven stammered as he retreated back into his flat. Confused you followed considering leaving the door open. Deciding it'd be rude you closed it behind you.

"Did you forget?" You asked as you followed his shuffling form into his kitchen area. There you saw Gus you presumed, a bright orange goldfish in a massive tank. It was well filtered, lots of space and plants. Honestly it might be overkill for one fish but it was sweet how much he cared for the little guy. You couldn't judge considering how much you'd already been spoiling your cat.

"Oh yeah um.. sorry." Steven said before gesturing to the tank. "Ah there's the man himself, have a gander around, I'll uh... get the kettle on." He turned back to his cabinets leaving you at the tank.

You took the opportunity to glance around the room. Open plan, a little gloomy and cluttered. Books and paper scattered almost every surface. Various ancient Egyptian trinkets filling in any left over space which made you stifle a giggle. He really was quiet obsessed.

You stepped around a pile of clothes next to a suitcase as you headed further into the space. Your foot slipped suddenly and you waved your arms out to re-balance yourself. Your cursed as you wobbled glancing down at a broken circle of sand. Curious you toed it before taking in the scene ahead.

Inside a circle of sand was Stevens bed. A mess of tangled sheets atop of roomy king sized with an obvious dent on one side. You quirked an eyebrow at the nearest post. Attached to it was an ankle restraint. You lifted the cuff inspecting the well used buckle.

"Oh uh..." Steven mumbled from behind. You turned to him with an amused expression still holding the cuff.

"Kinky." You hummed before you could stop yourself.

"It's not... I.... its for sleepwalking." Steven rambled trying to usher you away frantically. You caved, trying to save him from anymore embarrassment and followed him back through to his kitchen.

"Must be some sleepwalking to need all that." You gestured back. Steven was beet red now, ringing his hands as he looked everywhere but yourself.

"You get yourself into trouble or something?" You asked taking the tea he'd made into your hands.

"Yeah, yeah something like that." Steven turned to his fish tank.

"Don't fret it I understand." You hummed taking a mug of tea from the counter.

"You do?" He said, those big eyes again scanning your features.

"Yeah, get sleep paralysis sometimes but hey whatever works. So Gus?" You asked trying to take it to easier topics, for both of you.

"Bloody hell Marc..." He gritted as his face scrunched at his fish before he turned back to you. "Oh uh I was..." He stuttered before picking up his phone. "Marc my uh brother...yeah. He was supposed to sort this." He laughed awkwardly as he typed something back.

"No worries, happy to help a neighbour in need." You smiled. So that was who he was arguing with before.

You ended up staying for an hour more after that, tea forgotten and grown cold. Steven was calmer and easier to talk to as time ticked by. He showed you how to feed Gus, then after you nudged he talked about some of his Egyptian stuff. You'd had to excuse yourself when the yawning started but you were hopeful you may get to talk more when he was home.

The week was passing quickly with fish sitting duties and work. It was your last day letting yourself into Steven's flat after work. You'd made a b-line for Guy again, intent on not overstepping. You cooed at the little guy before a rattling distracted you.

The door was closed but you'd not bothered locking it nor setting the chain. If Steven had returned your sure it would have been a key you heard. Instead it was a slight scratching at the keyhole that set your hair on end. You'd regretted not listening to your instincts before and heeded the warning.

The door creaked open right as you'd stepped over the sand ring at the bed. As quietly as you could you slipped under the edge and shuffled until you were completely hidden under the frame. It was a tight squeeze, you hadn't done this since you were a kid but you managed.

Heavy footsteps sounded across the floorboards. Fancy dress shoes came into view and you held your breath. They stepped round the bed before moving away. You followed the movement with your eyes until they paused ahead of you. Your eyes refocused on the rather large house spider less than a foot ahead of you.

It took everything in you not to move, not to scream as the beast stepped towards you. Skittering legs continued their movement as you scrunched your eyes shut. You focused as hard as you could on the sound of the intruder. Foot steps moving into the lounge area of the flat before a light tickle against your nose brought you back. The feather light hairs brushing against you.

You tucked your face to the side swiftly suppressing a shudder. Peaking out just a touch your saw the intruders frame in the other room pause. It was hard to make out past the bookshelf that divided the room but you could see their legs. They moved again back to the kitchen, low light coming in from the blinds glinting off the gun in their hand.

You didn't dare move again but your chest was burning for air. As quietly as you could you took a deep breath in. The intruder didn't seem to hear you though picking up a few things here and there. Their ringing phone startled you and you bumped your head against the bed frame. Still the sound didn't alert them and they headed out Stevens door.

You didn't move for a long time, light dipping from the window and filling the room in darkness before you crawled out. Your legs screamed and cramped from your position but you were sure they were gone.

In a sudden panic you felt your chest constrict, phone fumbled into your hands as you dialed the number Steven had given you. Between rings you rushed to the door, tripping over before you'd even passed the bed. You landed hard on your elbows and knees phone lost as it clattered from your hands.

Groaning you flopped back onto your rear and took a few gulping breathes. Though a horrible shock it seemed to have dispersed the oncoming panic attack. Turning you spied what caused you to fall behind you.

It was an ornate, small, golden box with intricate carvings and bright stones embedded in the metal. It matched the Egypt theme of Steven's home though perhaps a little more ostentatious. Maybe that's why it'd been hidden under the bed.

You picked the box up with you before retrieving your fallen phone. The call hadn't gone through and you sighed, hanging up. The box was oddly heavy for its size but it felt wrong to leave it after someone had just tried to break in. You texted Steven as you head back to your own flat, re-locking his door. He'd be home by tomorrow night, until then you'd keep his odd box safe at least.

It was sometime after you'd tried to go to bed that you found yourself in your kitchen. The night dragged on and despite your best efforts sleep evaded you. You had to give yourself some grace, you'd just witnessed a home invasion. Maybe you should have called the police?

It felt silly to do so now. The man was long gone and he hadn't even taken anything, unlike yourself. The box sat bright on your counter. Shining in the moonlight coming in from the window. It was odd how much it seemed to glow, catching the slightest light and bouncing it a hundred times back.

An impatient meow brought your attention back. The speckled and stripped cat you'd taken in yowling for more head rubs. You relented scratching under her chin as she closed her big emerald eyes. As fickle as ever she shifted out from your pets and rubbed herself under your chin. Her tail tickled against your throat and you laughed lightly in the silence.

Her steps took her closer to the box and before you could stop it she'd nudged it from the counter. You dove an arm out, just catching its corner but the lid opened. Its contents fell the few inches to the floor. You cringed as the metal clattered against your tile floor.

Cursing to yourself you bent to pick up the box first then the shining object from the floor. Somehow both still caught the light and the glare made you squint at the...paper weight? You took it in your hand, turning it as you stood. Laying flat on your palm you recognized the symbol, the Eye of Horus maybe?

To your relief it seemed intact and you made to place it back in its box when an odd tingling in your hand distracted you. Confused you went to pass the eye into your other hand but it stuck. Then it burned.

You shrieked extending your arm to try shake it free but it remained seared to your flesh. In a screaming panic you tried to shove it off with the heal of your other hand to no avail.

Your cat seemed agitated too, heckles raised as she stared off into the dark of the room. The burn started to subside as you heard something shift in your living room. You moaned at the string but tried to focus on the new threat. Had the burglar returned?

You were about ready to plead, let him take the stupid box when the shape in the darkness moved. It wasn't a person. It was far longer than your couch and curled past into your bed room. The slightest hint of moonlight shone in specs along the trunk of this thing at least a meter off the floor.

You gaped, mouth bobbling as you tried to comprehend what slithered across your rug. It reared up, several feet above your head, eyes gleaming red in the dark. Frozen in place your heart hammered relentlessly in your chest. A dizzying feeling swam in your mind as great wings spread in what little space the creature hadn't take over.

Then your door broke open, light bursting in from the hall and banishing the vision from your mind. You were still in place when Steven came into view. You only returned when his hands met your cheeks and turned your face from side to side.

"....you okay, I got your messages. What happened? Did he hurt you? Did he find it?" He asked firmly. His face was cast in a frown as he continued to search you for injury. His hands slipped down your shoulders, following down to your hands where he turned your palms up.

"Shit." He uttered, jaw ticking. Coming back to yourself you glanced down at your hands. The eye statue was gone but its shape remained. Burned into your right palm.

#jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight imagine #my fics

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findafight · 1 year

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I have an extremely stupid thought: Addams!Steve. His parents are horrified at his normalness. Everybody in the family tries to come up with ways to make him enjoy pain, even a little. They are all devastated that his interests are basketball and popularity. Usually, he isn't even cruel on purpose! His parents do their best to support him in his interests (this is why their house is so horribly decorated) and leave every time they feel the need to Be Weird or visit the family. When the Upside Down happens, they are overjoyed. Finally, a truly Addams pastime! But he doesn't seem to be having a lot of fun? Is he just trying to fit in their family? They don't want him to change for them, they just want him happy! His parents end up leaving him alone longer so he doesn't feel pressured to share the delightful portal to Hell (or keep getting involved if it stops being fun) and check in on him from time to time. He looks so delightfully beat up every time! What fun! Let's give him space. If he wants to battle hellmonsters, they definetely aren't gonna stop him! Even if it's a bit strange that he hasn't chosen one as a pet yet. Oh, no, is he secretely having a bad time? Does he not enjoy the hell portal? Look Steve we support your normal lifestyle! Do you want a job? A normal, horri- we mean, it's-totally-cool-if-you-want-one job? We won't think less of you if you do!

Steve for his part is very grateful that his family are so supportive of him, even if he's still trying to find a way to ask them for help with the Upside Down stuff without 1) secretely disappointing them and 2) his family making the situation worse on purpose. He knows they wouldn't mean to! But if he asks his mother to shut down a portal to a nightmare dimension full of flesh-eating monsters without even letting her keep one as a pet he might just make her cry, and that's unconscionable.

He's also under the impression that he knows the difference between people-normal and Addams-normal, but he still gets tripped up from time to time. Dustin keeping Dart as a pet? Duh, super normal, didn't even think about it until everyone started berating Dustin. What do you mean Jonathan and I aren't friends? We loved the same girl (who chose him), clearly we are Friends For Life.

(He'll never admit that Eddie is the first thing in his life that felt Right to every part of him. Sweet as pie the way he likes it even if his family is baffled by the preference, with a Deeply Weird appearence and demeanor that remind him of the best parts of home)

Yes yes Oh my god your mind.....

In S1 when Steve says his parents are away because dad has business and his mom went with him because she doesn't trust him it's not that his dad's adulterous it's because his mom didn't trust his dad not to, like, go grave robbing without her, (such a romantic date in the moonlight and it would be a shame to do it all alone, she knows he can't resist it though...)and they knew Steve wasn't particularly About That and also don't want him around for date night, and they don't want to do Weird Shit (their normal) in Hawkins because they don't want to have a reputation that would harm their darling normie son, AND he needed to stay in school at least for sports.

They return and he's like so I fought a demon creature from another dimension and got my shit rock by Jonathan who is now my best friend... (Because I doubt an Addams cares about NDAs within the family) and his parents are delighted! A portal to a hell dimension! Steven! You'll have to invite us along next time, and bring that nice young woman who is even MORE normal than you-oh she pointed a gun at you? Magnificent she'll fit right in! But they notice he's even more wound up than before and his mother, sister to Gomez Addams (hence the Harrington name), goes to her brother and bemoans the development.

"a hell dimension! In our own backyard, Gomez! We should all be rejoicing on our luck! But poor Steven only seems stressed. Apparently a girl died in our pool and instead of inviting her to haunt us he just feels guilty. I don't know what to do... However, the nail studded bat--complete with blood splatter, it's marvelous, you really must see it--is a welcome addition to the decor in the main room that we may be able to relax the highly attuned 'normal' look and expand from the basement."

And the next year, Dustin gets Steve to look for Dart and he's like "wait it's a baby demogorgon? Oh man my cousins would be sooo jealous. It ate your cat? Ah. I see. Eating a family member is certainly frowned upon." And Dustin is like. Why aren't you mad that it's a demogorgon u weirdo. What the hell. And Steve realizes that maybe weird carnivorous pets is an Addams Thing. In his defense Dustin got one. He'll have to tell his mom that it tends to eat other pets and isn't advisable.

Afterwards everyone is so proud! Steve helped defend some children who seem very keen on arson, which an Addams can relate to, and he always wears a broken nose so well. It is unfortunate that that Nancy girl broke his heart, but all's fair in love and war, and an Addams can bounce back! And what a tale, to have a girlfriend run away with you best friend! Worthy of a revenge plot, hmm Steve? Oh? No? You just what to cuddle and watch sad movies? Well. Alright then.

Perhaps a summer job, at that new mall will help. That is what normal people do, right? And Steve is so keen on normality that his parents can't refuse. They go on vacation, the last week of June, and tell him to just consider poisoning some of the icecream. Just a little! A bit of botulism or ecoli is good for a community! Keeps everyone on their toes.

They cannot believe they missed it AGAIN! Horrible luck, missing all the fun in their hometown. But, Steve seems to be bouncing back, (and his mother and father were both relieved and disappointed that the Russians who dared torture their sweet little pastel son and his friend were blown up before they could get a taste of Addams retribution) he's got a dear friend he works with and is overly attached too (excellent! His parents are so happy he's got someone he's mildly Weird with) and he happily drives the little arsonists around. (Steve's parents don't really meet the kids but know about them, are pleased as punch they all seem like little Addams-Harringtons Steve's taken under his wing. After all, arson, pet monster adopting, car thieving, and spycraft are all delightful pastimes for today's Youth)

But spring break of '86 rolls around and they return to their son in hospital besides another boy, who was apparently accused of serial murder, and discover that the hell dimension is gone for good (and, really, how can the senior Harrington-Addams' have such terrible luck! Missing all the fun once again, and to be told it's all over forever, well. At least their Steve was involved.) They kiss his cheeks and ask if they can get him anything, if his little arsonists are alright. They chat, telling him how little cousin Wednesday is doing and that his uncle Gomez was so thrilled to hear about the flesh monster last year and sends his love.

Eddie is there watching and once they leave he's like Steve....what is going on with your parents. Steve just shrugs.

Slowly, he falls for Eddie, sweet as pie and funny, with just the right amount of...well, freakishness, to settle that place in Steve's heart that's all Addams. Once they get to the stage where Steve introduces him to his parents as his boyfriend, he isn't even nervous about Eddie fitting in. He knows he will even if they live Steve's silly little picket fence and six nugget dream.

Steve's father is delighted by the development. "A murderer in the family!" He yells, which Eddie must interpret as some form of outrage or disgust instead of the delight it is.

He waves his hands in front of him "I didn't actually do it! All charges dropped!"

Steve's father Pat's his back in a consolatory way, "yes, yes. What a shame that is. We can't win them all. But! The reputation persists! And that is what matters. Oh, Priscilla! Gomez and Morticia will be besides themselves with envy!"

Eddie, who wore his most provocative and "fuck society and the man" outfit, on Steve's request which he assumed was to piss of his parents but...really doesn't seem to be the case now... Is. Baffled.

Steve's mother adds "indeed! You'll fit in so well with the rest of the family, dear, no need to worry that you're only an accused murderer. At least without prison time you are free to go where you wish and reap the benefits of a dastardly reputation!"

"I can't believe you didn't introduce us to your boy earlier, Steven. Look at him! Addams-Harrington material already. He even fought in the hell dimension with you!"

"you know about that?"

"of course, what's an NDA to family? We've been trying to join in the fun since the beginning." Says Steve's mother. "We've had such dreadful timing, though. And I'm still terribly annoyed that I wasn't able to give those Russians a torture session of their own!"

Eddie is...well. He doesn't actually know what's going on other than Steve's parents seem to like him? So. A win? He's calling it a win.

#steve Harrington #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington's parents #addams steve Harrington #findaanswers #finda writes stuff #the most addams trait steve has is Being Obsessed With Your Spouse Syndrome #silverseedthings #also to be clear his parents are t4t as many addamses are

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moonluvin · 10 months

Text

eyes don’t lie - steven grant.

pairing: dark!steven grant x female reader

summary: in which steven grant - a local librarian, develops a fixiation on y/n - a frequent library user. steven inserts himself into y/n’s life in an attempt to grow close to her. however, just as things are looking up for steven, the green eyed monster chooses to visit.

warnings: angst – protective steven grant, and jealous!reader slightly jealous!steven grant, fluff – steven being the sweetheart that he always is, librarian!steve grant, smut (minors dni) soft yandere!steven grant?, possessive, penetrative seggs (wrap it before you tap it), fondling of the boobies, good old make out sessions, breeding kink?, oral – female and male receiving, fingering, age gap (reader is early 20′s & steven is early 30′s), ooc!steven grant, steven grant centric.

a/n: this needs to be edited.

word count: 6.2k.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

masterlist

His gaze was a blend of curiosity and desire, it lingered on your features with unwavering devotion. Eyes secured, he sees beyond the surface, perceiving your soul's every hue. His lips, curved in a soft smile, speaking volumes of adoration.

Many would label his gaze one of a man in love – which for Steven was true.

He first noticed you when he was working the graveyard shift at the library. You came in with textbooks in your hand and your laptop bag over your shoulder. Finding a place at the far end of the library, you took out your laptop and opened your textbook.

Steven stood at the bookcase he was setting books on and admired your beauty from afar. That night, his eyes flickered with a fixation on you.

The last thing he expected that night was for you to approach him in need of something, and as you did, he listened to you with a soft smile on his lips. However, that smile concealed his dark growing desires. Beneath his nervousness was a whirlwind of possessiveness, waiting to consume you.

Rationality settled in quickly and he found himself stuttering out a reply to you and helping you in locating the book you needed. From the corner of his eye, he could see you following him between bookcases that towered over the both of you. He could have you in that moment if he wanted.

“H-here we go,” he stammered taking the book of the shelve and holding it out for you to take.

“Thank you so much,”

As you took the book from his hold, your fingers briefly brushed against his – sending a jolt of electricity to Steven. He concealed the reaction with a smile to you.

You soon turned around and returned to your seat. Using the rest of your time in the library to complete whatever work you had.

Steven knew little information about you, but craved to know more about you.

That was when the real infatuation had begun.

You were now a regular at the library, choosing to complete college work there or spend your spare time to read. You deemed it to be better than your college library where people chose to hook up and mess around.

Steven Grant, the librarian you made friends with, had become close to you. He was a few years older than you, but his presence in the library had made the place livelier to you.

“Hello Steven,” you whispered to him as you walked to the counter he worked at. You had two hot drinks with you, one for him and the other for you.

Steven’s heart fluttered at your voice, as he turned to you, his eyes took in your attire. It was cold outside, and you were dressed in a short sleeve black top and grey sweatpants.

“Hello darlin’. Aren’t you cold?” he noticed the goosebumps that littered your skin and gazed at them with furrowed brows.

He tended to notice everything about you.

“A little, I didn’t get to check the weather before leaving,” you shrug your shoulders and hand Steven his hot drink.

Oh no.

He couldn’t have you catching a cold.

“Thank you,” he said grateful and set the drink down on the counter. He grabbed his jacket which he brought with him and walked around the counter to drape it around your shoulders. You were about to protest, but Steven beat you to it.

“No, I’ll be havin’ none of tha’. You can use this and keep warm. Temperatures are going to drop the rest of the evenin’,” he stood behind you with his hands still on your shoulders.

The smell of your vanilla body wash and lotion invaded Steven’s senses. It was intoxicating how sweet you smelled. He breathed you in one last time before coming in your line of sight.

A smile of appreciation had adorned your face.

“What would I do without you?” you joked and met his gaze.

He nervously chuckled, trying to ignore his fluttering heart and looked to the contents occupying your other hand.

“Got important work to do? You’re usually not here this early,” he wondered out loud with furrowed brows.

As much as he knew you were intelligent and hardworking, he didn’t like how stressed you were sometimes.

“Not work, but tutoring. I’ve got to tutor this guy in my class. My professor wants a 100% pass rate and expects me to try and help,” you complain to him. He could see your disdain for it as you rolled your eyes.

“I see. Will you be stayin’ later? I don’t have the night shift and wouldn’t wan’ you to walk home alone,” he said trying to divert his attention from the fact you would be tutoring a guy.

One of the things Steven did to spend as much time with you as possible was to always work the night shift so he would have the chance of walking you home… and to also use it as time to silently admire you – but you didn’t need to know about the latter.

“I’ll head home around 6. My roommate is gone for the weekend, and I don’t want to leave the apartment unattended for too long,” you explain before taking a sip of your drink.

“Alrighty, I get off at tha’ time. I can meet you here when you’re done? Give you a walk home?” he asked with hopeful eyes.

“I’ll see you then,” you say with a kind smile and make your way to your designated place.

Making his way back behind the counter, he takes a sip from the drink you got him while he watches you.

It tasted exactly the way he liked it.

He wanted to hurt him…

Steven was never someone who was familiar with the green-eyed monster, but right now his eyes glimmered with a trace of green. His jaw clenched, and brows gathered – showing the storm of jealousy growing within.

The guy you were tutoring was a touchy fellow. His hands shouldn’t be around your shoulders, and he shouldn’t be leaning in that close to you, it’s a library and there wasn’t noise preventing him from hearing you speak.

He watched you tutor that arrogant lad and knew from your body language that you wanted to be anywhere else but there. The awkward eye contact you made with him a few times indicated that.

He looked to the clock and saw that there were barely 10 minutes left till 6pm.

You had started to pack your things and glanced over to Steven, who waved at you with a small smile. You walked over to him with the guy trailing behind. Steven walked towards you with his own laptop bag on his shoulder, he smiled at the fact you were now properly wearing his jacket.

Something about you wearing his clothes stirred his fixation on you further.

“Ready to go?” you asked in a whisper and stood closer to Steven and gazed up at him.

The way you whispered to Steven was different from previous times; he knew something was wrong.

“Yeah, darlin’. Ready when you are,” he looked to your lips and then your eyes, checking to see if he could tell what was troubling you.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention before you could answer him.

You both look to the guy.

“Can I help you?” Steven’s voice filled the silence, his hand making its way to your waist and pulling you closer to him. Instinctively, you lean into him.

“Just wanted to say bye before leaving,” he said with a smug grin.

You raised a brow at his words and watched him with an annoyed look.

“Bye,” you said in a monotone.

He walked away with a wave while Steven watched him like a hawk till he was out of view.

“Is everythin’ okay?” he asked you, placing his hand on your chin to tip your head up so you could meet his eyes.

“I-I think so,” you say with a stutter.

Steven knew you weren’t okay.

“Come on, let’s stop at tha’ café before I walk you home, yeah?” he asked to try and bring your spirits back up.

You hum in response and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk out of the library. It was unusual for you to be a touchy person, but with Steven it felt natural.

If you were comfortable with him then that means you trust him, right? That’s how he saw it.

It was indeed cold, like Steven had said, but you were lucky enough to be warmed up by Steven’s jacket. The café wasn’t far from the library, so you were looking forward to the warm embrace the café would have.

“Thank you, for what you did back there,” you thank him as you entered the café.

Soft, amber lighting greets you within the café. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee encloses the air, inviting you into a haven of warmth and relaxation.

When you both approach the counter and ordered whatever beverages and treats you wanted, Steven insists on paying for it, but you make a deal of buying him something next time.

“You wanna find a table to have these at?” he asked, glancing around the busy café.

“Is it okay if we have these at my place? I hope you don’t mind,” you say to him with a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh darlin’, you didn’t even have to ask. Of course, we can,” he assures you.

You didn’t want to be a bother, and Steven didn’t see it as that at all. When he saw you avoiding his eyes, he reached up and tucked your hair out of your face and made him look at him.

“I mean it, whatever makes you comfortable,” he insisted.

Your face was so close to his that if you moved up slightly more, your nose would brush against his. He was so tempted to kiss you in that moment, but he knew that even though you plagued every thought in his mind, day and night – he needed to take things slow with you. He had already made so much of progress in getting close to you.

“You promise?” you hold out your pinky for him.

“I promise,” he answered and locks your pinky with his.

Soon you found yourself closing the door to your apartment and turning toward Steven, who stood in awe, taking in your living space.

“Sorry for the mess,” you state feeling embarrassed and walk to the kitchen to leave the beverages and treats on the counter.

“It’s perfectly fine, darlin’. You should see my place,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

When you briefly turned away from him, Steven found himself cringing at his words. There could only be one explanation for this, you made him nervous. Steven would become a blushed, stammering mess when it came to speaking to you sometimes.

“You can make yourself comfortable in here, I’ll just have a quick shower and join you so we can finally get to eating?” you asked glancing at the clock.

It was only 6:30pm and you would make it quick in the bathroom.

Steven nodded at your words with a smile. He couldn’t bring himself to answer you verbally, because all he could think about was the fact you would be naked, in the next room.

Many nights went by where Steven would have to use his imagination and fuck his hand to the thought of you. He felt himself growing aroused and knew he had to divert his thoughts elsewhere.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you say and walk to your room to retrieve your clothes and a towel before making your way to the bathroom which was down the hallway.

Steven found himself sitting on the two-seater couch in your living room, your apartment was simple. An open plan kitchen and living room with big windows facing a quiet street, along the kitchen was a hallway with 3 doors. First was your room, then the bathroom and down the hall was your roommate’s room.

The sound of the shower could be heard in the apartment. Steven looked out the windows in an attempt to divert his arousal. However, that didn’t stop his thoughts from wandering to what you looked like in the shower as water poured down your body.

The imagery didn’t seem to want to leave his mind, his right hand trailed down to his clothed growing erection. He palmed himself slightly, at the back of his mind he knew it was wrong, it was too big of a risk, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

His mind wondered.

What would your mouth feel like around him? Would you be able to fit all of him into your mouth? Would you allow him to fuck your face? Would you play with yourself while his cock was in your mouth?

A whimper left his lips, he knew his cock was most likely building precum at the tip, if it was one thing Steven enjoyed most about his ‘happy time’ – it was edging himself. His mind wondering to all sorts of scenarios and ways he could use your body for yours and his pleasure.

His head was lulling against the back of the couch and his thighs were spread as he palmed himself.

When the sound of the shower suddenly disappeared, he hastily sat up and put a pillow in his lap to hide his now obvious arousal. Soon you stepped out of the shower, freshly clothed and your hair slightly damp.

“Told you I’d be quick,” you said walking toward the kitchen counter. You took out two plates and put one of each item you got from the café. Steven had already left your drinks on the living room table. You brought over the plates and sat next to him.

“Thank you,” he said with a warm smile, to which you replied with a smile.

“So, tomorrow is Saturday. You got any plans?” you asked, trying to make some small conversation.

“I’m off tomorrow, so most likely a late morning if I can get any sleep tonight,” he chuckled. Steven’s sleeping habits was no secret between the two of you. One day at the library you noticed how tired he was, and when you expressed concern, he explained it all to you.

“You don’t seem as tired as usual. I assume you’re getting good sleep?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. To Steven, the only way he could get a good night’s sleep was after he masturbated to the thoughts of you, but that wasn’t something he could tell you.

“You could say that. I figured out a way to ease my mind…” he said trying to hide his dazed smile.

You smiled at his words, to you it meant he was doing better and taking care of himself.

Oh, how innocent you were indeed. Always being so caring for others.

You both went on to talk about mundane things, which include your college life, and his work like. Your plates were now clean from any treats and long forgotten on the living room table.

A yawn left your lips, and you took a glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 8pm.

“It’s quite late, you should stay the night,” you say facing Steven.

As much as your words excited Steven, he couldn’t spend the night since he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep under the same roof as you. At least not yet.

“It’s not tha’ late. If I leave now, I can make it home in a jiffy, darlin’,” Steven explained waking from the couch. The pillow on his lap fell and your eyes went to the very obvious erection he had, but you quickly looked away before he could notice.

You rubbed your thighs together to rid yourself of the ache between your legs. Steven did notice that but assumed you were cold, you couldn’t be aroused, right?

“Are you sure?” you say diverting his attention away.

“Positive,” he breathed and clasped his hands together. “I best be off then. Thank you for the lovely evenin’, darlin’. I hope you’re feelin’ better now,” he stated, recalling how you felt from earlier events.

“Much better, all thanks to you,” you got up from the couch and stood next to him as he picked up his shoulder bag.

You both walked towards the door, Steven let you walk before him, admiring the view of your ass. Savouring it in his memory for later.

“Message me as soon as you get home, okay?” you say to him as he steps out.

“I will,” he assures you with a smile.

Next, you do something that Steven least expected. You stepped forward, settling your hands around his neck, causing his hands to settle on your waist. You hugged him tightly, making his cock brush against your thigh. A good minute passed by before you stepped away from him and placed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say to him one last time.

Steven’s heart raced with an intoxicating mix of ecstasy and pride. He felt an intense yearning for you. The small kiss had fueled his deep attachment, amplifying his infatuation.

The smile that graced his lips had brought one to yours.

“Good night,” was all he managed to say before turning and walking away. If he were to stand there any longer, he’d make his way back into your apartment, with you thrown over his shoulder.

That night as Steven lay in bed and got off to the pleasure of envisioning you in the shower, you had done the same by thinking of his arousal.

Hand between your thighs, mind foggy with the thoughts of the sheer size that Steven had been hiding.

You were attracted to him from the moment you asked him for help in the library, but why would someone like Steven want someone like you? You were younger than him and came with a life that barely started yet.

For now, you would take whatever you could get from him.

Monday approached quickly and you were looking forward to seeing Steven after attending your classes for the day. The last you spoke to him was when he messaged you that he had reached home on Friday.

You walked into the library with the intention of speaking to Steven about his weekend, however you were met with the sight of Steven talking to someone else. An unfamiliar woman who stood too close to him for your liking.

“Oi y/n! Sweetheart,” he said cheerily and waved you over.

You smiled at him and made your way to over.

“Hi,” was all you said as you assessed the women beside Steven from head to toe.

“I want you to meet Layla, she’s new to the library staff,” he explained and motioned to Layla.

“Nice to meet you,” you say to her with a tight-lipped smile.

She had reciprocated your kindness and greeted you. Your eyes made their way to Steven who was looking at Layla happily.

A pang of hurt bloomed in your chest and you very quickly wanted to exit the situation.

“I have some work to do, so I’ll just be over there,” you said kindly and excused yourself with a smile. However, Steven noticed the smile hadn’t quite been the same as the many ones you gave him before.

He watched your retreating figure with furrowed brows.

“I don’t think your girlfriend is happy with me working with you,” Layla had chuckled humourlessly.

“She’s not my girlfriend… yet,” Steven whispered the last part to himself.

You observed Steven’s interactions with Layla. They seemed to be very chatty in a place that was meant to be quiet. You decided it would be best to concentrate on your work and get it done.

That didn't stop your eyes still seemed to find their way to Steven and Layla. Sometimes she would brush her hands on his shoulder, smile at him widely and laugh a little too much at his jokes.

As Steven was stacking books on a bookcase near you, he watched as you began to pack away your books. He looked at the time and saw that it had only been an hour since you were here.

Immediately, he made his way to you.

“Are you leavin’?” he asked in a hushed tone.

You nodded in confirmation.

“Use your words sweetheart,” he encouraged, placing a hand on your chin so you could meet his gaze.

“Yes,” you breathed and stood up.

“So soon?” he wanted to know more than just that.

“I had a long day, need to sleep,” you explained and gave him a small smile. He nodded at your words and walked with you toward the exit with his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Message me when you get home, yeah?” he mimicked your words from Friday night.

“Okay. Good night, Steven,” you said and walked away without another word.

10 minutes later you had messaged him a thumbs up emoji to say you had reached home.

This was different from your usual ‘reached home xx’ texts.

Taking a deep breath in, Steven chose to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust your words.

Jealousy

Was what you felt each time you were in the library that week. You couldn’t concentrate on your work. You knew Steven’s eyes were on you each time you were there. You had essentially been avoiding him and keeping communication to a minimal.

The insecurities had begun surfacing each time you saw Layla and him interact. She was someone closer in age to Steven and they complimented each other by standing beside one another.

The crush you were harbouring for him had boiled over and now you were left to tend to the burns on your own.

Steven and Layla had been nearby talking about an interest they both had in common. The more they spoke about it, the louder they became.

“I could talk about it for hours; I love Egypt and anything about it. Maybe we could go to the museum nearby, they have an excellent exhibit-“

That was all you needed to hear him say before you packed your things and walked out of the library without so much as a glance his way.

Steven watched, speechlessly, as you walked out of the library. Your recent actions were something new to him.

The first sign of you withdrawing from him was the absence of the hot drink you would usually get him. It wasn’t something he necessarily needed to have. Though, when it stopped, it felt like he was out in the cold without your warmth.

This is why he found himself outside of your apartment, with flowers in his hand. He was nervous to knock on your door, feeling that if he made his presence known then you may get the impression that he was overstepping your boundaries, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything after you left.

So, his knuckles padded on your apartment door, gently.

He heard shuffling in the apartment, knowing it had to be you.

The door opened and revealed you in your pyjamas.

“Steven?” you said surprised.

“Hi,” he greeted with grin.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked curiously eyeing the flowers.

“Came to check on you… these are for you,” he said handing the flowers to you.

“Thanks?... Come in while I put these in a vase,” you instruct him and walk into your apartment and into the kitchen.

He closed the door and followed you inside – standing on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, facing you. The apartment was filled with your scent like it previously was.

“Uh… I came to check if you were okay? Y’know, with how abruptly you left earlier.” he was trying to pry answers out of you.

“Yeah uh... I had a group project to do,” you said trying to come up with an excuse, which Steven did not believe just from looking at you.

“Is everything okay?... between us?” he flat out asked, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore.

“Why wouldn’t things be okay?” your tone had increased slightly.

“Because darlin’. I can read you like an open book,” he stated, walking around the counter and towards you. He stopped when he was a few mere centimeters away.

“I’ve just been busy and tired,” you explain, looking down and away from him.

“Speak to me,” he said, holding your hands in his, angling his face so you could meet his gaze.

He needed you to be direct with him. He yearned for your eyes to be on him.

“I didn’t want to impose…” you sigh out softly.

“Impose on what?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“You and Layla,” you stated, barely over a whisper.

“What makes you think you would be imposing, darlin’?” he made you look up at him by tilting your head upward.

“I mean, you two obviously like each other-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… where’d you get tha’ thought from? We’re only co-worker,” he laughed at the thought of him and Layla together.

Couldn’t you see that you were all he wanted?

“But you get on so well,” you say peering up at him.

This was the moment Steven needed to use to make his feelings known… in the most subtle way possible.

“Darlin’, has it not been apparent that you are the one I want?” his hands held your face between each other, bringing your face incredibly close to his.

The way you were looking at him with wide eyes and a slight sparkle cause every bit of control Steven had to disappear.

In a moment of tenderness, your lips gently met, firing a soft and sweet exchange. Time stood still, expressing a depth of affection. Within that kiss, you both found solace, passion, and desire.

You pulled away breathless from feeling his soft lips on yours.

“You like me?” you asked bewildered.

Steven found your reaction to be adorable.

“More than just like you, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle and pecked your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a smile.

Steven’s heart raced at your words, and he couldn’t hold himself back from kissing you again. This kiss was a contrast to the previous one. His tongue entered your mouth, fighting for dominance.

A moan escaped your lips as his hands went to your waist and pulled you flush against him.

“Steven,” you moaned and pulled away.

“Sorry- I’m sorry. I just… needed to kiss you,” he explained breathless.

You smiled at his fumbled words, finding it adorable.

You looked into his eyes and saw the desire he had in them; he saw the same one mirrored in yours.

His eyes hungrily trailed down to your body, your pyjama’s doing little to hide the dip between your breasts.

“Dreamed of these for so many nights,” he murmured and got lost in his desire.

Steven couldn't resist the feeling of your body pressing against his, his hands roaming across your back and down to your thighs as he deepened the kiss.

"I want you," he whispered, his voice filled with desire as his lips trailed down your neck and collarbone. "I want to make you feel good, darlin’" He moved his hands up to your waist, gently pulling you closer as he kissed you more passionately.

"Then make me feel good," you murmur against his lips as he smiles widely at your confession. You both stumble, still lip locked, towards the couch. He positions the two of you so that he is situated above you, and you're nestled beneath him. He begins to lay kissed from your jaw to your neck.

Steven's kisses soon turned into soft nibbles as he moved down to your collarbones, making you shiver with pleasure. He gently pulled your shirt off, revealing your soft skin as he kissed his way down to your breasts. His hands roamed your body, making you feel like you were melting under his touch.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured as he took your breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipples. The passion between the two of you was intense, and Steven was determined to make this special for you. He continued to caress your body, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your breasts as he kissed his way down your stomach.

He had the intention of using his mouth for more than just kissing your breasts.

If it’s one thing Steven would happily admit, it is that he could worship your body for hours. He wanted to memorise every small detail, as well as the ways in which to make you cum just from a mere touch.

As Steven kissed his way down your stomach, he could sense the tension building in your body. He gently parted your thighs, his fingers tracing circles on your inner thighs before finally reaching your wet pussy. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, and he knew he had to taste you.

His tongue circled around your clit, making you moan with pleasure as he gently slid a finger inside of you. The sensation was intense, and you couldn't help but cry out as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. The combination of his tongue and fingers was driving you wild, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Steven," you gasped out, your hips bucking against his mouth as you reached your climax. You were a trembling mess beneath him, your body wracked with pleasure as Steven continued to drive you wild. As you came down from your high, he crawled back up your body, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Such a good girl," he whispered against your lips, his eyes filled with adoration as he held you close to him.

Feeling the need to show Steven your appreciation towards him. You got up from where you laid and made Steven sit upright and against the couch. You were on your knees in front of him on the floor as he watched you closely. He was wearing a white button up with some lose fitted black jeans. You let your hands roam from his thighs to chest, where you undid the buttons of his shirt. The hair on his chest became visible as well as the happy trail that led straight to his cock. You could see that he was rock hard beneath the material of his jeans. You undid the button on his jeans and let his cock free. You had every intention of having his cock in your mouth.

The sight of you on your knees in front of him was driving him wild with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful," he moaned as you licked the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. You took him into your mouth, sucking him in deeply as he groaned with pleasure. You could feel him growing harder as you continued to pleasure him, your hand working in tandem with your mouth.

"Just like that," he gasped out, his hips bucking against your mouth. You were gagging around his cock as he drove it into your mouth. You were determined to fit him all the way in. The sounds he was making were encouraging you on.

As he reached his climax. You swallowed every drop of his cum, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having pleasured him so well.

He brought you back up to straddle him, you felt his cock already stiffening beneath you as you grinded into it.

Steven’s kisses were addicting and so were his moans.

“More,” you pleaded. Steven pulled back to gaze at you through hooded eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked surprised.

“Yes, please. Need you inside me,” you begged. Steven smirked at your words and complied. Lining his cock with your pussy entrance, he rubbed the head of his cock with your arousal before you sank down, letting him fill you up.

You both moaned at the feeling. He bottomed out inside you.

“So deep,” Steven groaned through gritted teeth.

You hummed in response and slowly rocked your hips back and forth. Steven’s cock was still sensitive, and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he rested his head between your breasts. You chuckled at his reaction.

“Don’t tell me you’re already giving out on me, old man,” you chuckle through a moan.

Old man?

Oh no, he couldn’t have you thinking of him like that.

He let out a breath laugh as he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against him. You braced yourself on his chest as he fucked up into. The sound of skin slapping and the wet sounds coming from him fucking you were the only sound surrounding the room.

You were a moaning mess as Steven whimpered with each thrust. He had been holding out for too long. The endless night of fucking his hand had finally over took his mind.

“Please, don’t stop,” you plead as his pace picked up.

Your breath ticked his skin and he moaned at you tightened around him.

“Gonna make you mine,” he said through moans.

His hips momentarily stopped, and he slipped out of you, but before you could protest, he flipped you over. Your hands hanging over the side of the couch and he positioned you from behind.

He slammed his cock into you and your grip on the couch tightened to steady you body.

his hands went around you and started to tease circles into your clit.

“That’s it,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear.

“So close,” you moan out and start to push back on him.

He leaned forward and smiled into your hair.

“Gonna cum for me like a good girl?” he chuckled out when you moaned out a reply.

“Use your words, darlin’,” he encouraged.

“Yes… gonna be your good girl,”

Your good girl.

That was all he needed to hear before he was fucking you at a brutal pace. You knew your going to be adorned in bruises the next day, but it was fine with you as it would display his ownership over you.

Steven grunted as you tightened and came on his cock. He fucked you through it, enjoying the feel of your wet pussy. You were in a daze as he fucked your sensitive pussy, you reached around yourself and tried to pry him away from you, the overstimulation causing you to feel dizzy.

“Not done yet,” he said flipping you over and laying you on your back as he hovered over you.

“Need you to cum f’me one more time, yeah?” he rhetorically asked.

You whined at his words, but that slowly died down as his cock entered you again.

Your eyes went down to your tummy, where you saw his cock bulging with each thrust.

“See how big I am inside you, can feel my cock inside you,” he said taking your hand in his and settling on your tummy to feel his cock. Your head fell back in pleasure, knowing he was that deep inside you.

Your hand slowly made its way to your clit, rubbing in circular motions to bring you closer to your orgasm.

“Mmm. Just like that, sweetheart,” he praises and fucks you faster, resting on hand beside your head as the other holds your waist.

You match his thrusts and move your hips against his, Steven feels himself on the edge. Almost at there.

Once you feel yourself cumming again and tightening around Steven, he cums. Hard.

“Oh shit… yes y/n,” he moans and still moves his hips against yours. Fucking his cum deep inside you. When he halts his movements, he’s still deep inside you.

“Wanna keep my cum inside you,” he murmurs and relaxes against you.

“Should do this in the library next time,” he chuckled in the croak of your neck.

You both lay on the couch and catch your breath.

“So… will you go on a date with me?” he asked in that familiar nervous tone. You chuckle at his words and kiss him on the lips.

#steven grant #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fanfic #steven grant angst #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #moonknight #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight fanfic #angst #fluff #smut

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sorencd · 9 months

Text

CAPTIVATED

pairing: steven meeks x reader

summary: dancing in the rain with steven.

word count: 1k

a/n: OOH MY LOOOOOVEEEE U DONR HAVE TO LIDTEN TO A WOOOOOORD I SAY anyway song is captivated by iv of spades!

masterlist

ooh, my love.

heavy clattering resounded throughout the room you currently situated in, the rain outside was pouring densely and each drop that slid down the window gave you a sense of comfort. you were huddled in bed, waiting for steven to return from his trip to the kitchen. he offered to make a cup of hot chocolate for the two of you, and obviously, you accepted. the song that was currently playing in the background to occupy the silence was starting to get repetitive─ so you groggily got up to change the record that was playing on the turntable and glanced at the vast collection of vinyls you had that sat beside it. you chose the song ‘a big hunk o’ love’ by elvis presley and removed it out of the sleeve to play it. you really loved this particular song of elvis, not only because the tunes were catchy, but if you really listened to the lyrics closely, it’s composed of sweet verses that sometimes get overlooked because everyone is too busy grooving to the music, and you weren’t an exception.

you could hear feet approaching the room you were in while you were grooving to the tunes the turntables was playing. it was steven, he was holding two mugs of hot chocolate and an equally warm smile on his face.

“sorry i took so long, i forgot i put the stove on low.” he placed down his mug on the bed side table and handed you yours, to which you gratefully accepted.

you sipped onto the mug with a thankful smile and looked out the window, taking notice that the rain outside has mellowed down.

“aw, the rain’s about to go away.” a glum sigh escaped your lips as you took another sip. you loved the rainy weather, though the song you two were listening to right now doesn’t exactly match the atmosphere─ it still provided you with a sense of comfort that you’d always bask in without hesitation.

“that could be a good thing, we could visit the library once it's gone away." he suggested. a library date does sound nice, you missed the old scent of books, the quiet surroundings it came with, and the kind old lady you'd always see manning the front desk. you might just take him up on his offer.

but the conflicting thoughts that reverberated in your brain didn't want to stop, just like how you wished the same for the rain. you whined as you flopped down on the bed after steven comfortably sat down, now you laid there beside him. "but the rainnn, you know?"

you don't have to listen to a word i say.

his laugh mixed in with the music that was booming from the turntable, but you were able to discern his voice amidst elvis'. steven understood where you were coming from, since he too also loved the rain and all the glory it came with. he looked out the window and brashly gave you a grin, an idea popping into his mind.

"you wanna try dancing in the rain?"

"dancing in the rain?" your face twisted in mild confusion. you understood what he was saying, but you couldn’t quite comprehend each word. dancing in the rain? it was about time he asked you to waltz with him during a storm.

"yeah. come on, it'll be amazing! the weather right now is just perfect." he pointed a finger outside, the rain wasn't pouring as hard as it was a few minutes ago, but at just the right amount. it seemed like even the weather liked the idea.

"we better go outside now before it fully stops!" you hurriedly hopped out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets that tangled your feet but luckily steven was there to swoop in a steady you before you were able to kiss the floor, briskly following suit to your rapid speed-walking.

you opened the front door and marveled at the scenery in front of you─ the sun was ever so slightly peeking from the clouds and shined it's brightly-hued rays while the rain drops continued to delicately fall from the sky, everything was so pristine, you loved it. steven, who was admiring the view from behind you, took a hold of your hand and led you to the front of your house, not bothering to put on a coat because it wouldn't be as fun to dance without it. as you touched the pavement and left the front porch that was protecting you from the rain, you felt the rainfall make contact with your skin. instantly making you feel cooled off.

cause all that really matters is that i love you,

"may i have this dance?" steven bowed as he politely offered his hand towards you and with a glowing grin. it felt like everything right now was fresh out of a movie. if only you knew earlier that the love of your life would ask you to dance with him in the rain, you would've hired a photographer to catch the moment forever.

you giggled at his gesture and gladly held his hand, mirroring his movement and bowed yourself. "i'm not really good at dancing."

he drew you closer by taking both your hands and instead of the gracious motion you were expecting him to do, he instead lively shuffled about as water splashed onto the both of you. his dancing reminded you of the song you were listening to previously, both electrifying and energetic. "you don't need to know how to dance, just have fun!" he ended with a laugh.

you smiled, matching his actions as best as you can. now there were two idiots dancing in the rain, it was romantic. both of you flailing your arms into the air as you held onto one another, the downpour continuing to cascade onto the both of you. the feeling of droplets running down your arms and legs felt amazing. he was amazing. his smile that was on par with the sun's luminosity, his dancing skills that radiated delight. it all made you happy. and in the next few days, it also made you sick. it's a good thing you have steven to take care of you.

i really do.

#dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #steven meeks #steven meeks x reader

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myfandomlikesandstories · 8 months

Text

Need You Now

Marc Spector x GN reader

Genre: fluff, hurt comfort

Summary: Need You Now by Lady Antebellum songfic. You and Marc have been thinking about each other late at night, and you decide to phone him.

Warnings: Marc drinking

Word count: 1437

It was late at night, and you were half sitting half lying on your couch with your phone. You were scrolling through pictures of a guy you were seeing, Marc Spector.

It was an on and off thing, no hard feelings, but you two just... Saw each other. On occasion. You would go on a date, have a wonderful time, and not find any time to meet again for a few weeks.

After a particularly long time, about 5 weeks in which you didn't meet and barely spoke, a date was finally scheduled. Marc showed up looking tired, sad and guilty. He apologized for not being able to meet up, and for not calling.

He said he didn't understand why you wouldn't just ghost him, and why you even agreed to see him now. If he were any other person, things would have been different. You wouldn't just "talk" to someone with no commitment for so long, you had standards.

But there was just something about him. There was something relentless about this Marc guy, you felt as if your life would be totally different if you just left. That was silly, just a weird gut feeling but you didn't dismiss it. No harm no foul, right?

You thought of calling him. Obviously you shouldn't, it was 1 AM, but honestly? You missed him. It was stupid. He wouldn't pick up. He'd think you're weird. Clingy. He'd brush you off and ghost you for good.

Did he think of you as much as you thought of him? Nah, can't be. He would have made a move by now, or at least try to talk to you more. You never even cross his mind, that's why he doesn't call. Shame that for you, it happened all the time.

--------------------

Marc Spector poured yet another shot of whiskey into a glass and swallowed it immediately. He wondered why wouldn't he drink straight from the bottle, no reason bothering with a glass. He wondered many things that night, like why couldn't he take his eyes off the door? He felt the urge to just rip it open and run into the night.

"Shouldn't be drinking anyway," he grumbled as he poured another shot. Steven would nag him for it all day. Marc had agreed to work something out with Steven over his drinking problem. He said he'd only drink if he was feeling absolutely miserable... Which was most of the time. But tonight was truly spectacular in that field.

He couldn't get you off his mind. Did he really wish to disappear in the cold night air, or did he just want to hear a knock? He wished with all his might to see a text from you pop up on his phone. You texted him, once, when he was having a particularly bad day. He never felt relief like that in his life. It was like a ray of warm sunshine burst through the cloud over his head. It made him feel special, honestly. That YOU chose to talk to HIM. He reaaaally wanted you to just sweep in and save him from himself. In a back corner of his mind, he realized he wanted you to love him.

"It's weird to think that about someone," he dismissed himself. No way you thought about him, certainly not like that, certainly not at 1:15 in the morning! "I need to get a grip." He sighed. "And to stop talking to yourself." Marc thought, and rested his head on the table.

--------------------

You sighed anxiously, finger hovering over the call button. You were thinking too much and too little at the same time. Your head was flooded with the impossible possibility of Marc returning your affection, and so you managed to completely forsake the idea to text him first. Never mind. "It's now or never," you told yourself and called.

The ring roused Marc from his drunken half sleep on his kitchen table, and he sprang to his feet, stumbling and falling as he tried to reach his phone on the counter. He would have felt insanely ridiculous if it were anyone else calling, and would berate himself endlessly. Luckily, it was you.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Marc! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, don't worry, you didn't. Um, how are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, sorry, I didn't expect you to actually pick up."

"Well, I'm here. Why'd you call?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you're free sometime this week? Maybe tomorrow?"

Marc was a little surprised, both by the whole situation of his damn wish coming true, and by you asking to see him again.

"Yes, yeah, I am. Is 7 PM okay?"

"Yeah! Perfect, thank you. I'm sorry I called this late," you apologized, but the triumph was present in your voice. "See you then!"

"Yeah, goodnight." He said.

"Goodnight."

None of you hung up, and a few moments passed. Just before you ended the call, you heard Marc's voice again.

"Wait!" He pleaded, louder than he meant. He would have never done this sober.

"Yeah?"

"Could you please stay on the line?" He asked timidly. It was really unlike him, but he couldn't let you go.

"Of course." You reassured. He sounded a bit panicked. "Are you okay, though?"

"Uhh," he hesitated. He obviously couldn't tell you he was sad and drunk and thinking about you and praying that you'd call, right? That'd be creepy. Why was he even talking to you? He tried to stop himself before, saying that you don't need him in your life. He's bad for you, he's a burden, you shouldn't be near him. He felt guilty for being with you and felt guilty for leaving. Without you, he felt his heart was so empty it could stop. He'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all, he guessed.

"Marc? You there?"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright, everything is okay." You registered something was really wrong. "I'm here. You can tell me. I'm worried about you."

Marc was shocked. Did he hear you right? You were worried about him? He gulped. He didn't want you to worry. You told him once you liked it when people are open about their emotions. Here goes nothing.

"Um, yeah, no, uh, I'm... Not doing so great. I'm sorry. I'm pretty drunk. Hehe, I actually kinda faceplanted while running to pick up the phone," he said and ran a hand over his face. His voice sounded very sad suddenly. "I don't want to be alone."

You heard him take a sharp, shaky breath.

"I need you."

You breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, Marc."

Here it comes, he braces himself for impact.

You decided taking risks was working for you tonight. "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes?"

Marc was stunned. "Really?"

"I just need to throw together a bag, I'll stay the night with you, yeah?"

"Thank you," he said, shocked and grateful.

"Just hang in there." You said and ended the call, going to pack yourself an overnight bag and drive over to his place.

Marc's head was spinning now, and he sat down.

--------------------

15 minutes later, you knocked on his door. Marc went to open it and was greeted by the sight of you in your pajamas, holding a small backpack. You dropped it on the floor inside the apartment and when the door was closed behind you, you engulfed Marc in your arms.

He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing you in and holding you close. You tightened your grip around him and rubbed his back.

"Thank you for coming." He said quietly. "I'm sorry."

You let go of him, and a wave of pain washed through his bones. Instead of walking away, you took his face in your hands.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear. Thank you for letting me help you."

He looked at you with his now wet, puppy dog brown eyes, grateful and utterly confused by your kindness, and pulled you into a hug again.

You stayed that way for a minute or two, and broke apart only to get into his bed together and cuddle. You pulled his head to your chest, and he snuggled happily into the crook of your neck as he wrapped his heavy arms (and a leg) around your body. You held him close, kissed his forehead and his hairline, and he planted a few soft kisses on your neck and chest. You didn't know what you would do without one another. Tomorrow would be good, you knew so.

--------------------

Just tagging some mutuals:

MASTERLIST

@luke-o-lophus @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @romanarose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @writingforcurrentobsessions2

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the-archxr · 2 years

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do a headcon for the moon boys and the reader running into a pinning ex lover? Maybe a little spice after the run in, if your comfortable.

Thank you so much for your time. Your writing in amazing and your dialog for Jake is ✨ the bees needs✨💜

Awe, thank you so much!!

BUT OKIEDOKIE ARTICHOKE, HERE WE GO

nsfw under the cut

So for context, let’s say you run into your ex on different occasions with them?? You’ll see what I mean.

STEVEN

So it all starts when you decided to go out for dinner.

This time, Steven’s fronting. It’s his turn to take you out on a nice date. To see you in a beautiful dress, sipping white wine and getting full on pasta.

Ya know, the typical romantic shit that the moon boys are one thousand percent suckers for.

But then this…completely random man comes up to the table.

And really, he shouldn’t be shocked that this guy approached you out of nowhere. Because you look beautiful. Painfully gorgeous. A Monét painting come to life.

It’s just unfortunate that this incredibly flirty stranger who knows no boundaries is your ex.

He’s a lot more calm and collected than Steven. A lot cooler in his demeanour as he makes you laugh.

But the thing about Steven is, he absolutely hates jealousy—hates being jealous. Though he hasn’t had much experience, as far as he can tell, it’s a gross emotion. A disgusting feeling that he knows is unrealistic because you love him.

You’re incredibly adamant about how much you love him (because who tf wouldn’t be with them).

Unfortunately, it’s hard to not feel this way whenever your ex shoots a glare in Steven’s direction.

But you’re not stupid. You easily pick up on the way you he disregards your boyfriend, and without hardly any effort, you bid a forceful goodbye to your ex and return your attention to Steven.

And Steven? Ugh that boy LIVES to be in your attention. And the fact that you chose him; picked him over the guy in the dark blue suit that keeps undressing you with his eyes, is marvellous.

A little too good to be true, in Steven’s eyes, but still marvellous.

However that doesn’t stop him from still being apprehensive. Doesn’t stop him from withholding all that jealousy from earlier. It’s unhealthy and he doesn’t deal with it—knows he should—but doesn’t know how to.

And it sucks because this wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. It was supposed to end with the two of you relaxing in a warm bath together, eating chocolate and listening to French music as you had slow passionate sex.

But there’s no way that’s happening, much to both of your dismays.

So for the rest of the evening, the two of you drop it.

Until, you run into your ex the next day.

MARC

This time, when your ex waves to you from a fruit stand on the street corner, Marc is with you.

And, though Marc is far more aggressive, far more assertive than Steven, he suffers from the same green-eyed monster almost immediately.

He saw him last night, in the reflection of the glass window behind your table, and even then, without ever talking to the guy, he hated him.

Was aggravated beyond anything.

Except, Marc doesn’t really let you know that. Luckily, he’s not that much of a talker to begin with, so you don’t see his silence as a bad thing at first.

He’s able to keep his feelings hidden for the most part.

But then

OH BUT THEN

The man has the audacity to touch you. To caress your elbow as you politely try to disengage his advances.

Your uncomfortable. So very uncomfortable, that Marc nearly beats the guy to a bloody pulp without a second thought.

But instead, the rational part of him that doesn’t want to cause you further stress, controls his thoughts. And his fists.

“I think you’ve over-stepped a boundary there, buddy.”

The guy, with a smug, thin grin on his face looks directly at Marc. “Have I?”

At that point, Marc can see, out of the corner of his peripheral, your eyes widen. Your grip on his hand tightens and your breathing picks up as you nervously look to him.

You’re pleading to him.

Please, don’t do this.

But in his anger, in that quick, white hot flash of emotion, Marc blacks out.

JAKE

And if you weren’t scared before, you sure as hell were now.

Because you recognize the change in pressure as he clenches his jaw and the darkening of his eyes.

You know it’s Jake fronting now. And that becomes a whole other problem because…

You can talk Marc down with almost no problem. You don’t even need to convince Steven to choose the route of non-violence. He already follows that river like a loose pebble caught in the stream.

But Jake?

Jake is a whole other untameable beast.

So you’re desperately pulling him away before he can even consider his next plan of attack.

Luckily, he lets you guide him. Though he keeps looking back behind him with a dangerous scowl on his face, silently hoping that this fucker follows so that way he has an excuse.

It isn’t until you get Jake through the door of your shared apartment that you finally allow yourself to breathe.

You dodged a bullet there, and you’re ready to just drop it and move on, but Jake is not.

Before you can even your shoes off, he has you pinned against the wall. One hand holds your wrists together above your head, and the other tilts your chin up to his.

“Goddammit, Jake. You need better fucking self-control, you know that?”

He smiles at you. A devilish grin as he lifts his clothed knee up into your cunt. You gasp at the hard contact. “Oh, you see, corazón, I have a lot of self-control.” He wraps his mouth around the edge of your ear, before tugging on it with his teeth. “If I didn’t, I would’ve fucked you right there in front of that pendejo.”

Another jolt of his leg muscle and you whimper. He laughs, because your body always betrays you. Never lets you be a brat without telling him that you want him inside you.

He then smells the lingering perfume on the junction of your shoulder and neck from last night, and inhales deeply.

You smell so fucking good.

“On second thought, maybe I should’ve taken you right there, hmm? Maybe he would’ve finally gotten the fucking hint that you’re taken.”

Then, it’s his turn to drag you. To guide you to the kitchen counter where he flattens your upper-body.

And you follow suit without a word. Because you know exactly what’s going to happen, and you’re already so excited. Already so wet between your thighs that you can’t do much but hold on to the other end of the counter and lift your ass up in preparation.

Marc and Steven don’t like getting jealous. But Jake doesn’t mind one bit.

Though he’s still respectful of your disdain for having a jealous boyfriend (because, he like the other two, trust you completely), it’s moments like these where he’s unbuttoning his jeans and pulling your hips back to meet his that he truly thrives in the feeling.

The need to protect. To defend. To mark whats fucking his.

And so he fucks you. Hard. It’s an unrelenting pace against the hard marble as the sound of his balls slap against you. The obscene rapid noises meet the occasional smack he places on your ass.

He doesn’t rely on build-up; doesn’t have the time to.

Instead, his hips snaps into you from behind until your panting and crying and writhing. Desperate to cum, desperate to clench around him as he fucks his arousal into you.

“Fuck, cariño. So tight for me. Bet he never fucked you like this. Never made you cum on his cock the way you cum on mine.”

He pulls three orgasms out of you—all from the same position with the rapid driving of his hips. He’s unable to relinquish power or have you on top of him until he’s sure that you’re his. That he’s leaking from every part of you. Joint sweat rolling off your back, and cum spilling out of your pussy.

The both of you are still fully clothed as he cums inside you; heaving and mumbling incoherent things in Spanish, until he’s spent, and stills inside your walls.

He fucks you so roughly, that by the end of the night you have a bruise from the edge of the counter along your pelvis and the hickies he left along your shoulders.

Though, he promises you, as he picks you up like a rag doll and walks into your bedroom, that he’s nowhere near done with you yet. And that by tomorrow morning, you’ll have long forgotten fuck-face’s name.

✨the-archxr headcanons✨

#OOFA DOOFA #THIS #WAS SOMETHING ELSE #I NEED TO WRITE A JAKE LOCKLEY SMUT ASAP NOW #the moon boys #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector smut #steven grant smut #moon knight #moon knight headcanon #smut headcanons #the-archxr headcanons

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

Text

Management of Anger || Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Steven and Marc send Jake to anger management therapy so he can work on his murderous behavior. However, the whole therapy goes horribly awry.

Rating: 🔞explicit

Warnings: smut, minors DNI!

Word count: 3333 😃

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!Reader

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: orange italics - reader speaking Spanish, red italics - Jake speaking Spanish, blue italics - Marc speaking Spanish

Jake was fed up with it.

Marc and Steven kept bugging him about stupid anger management.

He didn't really need it, of course. His anger issues were nonexistent. Jake was fine, but those two were taking his actions too seriously, fucking pussies.

Yet here he was, sitting in a waiting room.

When another patient left the psychiatrist's office, a receptionist, who appeared to be a young girl, smiled at him. "Please come in, the doctor is awaiting, sir."

"Fucking finally. I was getting ready to leave," he growled, walking inside.

The receptionist frowned slightly but chose not to comment on the man's behavior.

The office was a large room with just a wooden desk, a massive leather chair, a chaise lounge, and an armchair.

You graduated two years ago and have recently opened your first office. You'd gained a lot of regular customers since then, but this man was someone new. "Please take a seat, sir," you said, nodding to the armchair.

Jake took a seat and looked around. The room wasn't anything special, but the thing that really got his attention was the pretty, cute doctor that was about to help him.

"I was expecting to see a kind of Hannibal Lecter-style doctor, but seeing you here makes it more worthwhile," he smirked.

You smiled at him and rose from your seat; after circling the desk, you approached the man and extended your hand to him. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I'm the psychiatrist who will assist you with your anger issues. Would you like to start by introducing yourself?"

He grabbed your palm gently. "I am Jake Lockley. At your service," Jake said softly before placing a kiss on top of your hand.

You gave him your sweetest smile; it was very charming of him to act like an old-school gentleman. "Jake, it's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me what brings you here," you returned to your previous location.

Jake was quiet for a moment. Telling you the truth could put him in more trouble. “I was forced to come here by two of my friends," he muttered, looking at you. "When I look at you, it wasn't such a crappy idea after all."

"I'll take it as a compliment," you said as you settled into your leather armchair, crossed your legs, and put on your glasses to look over his file. "That's a reasonable place, to begin with. It's critical to have others' support, and I'm sure your friends were just concerned about your behavior. Jake, how would you describe yourself and how do you feel right now?"

Jake laughed softly at the 'support' part. They weren't supporting him, they were forcing him to come here. "I would describe myself as incredibly handsome and now I feel horny as fuck if I can be honest."

He made you laugh; this was not what you expected to hear from your patient, but he was so cute in his boldness. "Uhm, Jake, thank you for your input, and I must say, you're a very handsome fella, but I was more interested in whether you're angry right now and how your life looks on a daily basis. What are you doing for a living?"

"I do... Stuff," he shrugged, "if not for those two idiots who support me, my life would be a fucking paradise. It pretty much depends on the order I get. Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I feel calm like a fucking río."

"Is it safe to say that your job causes you stress and negative emotions? What steps do you take to get rid of them?"

"I..." He shrugged. "Punch a few fuckers. It not only calms me down but also gets the job done. So double win."

You took some notes and returned your focus to him. "Good. Let's move on to something else. Do you have any interests, Jake?"

"Let's see, smoking, drinking, guns, knives, murder...." He looked up at you. "Documentaries."

You took more notes with your brow raised. "Thank you for your candor. Would you mind telling me where you got your interest in guns and knives? You can move around the office freely if you want; it helps most patients think."

Jake nodded and got up to walk around a bit, curious about what he would find there. "What if I do mind telling you that?"

"We can of course change the topic then. No pressure."

"¡Maravilloso! Let's change the subject to... You being so preciosa that I want to fuck you here and now," Jake said boldly, walking closer to your desk.

You cocked your brow slowly. "That's very kind of you, Jake, but we should concentrate on you, not me," you chuckled, trying not to blush at the man's words.

"It's difficult to focus on me when you are here, pretty one."

"Mr. Lockley," you got up from your desk, giving him a look. "I need to remind you that I'm a doctor and you're a patient."

“I think that's a very fitting scene, don't you think, Mrs. Y/L/N? Just you, a pretty, cute doctor, and me, a troubled thug. We could have fun, cariño," Jake muttered in a low tone, daring to wrap an arm around your waist.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips; the situation was spiraling out of control. What scared you the most was that you were tense at all times, which was not only unprofessional but also inappropriate.

"You are so stiff. You like this, huh?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe yes or maybe a lot?" He whispered.

You cleared your throat to maintain composure. "Mr. Lockley, I think you're crossing the line," you said quietly, barely moving your lips. "I'd like to request that you return to your previous location."

"Oh, I will return to my previous location, with you on my lap," Jake responded.

You led him back to the armchair he had previously sat in. "Now, Mr. Lockley, let me remind you that this is a therapy session, not some type of get-together."

He grabbed your waist and pushed you onto his lap. "Well, it's an anger management thing. What if you help me with my anger?"

He took you by surprise - you fell onto his lap with a tiny whine. You tried not to move too much while he held you on his lap; the situation was spiraling out of control. You reached down to improve your black pencil skirt, which reached just above your thigh. "I'm glad to hear I can help you with your anger, but Jake, this isn't about to happen this way."

"¡Vaya! Me encanta cuando me llamas por mi nombre," Jake hummed happily, placing a hand on your leg to stroke it gently. "I'd like to hear you scream it and moan it."

This guy was having an effect on you; no matter how hard you tried to remain professional, his grip on your waist and his touch on your leg made it nearly impossible for you to think clearly. "Jake... Please, bring us back to the session. Anyone can enter at any time."

"Oh, you are too pretty to lie and you are terrible at it, cariño. My session is on, no one can walk in as they please. Not to mention your guarding bitch that will stop anyone who would get such an idea," he whispered and gently kissed your neck. "Hueles tan dulce ... sabrosa. I can feel that all the anger is fading out so quickly."

You moaned, instantly covering your mouth with your curled palm, blinking in disbelief at your own action, as you couldn't keep your cool any longer.

Chuckling lowly, he moved closer to your ear and whispered. "Apenas te toqué y cantas. musica para mis oidos.”

You slid off his lap and looked down at him, your cheeks flushed. You pulled your skirt up and straddled his lap, cupping his cheeks into your hands to kiss him because he knew how to keep you going.

He kissed you back and immediately picked you up, getting up from his seat. Still kissing you, he walked to your desk, pushed the stuff off of it, and then sat you down before pulling away. "This skirt is annoying me."

You hummed a bit at him. "It's a shame, for you have to deal with it in some way. I'm not taking it off."

Jake smiled and pulled out his pocket knife. "Let's make a sexy slit for that beautiful leg of yours." Before you could protest Jake cut the material of your skirt on the side. "Let's see what is hiding there."

When his gaze fell on the black, lacy underwear, you gasped and your cheeks flushed. "You know how much I paid for this skirt, Jake? Now, give me the knife."

"Not happening, little one," he shook his head, hiding the knife. "I bet you will rip me off enough to buy a brand-new skirt."

Your hand rested on his hips and slid down to his crotch, where you massaged the slight bulge you could already feel growing.

Jake purred at your touch. "You are a quick one. Don't ya want to stay professional anymore?"

His mocking of you grew tiresome. "Fuck off, Jake Lockley, and do what you've wanted since the moment you laid your eyes on me."

As Jake laughed loudly, he knelt between your legs. Humming, he shifted the panties aside and latched on your clit.

You rolled your head back and slipped your hand into his locks, muttering quietly fuck.

He licked the delicate bundle of nerves, biting it gently from time to time just to get a reaction out of you.

Observing his actions turned you into a moaning mess. "Keep going, Jake, don't stop," you said, putting your legs on his shoulders. Him biting on your clitoris was the most pleasurable torture. After a while, you realized how wet you had become. "Fuck me, fuck me, I need you to fuck my pussy."

Jake looked up at you. His fingers slipped into your hole. "Oh, really?” He asked, moving his finger slowly in and out. "Ask nicely."

"Fuck me," you whined quietly, taking your glasses off and putting them aside. "Fuck me. I know you want it too."

"I want you to keep these on," he said as he reattached the glasses. "Yeah, now I can fuck you. Looking so fucking sexy," Jack nodded, working on his belt.

You bit your lower lip as you watched him. "Do you mind if I assist you, Jake?"

"Go on. Be a smart girl and take care of it."

You instinctively reached for his belt and undid the metal buckle holding it in place, then opened his fly, looking him in the eyes with a mischievous grin.

Jake watched you as he played with your hair.

As you gently pushed him off the desk, you hopped up and kneeled in front of him, pulling his cock out and licking his shaft.

He pulled your hair into a ponytail and held it tightly in his hand as he commented, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"I want that as well," you replied, smiling at him, then bent in and caressed his left testicle with your tongue before sucking the whole nugget inside your mouth. You moved your right hand up to the base of his cock. Your mouth let go of his cock as you released the gentle sucking pressure. Your mouth and tongue then traced a trail up his penis until you reached the head. You used your tongue to trace small circles in the triangular region just under the head of his cock until he was squirming. Then you placed the whole head in your mouth still stimulating the underside with your tongue. Then you took as much of his shaft into your mouth as you could. Your right hand firmly held the base shifting up and down with your mouth which provided a gentle sucking pressure.

Jake hummed loudly as he enjoyed your attention. While playing with your hair, he scanned the wall clock. "You are one naughty doctor, but you better hurry up. Time is running out and I don't want to pay extra."

With a loud pop sound, you pulled him out of your mouth and spat down on his cock's tip. "If you fuck me well, I'm not charging you for another visit." When he was close to coming and his ball sack had tightened up into the base of his penis, you pulled back up to the tip of his cock, toying with him again tracing tiny circles with the middle of your tongue. You weren't ready for him to come yet. You released him with your mouth and hands and slowly stood to kiss him, hopping on the desk again, spreading your legs a little. "Come on. What the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Look at you," Jake mused, moving between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing his cock into you. Without giving you even a moment to adjust he set a strong pace with deep thrusts. "Tan poco profesional. Traes vergüenza a toda tu profesión. Me encanta," Jake said with a smile.

"Y no te molestó ni un poco," you gasped, wrapping your arm around his neck, in an attempt to support yourself, yet his pace was too rough to bear, so you ended up laying down on the desk, your back arched.

"Buena niña, mi propia pequeña zorra," Lockley growled, undoing your shirt so he could get to your beautiful tits. Then he moved your bra up, and his hands grabbed one of your breasts, massaging it.

"I'll fucking cum!" You whined, trying to keep your voice low. As he started kneading your breast, you moaned for him, feeling your pussy clenching rhythmically around his dick buried deep inside you.

"Cum for me, little one," Jake said, gently pinching your nipples.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you milked his cock, arching your back even more and wrapping your legs around him tightly, to drive him deeper.

He praised you and after a few more thrusts, he pulled out and then pulled you back onto your knees. "Such a pretty girl," Jake muttered, jerking himself off to soon cum all over your face.

With a loud gasp, you tried your best to catch all of his cum into your mouth. You wrapped your mouth around his shaft after he jerked himself off, just to suck him clean. Only then did you get up and wipe his semen off your cheek with the top of your hand. "That was something, Mr. Lockley. You're so fucking talented."

“Doc, you're not so bad yourself. I've never felt so calm in my fucked up life," Jake nodded and adjusted his pants. "I think I would like an appointment next week."

As you pulled your skirt down, adjusted your bra, and buttoned your shirt, you gave the man a nod. "If you'd like, Jake, you can set an appointment with my receptionist. She'll be more than happy to offer you a term. I literally can't wait to meet with you again, Mr. Lockley. Thank you for today. And homework for you - try to focus on breathing and thinking about something pleasant once you feel anger growing."

"Oh, I definitely will do that. Especially when I'll jerk off. I'll be breathing and thinking about something nice... Like my sexy doctor," he muttered, walking to the door.

Running the tip of your tongue along your lip, you nodded. Don't forget to leave me something for me, Mr. Lockley. Have a good afternoon. See you next week."

Once he stepped out of the office, the receptionist gave him a glance; the young lady heard some inappropriate things and she thought she should call the security but since her employer didn't ask her to, she let it be. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. I would like to set an appointment for next week," he informed leaning against the desk casually, running his hand through his hair.

The girl cocked her brow and typed something on the computer. "Is Friday at 4 pm suitable for you, sir?"

"Sure it is,” Jake nodded. "Hey? Where is the bathroom?”

"On the left, at the end of that corridor," she pointed in the direction. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

Jake shook his head and then headed to the bathroom. He locked the door and smiled at the sight of two mirrors. It would make stuff easier. "So, I need to say. This whole anger management thing wasn't such a stupid idea after all," he concluded and started to wash his hands.

"You came there for the anger management, not the sexual management, Jake," Marc scolded him, appearing in one of the mirrors, arms folded against his chest.

Her thick, British accent continued, "You depraved that poor woman..." It was Steven, he was tugging on the sleeves of the shirt as he appeared in the second mirror.

Jake shrugged in response to them both. "Well, she wanted to fuck so I didn't 'deprave that poor woman' but I fucked the naughty doctor and it actually helped me with my anger so it's basically a double win situation."

"Oh, God. Marc, did you hear that? Tell him something. This is not what you do with women just because they want to do inappropriate things," Steven turned with his back to Jake.

Marc shook his head in disbelief. "Jake, really? I heard you set another appointment. Just please, no fucking next time."

"If you want to do those naughty things, you better ask her out, it's more appropriate that way," Steven added. "What if she gets pregnant? Oh God, you couldn't wear rubber, could you?"

Jake rolled his eyes annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I finished on her face, this is not how stuff works, kid, but next time I will take some condoms. Thanks for reminding me about that, Steven. I will fuck her again and I ain't asking her out. Honestly, I already can't wait for another visit."

"Oh my God, Marc, do something with him, I'm going bonkers, I swear," Steven added.

"Jake, Jake, listen, it's anger management, right? We sent ya here so you can work on your murderous behavior, right? Not so you can just fuck your therapist, for Khonshu's sake," Marc shook his head in disbelief.

"Imbéciles, I will keep my murderous behaviors, but I am grateful for your help. For once the two of you actually became useful by finding me a pretty girl to let out some steam," Jake chuckled loudly. "Shall we go back home or will I keep standing here like an idiot and talk to myself?"

"It's time to learn how to treat women, and I'm addressing this not only to Jake but to you as well, Marc," Steven replied loudly. "He just fucks every woman he meets and breaks their hearts and limbs sometimes, and you almost dumped your sweet wife and vanished without a word for months. You both suck at maintaining a healthy relationship with girls," Steven added before vanishing.

Marc grimaced and blinked in disbelief. "What the hell was that?"

Jake listened and watched Steven with his eyebrows raised. Then he looked at Marc and shrugged. "Our frustrated, vegan, British virgin snapped? Or something like that, I don't really know. He is crazier than me sometimes."

"Don't be so harsh on him, he's... So much different than any of us. Okay, Jake, get your ass back home, we'll talk there. The last thing we need is to make any more inconvenience to the receptionist."

"Maybe she will join next time..." Jake hummed quietly, rubbing his chin.

"Lockley," Marc replied with a cold grimace. "Rápido, rápido."

"No me digas cómo vivir mi vida. Tu no eres mi madre," Jake said loudly before walking out of the bathroom to finally get back home.

#jake lockley #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x reader smut #jake lockley fic #jake lockley drabble #jake lockley fiction #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fiction #jake lockley & marc spector #jake lockley & steven grant #steven grant & marc spector #writers on tumblr #fic rec

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lunadei · 2 years

Note

Imagine if Y/n bought Marc a Teddy to sleep with?

an: Omg can you imagine though? Like I can absolutely picture Steven accepting a Teddy from you, but Marc? I just had to write a little drabble :)

When Marc confided in you about his night terrors - a common trait shared by both him and Steven - you were unsettled to say the least. Marc was the tough one. Though anger often seeped through the cracks of his well-composed façade, he rarely conveyed the struggles which plagued his troubled mind. It was disconcerting to know the nights he spent without you in his arms were restless, daunting.

Perhaps it was the feeling of helplessness when you considered Marc's circumstances that spurred you to purchase the Teddy.

It was light yellow, made to look more like a little dog with a white stripe down its snout- reminiscent of the one Steven told you he'd cherished growing up. It was adorable. And while you were certain Steven would appreciate the sentiment, you worried Marc would find it absurd.

Not wanting Marc to think you were still dwelling on his turmoil, you had presented the teddy as somewhat of a joke.

"You know, I thought you could use a partner for your little escapades," you teased, presenting him with the teddy. You chose not to mention its connection to his past, considering his recollection of childhood was not as stellar as Steven's. "You know, someone to keep you warm at night when I can't."

A familiar, somber look passed over his face. For a moment, you feared the gift had provoked some horrible memory. Before you could snatch the gift from his hand and apologize profusely, a soft chuckle escaped from his lips.

"I mean, you could have just gotten me a sex doll if you're worried about me staying warm on my lonesome." You punched his shoulder, uttering a 'ew, mark!' before being swept into his arms. The teddy was forgotten on the flat's floor as Marc carried you to the bedroom.

It wasn't until several weeks later, after Marc returned from a particularly brutal mission, that you praised your purchase of the little stuffed dog.

Marc had texted you that he was home safe - a sign that he was utterly exhausted. Usually, he would already be at your apartment, pinning you against your worn mattress to release the remaining pent up adrenaline. Allowing him to rest, you elected to go to his flat, deciding would make him a home cooked meal while he slept.

As soon as you entered his humble abode, you could barely contain your surprised gasp. There, curled up on the couch with the little dog nestled between his arms, was Marc.

You tried to contain your laughter, truly you did. But the giggles bubbled out of you before you could register their intensity in the otherwise silent space. Marc's eyes fluttered open, scrambling from his position to stand alert, one hand still holding onto the teddy as if to throw it at you.

"Jesus, Y/n," he bellowed, dropping the teddy to his side. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah, I see you pulled out the big guns to fight the possible intruder." You pointed to the dog, noting his sheepish expression.

"No, no no, listen," he shook his head rapidly, throwing the stuffed dog onto the couch as if it were toxic. "Steven fell asleep with that, alright? And it was the closest thing to me. And I woke up out of a dead sleep. Not exactly a great combo."

"Uh-huh, sure, Marc," you teased, watching his eyes roll at your condescending tone. "I definitely believe you. Scout's honor."

"Oh, that's it. C'mere!" He jolted toward you, stalking after you as you raced away from his grip.

"See, told you the teddy was better than the sex doll," you shouted, furiously laughing as he chased you around the flat.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #moon knight #fluff #moon knight fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight drabble #drabble #fluffdrabble #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader

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girlactionfigure · 1 year

Text

It was a "small" act.

But, at the time, she didn’t realize she was making a life-changing, and life-saving decision, not only for her but for hundreds of Polish Jews during the Second World War, helping save them from Nazi execution.

Only when she died last year, on April 8, 2022, at the age of 107 did the rest of the world learn of her courage.

She was born Carmen Koppel in Vienna, daughter of Frieda and Emil Koppel. Her father, an opera-loving grain merchant, chose her name after Bizet’s Carmen,” according to The Guardian, “She studied languages at the University of Vienna, taking shorthand to help with her note-taking.”

She said “My mother had insisted that I learn something useful, so I learnt to type.”

“In 1936 she married Josef Weitmann, who owned a curtain-making business in Kraków, and the couple settled there and had a son, Sascha.

“After the German occupation of Poland in 1939, the administration wanted to re-establish Kraków as Krakau, a German city. As Jews, [she] and her husband were forced to live in the Kraków ghetto, established by the Nazis in 1940. Its inhabitants were allowed to leave and return only with special permits. Josef was killed while trying to escape; Sascha was smuggled to relatives in Hungary.”

According to the New York Times, “in late 1944, as a slave laborer in the administrative offices of the Plaszow concentration camp in Poland, [she] typed an important version of the manifest of prisoners bound for [a] munitions factory in the area of the Czech Republic then known as the Sudetenland.”

“It was in those offices” that she also added her name and the names of two friends to the list, indicating her profession as “schreibkraft,” according to writer Alex Mindlin.

By typing that list, she almost certainly saved her own life, the lives of her friends, and many others, according to Mindlin.

That “list” “saved them from the gas chambers of Auschwitz, where most of the other Jews from Plaszow were deported,” according to The Teller Report.

Years later after the war, she would meet again the man who had made that list possible, the man who employed her.

She had a different last name by this time, but he still remembered her by her nickname. [She never liked the name “Carmen”, so close friends referred to her after a character in “La Bohème”.]

'It must have been around 1953,” she said. “I had gone to Vienna and I was walking along a street with an uncle. We were passing a coffee house where there was a group of people sitting. This large man ran across and hugged and started kissing me, saying: ‘Mimi, Mimi…’

“It was then that I realised that it was Schindler sitting with some of the Jews he had rescued.”

“The documents that [Mimi Reinhardt] worked on were made famous by Thomas Keneally’s 1982 novel . . . and by the 1993 Steven Spielberg movie ["Schindler's List"], both of which detailed the extraordinary lengths to which [Oskar] Schindler went to save the lives of some 1,200 of his Jewish workers,” according to the Times.

Other sources cite the number of lives saved even higher. According to AFP (Agence France-Presse) and The Times of Israel, “The lists which Reinhardt compiled for [Schindler] helped save the lives of some 1,300 Jews at considerable risk to his own life.”

“Austrian-born Reinhardt (sometimes spelled “Reinhard), herself a Jew, was recruited by Schindler himself and worked for him until 1945.”

This is a new story for the Jon S. Randal Peace Page. The Peace Page focuses on past and present stories seldom told of lives forgotten, ignored, or dismissed. The stories are gathered from writers, journalists, and historians to share awareness and foster understanding, to bring people together. And, as such, the stories are never relegated to one single month - they are available all year in the Peace Page archives and on this page each week throughout the year. We encourage you to learn more about the individuals and events mentioned here and to support the writers, educators, and historians whose words we present. Thank you for being here and helping us share awareness.

~~~~~

Reinhardt, then known as Carmen Koppel, “survived the final liquidation of the Kraków ghetto in March 1943, when 2,000 Jews were slaughtered, because the Nazis deemed her language and secretarial skills useful,” according to The Guardian.

At the time, the Red Army was approaching Poland and workers in Plaszow were being sent west to death camps,” according to The New York Times.

Reinhardt was a “prisoner at a concentration camp near Krakow, Poland during WWII in 1944,” according to the World Jewish Congress, when Schindler recruited her for a job in the camp's administrative office.

“Schindler and his Jewish accountant Itzhak Stern, who had helped to motivate Schindler, prepared the 'list' of essential workers - all of them Jews - for relocation to his new factory,' according to writer Peter Beaumont.

As Schindler’s secretary, Reinhardt “drew up the lists of Jewish workers in the Polish city of Krakow to work in the factory of her German industrialist boss”, according to writer Caroline Frost.

“This was a highly risky enterprise but is estimated to have saved . . . [the] workers from deportation and almost certain death in Nazi concentration camps.”

Reinhardt also “added the names of friends and her own married names until Schindler's quota negotiated with the SS was fulfilled: "Weitmann, Carmen, January 15, 1915, typist" is number 279 on the list.

“The rescue almost went awry” according to The Teller Report.

“On the way to Brünnlitz in 1944, the train carrying Schindler’s workers was diverted to Auschwitz,” according to The Guardian. “Death seemed inevitable. But Schindler used his military intelligence contacts to stop the diversion, claiming that these workers were vital for his armaments factory.”

“They had to stay in Auschwitz for two weeks,” according to The Teller Report.

“Mimi Reinhardt later compared the time to Dante's ‘Inferno’.”

“At the war’s end, [Schindler’s] workers were liberated, and Mimi was reunited with Sascha.”

Reinhardt “settled for a time in Morocco and then New York, where she lived for 50 years,” according to The Guardian. “She kept in touch with other ‘Schindler Jews’ whose lives had been saved by escaping the Plaszów camp under Schindler’s protection, but did not speak publicly about her earlier life until she moved to Israel in 2007.”

In Israel, she joined “her only son, Sacha Weitman, who was then a professor of sociology at Tel Aviv University,” according to The Times of Israel.

Schindler died in 1974, when he “was named by Israel’s Yad Vashem Holocaust museum as a member of the ‘Righteous Among the Nations’, an honour for non-Jews who tried to save Jews from Nazi extermination,’ according to Frost. “He is buried on the Mount of Olives just outside Jerusalem.”

The story of Reinhardt’s “small act” came to light when she was being interviewed by the Jewish Agency for Israel. (Note, “Reinhardt wasn’t directly portrayed in the Schindler’s List film,” according to News18.)

Reinhardt “expressed regret that Mr. Schindler, whom she adored, did not become a household name until after his death in 1974,” wrote Mindlin.

“He would have loved it, the attention,” she said.

She added in another interview, "I saw a man who was constantly risking his life for what he was doing. He was human. He must have had a heart of gold."

Reinhardt spent her last years at a nursing home north of Tel Aviv.

She is “mourned by her son and his family, as well as the thousands of people whose parents and grandparents she helped escape certain death,” according to the Jerusalem Post.

She has three granddaughters, nine great-grandchildren and two great-great-grandchildren.

In the image attached, Sasha Weitman, son of Mimi Reinhardt, holds an old photograph of his mother in Herzliya, Israel, (AP Photo/Ariel Schalit).

Of her contribution to history and assisting Schindler in saving hundreds of her fellow Jews, Reinhardt said, “I was just typing the list.”

~ jsr

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

#WW2 #Shoah #schindler's list #Schindler’s secretary #Judaism #Mimi Reinhardt

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daphnefisherofficial · 6 months

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bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER NINETEEN - CHOICES AND COMMITMENTS.

As you and Marc Spector both stepped through the shimmering gateway, the London streets and the cacophony of the city faded into a distant memory. The swirling vortex of energy enveloped you both, rendering you weightless for a brief moment as the portal carried you back to your home.

The splendor of your chateau residence in the outskirts of Surrey immediately greeted your vision. The pair of you stood by its threshold as the warm embrace of history and enchantment it possesses unfolded before your very eyes. The ancient stone structure exuded an aura of timeless elegance, and its turrets reached for the sky as if trying to touch the stars. The grand edifice, cloaked in ivy and memories, had seen generations of your late husband’s predecessors, and it was an honor for you to call it home.

Marc, Steven, and Jake collectively marveled in awe at the beauty of your abode, its grandeur never failing to take their collective breaths away.

“Wow, this is mental”, Steven, with his keen sense of appreciation for history and aesthetics, spoke first in their shared headspace. "This place is huge, just like stepping into Shakespeare."

“Why am I not surprised that she’s filthy rich?” Jake chimed in, his tone deeply impressed which prompted a small chuckle from Marc.

“I’m assuming Steven and Jake are having a party in your head right now, yeah?” you laughed softly, your hands reaching into Marc’s left arm for you to hold on to as he inclined his head towards you with a knowing smile.

“They’re just amazed at seeing where you live for the first time”, Marc spoke, an unspoken question lingering in his mind. “Can you still hear the two of them like I do?”

“Nope, I’m just guessing it must be something they said from the way you laughed earlier”, you shook your head at his line of thought. “Although I have the means, I will not read your mind nor hear your thoughts unless I have your consent”

Marc nodded gratefully at your words, his trust and confidence magnified by the fact that you chose to respect his privacy and his desire to reveal parts of himself to you at the timeline of his choosing.

The morning sun bathed the landscape in a golden hue, making the lush outdoor garden appear even more enchanting and vibrant with the colors of a thousand blossoms as the sound of birds and the delicate rustle of leaves fill the air. The greenery was being meticulously tended to by your dedicated household staff, dressed in elegant uniforms reflective of your social stature. As you strolled towards the main entrance, they acknowledged your presence with respectful nods and polite curtsies.

At the threshold of your magnificent home, you were immediately greeted by your butler, Bill, who had been anxiously awaiting your return. He was a tall, distinguished man, his silver hair impeccably groomed and his demeanor exuding authority and a deep sense of loyalty. The deep lines etched into his face gave him an air of wisdom and elegance, and spoke of the years he had dedicated to serving you and your late husband’s predecessors.

"Welcome back, Lady Carter," Bill extended a respectful bow with a warm smile, his voice tinged with genuine worry as he looked between you and your familiar companion. “Mr. Spector”

“Good morning, Bill”, you greeted, while Marc Spector merely nodded to acknowledge your butler’s presence. “Apologies for the late notice, but as you see, I have a guest with me”

“It’s alright, Milady”, Bill responded, his voice warm and familiar as his eyes, sharp as ever, meet yours with concern. “But I must say, I was quite worried when you didn't return home last night. Is everything alright?"

“I’m unharmed, Bill, do not worry”, you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I should have sent word, but I did have a rather eventful night."

“Eventful night, you say, Miss?” Bill raised an eyebrow, his concern deepening.

“It’s a long story and I’m afraid I do not have the luxury of time to tell you right now”, you sighed, realizing that a simple explanation wouldn't suffice as Bill deserved to know the truth. "But suffice it to say that there has been an attempt on my life."

“An attempt on your life?” Bill's expression darkened with worry. "Whoever attacked you knew you well, doing it during the new moon. Should I start looking into it, Miss?"

“Don’t bother for now”, you placed a hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring squeeze. "But I need you to do something else. Give Aleah a call and tell her that I need her here in the next few hours. We have much to discuss"

“Of course, Lady Carter”, Bill nodded, his concern for your well-being taking precedence. "I will do so and make the arrangements right away"

Turning your attention to Marc Spector, who stood beside you, you said, "Let’s go. My sanctum is up on the third floor."

Marc nodded, his expression a mix of curiosity and determination. "Lead the way, Mira."

You led Marc up the grand staircase that wound its way to the upper floors. As you ascended gracefully to the third floor, the air grew heavy with the weight of history and mystique. Steven and Jake marveled from Marc’s headspace at the array of oil paintings adorning the walls. Each piece seemed to hold a story evoked by masterful strokes of paint color.

“Bloody hell, there’s a lot of amazing paintings in here”, Steven sighed in amazement within Marc’s mind. “Monet, Van Gogh…”

“Yeah, imagine how much we could sell these–”

“Seriously, Jake?” Marc muttered as he followed after your climbing footsteps. “Why am I not surprised you’re thinking again of filling your pockets?”

“I mean, he’s right”, you chimed in, hearing Marc’s whispered words. “People would actually kill to buy the real Monet, there’s a huge demand just in the black markets of Madripoor alone. Also, we’re here”

You led Marc inside your personal sanctum, which was a solitary attic room occupying the entirety of the third floor. You noticed the way his eyes roved, taking in the opulence and rich history as you housed a massive collection of artifacts and relics, a living culmination of your long life as a priestess. The room itself seemed to expand in every direction, with shelves of scrolls, tablets, and magical tomes lining the walls. Talismans, amulets, and a vast collection of weapons, both ancient and otherworldly, adorned the nearby wooden table together with herbs, roots, crystals, and other magical ingredients.

You could only imagine Steven and Jake’s reactions at seeing the countless memorabilia, and the potential untold stories of the treasure trove before them from various points of your history. The trio exchanged another glance from the nearby reflective surface of a large ornate mirror, all of them struck by the gravity of the place.

“Oh my days, this room is a living history book”, Steven's voice resonated within their shared headspace, his words tinged with awe. "I wanna pinch myself, this doesn’t feel real."

“This is certainly not what I pictured in my head for a sanctum, hermano”, Jake remarked, his arms folded as he watched you move gracefully around the room.

“What exactly did you picture, Jake?” Steven’s eyebrows raised, looking inquisitively at Jake.

“Skulls, brooms, pentagrams…”

Marc slowly shook his head at Jake’s words, his eyes focused on watching you as your clothing changed before his very eyes, the familiar threads of your ancient ceremonial robes as a babaylan (priestess) enveloping your body. It only added to your ethereal presence as you moved with an air of confidence and purpose.

Your long, highlighted hair of ebony black and white cascaded down your back, as you walked towards the intricately carved stone pedestal at the very center of the room. Resting upon it is an ancient grimoire bound in leather, its pages filled with your meticulous notes and incantations.

You knew that this book held the answers you sought as you slowly approached, your fingers lightly brushing the pages. You started searching for a spell in particular, one that is powerful enough that could counter and lift your patron goddess’s mintala (ancient curse) and restore your lost memories.

“Bloody hell”, you heard Steven’s voice at your side, mildly surprised that he fronted as you noticed the deep fascination in his eyes. “I never thought I’d see an actual, real grimoire. This is amazing, Mira”

“I’ll take it as a compliment”, you smiled serenely at Steven’s commentary. “I see you’re taking the reins this time, Steven”

“Sorry for the sudden shift”, Steven muttered sheepishly, his eyes apologetic as you saw him looking at the large ornate mirror situated behind you. “Sorry, mate, it’s not everyday I get to see this– oh bollocks! Something just moved past my foot!”

You immediately turned to Steven’s direction, looking beneath at an instant to see what was going on. Your mild alarm immediately turned into pure relief as you saw a familiar creature crawling in the vicinity of your wooden floor. You knelt on the floor, your hand outstretched and your palm open as a silver and gold scaled serpent slowly slithered towards your waiting arm.

“I believe that’s Marikit wanting to say hi”, you said softly as introductions are in order despite Steven’s obvious apprehension. He hesitantly met the small, black eyes of your kambal-ahas (snake twin), seemingly scrutinizing his presence with its gaze. “Nais mo ba siyang makilala, Marikit?”

Would you like me to introduce him, Marikit?

“Isa siyang pambihirang nilalang, aking umbo”, the snake twin’s feminine voice echoed in Steven’s mind, also clearly heard by his headmates, Marc and Jake. “Tatlong katauhan ang nananahan sa kanyang katawang lupa”

He’s a very unique individual, my sister. Three different people are living inside his body.

“What did she say, Mira?” Steven’s eyes widened from hearing another unfamiliar feminine voice inside his head.

“Marikit just found out about your unique circumstance with Marc and Jake”, you responded, placing your hand on the stone pedestal as your snake twin started slithering away to her original resting place.

“Ikinagagalak kong makilala kayo, Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley”, Marikit greeted politely in their shared headspace. “Ako si Marikit, ang kambal-ahas ng aking umbong si Mira”

I am very pleased to meet you, Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley. I’m Marikit, the snake twin of my older sister, Mira.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess, Marikit?” Steven wondered aloud, prompting an excited gleam to dance in your eyes. His mental brothers, on the other hand, silently acknowledged your unique twin with identical nods.

As you continued flipping through the pages of your grimoire, Marc and Jake’s eyes were fixed on you from the mirror reflection. You could feel their gaze on you, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Steven, can you ask Marc and Jake if they wish to talk to me?” you spoke aloud. “I can enchant that mirror behind me so that they can speak freely to me without fronting”

After a brief look Steven threw at the said mirror, he turned to you again with a small smile and nodded in agreement with your suggestion. You simply waved your hand at the ornate mirror behind you, your magical enchantment now working as Marc and Jake’s respective reflections materialized together.

“Anything we can do to help you, muñeca?” Jake asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he watched you resuming your earlier magical activities.

“Your presence, along with Marc’s and Steven’s, are more than enough for me”, you replied, your facade painted with an expression of pure gratitude. “I cannot even begin to thank you all for what you did.”

“You don’t need to thank us, Mira”, Marc reassured. “We’re all here to protect you the best way we knew how”

“I just wish it had been under better circumstances”, you took a deep breath, arriving at a special page of your grimoire where you found the intricate spells you needed. “Are you really sure about becoming Khonshu’s avatars again? I can just wait until the next full moon–”

“Look at me, love”, it was Steven who spoke this time, stepping closer towards you as he held your face reassuringly against his palm, his gaze filled with a sense of unwavering commitment. “If presented with the same choice, I’ll gladly do it all over again, as I’m sure Marc and Jake would.”

“But, Steven…”

“But nothing, love”, Steven didn’t give you a chance to protest as he pressed his lips against your forehead, his soft kiss calming your chaotic mind and heart. “We’re all here for you, no matter what happens. Whatever you discover about your past, the four of us - Marc, Jake and I, we’ll face it together.

You nodded slowly as his forehead connected with your own, allowing you to reminisce the day it first happened with incandescent happiness. After taking a deep, collective breath, you broke apart as your resolve was renewed, thanks to their encouragement.

“Shall we begin, then?” you whispered softly, taking Steven’s hands into your own as you prepared to rediscover your shared past with him, Marc and Jake.

“We shall”

END OF CHAPTER NINETEEN.

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