#and there’s nothing the people around him would do anyway because he’s Steven and Steven Loves To Help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heavcnslyre · 10 months

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chapter one - j.f. ( masterlist )

GORGEOUS.

“ocean blue eyes looking in mine,

i feel like i might sink and drown and die”

the air outside was cold, which was shocking for a mid-june morning. you were awake early, as you often were since you preferred to be productive in the mornings, but today it was for a different reason. you had barely slept all night. this morning, you were returning to susannah’s beach house in cousins. you looked forward to this day every year, and it was always just as special every time it came around.

“you all ready?” a voice breaks your silence as laurel peaks her head out the front door, watching you sit on the porch swing. you smile at her.

“definitely,” you say. “coffee on the counter, did you see it?”

she walks over to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “i did. thank you. now get your bag in the car, we’ll leave in twenty.”

“can i drive?” you ask, following her inside. she shakes her head.

“already told steven he could.”

as she says it, steven comes down the stairs and ruffles your hair as he walks past you. “sorry!”

“no you’re not,” you grumble, turning away to grab your bags. you had just gotten your license less than a month ago but steven has had his for months, so he usually got first dibs on driving. you usually didn’t mind, but the drive to cousins was special to you, and you would have loved to be able to make the drive yourself. not driving, you thought, would at least give you more time to prepare. although, you would have appreciated the distraction. this year felt different. you felt different. you weren’t really sure if it was a good different or not.

part of you was terrified, for some reason. most summers, you went to cousins completely disconnected from the world back at home. cousins was it’s own world, in your mind. the people, the house, the entire atmosphere, it was magical. it absolutely transported you, and you let it. this year, you had a connection to back home. your boyfriend, peter. you and him started dating two months ago after your best friend cassie introduced you to him, and things have been incredible ever since. if you were honest, you had never really committed to a guy before him, but it seemed to be working out well so far. the reason why you were terrified, you figured, was because this trip to cousins could change that. jeremiah fisher could change that.

you had talked to plenty of guys, even dated a few for a couple weeks or so, but as soon as jeremiah fisher comes around, you lose sight of everything — and everyone — around you. he somehow has that effect on you, and he has your whole life. but you do really like peter, so you told yourself you wouldn’t ruin something good for yourself again, just because you’ve always been waiting for jeremiah. you’ve made a fool of yourself enough over the years, attempting to get closer to him as he flirts with everyone in the world, that you know it was time to change something.

you just hope that you’ll be able to stick to it.

“(y/n),” you’re woken up by your sister belly poking your side, “(y/n), you’re drooling on me.”

you groggily open your eyes and stretch, moving away from her, “sorry bells.”

“s’kay,” she yawns. “we’re almost there, anyways. and your phones been blowing up. all from peter,” she says the last part teasingly, pushing your phone towards you. you laugh as you unlock your phone, seeing that she was right, and peter had texted you seven times.

peter: good morning!!

peter: sorry ik you’ve probably been up for hours

peter: omg and youre probably almost to the beach already

peter: miss u already

peter: there’s a party tomorrow night i was thinking about going to if that’s okay with you

peter: cassie’s gonna be there and stuff and you know i’ll be thinking about you forever so you’d have nothing to worry about

peter: just let me know if you’re comfortable with it okay?

you: oh my peter

you: you don’t need my permission to go have fun!!! of course you can go to the party :)

you: just text me and keep me updated okay? and make sure there’s a DD

peter: of course. you’re the best!

you: 🤍🤍

you smile at your phone and as soon you look back up, you were entering cousins. you didn’t realize how long you had slept for, but as soon as you saw the sign, your heart skipped a beat. you were back. you were back, and everything was good, including your lovely boyfriend back home. this summer was going to be perfect, you just knew it. your fears from this morning were fading and you decided that no matter what happens, you’re going to be okay. you’re going to have a great summer.

“did susannah get a new car?” steven asks as he pulls the car into the driveway of the house. laurel nods, a small smile forming on her face as the house comes into few. the same smile was present on everyone’s faces in the car. this place was so special to all of you.

“yeah, she gets bored with her cars easily,” laurel finally says, a hint of distaste in her voice. “she just likes to change things often.”

steven was barely listening and was halfway out of the car by the time laurel was done talking. his eyes were set on susannah, who was standing at the doorway, watching your car pull in. she looked as beautiful and radiant as ever, and even more so, especially since it was obvious that she was healthier now than she was last summer. her hair got longer and the glow on her face was back, lighting up her eyes and giving her the most approachable demeanor possible. she was perfect.

you get out of the car shortly after steven, and follow him up the steps to hug susannah tightly. she rubs your back as she hugs you. “oh sweet (y/n), you beautiful girl. i’m so happy to see you.”

“i’ve missed you so much,” you say back, and she gives you another squeeze before letting you go and hugging laurel. you look down by the car at steven, who was now talking to jeremiah, who had his back to you. your breath caught in your throat when you saw him, but you shook it off. that was not what this was going to be. he was one of your best friends, your family. that was all. that didn’t stop your heart rate from speeding up the second that he turned around and your eyes met his beautiful, bright blue ones. his face softened as soon as he saw you, but his smile remained just as wide. you move towards him and he watches you, his eyes never leaving yours as you approach him.

“(y/n),” he says, looking you up and down and grinning. “you look different.”

you knit your eyebrows and look down at yourself. “good different?”

jeremiah laughs. “always good.”

you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you into a close hug. you take in his scent, a mix of saltwater and his vanilla cologne, the one that conrad and steven have always made fun of him for. they always say it makes him smell too girly. you have always thought he smelled perfect.

“i have so much to tell you,” jeremiah says as you pull away from the hug. “this summer is going to be amazing!”

“i can’t wait,” you grin. the two of you always spent the first night sitting on the beach after dinner, talking all night. he would fill you in on his school year, and you would fill him in on yours. it usually ended with both of you in the ocean and sandy, but it was always one of your favorite traditions.

as you turn away from jeremiah, belly rushes out of the car and pulls him into a hug and he spins her around. your eyes catch on conrad, who had just rounded the corner of the house, and was staring at them. he meets your eye and smiles sheepishly, knowing that you had caught him. you smile and go pull him into a tight hug. “hey connie.”

“hey (y/n). it’s good to see you,” he says. as you pull apart, his eyes are caught on belly again, who is staring at him this time, too. you smile at the sight and push conrad towards her gently. the corner of his mouth slightly turns up and he walks to her as you walk back over to jeremiah and steven, who were giggling to themselves. when jeremiah sees you walking towards them, he waves you over quickly.

“belly flop time,” he says, a wide grin on his face. you laugh.

“yes!” the three of you walk towards conrad and belly, who were laughing with each other, seemingly in their own world.

“hey, i don’t know about you guys but…” steven pretends to check his nonexistent watch on his wrist. “i think it’s time…for a…belly flop!”

belly squeals as the boys grab her, conrad carrying her by her armpits and the other two grabbing her feet. you giggle and lead the way, opening the gate to the pool and letting them pass through. you and the boys count down from three and they throw belly in the water. you all laugh as she flails around, her clothes completely soaked. your smile fades as the boys turn to you, mischievous smiles on their faces. “no.”

“it’s not fair to only throw belly in there, is it?” steven says innocently. you shake your head and attempt to run away, but before you can, jeremiah has his arms wrapped around your waist and lifts you effortlessly in the air. steven and conrad help him and grab your legs, counting down from three just like they did with belly. she dove out of the way as the boys throw you into the water. luckily, the water was warm, and while the feeling of your wet clothes was uncomfortable on your skin, the water was quite refreshing. belly giggles as you swim towards her and pull her into a hug, but in the hug, you whisper in her ear. “let’s get back at them?”

she nods as if she read your mind, and when you pull apart and begin to approach the edge, she’s suddenly struggling. “wait, wait guys, my ankle.”

“what’s wrong belly?” conrad asks. she continues struggling in staying afloat.

“i…i hurt my ankle i think. i cant walk on it,” she reaches her arm out to conrad. “help me out.”

he reaches out, and as their hands connect she pulls him into the water and the other boys burst out in laughter, jeremiah doubling over in laughter with his hands on his knees. taking advantage of this moment, you grab his hands and pull him into the water too, completely catching him off guard as he falls into the water next to you. now steven is standing on the edge, struggling to breathe from laughing so hard. “no way they got both of you!”

jeremiah flips his hair out of his face and looks up at steven. “c’mon steven, waters nice! you don’t wanna be left out, do you?”

steven shakes his head, still laughing. “i think i’ll survive being left out today. these shoes were expensive.”

“lame!” jeremiah calls out as steven walks towards the house, his laughter still echoing in the air. jeremiah turns his attention to you and swims over to you, grabbing your waist and spinning you around. “i’ll get you back for pulling me in here.”

you laugh. “sure you will. c’mon, let’s go dry off for dinner.”

he hops out of the side of the pool and offers an arm to help you out. he pulls you out of the pool with ease. “race you upstairs?”

“that sounds dangerous,” you say. “wet feet on tile and hardwood floor? with your clumsiness?”

he mocks offense. “you think i’m clumsy? ridiculous.”

“jere, you tripped over a penny on the beach last summer,” you say. “and i don’t think we’ve had a summer here where we haven’t had to bring you to the e.r. from some injury.”

“the sand is trippy!” he claims. “and i just live an adventurous lifestyle. which is why i’m totally beating you upstairs.”

“better catch me first!” you say and immediately take off sprinting, up the stairs to the porch and through the sliding glass doors, which you attempt to close in front of jeremiah, who caught up with you quickly. carefully, you run through the house but the slippery floors really did make it difficult. soon, you’re halfway up the stairs and jeremiah is right behind you, laughing. “you’re such a cheater!”

“i’m just smarter than you!” you yell as you approach your bedroom, which was right next to his. he shakes his head.

“no way. just a cheater,” he grins at you one more time as he enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him. you walk into yours as well, your head spinning from the first thirty minutes you had spent here. jeremiah made everything around you feel insignificant and you felt like you were floating when he touched you. and for the first time in your life, you hated the feeling. you were with peter now. you had to focus on peter, not jeremiah.

it was hard to do that when you were spending the next two months living with him, your rooms right next to each other, and the walls thin enough that you could hear everything in each others rooms. whenever he played music, you heard every word. every conversation, every ounce of laughter, every time either of you cried. it was good, having a close connection to him, but you knew it was just going to make things so much harder.

#tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp #tsitpbookseries #tsitp cast #tsitp s2 #tsitp conrad #tsitp belly #tsitp spoilers #conrad fisher #team conrad #team jeremiah #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah x reader #belly conklin #steven conklin #bria j.f updates

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

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Jungkook

Dearly Beloved 🔞 Final.

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: insert 'oh no' tiktok meme here.

Length: long?

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He's gonna do it. He has to. What if he misses his chance? You already love him.

You just don't know it yet.

But the entire day at the office, someone steals your attention away. There's always someone standing at your desk, asking pointless things, chasing you around like a slave for things that could've been a fucking e-mail. Why do you need to go and copy something for Yaerin when she's got to working legs?

Maybe if she didn't wear those high heels she constantly trips in she would be able to do her job correctly. Or maybe she's simply a viper, trying to work you down until you burn out, unable to offer this place anymore of your energy. She's done it before. She'll do it again.

People like her disgust him. She's rotten to the core, especially considering how she constantly soils the office seats in the meeting room with her disgusting perfume every time she fucks another one of the higher ups in there. He knows it's happening, has walked in on her and a CEO once- and while he told her that her secret was safe with him, he really only did it to have something up his sleeve if he ever needed her for something.

Does that make him just as rotten as her? Maybe. But all is fair in love and war.

He can't help but fidget at this point, watching how you clearly try and stay nice to a coworker currently attempting to convince you to go drinking with everyone after this shift. You don't like karaoke, you don't even drink in social settings because it makes you anxious- Jungkook knows these things.

He would never ask something of you that you're not comfortable with- he'd take you out for your favorite fast food instead to eat it in the car while listening to crappy pop-songs on the radio. That's what you love.

You've mentioned it before. And he never forgets those things.

Who's that man to you anyways? He can sense the tenseness in your muscles as the guy leans on your table, clearly taking up space and showing that he's not going to leave anytime soon- and Jungkook feels his anger grow inside his chest. You don't like this guy. He needs to get him away from you.

"Uh- Steven, right?" Jungkook meekly asks, the man's face snapping to him with an annoyed smile.

"Yeah. What's up kook?" He jokes as if they're best buddies.

They're not. Jungkook couldn't care less if the guy died in a ditch.

"I think Yaerin wanted to talk to you about something being wrong with the calculations for last month?" Jungkook stammers, needing to uphold his image. And also, he can't help it- his emotions make him quiver a bit, muscles unable to stay still as he rubs his hands. "She said it's urgent." He presses.

That's actually only half a lie. It's not urgent- but that whore did want to talk to him about something. There probably won't be much talking involved except maybe a command to take his dick further down her throat- but Jungkook doesn't care what they do. The only thing he does care about is that he fucking leaves.

Which he does, finally, making Jungkook take in a deep breath as he watches the man walk off.

"Thank you so much." You say behind him, and when Jungkook turns around to look at you, you're gazing at him with such warm eyes he feels his trembling body levitate on nothing but thin air. Everything's alright again- if he could look at you like this for the next years of his life, he'd thank every god in existence for it. "I have.. a hard time telling people no." You sigh, running your hands over your face.

"That's.. that's fine." Jungkook nods, a little awkwardly, smiling back. "I'm not that.. good at it either." He chuckles, and you laugh along, already feeling a lot better.

"Do you.. uhm.." You look at your keyboard for a second before you lick your lips- is that new lipgloss you wear? Or did you eat something that stained them? Jungkook isn't sure, but he wants a taste. "Do you wanna.. grab a drink or two after work with me?" You wonder, rushing the sentence out, and Jungkook's lips part a little, eyes round and open as they stare you down with their boba-pearl charm.

"Uh- yes! Yes, sure!" He nods, closing his mouth, before he pats his pants, looking for his phone. "W-wait, I'll uh- I'll give you my number!" He rushes out, writing it down with trembling hands on a sticky note, before offering it to you, who smiles shyly.

"Alright!" You nod. "I'll.. see you tonight then?" You ask, and Jungkook nods, entire body set aflame.

"Tonight."

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He fucked up.

He's pacing in front of your door because you surely know. You had to have found out- there's no way you didn't. The moment you texted him, he knew you knew-

because he gave you the wrong number. In his panic, he gave you a number you already have.

Is the police on its way? Did you call the cops? Or another friend maybe to beat the shit out of him? You must be terrified, creeped out to no ends, and he can't blame you. What the hell did he even do? This isn't right.

"Jungkook?" You ask, ripping him out of whatever panicked episode he was going through, wild eyes staring at you who's looking at him with an unreadable expression.

It's quiet as you stare each other down, tension able to be cut with a knife for a good while, before you speak.

"You could've.. just said something." You mumble, and Jungkook isn't sure what you mean. There's a variety of things and situations this sentence could apply to- and he doesn't want to out himself if he's not caught yet. If there's just a simple chance of getting away with it, he will take it. "Do you... like me this much?" You ask, and he's swallowing thickly now.

You clearly want an answer, but he doesn't know in what context. What is he supposed to say.

"I mean, I knew something was off when.." you explain, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you fumble with your words. "When.. I wasn't scared." You admit.

"Because it was you all along."

His entire body grows cold, veins freezing over as he gets his confirmation. You know. You know, and you're probably going to tell him next that you've already asked for a restraining order-

Wait. What do you mean by you weren't scared?

"Do you want to.. come in with permission this time?" You ask, trying to lighten the mood, but he's confused. This isn't the reaction he thought he'd get.

"I-" he starts, stammers. "I'm sorry." He presses out. "I don't.. I just-" he fails to find appropriate words because he really doesn't know why he's like this. He knows it's a problem, he knows he's sick- it's obvious, that little sane part of him is aware of the pure wrongness of his actions up until now.

"I know." You say, nodding, before you step aside to let him inside.

"I can't." Jungkook denies. "I can't- I shouldn't, I'm not- don't let me in, don't ever let me in-" he worries, unsure what's wrong with him now. Is this what realization feels like?

If that's the case, he wants to go back to insanity, because this is torturous.

"Its fine." You reassure. "You're.. I'd really hate to see you leave right now." You deny, offering compassion. "You're not well right now." You say, and he agrees.

But he's never been well ever since he met you almost a year ago.

He'll never be well.

"You're too.. you shouldn't. I might hurt you." He explains in a hurry.

"You won't." You deny. You're not sure why you're so convinced about it- maybe because he's had the chance to hurt you so many times and didn't. Or maybe because you're so lonely that you'll take this love no matter how tainted it is.

"Please come inside." You ask once more.

And slowly, with great hesitance, does he enter your home, painfully wringing his hands as if to keep himself occupied.

"When my mom had a brain stroke, years ago, she changed a lot." You explain, walking in to fill up two glasses of water before you set them on the coffee table in the living room area, sitting down on the couch right after- inviting him.

He takes the invitation. His eyes sting with unshed tears.

"She suddenly hated me. Hated almost everyone." You remember. "The doctors said that it can happen. That if we.. injure just a tiny little specific part of our brains, our whole personality changes." You retell, and Jungkook listens, unsure where to look now.

He's been here before, but he's never seen the apartment with the lights on.

"But we still got along until she passed." You nod. "She went to therapy, and reconnected with me and her old friends." You say.

"I'm.. I think I know what you're suggesting-" he says, before he puts his face in his hands. "But I don't want to." He denies.

"Why not?" You worry with a soft tone. "Jungkook, you're not a bad person. You just need help." You offer.

"But what if my love for you is just mental illness?!" He yells out, panicked, eyes now leaking tears. "I don't want them to kill that. I want to stay- I want to stay sick if it means that I still love you.." he weeps, looking at you with desperation.

"Then we'll rebuild it." You shrug easily. "I'll make you love me again." You say, and Jungkook breaks.

"C-can I touch you?" He whimpers from the other side of the couch. "Just a bit?" He wonders, and you nod, opening your arms.

Welcoming him, because he's not a threat or a danger or a monster.

He's just a little sick.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #yandere jungkook #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic

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littleboyblue1 · 3 months

Text

I Do

Had the idea of Jake being the greatest guy ever. Decided to write that out, kind of. Anyways.

warnings: p in v, oral (f receiving), talks of marriage, no y/n, but 'Mrs. Lockley' is said, nothing else I can think of

Jake Lockley was a lot different than most guys you'd dated. He was, as your friends often said, 'husband material'. He certainly would've been if it weren't for the frequent days of no contact, and the fact that he was very secretive. But then he explained it, and he was perfect again. Suddenly, it was nonstop texting, and not a single secret.

Marc and Steven were amazing, but there was always something more with Jake. You liked him most. He was your first of the three after all. And, even though you'd never say it out loud, he provided a much more normal life than the others. He liked domesticity, and it made it feel like a marriage between you two, and just dating Marc and Steven. Which was just fine, it didn't change anything.

But because of that difference, Jake was the guy your friends, coworkers, and family knew. You told your family after a while, but it was still mostly Jake they saw. The others, well, you'd explain it if you had to.

Jake also thoroughly enjoys being your 'arm candy'. Your boss had called him that when they'd first met at a dinner, and Jake would not let it go. No matter how much you and the others teased him, he liked it. So much so that he would beg the other guys to let him be the one that goes to your work events. They always said yes.

Tonight, he seemed extra eager. He showered and dressed, then you'd told him he was three hours early. "That's okay. I'll just watch you get ready then," he'd replied. You wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

He isn't a 'take showers together' guy, but he does enjoy sitting on the counter talking to you. Not every time you shower, just when he feels particularly talkative. So, he sat on the counter, talking about his day.

"I don't mind it really. I just hate working with people," he explained. He'd often go to work for Steven, purely because he preferred to front for long periods of time these days.

You laughed. "You could always just let Steven go in, baby." Jake huffed loudly. "I know. But it would relieve the stress."

He handed you your towel as you stepped out. His head rested agains the mirror. "Yeah. But no." You laughed again. "Want your hair thing?" You nodded, and he dug around for your hair towel while continuing. "Sometimes I think we should just tell them. Maybe they'd let us skip, and I could do something I like."

"I don't think - thanks - think it's a bad idea. It might make things easier on all of you."

He followed you into your room. You talked the idea over while you finished getting ready. When you finished, he went to the closet and picked out shoes for you, then delicately put them on. You wondered if he even realized he did stuff like that. It was like second nature to him.

Jake left for a second to get drinks, and your friend Alexa leaned in. "Seriously, where did you buy that man!? she asked. You laughed.

"Got lucky."

"You may be the luckiest woman on Earth."

"Tell me about it." You turned to see him. He was chatting some guy up at the bar. Even from a distance, he was hot. He saw you and waved. You returned the favor, then turned back to Alexa. "I worry I'll wake up, and he'll just be a dream."

She sighed dreamily. "If he is, mind telling me your night routine?" The two of you laughed until Jake got back.

He placed the drinks down for all three of you, then held a hand out. "Come on," he nodded towards the dance floor, "This is our song." You couldn't help but giggle as you stood. It certainly wasn't 'your' song, but it was a nice song, and Jake liked dancing.

He was a good dancer too. You could stand there stiff as a board, and he'd wheel you around perfectly. No one would even notice if he was the only one dancing. But you'd learned for him anyways, and the two of you were a well-oiled dancing machine.

"You've got a very nice dress, miss," he whispered in your ear. As he leaned back up, you caught him staring straight down the front.

"Charming as always."

He cracked a smile at you. "Can't help it. I see a pretty lady, I have to look."

"Is that so?" You weren't upset, but you tried to force your voice to sound like you were.

He nodded. "Just seems like there's a lot less pretty women these days. About 4 years ago, there was only one pretty woman left on earth. Confused the hell out of me." He was smiling a big, cheesy smile. You couldn't help but laugh at him.

"You're a dork."

When the song ended, he led you back to the table. He casually draped an arm over your shoulders. You were warm, but you didn't mind.

The rest of the night went by quickly with dances, drinks, and boring work conversations. When you got home, you were both a little tipsy, and Jake was spinning and dipping you all the way back to the flat.

Your old neighbor smiled and waved at the two of you. You giggled and waved back. "You've got a very pretty wife," she said to Jake. You waved her off, smiling wide.

Jake smiled even wider. "Yes, I do." You liked the title 'wife', even if he was only agreeing because it was easier to just agree.

Jake let you in, spinning you onto the couch. He dropped his jacket on the floor, then fell to his knees at your feet. As he undid your shoes, he placed kisses all over your calves. He was mostly kissing - you could feel his fingers fumbling with the straps.

When he finally got them off, you pulled him to you by his cheeks. "You looked so handsome tonight, baby," you whispered. His cheeks got a little pinker.

"So did you."

You giggled, pulling him in for a kiss. When he pulled away, he stroked a thumb on your bottom lip. "My wife. Could you imagine?" He stared into your eyes with an intensity that could melt you.

A smile tugged at your lips. "Mrs. Lockley. How's-"

He cut you off. "Fuck, say that again."

"Mrs. Lockley." You could've sworn his eyes became just pupil. He pulled you in hard enough your teeth knocked together lightly. It would've been off putting if it weren't for the fact that he was leaning back down to sit on his feet.

He pulled away breathless. "Take it off." You obeyed, discarding the dress quickly. You hadn't worn anything special, just the underwear on the top of the pile and a clean bra, but he sighed anyway. "God, how did I ever get so lucky?"

Jake took your undergarments off, tossing them somewhere behind you. He dropped his head against your breasts, kissing the tops before moving down to your nipples. He worshiped them for a moment, then started moving down again.

He left a trail of kisses down until he was where you needed him. "One more time, baby. Say it again."

"Mrs. Lockley?" You assumed that's what he wanted to hear.

You must've been right, because he pulled your legs so he could be in a better position, then began nearly devouring you. The moans that escaped you were beyond pornographic. You dropped a hand to his curls, changing between pushing him into yourself more and pulling his hair.

Each tug pulled a groan from him, sending vibrations through you. Suddenly, he lifted his head and started using his fingers. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes open.

His stubble glistened, and he truly had very little brown left in his eyes. "I like that name, baby. Mrs. Lockley."

"You don't say?" He did something that made you gasp loudly. "Fuck, Jake, that feels so good." He dropped his head back down and used his tongue and fingers to bring you to your climax.

He licked and kissed until you had to push him off to escape the overstimulation. He moved slowly back up you, dropping a wet kiss on your lips. "Come on." He lifted you, bringing you to your bed.

Jake undressed himself quickly. You gave him a look over. His chest was beautiful, sculpted by the gods themselves - almost literally. His abs were toned in a way that could drive a woman feral. The happy trail they'd been growing was enough to make you get off the bed and fall to your knees.

"No, baby. Just want you." He looked down with pleading eyes. How could you be so cruel as to deny him? You got back on the bed, and he pushed you to lie down. "I love you."

"I lo- holy fuck." You moaned out as he pushed into you. He gave no time for adjustments, beginning his pace immediately. Not fast, but not slow either. "I love you too, baby."

You brushed a curl from his face, then pulled him down for a kiss. He sped up, and you arched up into him. Jake groaned into the kiss, then dropped his head down to the crook of your neck.

As he continued speeding up, you held onto his back for dear life. He didn't like when you scratched him, so you had to settle for squeezing his muscles for support. He moved down to kiss your chest. His lips wrapping around your nipple made another loud moan leave you.

"You can scratch, it's okay," he muttered out. It was a sweet gesture, but you knew he didn't like it.

You dropped a hand into his hair, tugging at the strands instead. You began moaning together, and as his thrusts became quicker, you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten. "What'd you say? Wanna be Mrs. Lockley?" he asked suddenly, pulling away from your tits to smile down at you.

"Yeah, I'll be Mrs. Lockley."

The look on his face was enough to bring you to your climax. He came at the same time, and you rode out your highs together. After a few slow movements, he laid you on top of him, still inside of you. A soft smile brightened his features. "Really mean it?"

"I do."

#marc spector #moon knight #moon knight smut #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x you #steven grant smut #steven grant #marc spector smut #moon knight system #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic

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sorencd · 9 months

Text

FROM ME TO YOU

pairing: steven meeks x reader

summary: you've been receiving a ton of letters lately. no address or anything, just a letter. who's it from?

word count: 2k

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED IT RAHHHHH I FINISHED IT THANK U TO WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS ANON I FORGOT BUT ANYWAYS I FINISHED IT RAHSHSHAHHHHH

masterlist

"you know, this isn't really fair. i was expecting people to not really like these types of crackers because come on! they're childish! practically child-shaped and screams 'child' all around!" you huff before sitting down on your desk with your arms crossed, not noticing the piece of paper in front of you.

"then why do you buy them then?"

"because it's good!"

"then maybe that's why they buy it."

you just came back from your quick stroll outside to unwind from the stressful lesson you and your brain were put through and to hopefully, score yourself some delicious goldfish crackers, but to your dismay, they were all out of your favorite snack.

"the shopkeepers by now should now that i absolute- what's this?"

"woah, there's another one!"

there on your desk sat an envelope that interrupted you from you rambling. there was no address, no sign, no nothing. the front and back were pristine as ever and it had only your name neatly written on the bottom corner. lately, you've been receiving a handful of letters of the same nature─ just your name and a romantic letter inside. you carefully opened the seal to retrieve its contents, expecting the usual lovesick and hopelessly devoted warble you've grown accustomed to. you have even begun to expect a note somewhere on you or your belongings early in the day, whether it be on your desk─ like the one in your hands right now, your bag, slid in between one of your books, or it would be shuffled in along with your notes.

"is it from the same person?" you continued carefully unsealing the paper while your friend watched you with eager eyes, excited to see what's in store this time.

you've got to hand it to whoever's doing this, though. they're very dedicated; continuously sending you love letters every day like it's their job. you'd receive one after another and another and another. this person made sure to never miss a date. you pulled out the love letter and along came it was a small flower stuck to the corner. a flutter from your heart travelled down to your toes and set your whole body in a feeling of excitement as you recognized what the flower symbolized; it made you forget all about not being able to eat the delectable treat you were so set on getting your hands on. you also had to resist the urge to grin like an idiot, keeping on the nonchalant facade and instead looked around the room for anyone who could possibly send this to you. but it was only you and your friend.

"so this is what you do in your spare time?"

steven jumped from his position behind the door and quickly pulled back into the corridor, frightened when charlie suddenly appeared out of thin air. he shook his head and pinched the space between his eyes with his fingers. if only he could muster up enough courage to hand the letters in person, but he knew better than anyone he'd only freeze on the spot and make a fool of himself, and the last person he wanted to weird out was you.

"i was only making sure (y/n) got my letter, i put a lot of effort into that."

"i think (y/n) would appreciate it more if you reveal yourself."

charlie received a scrunched and dumbfounded glare to his proposal. he was absolutely appalled that charlie could even suggest such a vile thing.

"come on! grow yourself a pair, eh?"

steven could only shake his head again to show his distaste to his friends suggestions. in the midst of his and charlie's bickering, steven failed to hear the soft clicking of shoes on the floor that was slowly approaching the doorway they resided in. he also failed to see the sly grin on charlie's face and his gaze that went beyond his eyeglasses' frame, it was your turn to give him a heart attack.

before you were about to head for the washroom, a familiar body was standing to your left along with someone else. it was that boy who you shared a class or two with, steven. recently, you've begun to notice that to you, he stands out more amongst the crowd. in a sea of people, you could easily discern him amidst the haze. this feeling gradually came onto you the more you saw him, and a silent hope behind the back of your mind wished that the anonymous letters were from him. after all─ the few times you came across his handwriting, at least often enough for you to recognize it, you could clearly see a resemblance between the two. but you just concluded it's your mind corroborating something for you to keep yourself from succumbing into insanity.

"(y/n)! what a surprise!"

"hi steven! hi… charlie?"

"right on the money!"

the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, akin to something straight out of heaven was all his mind was set on. your laughter that steven loved so much filled the air and rang through his ears like a god-sent melody. in short it was angelic, and the things he’s willing to do just to hear it again would’ve made him a wanted man.

"alright. if you both will excuse me, i have somewhere to go to. it was nice meeting you two!"

and there you go. quickly scurrying off into the crowd-filled hallways and blending in, disappearing from steven's line of sight just as quick as you've arrived.

"if i were you i'd be quicker about asking (y/n) out. drop the 'mysterious kid' act and get yourself a lover!" he received a shove from charlie accompanied by a cheshire-cat smile.

charlie was very adamant on helping him, steven concluded. and if he wanted to be free of the constant daydreaming about you, and get charlie to stop pestering him, he figured maybe it is time to reveal himself to you.

with a rub to his sinus, steven begrudgingly agreed to remove the anonymity of his letters and finally give your secret-admirer a proper name.

you were organizing each of the letters in your small box that hid in the depths of your bag in the washroom to avoid anyone from seeing what you're doing. it wasn't like you compiling the letters was wrong, you just wanted privacy from prying eyes and a little breathing room for yourself.

and all the while steven anxiously waited outside, a large lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow no matter how much he tried. his fingers constantly fiddling as a result of his heart rapidly beating out of the cage of his chest, and every sound made him flinch. his nerves were buzzing like wildfire. was he really going to do this? reveal himself to you? what would you think? he shouldn't have listened to charlie. but on the other hand, he's got nothing to lose. aside from his dignity and maybe having to bear the pain of you trying to avoid him to relieve the awkwardness that could ensue, though that wasn't really much of an issue. at least steven thinks it's not. at the end of the day, he could always just walk away; you haven't seen him anyways.

a small, shocked gasp came from his left pulled him out of his train of thoughts and overanalyzing of the situation at hand, it was you. he mirrored your surprised movements and let out a shout of his own, he took a few steps back to recuperate. great, now it was too late and there's no way to get out of this now.

"steven! i didn't expect to see you again." he watched your eyes crinkle along your toothy smile, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. he was absolutely smitten just from hearing your voice.

"is everything alright?"

"y-yeah uhm, i was just about to-" he darted his eyes around before settling them back on you, "can we go somewhere else? i-i'd like to tell you something."

you nodded, albeit not without hesitance due to his sudden invitation. the pair of you walked together. him leading you to where you presume is the spot by the lake, given you were walking towards the door where behind it would reveal the fields outside of hellton.

the walk on the way was nothing short of quiet and tense, is how you'd like to put it. you were tempted to initiate small talk, given that your surroundings were eerily quiet, and the silence was starting to ring in your ears, but you feared the conversation would just be short lived. so you opted to keep your mouth shut the entire short trip.

and now, after hearing nothing except for your shoes clashing with the floor, it was replaced with the chirp of birds and soft walking atop the grass. you heard steven halt in his tracks while you were busy admiring the view, and when you switched your focus to look back at him, you were now standing by a lake. the scenery feels like it was pulled straight out of a story book from winnie the pooh, you commented to yourself as you lifted your head to face steven. the crisp gush of the wind gently glazing your cheeks. but the boy in front of you shielded most of it.

"so- what i was meaning to say was…." he paused, breaking eye contact to look down at his shoes before taking a deep breath. he wasn't sure if what he was doing was the right thing, or was it the right time to do so, but he already caught himself in whatever all of this is. and he's not turning back.

"it was me."

"it was.. you? the one who took the last bag of goldfish crackers?"

"what? no uhm.. i'm the one who's been.. you know.. sending those letters.."

"oh." blood rushed to your cold cheeks and cascaded a warm red-hued tint, your eyes slightly widened and your lips were parted. this was surprising, you weren't really expecting it to be him. you thought he had no interest in anything involving romance because to you, he was very focused on studying. maybe there's more to him than you thought. you inhaled, trying to recollect yourself as quickly as possible. but how could you when someone just confessed to being your secret admirer?

"i was wondering too if you'd maybe like to, i don’t know.. go out on a date..? with me? sometime? we could go to that library you like that's nearby, i mean it's the only library nearby." there, he said it. he shot his shot, he can't take it back now.

"i think i'd like that."

steven felt his heart stop, he was blessed with seeing your smile that was as bright as the sun face to face, and it was directed to him! he must be dreaming! with his mouth agape and his cheeks impossibly redder than yours, he tried saying anything, anything at all that would tell you how pretty he thought you were, but nothing came out. the sudden irritating ringing of the bell saved him from the embarrassment he could've put himself into, it was time to return to classes again.

"i'll see you later?"

"yeah, bye-bye steven. i'll see you later!" you shouted after him. steven had to fix his footing to prevent himself from tripping while he walked away. he turned back to wave at you again, who was walking towards the opposite direction. the boy with new profound energy rushed towards his next class as fast as his legs would allow him.

"someone's happy." gerard pointed out when steven took a seat beside him, a lopsided giddy grin on his lips and a slight bounce to each step he took. he felt like he was over the moon.

"see, i told you. you had nothing to worry about." a voice from behind, which belonged to charlie, who was wearing a smug expression, chimed in.

steven couldn't really hear what they were saying, though. he’s too busy daydreaming about how fun the library date would be, his own thoughts blocking out the others' voices. and he’s already conjuring up the next letter he's about to make for you out of pure excitement, maybe he'll include a poem or two into it, too.

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

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m00nsbaby · 9 months

Text

Violent things.

Steven Grant + Marc Spector + Jake Lockley x F! reader. Part I. (Out of 3.)

Tags & warnings. Lots of talks about death, violence, abuse. Inspired by Moon Knight's 5 episode x Corpse Bride. (+ this one is for my delulu girls since the reader is a bit delulu lol.)

Word count. 6.2k

Summary.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. Hah, he did that too. "I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else. "Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Each person had a different 'other side.'

Except you. Or well, technically, you had it, but it had been a long time since you'd been in it. In fact, apart from the bright colors, you couldn't remember much of it.

You'd been in excessively bright representations of what people imagine as 'heaven,' parties with mead, and you'd even tried candies that would have turned your tongue green if you'd eaten them in life.

Although, of course, that's how the most common ones looked; there were stranger ones too. People seeing themselves in their tiny cat-filled apartment or wandering the halls of their old school. Either way, it was fine because it was only temporary while they reached their destination.

Everyone except you.

And a few others who had the misfortune of lacking emotional intelligence even in death.

Literally.

It's okay, though. Over the years, you got used to this 'life' and the idea that you would never see him again, although getting used to it didn't mean you stopped missing him.

Stopped thinking about him.

Stopped wanting him back.

Anyway, work kept you busy because, yes, even in death, you couldn't escape the damn bureaucracy. You didn't have a real name for your boss because she also looked different to each person; to you, her face was very similar to that of an old friend, even though you couldn't specify which one.

She took pity on you somehow. She explained your situation, although it took you a lot of energy and time to understand it. She did everything possible to keep you from becoming one of those lost souls who simply roamed around here. She also pulled you back onto the path when you began to stray.

"There are 3."

You frowned.

"What do you mean, there are 3?"

"There are 3." she shrugged as you walked through the corridors of the psychiatric void. This was a new scenario, and your clothes were different too. Something more modern, you didn't recognize it as something from your time.

Yes, a few years weren't that long, but fashion moved disgustingly fast in the world of the living.

"Do you think you can handle them?" Should you mention to the boss that she looks like a chatty hippo, or is that the kind of thing you keep quiet to maintain good working relations?

You bit your lip and then nodded.

"Good luck." Her mocking smile was never a good sign.

Before you could object, she had disappeared. You took a deep breath; those were funny expressions that had stuck with you even now that you didn't have to breathe for real.

Your shoes echoed in the empty halls as you headed for what you assumed was the main entrance.

The door opened by itself.

Or rather, it opened before you even extended your hand.

"Whoa." You muttered, your eyes widening at the guy in front of you.

A rebellious curl fell over his forehead, and his huge brown eyes were even wider in surprise. He was dressed appropriately for the situation; it looked like a uniform for a psychiatric ward patient, and although it was loose-fitting, you would swear you could see his muscles from miles away.

And he, on the other hand, practically screamed in your face.

"Shit!" He jumped in place, bringing a hand to his chest as he laughed in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there was a bloodstain right on his chest. Nothing to worry about, not anymore at least; once you died, you technically couldn't die twice.

Although finding a functional washing machine in any of the many 'beyonds' was trickier than it seemed. If this Marc Spector guy was in the same situation as you, it was quite likely that he would spend the rest of eternity with that stain on his clothes.

Unless the boss offered him a job.

It would be wonderful to have him here forever.

Were you overthinking? Probably.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

Hah, he did that too.

"I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else.

"Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Your voice sent shivers down his spine, and when he finally bothered to look at you more closely, you could see a touch of fear in his expression.

You were used to it by now, so why did it hurt this time?

"You're joking."

"Maybe if there was someone else to see me lying to you, it would be more fun, don't you think?" You tried to joke, but the poor guy seemed on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

That was a good sign; maybe you could keep him after all.

Marc pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Do you expect me to believe this is the afterlife?"

"No, not the afterlife, an afterlife. This one is yours, well, for now, this is the path."

He fell silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if his body still needed oxygen.

You waited.

And waited.

But he never said anything, so you caught his attention by clearing your throat.

"Welcome, dear… traveler," you murmured as you clumsily searched for your notes in your pockets.

Ah, there they are.

"I will be in charge of…" You continued reading. "Guiding you on your way to…" How could you call this? Heaven? Valhalla? Mictlan? "What comes next."

Marc looked at you as if you were crazy, and you had no choice but to continue.

"It's a place that's difficult for the human mind to comprehend, so for you, it's something more…" You looked around with a furrowed brow. "Familiar."

He scoffed, his tone full of irony.

"I really am crazy," he muttered in a whisper.

"Together, we will traverse the 10 steps that will lead you to eternal rest." Your arm moved awkwardly up and down. What a stupid choreography your boss had given you. "Although," you stepped out of character. "Sometimes they are doors, and it seems that will be the case this time."

"Who are you?" He asked out of nowhere, and you swallowed hard.

"Your guide."

"Are you some kind of… Goddess? Are you God?"

You laughed, partly embarrassed, partly genuinely amused.

"I'm just your guide."

Marc had to settle for your answer.

"Are you ready?"

"Can one be ready for something like this?"

You shook your head but gave him a resigned smile. You felt sorry for him, as well as for all those who passed through your hands, but at least you did your part by taking them to what you would never know.

You offered him your hand, and hesitantly, he took it.

The contact with his skin made you swear that your heart was beating again.

You took a slow step through the corridors of the psychiatric ward with him behind you, his fingers gradually clinging to you. This was the first time in a long time that Marc allowed himself to be afraid, even when his thoughts were divided between his desire to cling to life and, on the other hand, that 'finally' feeling that had been intoxicating him for the past 10 years, ever since Roro left.

A few minutes of walking, and you knew by pure intuition which was the first door.

Unfinished business.

The first scene was… Something.

No one likes to witness the way they died, but much less what happens afterward. Have you ever heard that the last sense you lose is your hearing? Marc could clearly hear Layla scream his name just after the gunshot.

Or at least, his body managed to register the sound because he didn't remember it, but you could clearly see the scene at this moment.

"You left something unfinished." Your voice was as gentle as you could make it as you surrounded his body on the ground.

A strange feeling overcame you as you watched the curly-haired girl kneel beside him.

Holding him, begging him to come back.

Not sadness or pity, as it usually happened; you felt… uncomfortable? Annoyed?

Marc released your hand to get closer, appreciating the scene up close, and you knew how much he wished to touch Layla when his hand moved in her direction, trying to get her attention.

"Layla?" He whispered, his voice broken, his attention focused solely on her. He didn't even look at his body, which was slowly giving in. He didn't realize how she cradled him between her cheeks and kissed his lips one last time just now.

Your stomach churned; fortunately, you had already forgotten when was the last time you had ingested something.

"Baby?" He asked louder, and you knew it was time to intervene.

"She can't hear you," you whispered from behind, only able to observe Marc's back. The way his body contracted and suffered from small spasms due to crying.

Isn't it curious how all those things become muscle memory? Your breathing shouldn't be a problem when you weren't in your physical body, yet these things still happened.

"What were you doing here?" Your gaze wandered through the darkness inside the pyramid, your steps careful as you approached the open tomb of God knows who. A disgusted expression appeared on your lips at the sight of the mummified corpse.

Everything was better when you pretended that maybe you didn't really look like this.

Marc gave an ironic laugh, still crying, but you decided to give him space.

"I was trying to save the world."

You scoffed. 'Well, to each their own,' you thought as your fingers traced the edge of the tomb.

Hopefully, they buried you in something nice and expensive too.

"This might hold you here; we still don't know what will happen next because it's very recent."

"No." He interrupted, still kneeling in front of himself.

It turns out that the last thing his body registered was the way Layla grabbed his chest, taking something that rested on it afterward. The girl stood up, still with a broken heart but doing her best not to collapse.

You recognized that expression quite well.

"She'll take care of it."

Everything around him became blurry, apparently, that was the point at which he stopped fighting.

Marc slowly got to his feet, his eyes red, and he sniffed repeatedly. If you had the chance, maybe you'd tell him that he didn't need to do that, nothing would come out of his nose.

He looked good, though, even after getting shot, he still seemed attractive.

The good thing is that you still had 9 different opportunities to make him stay with you, but there was still one question. What did the boss mean when she said there were 3? An administrative error or something like that?

"She'll figure it out," he sounded sure as he pressed his nose bridge and took deep breaths. "She'll fix it."

"Then this is closed." You shrugged. Over time, you learned which dead ones to trust and which not to. Maybe Marc wasn't so wrong.

Nine opportunities.

"Congratulations." You offered him your hand, and he took it again.

That had to mean something, right?

You didn't pay much attention to the way he looked back, as if that would give him one last look at Layla. She had been gone for a while now. In fact, in the world of the living, this had probably happened hours ago.

The good thing (for him) is that apparently, she hadn't died yet.

Well, for you too, so you wouldn't find her wandering around. Romances that not even death could separate were the worst.

No more was said as you guided him through the passageways of the old pyramids as if you were an expert archaeologist, or perhaps an amateur with a lot of free time. One step forward from both of you, and everything around him looked different.

Vengeance.

"I have to tell you now." The cold streets of New York made you feel alive, especially in the short skirt you were wearing. The breeze cooled your legs and tousled your hair.

This seemed more common, even in the seedy side of the city. Apparently, Marc had been a normal person occasionally in his life, not someone who went on pyramid expeditions for fun.

"You won't be able to get revenge on anyone by being here." You walked ahead, trying to find the next door. It wasn't worth wasting time on this. "Sometimes divine justice serves in your favor and takes care of them, but it's not worth staying for a trivial matter."

And you knew it well.

When Marc's silence seemed suspicious, you looked back.

His clothes had also changed; he was wearing a leather jacket and a rather peculiar cap. It was gray, and it fit him ridiculously well.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his hand still holding yours.

"Cariño?" That accent was new. Did Marc like to play someone else occasionally at night? It wouldn't surprise you from someone like him.

Weird, like you.

Different, perhaps.

"What am I doing here?"

"Oh no, are you one of those?" You confronted him, one hand still holding his, and the other going straight to his face. You opened one of his eyes wider with your fingers, and he stayed still.

Had he drunk too much the night before or something? Jake didn't experience these things, never.

He didn't lose track of time; he didn't dissociate or lose control of his body; he didn't forget, and he didn't sleep.

This didn't make sense, at least not for him.

"You are dead, Marc," your words made his stomach churn. "I'm guiding you, we're only on the second level." Vapor came out of your mouth as if it were freezing, and your body still had that natural warmth that one emits when they are alive.

He furrowed his brow, looking at you as if he were seeing a ghost.

Well, that's what he was doing, but when you're dead, you don't have the right to see other dead people like this.

"I'm not… I'm not Marc."

Oh.

The boss's words made a bit more sense now. So, were they really brothers? Twins perhaps? Or whatever they were called when they were three.

The poor guy seemed about to have a crisis, very similar to Marc when you first found him.

"Jake Lockley." Your mind clicked, as it always did when you had these encounters with the souls you guided. A hazard of the job, there were things you knew and things you didn't.

He nodded slowly.

"Listen, sweetheart." He slowly released your hand, and the gesture didn't please you. I mean, if you couldn't keep Marc, maybe it could be one of the other two.

"I don't know what kind of joke you're playing," he walked past you while searching in his pocket for what seemed to be keys. "You're beautiful, and maybe we had a pretty fun night, but it's likely that what we have won't work, especially when you're calling me by another name and trying to play those little mind games with me, which, by the way, don't affect me in the least…"

Jake bumped into someone as he moved away from you clumsily.

"Sorry," he muttered, still confused. The other person ignored him, but when he looked back, his eyes widened in surprise. "¿Qué mierda?" You heard him mumble as he stumbled, sitting on the pavement.

Turns out Jake had bumped into himself.

And you suppressed the 'I told you so' smile.

"See?" You watched him pass you as well, and after a few seconds, you decided to approach him, extending your hand.

He looked at it in silence before taking it and getting to his feet.

"You're not playing, right?"

"Nope," you let go of his hand as you inspected his face. He looked so similar to Marc, yet so different at the same time.

"Are we dead?"

"I'm a little deader than you, but yes."

He bit his lower lip, and you saw him take off his cap and run a hand through his disheveled curls, more out of desperation than aesthetics.

He took a deep breath several times, more than you could count, and looked back. You saw the other Jake moving away in the crowd, and without saying anything, you turned to follow him without losing track.

Jake had to snap out of his crisis to follow you.

And him.

"Is that it? Are you not going to give me an explanation?" He hurriedly walked, doing his best not to bump into anyone until he realized that no one seemed to be affected by his shoves, not even moving them.

"We can't lose sight of you."

"This has to be a bad dream."

Maybe you liked Marc more than him.

"It's not a dream, Jake." You let out a deep sigh as you continued walking behind him. "You died, Marc did too, and…"

"Steven?"

"Right."

You finally turned to look at him when Jake from his memory stopped in front of a car.

It was a nice car.

"I still don't know what happened to you and Steven, but Marc got shot right…" You touched the center of his chest, and he didn't show how your touch made him shiver. "Here."

He wasn't sure if it was worth explaining to you right now that if Marc died, he would drag them both down with him.

"And who are you?"

"Your guide." You gave up; you would have to go through this again.

"Are you a product of my imagination?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Why do you look like one of my one-night stands?"

"I look like this all the time, actually," you looked down; this outfit was terribly uncomfortable. "Except for the criminally short skirt."

The sound of the door made you look forward. Apparently, the other Jake got into the car when you were distracted.

You opened the rear door of the car and looked at the confused guy in front of you.

"Get in."

And he obeyed; you got in afterward.

They were silent for most of the way, neither of you knew exactly where you were going because Jake had vague memories of this particular memory, if that made sense.

He had traveled this same road so many times for the same purpose that this could be any day of his life.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Your voice broke the silence, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I was interrogating some guys in Cairo."

Ah, well, it seemed that he was just as strange as Marc.

"I see."

Jake somehow saw himself as the most stable of the three; he had learned to deal with the blows of life that he was forced to take to protect Marc and Steven from them.

But nothing had prepared him for the idea of failing them.

For failing them so horribly.

If he kept thinking, he'd go crazy. Even more.

You didn't know how long you had been here; everything seemed more tedious when Jake decided he didn't want to chat with you, or anyone, for that matter.

You assumed it was shock or something similar, and as for what this scenario meant, you understood why revenge wouldn't retain him.

Because Jake got rid of everyone who got in his way. To him or to Marc.

Both of you watched him drive, dispose of bodies, clean his clothes, and repeat as many times as necessary.

Well, he observed with a disgusted expression, and he took the liberty of covering your eyes with his hand. Well, it wasn't anything you hadn't seen before; apparently, the innocent face always gave the wrong impression.

The night ended with him crawling heavily to his apartment, tired, regretful, and often injured.

You looked at him beside you. Why did he seem so distraught by his own actions?

"So, can we cross revenge off your list?" You tried to joke when the expression on his face weighed on your chest. He didn't hear you; he kept looking at the path he had taken to the apartment.

If this was a divine way to make him regret his actions in life, it was quite functional, to be honest.

"And now?" His eyes fixed on you.

And you looked back at him.

"Do you still have the keys?" You pointed to the car.

He searched his pockets, and the keys jingled. Without saying anything, he opened the front passenger door for you to get in.

The gesture made you bite your lower lip to avoid smiling.

He got in afterward.

"Where are we going?" He started the car, and the roar of the engine added an extra note to the pain he was carrying at the moment.

He wasn't going to drive his car ever again?

Driving was the only thing that brought him peace, and the car was the only thing that belonged to him and only him. In fact, the vehicle was in his name, as was his driver's license. They were the only legal documents with Jake's name on them, even if it had cost him a fortune to bribe those in charge to get them without having to present any other proof that there was nothing suspicious behind them.

They were the only proof that Jake was real.

"I don't know, you'll feel it when we get there," you murmured without bothering to roll up the window; you just let the breeze hit you as the car started moving.

He didn't believe you, but apparently you weren't lying, his instinct was guiding him through the empty and dark streets of New York.

His home.

After a few minutes, Jake took a moment to look at you while you seemed completely absorbed in the detailed memories of Jake, who seemed to have even memorized the signs that adorned the streets he was driving through.

"What are you?" The question sounded a bit more offensive than he would have liked.

"Your guide."

"Are you sure you're not some kind of fantasy of mine?"

Was he flirting with you or insulting you? Either way, you smiled.

"None of that," you cleared your throat and finally looked at him. "I'm at the point where you are right now, and I'm staying here."

Should he inquire further, or were manners no longer as necessary when you were dead?

"For how long?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to know a lot about this; how long have you been like this?"

The way you shrugged was enough of an answer for him.

You had to close your eyes for a few seconds when you realized the effect the question had on you. You usually didn't talk about yourself, especially not with the people you guided. They were always more concerned about themselves, and with good reason; the boss knew well what had happened to you, but having someone directly ask about the situation left a disgusting taste in your mouth.

"My dear."

"Huh?" You looked at him immediately, furrowing your brow.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"I didn't say anything." The most similar you came to a normal conversation began when Jake released the wheel for a few seconds, raising both hands to declare himself innocent of whatever you were accusing him of.

"I heard you."

"I didn't say anything, I swear on my… death, I guess." He ran a hand through his chest, furrowing his brow.

Even with a bad feeling, you smiled.

And he did too.

Things were more fun when you collected as many jokes as you could about being dead.

"Alright." Your head returned to its position against the seat, and your gaze returned to the outside.

Jake looked at you for a few extra seconds; he knew that smile well.

"I think I can get us out of here," he thought, hoping that Marc and Steven could hear him.

Strong emotions or feelings.

The movement of the car eventually stopped, and you could no longer feel the leather under your fingers; you recognized the grass immediately.

Your eyes were forced open when a couple of children ran past you, laughing and pushing each other. You were beginning to feel tired, even though you were less than halfway there.

You sighed, your body feeling heavy as you stood up.

A couple was enjoying a homemade BBQ, even though the clouds seemed threatening to ruin it.

"Jake? Marc?" You looked around.

Ah, there he was.

Near the children's mother, looking closely at her with a radiant smile. It wasn't difficult to guess that he was Steven; his messy hair and tired eyes didn't resemble the features of Marc or Jake. Well, they did, but not really. Does that make sense?

Finally, one of the three didn't look at you in fear or confusion.

"Oh Gods, hiya!" His accent made you smile, and you waved back in greeting, approaching him as he was only a few steps away.

"You must be Steven."

"And you must be my guide." As if it were a friendly arrangement, he extended his hand, and you shook it gently, enjoying the contact. "Jake explained to me."

Was there a gap between door and door that you didn't witness for them to have a chance to talk? Well, you'd ask later.

"You seem calm."

"I'm totally freaking out on the inside."

You laughed again and nodded. You liked Steven, you liked him more than the other two.

"What level is this?"

"Third." Your attention shifted to the couple next to you, the woman's huge brown eyes told you in seconds that she was the mother of the three.

That was something they had in common, those lost-puppy eyes.

"Strong emotions or feelings." You took a step closer to her, your eyes scanning her face for more familiarities among the triplets and her.

The little wrinkles at the edges of their eyes when they smiled also seemed to come from her. And the curls definitely came from their father.

"Well, I love my mom." He seemed just as distracted by the scene as you were.

You didn't mention that love, at this point, wasn't one of the emotions that could retain you.

The situation wasn't new to you; there was almost always a familiar memory here. You didn't count friends separately because time had shown you that friends were the family you chose; the lines blended easily in those cases.

Maybe this was the reason why you would stay with one of them, and with just 5 minutes exchanged, Steven seemed like a good choice.

The children ran by your side again, and Steven's attention was completely stolen by them. You tilted your head to the side with tenderness and a slight curiosity.

"They're not ready yet; you can go play for a while, understood?" The taller boy nodded, stopping right in front of his brother, who ended up crashing into him.

Both laughed.

"Is it you?" You pointed to the younger one.

Steven seemed as distant from the situation as you. He shook his head slowly before looking at you as if he wanted an explanation. It took him a few seconds to be able to murmur.

"I don't… I don't remember."

"Marc?" The woman called, causing an amusing scene between the two children, Steven, and you since everyone turned to look at her expectantly. "Take care of Roro, please."

Roro?

"Do you have another brother?" Your voice came out so low that not even poor Steven could hear it.

It was a silent agreement in the way you followed him while he continued to follow the children with his mind in a tangle of thoughts. Was this what Marc had been hiding so eagerly?

You could swear a shiver ran through you from head to toe when your eyes settled on the cave the two children were heading towards, and the thunderclap sealed the deal on the bad omens.

You had witnessed these scenes before. When someone was about to die, it always felt like this. Being sensitive to death was one of the quirks that came with the job.

"Steven?"

He didn't even look at you.

"Lads?"

No answer, obviously.

"It's… It's dangerous, they shouldn't…" He seemed to have lost his breath. "They are going to..."

And you nodded slowly.

"I know."

The small steps were only a few meters away from you as the rain intensified. Both you and Steven were getting wet.

"Let me…" He was never able to form a complete sentence. "I know I can…"

You knew he couldn't, but you still followed him into the cave.

You walked in darkness for a very short time, with "I want my mommy" echoing in your ears over and over again.

The cave seemed to end in the living room of what you guessed was their house. Both of you arrived dripping wet, Steven with red eyes after what he had just witnessed.

You were still wondering what role he played in all of this.

Had Marc's emotional burden somehow reached him? After all, he was also their brother, or at least it seemed like it.

You stopped abruptly when both encountered Steven's mother, hands on her hips, her cheeks red with anger. Steven jerked when she yelled the words, "This is all your fault."

Everything was happening too fast, even for you, who had learned the art of controlling the emotions of the moment. It was usually the boss who handled these kinds of situations.

You were never strong enough.

You moved past the scene, your hand learned to Steven's wrist as you directed him upstairs. He couldn't stop looking as he moved awkwardly, stumbling over his own feet.

"It's this way," you whispered, leading him into the room.

You sighed calmly when finally the silence enveloped you. Inside, one of the children was playing alone. The scene tugged at your heartstrings a little more, but hey, at least there was no one screaming.

"I must be remembering wrong," he whispered as a last hope while he sat on the floor, defeated. He took a seat in front of the child. "It must be Marc's doing."

You pursed your lips, deciding not to say anything as you watched his hands tremble. This kind of thing wasn't in the manual.

"Maybe so," you gave him false hope before knocks on the door diverted both of your attention.

"Open the damn door, Marc!"

Another shiver, as horrible as the first one.

"It's not my mom, it's not my mom," the child whispered, covering his hands. Steven and you could do nothing but watch.

"Open this door!" More loud pounding.

More knocks, more panic, more fear.

Until the voice of the kid made you look again.

"Bloody hell! Look at the state of this place." His little eyes focused on a bunch of Legos in front of him. They weren't even scattered. "Better sort it out before mum sees it." His accent was the same as… Steven's.

"Marc! Open this door right now!"

Witnessing that was enough to clear your doubts; you weren't foolish. After your death, no one could really receit you. Your brain easily connected the dots, and apparently, Steven's did too; he had more clues than you did up to that point.

They weren't brothers.

Marc, Steven, and Jake shared the same body.

"When danger is near," Steven narrowed his eyes as he read from the poster on the wall above the child, "Steven Grant has no fear."

He took a deep breath through his mouth with heaviness.

"He made me up." That was the next thing he said, and you couldn't help but watch the child as he organized his Legos.

The door burst open with a shove, and that was your next cue; it was time to get out of there.

"Steven?"

Wendy, whom you had been referring to as 'the mother,' entered the room, her eyes red, and an aroma of alcohol that even you could sense.

"You are going to learn…" She took Marc's belt, the one that hung next to his toys. It was a horrible parallel, and you could swear your chest hurt. "to listen."

Her steps were slow as she coiled the belt in her hand.

"Steven?" You whispered, pushing him in the chest. He stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the scene.

"I wanna see what she did." He mumbled with difficulty.

You gave him another push with all your might.

"Steven, we have to go."

"Let me see what she did." That was the last thing he said before you slammed the door shut, muffling the poor child's cries of pain inside the room.

"I don't hate her." It was the only thing he could say after what seemed like hours. The sun seemed to have set.

You nodded slowly, your head resting against the door just like his.

"I know."

"She was sad."

You had to swallow the urge to tell him that it didn't justify what she did, but you chose to nod and offer him some peace.

"She was."

There were a few more seconds of silence before you murmured, "We have to go."

He nodded and was the first to stand up, intending to offer you his hand, just as you had done with Jake a while ago. You took his hand and stood up, but you didn't let go of his hand.

You descended the stairs slowly; the house suddenly seemed filled with people. Apparently, this wasn't over yet, and you started to seriously think that Steven wouldn't get out of here. How much more could his heart take?

Everything seemed blurry, although of course, you didn't know that the reason behind it was that Marc had never entered the house that day; the memory was clouded by a window in between.

"What happened here?" He whispered behind you.

"Your mom, Steven."

Her photo was on one of the tables, behind two long candles.

"Don't talk nonsense." He took a few steps forward to see what you were seeing. "My mom and I already sorted this out; it must have been something that ha- happened." They were all wearing black clothes around him. "in the past." He completed in a whisper.

You looked at him again, his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head.

"No, no, this can't…" He swallowed hard, making your own throat ache in response. "Marc would have told me."

You doubted it, but it wasn't the time to remind him that Marc seemed to be hiding many things from him.

"No, this can't be happening." He mumbled, again losing his ability to string sentences together.

Breaking your heart once again. The front door of the house opened in front of both of you, and you understood that it was time to move on.

Without saying anything, you tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. You pointed to Marc outside the house, just a few meters away, drinking from his flask with teary eyes.

"Marc?" He whispered to himself as he moved awkwardly and quickly towards him, leaving the house with you behind.

You decided to give him space; his memory allowed you to stroll through a couple of nearby gardens, and you waited on the grass while Steven processed the moment when Marc finally broke down.

Kneeling on the pavement, his body tense until the English accent of the other became noticeable in the way he spoke to himself.

The place was getting darker, and after a few hours, you sat on the sidewalk, watching the scene from afar. Steven had the opportunity to digest the situation as much as he could, and although for any normal person this would have been the end, you knew this wasn't the point for Steven.

He was understanding, strong within his sensitivity, and he knew how to deal with things that Marc couldn't.

You finally understood the feeling he was facing and what he was releasing.

Grief.

The grief of losing his mother as a child, and the grief of losing her again as an adult. His brother, his father.

The grief of losing himself while trying to understand that he wasn't 'the original' but Marc.

Meanwhile, as the crying finally subsided, Steven was talking to himself. Or so it seemed, because no one else (meaning you) could hear the voices of Jake and Marc arguing with him. "I know how to get us out of here." "Jake, we're not going to harm her." They didn't have to say more for Steven to understand that they were referring to you. "I'm just saying it might be an easy job." "Are you suggesting we kill someone who's already dead? You've truly outdone yourself." "At least I'm looking for a solution, unlike you, Mr. 'resigned.'" "We can't leave Layla alone," Steven whispered, his gaze fixed on you in the distance. "See? Steven's on my side." Marc rolled his eyes. "And what do you want to do?" "I'm just saying… if there's a way out of here, she's the one who knows it."

Meanwhile, when the imaginary crickets began to resonate through Marc's blurry memory, Steven returned to you.

"Hey?" You looked at him, who knows how long you had had your eyes closed. "Can we continue?"

You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Let's move on."

Mk's tag list :)@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 11 months

Note

Hey! Hope you're having a good day.

I would like to know if you would write a short one shot about the moon boys.

Prompt: reader and the moon boys are friends and they are telling reader about their past and how Marc was married to Layla. Reader goes on a rant about how they're stupid because they let such a wonderful woman get away from them and the boys are like "we made a mistake, and now we're trying not to repeat it. We love you, and we want you in our lives forever"

~Second Chances Don't Wait~

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none really, brief mention of a random guy being a creep but nothing big

Genre: fluff of course

Summary: Finding out your friend has an ex-wife is probably the weirdest segway to a confession

A/N: Hello dear~! Thank you for requesting! It's- not as short as I planned it to be but I hope it's to your liking anyway. Have a lovely day <3

***

"Marc don't burn the popcorn!" You shout from the bathroom as you change your clothes.

"I can handle a microwave y/n!" He shouts back and you can practically see him rolling his eyes from the kitchen.

You smile to yourself, switching your work clothes for a hoodie and some comfortable shorts. Marc, Jake, and Steven are over at your place pretty often these days but tonight they insisted you come to theirs for your weekly movie night. You came straight from work, only because to get to your place you would pass his first so you simply brought a change of clothes to work today. Your friendship with Marc and his alters is one for the books for sure but whenever you think about how you got here, it makes you laugh.

You'd met Jake first which is somewhat hilarious considering how much he hates people. You'd been picking up some snacks from a corner store and some guy got way too close just as Jake walked in. The dude had cornered you in a part of the shop that was out of sight of the store owner but Jake came over and told him to leave me alone so menacingly that his words chased the guy right out before he even bought anything. You'd tried to thank him for it but he walked off before you could even get the words out. So with your items in hand, you walked to the register, and upon checking out you thought of a new way to thank him.

"Hey Louie, whatever that gentleman in the cap buys, it's on me. If this doesn't cover it somehow- I'll be back 'round later in case I owe you more for it, okay?" You quietly slipped Louie an extra 10 bucks assuming that should cover it.

"Got it, dear." He nods and you walked out with your items, thoroughly pleased with yourself. Until a few moments later a voice shouted after you.

"Hey!" You spun around to find Jake stomping towards you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I can pay for my own stuff."

"I don't doubt that, I'm just saying thank you. For taking care of that guy."

"You could have just said thank you."

"I would've but you stomped off before I could say anything. I figured you didn't wanna be bothered so I found another way." You shrugged. "I don't see why you're angry. Who gets made at free stuff?" You'd frowned. He shot you a glare that most people would've withered against but for some reason, you didn't back down.

"Whatever." He eventually muttered and stormed off.

"What a grump." You'd muttered to yourself shaking off the icy chill of his stare. If you asked Jake today why he bothered to help you back then he'd probably deny there being any real reason for it.

It was a few weeks later that you'd met Steven and what a strange day that was. You'd gone to the museum he worked at and after a couple hours of wandering, you hit the gift shop hoping to find something to memorialize your visit. When you'd picked out a few items and dropped them on the counter you couldn't believe the face staring back at you.

"Woah! It's you again." You'd said before you could stop yourself.

"I- I beg your pardon?" Steven had blinked at you with such confusion on his face that you stepped back.

"We- we met a couple of weeks ago. At a corner store- don't you remember?"

"I- I apologize you must have me confused with someone else." He'd shook his head very hard and it was then that you realized the accent in his speech. The guy from the convenience store did not have a British accent.

"Well I'll be damned. Guess so. My mistake, you look scarily similar to a guy I met a few weeks ago. He talks very differently though. You might wanna talk to your parents about a long lost twin though- the resemblance is- uncanny." You'd told him as he rang up your items.

"Statistically every person has 7 doppelgangers. It's- though unlikely, possible this man you met and I are one of those statistical 7 for each other." Steven had told you in response.

"Ya don't say." You muttered. You wrapped up that transaction and left rather quickly, still a bit unsettled by the fact that this Steven looked just like the man from the corner store. Whose name you still didn't know at the time.

Marc you met the next day. On the bus. You had gotten on and ended up standing right next to him.

"Oh hey- you work at the museum, Steven, right?" You'd said to him.

"What are you talking about?" He'd frowned at you. A different accent this time.

"Okay. Wait you have got to be punking me."

"Do I know you?" He'd looked at you like you had two heads.

"We have met twice already! Except yesterday at the museum, you were British and three weeks ago at the corner store, you were a grumbly Latino and today you're a New Yorker. I know you said that everyone has 7 doppelgangers but I refuse to believe that in London only there are 3 people walking around with identical faces all sounding like they're from 3 different continents!" You'd huffed out. Marc had blinked at you very unsure of what to do. After all, somehow they'd accidentally revealed themselves to you and you didn't even realize it.

"How about we grab some coffee?" He'd asked after a moment.

"What?" That is not what you expected him to do.

"Coffee. Or tea if you prefer that. I'm Marc by the way. We should- talk, about what you think is going on here." He'd offered.

Reluctantly he told you about his situation, he was surprised they'd been reckless enough to get caught by a stranger but you took the information better than he expected. After all how often does someone you don't know share their medical conditions before they know your name? It made friendship kind of inevitable though, I mean- he could've lied, but you appreciated the honesty and quickly proved to be quite the confidante for the trio.

"What are you doing in there y/n?! Sewing a hoodie from scratch?!" Marc's voice from the living room ends your reminiscing.

"Shut up you impatient loser!" You roll your eyes as you grab your phone and pull open the bathroom door to join him.

"You're postponing movie night I am well within my rights to complain." He shrugs.

"We watch a movie together every week, don't whine." You take the bowl from his lap and grab a handful of popcorn as you sit down. "What's the genre for tonight again?" You ask grabbing his remote to queue up a movie.

"I think tonight is romance."

"You're actually going to watch a romance movie?!" You blink at him.

"Don't start." Marc points at you.

"Okay well- do you want to watch an intentionally bad one? We can laugh at all the Twilight films, or any Netflix original, or like something from the early 2000s. Or we can watch one of my favorites."

"You have a favorite romance movie?"

"It's only a romance movie by technicality." You shrug.

"What does that mean? Is it a Disney movie?"

"I don't like the way you said that first of all. No it's not a Disney movie. The main characters are married but it's more of an action movie than a romance."

"You've intrigued me." He hums.

"Then we'll watch that." You say finding and starting the movie before he can change his mind. When the movie ends it's Steven who's fronting.

"So they're spies and they're married but they're told to kill each other?!" Steven asks.

"Correct." You nod.

"Only you would pick something like that as your favorite 'romance' movie." He laughs.

"Hey! It's a great movie!"

"I mean we liked it, Jake especially- it's just- barely a romance really. Don't you like any of the normal ones? The notebook, princess bride, aren't those romances?"

"Well yeah but- the notebook is boring. Princess Bride, I like though, but I didn't think Marc would like something like that." You shrug.

"Oh he hates it. But if you asked him to I'm sure he'd sit through one." Steven shrugs taking the empty popcorn bowl to the sink.

"Now why do you want him to suffer?" You giggle standing from the couch to stretch your legs.

"I'm not saying make him suffer I'm saying watch a normal romance movie." He says.

"Fine. Next time we're doing romance I'll pick a 'normal' one, or you can pick one." You say just before your foot kicks a little box peaking out from under the coffee table. "Yo yall have got to get better at organizing, why is this box under your table?" You bend over to pick it up and check what's inside of it. A ring and some old photos it looks like but before you can do any more digging someone is at your side grabbing the box from you. You're not sure until they speak who it is.

"Don't." Marc says hiding the box behind his back.

"What is it?" You ask. There's a stretched period of silence and you're sure he's arguing with Jake and Steven over something so you snap a few times. "Hello! Earth to the system. I asked you something?" You frown.

"It's nothing." Marc says quickly.

"You're- keeping secrets now."

"No." He shakes his head.

"But you won't tell me what's in the box?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Correct."

"Why not?"

"Because... it's not important."

"People typically don't feel the need to hide things that aren't important." You mutter. It's not like Marc's not allowed to have his secrets but he could at least be honest and simply say it's something he's not ready to share.

"Aye this is getting ridiculous the box is about Layla, his ex-wife." Jake interrupts your back and forth with an exasperated sigh.

"Ex-wife?! Marc, you were married?!"

"It was years ago okay? It didn't work out and I never brought it up because it's- not a fun story so thanks for that Jake." Marc huffs out.

"Well sucks to suck Marc now you have to tell me about her. I can't believe you were married and never said anything?!"

"Can we maybe not?"

"Not an option." You say pulling Marc onto the couch beside you. "Start talking." You tell him. Marc sighs heavily but tells the story from start to finish. He details how they met and how impossible she was to win over at first, he talks about their wedding and their time as husband and wife, and how he up and left her like a crazy man. Steven even chimes in several details because apparently, she was part of how he found out he was an alter- Steven's review of her is glowing, almost saddeningly so. It seems like he started to love her as Marc had and you try not to let it get to you. When the storytime is over and your questions are answered you lean forward to smack Marc on the side of the head.

"Ouch! Hey, what the fuck!?" He hisses.

"You're a fucking moron!" You tell him.

"Excuse me!?"

"She sounds amazing and I can't believe you were stupid enough to let her get away. Not only that you pushed her away. What is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things! Hence the fractured conscious thanks." He huffs.

"Marc I'm being serious. Why would you walk away from her?"

"Y/n you don't need to lecture me I'm very well aware that I fucked up with her I'm trying very hard to make sure I don't make the same mistake twice."

"Wait are you going to try and get her back?" You ask. It's genuine curiosity, you're his friend before anything else.

"What? No. That door is long closed. I'm talking about you."

"Me?" You blink at him.

"Yes, you. I screwed things up with Layla obviously and I have no interest in fixing that at this point but I won't let it happen again. I'm in love with you- we all are and we really can't live without you so- yeah, there's that."

"You have such interesting timing Marc Spector." You muse.

"Look we're sorry if you don't feel the same and this makes things-" You lean forward and press your lips to Marc's gently, cutting him off.

"Don't get all twisted up, of course I feel the same. Telling me about your ex-wife is just a weird way to confess your feelings." You laugh sitting backwards again.

"Well to be fair this wasn't how I planned to tell you and I tried to tell you not to worry about the box." Marc says pulling you back towards him.

"You know better than to do that I'm far too curious." You muse.

"You're lucky you're cute." He smirks.

"I'm lucky? You're the one that gets to date me."

"Do I?"

"If you ever get to the part where you ask me on a date then yes."

"How about we go to dinner tomorrow night then? It'll be our first date." He suggests.

"Now you're the lucky one." You nod.

"Without a doubt." He says kissing the top of your head as he simply lays with you on the couch. He was never one to think everyone deserved a second chance, but if the universe was kind enough to grant him this one he was not going to be stupid enough to waste it.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfiction #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #moonknight fluff #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #requests

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oddballwriter · 6 months

Text

Werewolf!Moon Boys SFW Headcanons

Warnings: body horror, nothing graphic but the idea of the shifting process between human and werewolf is considered a form of body horror. Otherwise, wholesome monster bf content.

Author’s Snip: I'm making food for the monster fuckers/lovers because no one else is in this fandom does and so I have decided to make our meals because I can and someone's got to do it.

Notes: Shout out to @piecesofusboth for the inspo. You are so right that a moon boys werewolf au is so perfect. I'm ashamed that I hadn't thought about it sooner.

Also, shout out to the og @melodygatesauthor too and her vampire MK series The Dark Side of the Moon and vamp!moon boys HCs. She is one of the few who have been feeding us with both monster moon boys and some tidbits of Khonshu. She also has some vampire reader content so go see that as well. Go read it, it's banger stuff.

And if you want I also have a series of my own revolving around a (gender-neutral) vampire reader and the moon boys, so if you're interested it's called Dwelling in the Night.

Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Living

So I envision that the boys live somewhere secluded in the woods so that they can transform without people seeing them and getting scared and also because being a werewolf in a city with nowhere to really run doesn't sound ideal

They all like it in their own ways.

Marc because he likes it because no one will see them or come across them when they're out

Steven because I think he'd just like the atmosphere because he seems like the type to like living in a nice cabin and reading when they aren't affected by the moon

Jake because it gives them somewhere to run around when they turn

It is a bit of a hassle though because sometimes if they turn in the house they scratch something up or leave fur everywhere that someone will have to clean up when the sun returns and they turn back to normal

Turning

Turning doesn't exactly feel good. Obviously, because their whole body structure is shifting and changing in a short amount of time

Marc

Marc will usually leave the house before the moon fully rises because he doesn't want anyone to see it, even if you are his partner and you know and accept it

He just doesn't want you to see it in case it actually scares you off despite you saying that you won't

Marc also isn't too sure what would happen either. I'm going off the idea that when they turn they sort of lose themselves and are a bit more animal-like but still somewhat themselves. So he doesn't remember everything that happens and he doesn't want to risk possibly hurting you

So Marc will leave to turn somewhere in the woods and do whatever during the night in his state of mind and being, knowing that before he fully turns back he will come back to the house. That or he passes out close by and walks the way back

Steven

Steven doesn't really like the whole 'being a werewolf' thing and is actually really scared and anxious whenever the full moon is coming up

He'll also make an attempt to leave before he turns, both to not potentially scare you and as to not make a mess in the house

I do think that he has a little bit more trust in both you and himself though

If he notices that he can recognize things while turned then he slightly tests out the theory that he might recognize you and not harm you

That's how he and the rest of the system find out that they can, in fact, recognize people and things even when in werewolf state and mind

Jake

I think Jake sticks to the no turning inside the house rule most of the time but I also like to think that he says that it's fine if you let him in the house so long as he's not like... tearing shit up

I feel like because the transformation can be stress-inducing, Jake will often be the one fronting while turning and being in their werewolf state, and maybe with being more experienced in being in that state he's just a little bit more there compared to Marc and Steven

Jake will still run around and get everything and anything out of their system while in their werewolf state, but he will actually let you join and be around with him when he's like this

Like usually Marc will tell you not to be near them and Steven will say that you can be with him so long as he's not showing any potential of hurting you, but Jake outright says that you're good to be with him and walk with him around if you want

Aftercare

Turning back to normal is just as exhausting and takes out a lot from them, so you need to take care of them when the sun starts coming back and their body starts shifting back

Marc sometimes passes out before making it back home, and I like to think that he feels cared for when you do the effort to wake up extra early to go find him and bring him back home

He doesn't ask for much, just that you help him clean himself up and lay down

Steven is more aware of time and will be able to make it back and will make an effort to come back in just before exhaustion takes him

Just try and pick him up and carry him to a hot bath to help soothe his sore limbs and lay him in bed so that he can rest comfortably

Jake for the most part just wants you to be there while he shifts back

It might not be a whole lot but having you there gently shushing him feels nice to him. Afterwards, you can help him to bed

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #werewolf au #monster fucker #monster au

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layla4567 · 6 months

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I'm just a librarian ✿ pt5

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Fem!reader

Summary: You begin to discover things about Marc/Steven's past as your adventure begins.

Warnings: murder mention, death mention, persecution, swearing, sexual tension(?,

A/N: the next part will be the final, sorry!

Part 4

The next morning I woke up with the horrible feeling of having only slept two hours. What's worse, I had had a horrible nightmare where some men came into my house and someone mentioned something about a giant talking dove… anyway. I slowly sat up in bed rubbing my eyes and watching the morning light coming through my window. I stretched my arms like a cat, stretching and got up, yawning, dragging my feet towards my kitchen.

"I had the craziest dream of my life.."- I said to myself even with my eyes closed.

"It wasn't a dream"

I gasped and jumped on the spot, waking up. To one side Marc was resting on my couch, he was still shirtless and covered with a blanket. He rested his elbow on the cushions and looked at me seriously.

"For God sake, Marc!! Jesus!, you scared me. I didn't remember you were here"

Marc continued seriously and stood up slowly putting on his shirt. As best I could, I went to prepare breakfast for both of them. I needed a good cup of caffeine. While I prepared pancakes Marc sat in the chair inspecting his wound. The bandage was still in place and the cut was no longer bleeding. I finished breakfast and served it on the table.

"Thanks..."- Marc murmured, surprised.

"No problem, I'm used to having breakfast alone but I thought you would be hungry too"- I said confused by his reaction.

"No, it's not that, it's just that… I haven't had pancakes in years…"

I almost choked on the pancake I put in my mouth and looked at it with my mouth full and big eyes.

"In years?! So what have you been eating??"

"What I found in Steven's refrigerator, or leftovers…"

"That sucks, I don't know how you're still alive."

He laughed softly and I smiled, satisfied that I was able to get a smile out of him, again.

"Let's say that in matters of survival I excel quite well"

"Oh well, since you're bringing it up, I want to know exactly what you do."- I said, clasping my hands and leaning under my chin.

"Are you sure? It's not a very nice story."

"You owe me"- I said pointing at him with a finger

He looked around remembering last night's disaster and nodded. He told how he used to travel the world killing people, he was a mercenary, he worked for people and he had to obey, that's what they paid him for. One day someone hired him to rescue an important statuette in Egypt, but during the expedition a member of the team betrayed him and fatally wounded him. Failing, he took refuge in a pyramid, he felt his strength abandon him when an imposing figure with the head of a bird spoke to him with a voice from beyond the grave. He said his name was Khonsu, the Egyptian god of the moon. The cunning god saved his life in exchange for him becoming his avatar, that is, his faithful knight.

"Or his slave, depending on how you want to see it"- he muttered angrily

"What happened after that?"

He sighed with reluctance. And he related that now he called himself "Moon Knight" and served Khonsu. Unfortunately, the man who treacherously escaped with the statuette, Marc suspected that he was a follower of Arthur Harrow. Obviously Steven knew nothing about this, that's why sometimes he woke up in a place he didn't know, because Khonsu ordered Marc to go to those places.

"Holy shit..."

I stared at him weighing the information. Now you felt the pieces fit together, his fighting skills, the people chasing him, even that strange figure I saw running across the rooftops.

"So.. a mercenary.."

"Go ahead, say it, I know you have a bad impression of me right now"-Marc felt how you felt aberration for his work.

"I wasn't going to say anything, I was just thinking that everything makes sense now"

He looked at me confused so I told him everything I had been noticing in him since he first appeared, at least as Marc and not Steven.

"And I thought I was being subtle, you don't know how hard it is to imitate Steven's accent"

Marc began to awkwardly imitate his counterpart's British accent and it made me genuinely laugh. Suddenly he frowned and rested his hand on the back of my hand that was resting on the table.

"I know that what I'm about to ask of you will border on the height of disrespect, but I need you to come with me.."

Before I could say anything he continued speaking quickly.

"I'm serious. It's important that you don't stay here because now they know where to find you and they won't hesitate to extract information from you by force"

A small wave of panic made my blood freeze, I didn't want to imagine what those men could do to me if they entered my house again. But I didn't want to leave so suddenly either. Marc sensed my fear and explained

"You may have to move to another place for a few days until this is all over. If you come with me we will settle in Cairo in a small house with all the comforts, you will only have to worry about the intense heat of the sun"-He tried to smile

Cairo… suddenly superimposed images came to my mind. Pyramids, sand, camels, dunes… everything I had read in the library books came to my mind like a whirlwind. Egypt was known not only for its pyramids and all the culture that came with it but also for its high temperatures and sand storms.

"I understand that this is all confusing and sudden but I need you to-"

"I will"

Marc was surprised by your quick and confident response. I looked into his eyes with determination, trying not to regret my decision, even so, I knew it was the right thing to do. Stay would have been a suicide plan

"But I still need to know things about you, such as where you lived before, your father or mother, etc"

Marc's face tightened when he heard the word mother and a look of disgust crossed his forehead. His mother was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"Fine I promise, but not now. You must pack your bags, we leave in an hour"

I got up from the table and Marc imitated me, nervously I went to my room and grabbed all the clothes I could find, I particularly chose cool and light clothes that would help me withstand the heat of Egypt. When I was almost finishing the suitcase, I looked for an object in the drawer of my nightstand, a small ring that I inherited from my mother before she died. I rubbed it lovingly, polishing it gently, and put it in a pocket of my suitcase. When I finished, I looked moved at my room and touched with my fingers the photo frames that hung on the walls, all my photos of me, my friends or family. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Was I really about to leave all that behind? I shook my head to clear those thoughts and went to the kitchen where Marc was already ready.

"Let's go, the faster we get there the better, a jeep will be waiting for us outside."

Marc was about to leave when he suddenly remembered something and took two caps out of his backpack.

"Maybe this will help hide our identities just in case. And it also protects us from the sun"

With a sigh I took Marc's hand and we left my apartment. At no point did Marc let go of my hand, I didn't know if it was because he didn't want me to get lost or because of something else. When we arrived at the place the jeep was not there, it had a slight delay and we had to wait for it. Marc seemed impatient and from time to time he took quick glances towards the sky or what seemed to be the roof of a house.

"What are you looking at?"-I said looking at him

"Nothing, it doesn't matter.."

But Marc avoided eye contact with me and continued to look up, and not only that but he also made faces of annoyance by frowning and pursing his lips or making small angry pouts as if he wanted to shut someone up. I couldn't contain myself anymore and I turned around to where he was looking but I didn't find anything. I started to think he had gone crazy until I remembered the whole story about that Khonsu bird.

"Ohh I got it, It's the lunar god you told me about"

He nodded with a grunt and looked away.

"And what's he saying now?"

The middle-aged man didn't want to answer and instead returned to see Khonsu, increasingly angry.

"He says something about me?"

"He's getting involved in what doesn't matter to him."

I was going to say something else but he exclaimed again irritated.

"And he should learn to keep quiet!"

People passing by looked at us confused and worried about Marc's mental health. I smiled nervously, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking at the people out of the corner of my eye.

"Ok ok! easy man..I see you two have a lot to talk about"

"Anyway, I hope the jeep doesn't take long to arrive. I already want to get out of here."

I have never agreed more with him. We both stood a little away from the people waiting for time to fly. With my arms crossed I fixed my gaze on any point and my mind began to wander, I remembered everything I had experienced so far, Steven's arrival, his strange behavior, the thieves and then Marc's confession. All of that had happened in a matter of hours or days. They were the busiest and most chaotic weeks of my life, maybe my boss was right and I should take a break, although these were not the vacations I imagined. Suddenly a shake on my arm brought me back to reality, I looked at Marc intrigued and I could see the fear on his face.

"We have to run now"

"What? But why? What's wrong M-"

Marc didn't let me finish speaking because he grabbed my chin and turned it towards where he was looking. When I turned my head I saw four guys pointing in our direction. After exchanging a few words they began to approach at a safe pace towards where we were. A chill ran down my spine and for a second I was frozen in place.

"Come on, run!"-He said pulling my arm.

But I couldn't move and I felt stupid for that, but the shock was so great that it had paralyzed my body. Although I wanted to move because I was aware of the danger, I couldn't. The four men, noticing Marc's urgency in wanting to leave, began to advance faster. Marc grabbed my wrist firmly and with an accurate push he managed to get me moving.

"NOW!"

All that was missing was that little push necessary for my feet to start flying. I was running so fast that I couldn't feel the ground beneath me, I even seemed to be running faster than Marc. The pursuers ran after us pushing people who fell to the ground screaming or moved away offended. We avoided food stalls, street vendors but the other men threw everything in their path without caring. Although they were far from us, they ran very fast and it was difficult for us to keep them away because I was starting to get tired, Marc was dragging me and I couldn't keep up with him well. Suddenly Marc turned a corner and we hid in a narrow alley, in the brick wall there was a hole that two people could easily enter if they squeezed together. He put a finger on my mouth to silence me and dragged me to the gap in the wall. Obviously it was very narrow and it was difficult for both of us to fit in. I had to put my head against Marc's chest and I could hear his unbridled heartbeat reverberating in his chest like a drum. The four men who were still running stopped in front of the alley, inspecting it with their eyes. My pulse accelerated and I got closer to Marc's body as if it were a protective shield, he gasped softly and closed his eyes tightly. The men said something and separated, looking elsewhere, two to the left and the other two to the right. I felt my soul return to my body, I tried to take a deep breath and moved a little further away from Marc, or at least as much as could be possible in that narrow hiding place. Her heart was still beating fast and I wasn't sure if it was because of the proximity or because of the men who were chasing us. I raised my head to see him and his eyes shone abnormally and… his cheeks seemed slightly pink, but I guess it was from the effort of running so much.

"I-I think they've already left, we should leave"

"Yeah.."-he gasped

We slowly left the hiding place although we had to use force to leave the narrow gap and I almost fell on top of Marc if it weren't for him holding me by the shoulders. We walked until we left the alley and after looking everywhere and seeing that our pursuers were not close we began to jog. But the calm didn't last long because the four of them met again, it seemed like they had emerged from the sewers and chased us like dogs again. I was already exhausted and I felt my legs burning from the effort, when I felt that my thighs were going to tremble and I was going to fall to my knees on the ground, a honk made us turn our heads. The jeep had arrived and its driver, Marc's friend, was waving at us with his arm and shouting loudly for us to get on, but we were practically surrounded so Marc decided to quickly climb a staircase of a building that led to a balcony while the confused men It took them a few seconds to react before coming up with us. When we got to the balcony the jeep was right below us on the street.

"Are you ready?"

"For what?!"-I exclaimed scared

"For jump!!"

Marc held me by the waist and practically pushed me down as he fell with me. My scream was so strident that it could practically have been heard all the way to China. With horror I saw how the ground was getting closer to my eyes, I felt like my life was passing in front of my eyes. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my arms while I whimpered in fear, expecting the worst. But thank heavens we fell into the seats of the jeep while the driver started the vehicle that skidded and smoked the tires while we left the four guys behind cursing and showing the middle finger. At breakneck speed we were able to escape safely, although it was a stretch because I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Are you ok?"-He asked me worried

I was about to answer him in a bad way but I stopped myself because everything that was happening wasn't his fault, but honestly it was beyond me.

"I've been better.."-I said sharply and breathlessly.

We settled into the seats trying to catch our breath and gather our thoughts. Marc better have a plan to emerge triumphant from all this shit because otherwise I don't know how we could face Harrow and his sect of lunatics, we hadn't started our search and I was already feeling fed up. To calm things down, Marc's friendly friend started a chat.

"Hi!, you must be Y/n, Marc told me that I would have to pick him up and a pretty girl for Cairo, although he never told me that you were so beautiful."-he said winking

In another context, that type of "compliment" would have made me sick, but I was too exhausted to think about it, and Marc's friend didn't seem depraved, well after all, if he was his friend, he had to be a good guy. Even so, Marc covered his face, embarrassed and wanting to kill him, a laugh left my mouth without thinking about it.

"By the way I'm Leo, at your service"

I nodded with an amused smile while Marc looked in another direction trying to suppress the embarrassment he felt right now. I looked at him to see if he would turn his face or say something but since that didn't happen I decided to tease him a bit.

"So you told Leo that a pretty girl was waiting with you, was that girl me?"-I said, biting my lip, I inferred into a smile.

Marc shivered a little uncomfortably and shifted nervously in his seat but still didn't look at me.

"And what else did you say about me?"-I said with a honeyed and innocent voice.

Leo looking at Marc from the rearview mirror was holding back his laughter but it was obvious that he couldn't, he saw it and frowned.

"Oh come on!"-Marc said looking at me angrily and then looked away again.

Now Leo and I burst out laughing, it was a relief to laugh despite the difficulties. That seemed to calm the atmosphere because then the three of us seemed more relaxed. When I realized we were no longer in the city but traveling along the empty road. In the sky the sun was slowly descending through the horizon, dyeing the sky and the clouds orange and pink. I stood admiring the colorful landscape while counting the hours to reach Cairo. Suddenly the dream overcame me and my heavy eyelids began to droop until I closed my eyes. My head hung downwards and the soft rattle of the jeep shook my body. Unintentionally, all my weight swung to one side and I fell on top of Marc with my head resting on his shoulder. He seemed to be startled because he turned his head quickly looking at me confused and uncomfortable, but he didn't have the courage to push me aside so after a few minutes, sleep knocked him out too and he fell asleep with his head on mine. Leo saw us both from the mirror and smiled to himself.

"These lovebirds will end up in love"

As the jeep traveled down the long road, a tall, imposing figure with a bird's skull watched from a distance, crouching as the vehicle drove away. Guñendo stood up and placed his cane on the ground with a sharp thump that would have made the earth shake.

"That girl will give us problems, I hope you know what you're doing…Marc"

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

tag: @corpsebridenightamare @perfectprofessorloverapricot

I know I owe you a big apology for taking so long to continue this series and another apology because the next part will be the final one. But I've lost a little interest in this story and if it weren't for the fact that I respect that several of you like this series I would have canceled it a long time ago.

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anime-kia · 1 year

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No Strings Attached

I'm happy to know that you're all still into Killmonger! :)

And I haven't written smut in a while, so here you go.

Relationship: Friends-With-Benefits

Warnings: Smut

It was nothing out of the ordinary to find yourself being filled up and absolutely overstimulated by the brawny, muscular and handsome, Erik Stevens. The Oakland ho', is what you nicknamed him.

He knew. You made sure to tell him, but he found it quite amusing. Nothing really offended him, coming from you anyway.

Erik had met you in high school. Of course he was Mr. Popular. You've heard of his escapades and all the wild things he's done with various girls, some of them being your friends. Oddly enough, sex was not interesting to you at the time.

You were known as the typical smart and shy girl. The virgin. Erik's favourite kind of female. You better believe he's been trying to get at you ever since, literally going out of his way to become friends with you just so he could get into your pants.

But eventually he realized that you were more than just a quick nut. You were goofy, insightful and a pleasure to be around. Your lack of sexual curiosity and attention to more important things intrigued him. Also, he could always go to you if he was upset, you let him vent and express all of his emotions. Not once did you judge or ridicule him like his foster parents or anyone else who didn't give him the time of day to show his feelings.

"Venting is good for the soul, never bottle up your anger. Always talk to me if you need to. Cry on my shoulder too."

"Hell nah, I don't cry. I ain't no bitch."

You were irritated that the only thing he took from what you said was suggesting that he cried... But Erik understood, he just liked to be tough.

That being said, ever since the tenth grade you and Erik were best friends. Both of you slowly started picking up each other's good and bad habits. Erik started to develop proper mannerisms, politeness, and a bit of patience. You on the other hand, started cursing a lot more and somehow it was like his high levels of horniness had attached itself onto you.

Each year it increased more and more. Everyone knew you as the girl who had no interest in sex, and despite your changes, you made sure that everyone still believed that. Also, people who wanted to have a go at you (Erik's friends) knew they had no chance with him around. He made sure they knew that too.

"If any of y'all touch her, you better pray I don't find out. And good luck with that shit, cuz she tells me everything."

One night, he came over to chill and watch movies because that's what friends do. You were still a virgin, and your hormones were out of whack. Erik, well... When was he never horny? The movie ended and went to go take a shower, and the whole time you were contemplating if you would actually let him hit it.

He was never reserved when it came to anything sexual. He told you he wanted to on multiple occasions, no strings attached.

Tonight... Would finally be the night.

As he stepped out of the bathroom your jaw dropped slightly and lower half screamed. The towel was barely hugging his hips, muscular body covered in beads of water, the shape of his manhood barely making an appearance.

All that shy shit was thrown out the window. Within three seconds your lips had found his, arms wrapped around each other in a heated and passionate kiss. By a minute, all of your clothes were discarded and Erik had his way with your body.

There was pain and there was pleasure, but you both knew that sex with each other would become a regular thing.

Once again, no strings attached.

Erik had you laid out on your back, legs spread wide as his large hand squeezed your right breast and you moaned out. Every single stroke hit you in the right spot.

"You like that shit, huh princess? Lil freak." His voice was husky and gruff.

"Mmh, yes! Oh fuck!" You whined as he moved closer and went even deeper.

His size made you wonder if it could be considered a weapon, because it was deadly. It was like God gave him both the size and the talent, a terrible (but utterly amazing) combo. You were sure if he was small he could still get you screaming at the top of your lungs. He just knew exactly what to do, and he did it before you could even ask him to go "deeper" or "harder".

He's made you cry, scream and blackout all at the same time on multiple occasions. The location didn't even matter. Despite him being a very big guy, he could fuck you all the same in a Mini Cooper.

And Erik was a freak freak. He hasn't shown you everything, because you were still adjusting to some of it, like public sex. That was always terrifying to you, but for some reason no one caught you yet. As far as you know...

"I'm killing your shit, right?" It wasn't a question, even if he asked it as such. He knew.

"Yessss!" You moaned in a high pitch. He was killing it, destroying it, obliterating it all in the best way possible.

Your nails clawed at the bed, his strokes were so precise and on beat. You had a love-hate relationship with being in the missionary position with him. It was like the perfect mix between making love and just straight up fucking. Backstrokes were a lot easier to handle, even though it still could have you tapping out. But missionary, Erik assumed full control in this position. He had your mind was muddled and the only thing you could compute were barely coherent words, lots of moaning/screaming/crying and the intense amount of pleasure this man was delivering in between your legs.

You felt his hands attempt to trail up behind your knees to push them into your chest and you knew if he did, it would be over. You pushed back and tried shuffling away, but he caught you dragging you right back fully onto him before you could get more than halfway off. The sound of you connecting back was sinful.

"Nah shorty, ain't no crawling away." He said, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, "I'm tryna go deep."

As if he wasn't already hitting your g-spot, this nigga was trying to damage your cervix.

"No, wait E-!" The way his hips pressed against yours, followed by his chest had your eyes squeezing shut. "God, ohh my fucking- Ohhh!" He was so heavy.

"So you'll call me God, but you won't call me daddy, huh? That's crazy."

"Uhh, shut the fuck up, Erik!" You could do without his annoying ass comments at the moment. Right now, you had to make sure your walls would still be intact when he was finished with you.

He chuckled, changing the rhythm to a medium speed. He sucked on your neck, surely leaving new marks. "I own this shit. All mine." He smirked.

"Y-you're too d-deep, ohhh!" Your moans were starting to come out as whimpers and that's how Erik knew you were just about spent.

"No such thing, baby girl." He groaned and leaned off of you, only to drag your hips slightly into the air, "Look how yo' pussy wrapped around my dick, like a birthday gift." He watched as his length disappeared and reappeared into you.

This motherfucker... "It's too much, p-please, Erik!"

"Tell me it's mine then." He hit you with deep and sharp thrusts after each word.

"Ahh! It-it's yours! Oh fuck!" You tried to say to the best of your ability, just so he could hurry up and finish.

"Say it like you mean it, I can feel you shaking. That nut is real close, but best believe you ain't getting it until you say it right." He was so bloody annoying, as if you hadn't came four times already. But then again, he hasn't pulled out since laying you on your back. He probably thought you were just squirting the whole time.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, and his cold eyes stared dead into yours. His hips were circling into yours once again.

"Fuuckk, Erik it's yours dammit! This pussy is all yours!" Your moaned out exasperatedly, nails leaving imprints on his bedsheets.

He chuckled at your irritated tone, settling for your answer. That was his favourite line to hear during sex. "Imma nut all in yo' shit, girl." You had already came, squeezing around his dick even tighter. He was very close to releasing so he thrusted into you harder and faster, not missing a beat until he finally emptied himself deep into you.

You both were breathing with heavy laboured breaths by time he pulled out. You were aching, but also experiencing pure euphoria.

He got up and left to go to the bathroom, giving you time to recuperate.

Though Erik wouldn't admit it, you had the best pussy he's ever had. He hadn't been messing around too much after finally getting a piece of you. He's never made love before, and the closest he's gotten was fucking you slowly. You two were strictly friends and he would keep it as such. He didn't want you knowing that he was getting attached. It made him feel weak.

You on the other hand, seemed unfazed by it. He could do things with your body that no one could, but yet still you respected the boundary between romance and friendship. Besides, sex was so casual these days. Pussy and dick was everywhere...

When he got back in the bed, he pulled his phone off the nightstand and began scrolling through his Twitter timeline as if nothing just happened. Something compelled you to get closer to him, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his rough chest. The muscles in him tensed up.

"Yo, whatchu doin', girl?"

"It's just... We always fuck and that's it. Can you at least hold me till I fall asleep, E?" You looked at him with innocent eyes, he loved that.

"Nah, I don't cuddle. No strings attached, remember?" He gently pushed you off of him.

You sat up and pouted, folding your arms across your bare chest. "It doesn't even have to be on no relationship shit, Erik..."

"No, (y/n), we do this every time." He gave you a stern look, you hated that.

You rolled your eyes and turned over, shutting off the lamp. "Goodnight, I guess..."

"Night." He said, paying you no mind.

Ten minutes later, he shut off his phone and glanced at your delicate sleeping frame. He silently laughs, seeing how far away you moved. You were upset, he could tell.

"Never go to sleep upset." You would always be the one telling him that, it was a shame that you hadn't practiced what you preached.

He would be lying if he said that it did feel good when you wrapped around him, even if it was for a few seconds. Erik had never cuddled after sex, he thought that would cause people to catch feelings. He also didn't want the girl he just slept with to ask him dumb questions afterwards like, "Why me?" or "What would you do if I died?" Just shit that he wouldn't have the answer that they're looking for.

He pulled your body closer to the centre of the bed, as you were too close to the edge and shut off his lamp.

You were awoken to the irritating feeling of needing to pee. You tried to spring up quickly, only to be held down by a tight and heavy grasp. Soft snores from the man you slept with less than three hours ago filled your ears.

Wait... Was he... Cuddling you?!

Mr. "I don't cuddle" really had his big ass arms wrapped around your body. Not to mention, but he was knocked out like a baby.

This all would be so nice if your bladder wasn't threatening to explode right now.

"Erik." You whispered, and tried to get out of his grasp. He didn't respond or seem aware of your presence.

He was really knocked. Usually the slightest noise and movements would wake him up.

There was one time you were opening a bag his favourite bag of chips while he was napping on your sofa. You didn't even open a quarter of the bag and he was already up, snatching the whole bag out of your hands.

You elbowed him a little roughly, and called out his name even louder. "Erik!"

He groaned in pain, "Argh, damn girl. The hell was that for?"

"I need to go pee."

"Then go, you grown."

"Nigga, I can't with your arms holding me down."

"Ah shit." He whispered to himself, letting you go.

"I thought you didn't cuddle." You teased him.

"I don't." He denied.

"Erik, you really about to act like you weren't just holding me against your chest."

"You probably scooted in to me." He tried to argue back.

"E, that doesn't even- You know what?" You got up from the bed, and looked at the digital clock. "Not at four in the morning, aight?" You went to use the bathroom and left Erik to contemplate.

He wasn't cuddling you initially, but at some point he must've connected with you. You were the most comforting person to be around in all aspects. Even when you argued with each other. He was so content and peaceful whenever he was around you.

You came back and went right to the edge of the bed, surprised when Erik pulled you back in. His arms wrapped protectively around your body.

"Erik, wha-"

"Shut up, (Y/n). I'm trying to sleep." He said in a raspy voice.

You rolled your eyes for the last time and closed them, deciding you were too tired to scold him for telling you to shut up.

If he wasn't a cuddler before, he definitely is one now.

Hope you all enjoyed! I didn't add too much of a romantic relationship because I really wanna explore different types relationships with Erik and the reader. Plus I had another plot idea to link with this one, but I'll save it for another.

I'm also very tempted to edit this now, but it's almost five a.m. and I'm sleepy so I know there will be so many mistakes if I do lol.

Thanks for reading!

(Start/Finish: June 25, 2019)

#killmonger fic #killmonger x reader #black reader

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cheemken · 1 year

Note

sir... may i humbly request for more pokemon hcs... a small crumb wld do...

OFC BFMDNDK

But like majority of my hcs are of the champions so I hope that'll be cool w you hahaha

Anyways owo

•Hc ages, Wallace, Geeta, and Lance are both around 32-35 (Lance is the older one between them). Steven, Cynthia, Diantha, and Leon are all around 28-31 (Leon is the younger one, Diantha is the oldest between em). Hau is 15 and Iris is 17

-I have Hau as my Alola champion bc idk I think he deserves it hahah

•Diantha and Lance are easily susceptible of Iris' and Hau's puppy eyes and get dragged into their hijinks

-the ones who can somewhat resits them are Wallace, Geeta, and Steven

-Cynthia is an enabler, and Leon somehow knows when to say no to their shenanigans bc he has experience as an older brother

•the other champions are honestly a bit unnerved by Geeta, she knows this too but made no effort to change it, she thinks it's entertaining

-the others just try to keep up w her for Diantha

-Lance couldn't tho, Geeta just gets on his nerves and vice verse, tho the two do try to get along for Diantha

-its honestly very comical cause one second they're almost killing each other and the second Diantha walks in they'd both stop and laugh and smile w each other bc they know Dia would get sad if they fight

•they all have their own little group chat and it's honestly just Steven setting up the dates for their meet ups and Cynthia and Wallace at each other's throats

-Diantha just loves the drama going on between those two, she thinks their petty arguments are entertaining

•Hau and Iris have this solidarity of being raised by their own respective grandfather

-Iris helps Hau cope w it, that at least there's still people who loves them, and hey they're family now too, together w the other champions

-theyre siblings to me your honour pls they mean so much to me

•Steven cherishes the other champions so much because it's the first ever friend group he has that doesn't make fun of him for his love of rare stones

-its really the only friend group he has that doesn't make fun of anything about him in general

-also the only friend group that doesn't use his status as heir to the Devon Corp for the fame and fortune

•Geeta almost doesn't have any concept of empathy whatsoever so her actions seems like she's being an asshole

-she's trying not to be, really, but that's just how she grew up and hey at least they're kinda trying?? To help her??

-well, she's really not like that w Diantha, or rather she feels more empathy solely for Diantha, and to the others that's better than nothing

•out of the public eye, Diantha isn't as elegant of a trainer as people perceived her to be

-i would ramble abt this but it'll be long na so hey send another ask if you want hahah

•other than their native languages and the universal languages Unovan and Galarian, there are a few champions that are fluent in other languages

-Wallace can speak two other languages, Kalosian and Sinnohan

-Diantha can speak three, as it's often part of an act or she was taught back then, with those being: Paldean, Ransean, and Sinnohan

-surprisingly, Hau also knows three, altho he can't speak some of them, with those being: Kantonian, Hoennian, and Orrean

-Geeta can speak Kalosian and a little bit of Almian

-spare me tho, I made own adjectives for the other regions since there's nothing much abt em in the wikipage

Anyways I think that's long enough before I really start rambling so hey how you like it hahaha

#i have like.. a whole ass docs file of my champions hcs so yeah owo“#an ask and an answer #pokemon #should i really tag all of them omf #champion lance #champion wallace #champion steven #steven stone #champion cynthia #champion iris #champion diantha #rival hau #champion hau #champion leon #champion geeta #top champion geeta #pokemon hcs #anon #pokemon champions

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brokenjere · 2 years

Text

bad in the bones (c.f) (part 7)

catch up here

I’m trying to sleep but the birds are too loud and the sun is shining too brightly. Then, there’s a knock at my door so I groan and yell at whoever it is to come in. It’s Belly. I can smell the sea salt from her hair before I open my eyes. She’s smiling at me like she knows something but I play dumb and ask her, “what?”

She sits on the end of my bed with her legs tucked under her butt and she shrugs. “Nothing but you were gone all morning and now you’re sleeping like you’ve been up all day.” I look at her under my lashes and don’t reply. We just look at each other. Her: expectantly and patiently and me: stubborn to a fault. “What were you up to?”

“Nothing, just couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk,” I lie.

“That’s weird because Conrad said the same thing.”

“I don’t know what Conrad is doing,” I lie again. My palms aren’t sweating and I don’t think I’m breaking eye contact and maybe I’m a good liar.

“I think he was with Nicole,” she tells me. I raise one eyebrow, something that I was taught in my two months of acting school when my mom went through a phase of wanting to make me famous. It’s the one skill I’ve retained. “She was at the bonfire, remember?” I did remember. The Red Sox girl. The familiar girl.

“Why would he have been with her?” I ask. Even though I know Conrad wasn’t with her, the fact that Belly thinks he was, hits nerve deep inside my bones and I’m not sure why.

“Nicole is my deb ball big sister,” she tells me quietly like we’re whispering secrets in the back of the classroom. “She won’t stop talking about him. Asking me if I think he likes her because he’s so hot and cold. It takes everything in me not to freak out on her.”

Belly shakes her head and lets out a laugh like Conrad liking Nicole was the craziest thing she’s ever heard and despite the fact that she’s been running around town with Cam the whale watcher, she still likes Conrad. She will always like Conrad and Conrad will always have the familiar girl. The little sister. The girl who doesn’t matter when summer ends.

“I thought you were into Cam now?” I can’t help the sharpness in my tone when I say this but she doesn’t notice.

Belly blushes at his name and shrugs her shoulders. She plays with the hem of her jean shorts to keep her distracted. “I am but Conrad will always be,” she pauses. Conrad. She shakes away the last word. “Anyway, why can’t you sleep? Is it Josh? Steven told me he called.”

I’m grateful for the subject change and dig further into the conversation, even though I really don’t want to. Anything to not talk about Belly liking Conrad. Anything to not talk about Conrad, period. “He did, yeah. He told me he wasn’t seeing anyone and Mallory lied. He told me he loved me still.”

Belly’s eyes widen and she leans forward, putting all her weight on her hands. Her palms are pressed into the mattress creating a crater for all my sleep sweat to fall into. “What did you say? Do you still love him, too?”

“It’s not that simple,” I tell her.

“Of course it is,” she says. Her childlike ignorance is sometimes admirable. There was a time when I would agree with her. That it was that simple but now, I’m not so sure. I shake my head and she shakes hers but we’re shaking them for different reasons and then I feel like crying. “I watched you cry for weeks over him. Yn, I have never seen you so devastated and now, he’s saying he loves you. How can you ignore that?”

I can’t help being angry with her. I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. I did cry over him for weeks. I wailed on the bathroom floor because he left me and I was alone and there was no one to hear me cry which is why ignoring it was the only option. “Because Belly, he left me.”

“Sometimes people do bad things for good reasons. If you love someone, can’t you forgive almost anything? I know if Conrad did that I-” She pauses because I sit up abruptly and get out bed. She pauses because I wipe my face so aggressively I’m sure there were some tears that landed in her lap. She pauses because she didn’t mean to say Conrad’s name. I can see it in her doe eyes. I can see it in her reddened cheeks. “What’s wrong? I thought this is what you wanted?”

If you asked me before this summer, I would have said yes but now, all of it makes my head hurt. “I wanted to go to Columbia with Josh and be together like we used to,” I tell her. She looks at me like that’s exactly what she said but she doesn’t get it. She will never get it. I was a raging hurricane and she was the sun shinning so brightly that you forget it’s storming. “He broke up with me and I didn’t get into Columbia and it will never be the same. Ever again. That’s why I can’t sleep. I am never enough.”

Her eyes soften and maybe she does get it, maybe she can understand and I underestimated her. She is my best friend, after all. My family. My blood, sweat, and tears. Maybe she will see. “Yn,” she coos and then I’m mad again. “None of that means you’re not good enough.”

“My own mother doesn’t want to be around me, Belly. Do you get that? Columbia was what we’ve worked for. All the extracurriculars. All the afterschool classes. All the failed attempts to learn a new craft. It was all to get into a good school so I didn’t end up like her: chasing rich men around the world to fill the void. And I failed.” I didn’t mean to start yelling, but once I stopped, I noticed how loud I had been. I lick the salty tears off my chapped lips and there’s too much space between me and Belly. I silently beg her to not close the gap but she does anyway. She hugs me and I loosely wrap my arms around her.

“You didn’t fail. You’re not going to end up like her.”

“You don’t know that.”

She pulls away and holds me at arm's length and smiles. She’s actually smiling and nodding her head and she says: “yes. I do.” And because she’s Belly and she’s looking at me not like I’m a hurricane but like I’m the rainbow that comes long after it stops, I believe her. I believe her because when we watch high school football games she always knows which team is going to win. I believe her because when I the tooth fairy for her in middle school, she looked at me with unwavering belief and told me of course he’s real, you silly goose and the next time I lost a tooth there was fairy dust on my pillow when I woke up. I believe her because even when Mallory let me down, Belly was still there. I believe her because she is all that I have.

+++

I didn’t want to invite her. Truthfully, I’m still mad at her for spilling the beans about the Columbia but Belly said she was inviting Taylor for the Fourth of July so I felt obligated to invite Mallory. She seemed excited when I called and asked which made me feel bad for giving her the cold shoulder the last two weeks but not even the hottest of summer suns could make me feel warm and fuzzy inside right now.

I haven’t heard from Josh since that night and I’ve been avoiding Conrad like the plague and I think he can tell. I catch him staring at me from across the dinner table and he stops paying attention during the water volleyball matches because he’s watching me read my book and I pretend not to notice but I do notice because when he’s not watching me, I’m watching him but Belly loves him so I can not. Sometimes, when it’s late at night, I swear I can hear him whispering my name on the other side of my wall. He’s calling for me and I ignore him.

I did well for a while. I waited for him to leave before coming downstairs and I went to bed early to avoid running into him in the hallway and showered in the middle night. I did well, never being alone with him, until I didn’t.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be sneaking a snack?” His voice came from behind the fridge door. I had a handful of shredded cheese looming over my open mouth, a few pieces falling onto the floor. He laughed. “I was wondering where all the cheese was going.”

I shoved whatever I had in my hand into my mouth and swallowed it as quickly as I could before closing up the refrigerator. “Sorry,” I mumbled. He shook his head, telling me I don’t need to be sorry and then I tried to go back to bed but his hand grabbed my wrist and he asked me to stay. “Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He ventured further into the kitchen, opening up the cabinet that I already knew held all the alcohol. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and waved it at me with a question make drawn on his face. I caved and grabbed the bottle from him. He jumped up on the counter and I somehow found myself in between his legs as I drank straight from the bottle. His fingers brushed mine as he grabbed it from me and we drank in silence, much like how we had lived together in this house. There was something safe in the darkness, though.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He asked eventually. “Is it Josh?”

“So you heard,” I said jokingly, grabbing the bottle. He let me take it without any resistance and he watched me drink from it but I avoided his eyes for as long as I could. I could only imagine that Steven told Jeremiah and Jeremiah told Conrad and I know Belly told Laurel and she told Susanah so maybe he heard it from her, but either way, the entire house knows that Josh is still getting under my skin. “It’s not about Josh.”

“Then what is it? I thought we were friends.” The word sounded like tar coming out of his mouth. He said it with bitterness and anger but his face didn’t say that.

“Belly said Nicole’s been asking about you. And Belly, you know she still likes you.” I’m holding the bottle by the neck and spin it around in my fingers. I watch the vodka create a vortex that I wished would suck me in.

“Yeah, Nicole’s been texting me. I told you why I was with her that night.” Familiar. He put his hand on top of mine and it stopped the spinning. “And I told you I don’t think about Belly that way.”

I looked up at him and he looked so serious. So sure of himself. So much like the Conrad on the boat that wanted to be with me. The Conrad I turned down. “But she does and that’s the point. Belly is my best friend. I can’t,” I paused. “I just-”

He took the bottle from me and took a good, long swig. When he was done, he set it down on the counter. I don’t know what to do with my hands and I put them on his thighs. He looked down at me and in the safety net of the darkness, I let him put his arms around me. I let my head rest on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. His heart - that isn’t home to Nicole or Belly. His heart isn’t full for the familiar but that’s beating just for me at this moment.

I swear I can still hear it in the engine of the bus as it drops off Mallory and Taylor. I can hear it as Jeremiah drives us all in the Jeep back to the house. I can hear it in all their laughter. “What’s going on with you?” Mallory leans closer to me in the backseat and whispers in my ear. “What do you have to be sad about right now?” I know she’s joking but it still stings.

“I’m just tired, I haven’t been sleeping.” She nods as if she understands and looks beyond me and out the window. “I really am happy you’re here.” This gets a smile out of her and she wraps her arm around my shoulders and hugs me. I hug her back because she’s my best friend and I forget about Columbia.

Having Mallory here isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. She’s been keeping to herself, indulging in conversation with Belly, Taylor, and Steven, and keeping her hands off Jeremiah. I thought for sure she would have dug her nails into him by now but she hasn’t. And it’s nice. She leans against the side of the pool as I sit with my legs crossed and a book in my lap. Her hair is wet and plastered to her head and she looks up at me with a grin. “Always has a nose in a book, you do.”

I’m half tempted to shut the book but I don’t. “Not like I can join in on the fun.” She looks back toward the pool. Belly, Taylor, Steven, and Jeremiah start to play chicken, Jeremiah lifting Belly swiftly onto his shoulders. I can see her cheeks redden. Her hands wrestle with Taylors biceps until Taylor crashes into the water.

“You could join in, you know?” Mallory says. I roll my eyes at her. She knows I won’t even put my feet in the water. “Maybe one day I can change you.” She winks and pushes herself off the wall of the pool until she’s floating on her back. “Where’s the other brother?” She asks.

I shrug even though she can’t see me. I look around the backyard but I don’t even remember seeing him inside, so I don’t know if he’s even home. Nicole comes to mind. I see her face in my mind and then I see her for real. With my own two eyeballs. She’s here, in the backyard, holding hands with Conrad. “There,” I mumble.

Mallory kicks herself upright and looks toward the entrance of the backyard. The two of them walk hand in hand toward the pool. “Are you guys playing chicken?” She asks. Her tone is condescending and rude and Belly gets flustered because of course, Nicole is a deb. Belly falls off Jeremiah’s shoulders and suggests they play volleyball instead. Nicole still refuses to join and Conrad, without saying a word, sits down on the edge of the pool with his legs under the water. Nicole sits down next to him and they settle down next to each other like an old couple that has done this forever. He doesn’t look at me.

“Who’s that?” Mallory asks. Her disgust is showing.

“Nicole.”

She glances over at me and then does a double take, her eyes narrowing on me the second time. “What did she do to you?” She’s joking but I shake my head. I can feel every muscle in my body tense because he told me he didn’t like her so why is he holding her hand? Why is he whsispering in her ear? Why is he laughing at her jokes and not fucking looking at me? “No wonder Belly’s obsessed with him,” Mallory comments. “He’s hot.”

I look down at her and she’s devouring him with her eyes and I wish she had dug her nails into Jeremiah. Belly’s watching him, too and now I feel like a groupie. Three to one. And then it’s two to one because a volleyball flies across the pool and lands on Nicole’s head. She grabs her head in her hands and yelps out in pain. Taylor. She shrugs and calls out, “sorry, ball splipped.” She loves her best friend so she threw a ball at the girl holding his attention. That girl could have been me. Belly loves Conrad and her best friend threw a ball at Nicole’s head and maybe I could love Conrad, too, and my best friend is looking at him like she wants to jump his bones behind the bushes.

I can hear Conrad asking her if she wants to go inside. I have ice in there. Frozen peas. Anything so it doesn’t swell. She shakes her head. Are you sure? She nods. Nicole. She walks away. He looks at all of us and he’s so embarrassed that he goes inside. “I’ll be right back,” Mallory says as she pulls herself out of the water. She’s shedding water as she walks to the lounge chairs and grabs a towel. She barely dries herself off before she goes inside and the entire time her eyes don’t leave Conrad's trail and she's too distracted to hear me tell her not to go.

I get up and follow her. No one really notices because they all went back to their game and I sneak in the kitchen and follow the wet footsteps through the house. They’re in the living room. I peek my head around the corner and Conrad is sitting on the couch and Mallory is looming over him like a giant with her lanky, tan legs and noodly arms. I hate her right now.

“That was kind of shitty of Taylor, right?” She says, laughing. I put my back to the wall and I can’t see them but I can hear them. I always know when Mallory is flirting and I can hear it in her voice when she says, “are you and Nicole a thing or?”

“No. She’s just a friend,” he tells her. They’re quiet for a moment and then Mallory speaks again: “well are you seeing anyone?”

“Why? You interested?” His response is quick and sharp and he doesn’t mean are you interested because so am I and I smile.

“Maybe,” she sings. I can almost picture her wet hair twisting around her finger.

“Too bad.” I hear the couch squeak and I dart for the back door before anyone can see me. I follow her wet footsteps again and I think I can make it. My hand is on the doorknob but then he says, “didn’t anyone tell you it was rude to eavesdrop?” I feel my heart racing inside of my chest and all I pray is that Mallory didn’t hear him. I turn around and he’s smiling. He’s not mad. He winks at me, puts his finger to his lips and shushes me. Our little secret. I thank him with my eyes and will that he hears me before pushing open the back door and occupying my spot on the deck.

Belly notices me and swims over to me. “Is he pissed?” She asks. “Taylor shouldn’t have done that.” I shrug and tell her I just went to get some water and didn’t see him and she looks at me suspiciously but she lets it go when Mallory comes storming out of the house.

“He’s such an ass,” she huffs and sits down beside me. She pouts like a toddler. “What do you even see in him?” Her question is directed to Belly but my cheeks get hot anyway and I look away so neither of them see.

Belly stammers on her words and can’t get out a sentence before Mallory tells her she doesn’t really care and storms back into the house leaving a giant, wet imprint of her ass on the cement.

+++

Susannah takes the Fourth of July very, very seriously. I was told this in advance but the reality of it was much worse than I anticipated. She dressed the entire house up with red, white, and blue decorations and she spent all day slaving away over a cake that’s been sitting out all day but it’s not time yet she tells anyone who asks to cut it.

Belly invited all of her Deb ball friends and they come too dressed up. Shayla’s wearing a fascinator for Christ’s sake but when I make this comment to Steven, he tells me to lay off. “Because you love her,” I remind him. He blushes and tells me no he doesn’t but I can tell he does. Shayla’s a nice girl. I’m just grumpy and she’s wearing a hat to a pool party and it pisses me off.

I was surprised to see Nicole show her face and even more surprised to see her and Conrad canoodling in the pool. Familiar. He pushes her hair behind her ear and whispers something in it. And I shove a grape so hard in my mouth I choke on it. “Hey, slow down,” Laurel tells me. She takes the bowl of grapes away from me and puts her hand on my shoulder and I relax a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything is wrong. Look at all these people,” I say, waving my hands around at everyone. Everyone is wearing dresses and fancy shirts and back home we’d all be too wasted to wear fancy clothes and Susannah made too much food and spent too much time for something that was going to go to shit when the sun went down but I don’t say these things. “It’s just pretentious.”

Laurel laughs and I think she understands. She knows what it’s like not having all this money and struggling unlike everyone else here but she can’t say that either. “Why aren’t you with the kids?”

“They’re pretentious, too.”

“You know, Belly really wants to be a Deb,” she says softly. It was the first time I heard her sound supportive of the entire thing so I let her talk. “Maybe just let her have this moment. It’ll be over soon and then you’ll have your Belly back.”

I look at my aunt and she’s smiling because she gets it. She gets all of it. She always has and I hug her. She squeezes me back and I steal another grape from the confiscated bowl. “The ball isn't really the problem,” I tell her. I want to tell her everything about Josh and Conrad and Belly and Mallory but no one has ever taken my side before so why would she start now? She asks me to tell her what’s going on and I tell her, “nothing I can’t get over.” She smooths my hair back and kisses my forehead and I take a grape for the road.

taglist: @marajillana@liltimmyst@angelayse @nani-2305 @drikawinchester @28cnn @nyenye @isthlsfate @spacefruitsblog

#tsitp #conrad fisher #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher imagine #tsip conrad #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher rec #Conrad fisher one shot #Conrad fisher fic

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trickster-jpeg · 3 months

Text

I Haven't Slept In Days, But Who's Counting.

This is a sequel to another oneshot, so it'll make more sense context-wise if you read that first -> Here

Summary: Steven's tries to carry on hiding his nightmares from Marc and Jake, but after a particularly rough night Marc finds out and tells Jake. The pair confront him and have to comfort him after he breaks down.

Warnings: Nothing major. Brief descriptions of child abuse when Steven talks about one of the nightmares.

Word Count: 8524 It's On AO3 -> Here

A/N: 'Ricitos' is a petname that means 'curly hair', and 'Manitos' means something akin to 'little brother'.

“Steven- I just really think you should tell them. They would want to know, they would want to help you. If anyone can understand what you’re going through, it’s them.”

A few days had passed since ‘the incident’ as Steven was choosing to call it and, despite the continuing insomnia, things were going as well as they could be. Layla had offered to stay a few more days to keep him company, but he knew that there were things she needed to do and being on nightmare watch wasn’t one of them, so he declined. She’d been amazing the past few days, more amazing than she usually was, and as per usual she was like a rock for him to lean on for support which he was extremely grateful for. Regardless of how stupid he thought it might’ve been, she’d listened to whatever he had to say, and when he’d wanted to stay quiet she’d sit with him through that as well. The pair had gone out to spend their last few full days together just wandering around, visiting little cafes and book shops, taking walks for the fresh air. Just spending a moment to simply exist without the threat of the world collapsing around them, real or imagined.

Marc had been out at times as well, just to do his own thing and spend his own time with Layla. It was tricky for the pair at times, given their history, especially at the start once everything had been put on the table. When they'd had a moment to talk about the disorder honestly. But the pair were working or rebuilding things better than they had been, and made new room for Jake and Steven to be included as well if they wanted. Jake still wasn’t fully used to fronting the same way the others were, or for the same lengths of time, so he didn’t appear much. Especially when there wasn’t really anything to do. But after some encouragement from the three, he’d found a new motivation to spend time out and trying to relax after he’d started to realise he wasn’t being subjected to his typical nightmares. Steven had made Layla promise not to tell his headmates.

Which led him back to his predicament.

Telling the other two about his nightmares. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it was just… Maybe that’s exactly what it was in all honesty. How was he supposed to bring it up anyway? “Marc! Jake! Just the people I've been trying to subtly avoid, but you’ve probably noticed that by now. It’s aces that your nightmares have suddenly started to dip in frequency, genuinely so glad that you’re able to have a peaceful nights rest, but that’s actually because they’ve just passed over to me! Surprise!” He’d rather be shot in a pyramid and stuffed into a bloody sarcophagus. Again. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they found out somehow. Which is why he wanted to be the one to tell them.

They’d been trying to work on their communication. Trying to lower the daily amnesia barriers, get more fluid with switching and have more control over it, being able to sit down and talk as a trio. Steven had been doing more research on DID whenever he had the chance. Found it really quite interesting if he was honest, despite not being the biggest psychology buff, but he also had a tendency to fixate and overload himself with the information and that tended to trigger some doubt in him about the whole thing. Something he read was completely normal for people like him- them- but it was still frustrating to have to stagger his questions just so he could safely process basic information.

One thing in particular caught his eye during the deep dives though. Innerworlds. He read about how they were this visualisation thing, like the mind palace in Sherlock. That they could help to provide a space for communication, like properly interacting with each other in a way that wasn’t just staring into a mirror and hoping someone responded with the reflection. It had taken a while to work on actually putting the concept into practice, to actually try and visualise it in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were just daydreaming, but they’d done it. Slowly but surely, they’d started to make it work. Their innerworld was nothing fancy, at least not for now. In a way, they found it somewhat easier to simply have a replica of their flat as a hub of safety, or a meeting place to be used when needed. And Steven had reluctantly deduced that this was one of the times it was necessary to use it as a meeting place.

It would take him a while to gather up the nerve to start the conversation. Overthinking was a special talent of Steven’s and he could spend years trying to plan every single possibility. To sit down and focus, the build up to opening up to the people he always told shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk about their troubles. It really was easier said than done when none of them had really been properly taught how they were supposed to do that, but Steven tried to think of it as a learning experience. He could lead by example. Maybe. Hopefully.

However, like many things in their life, the choice was ultimately made for Steven and left him a complete lack of control over the circumstances that led up to the others finding out.

It had been a week since Layla had left their flat. A week of being alone in the empty darkness of his room. A week of looping audiobooks and fidgeting with rubik's cubes and leaning over books under a lamp only to pass out on the desk after succumbing to sleep’s cruel lullaby. He’d been coping as well as he could. Sometimes staying on the phone with Layla until he felt safe enough to sleep again. Or at least until he pretended to because he didn’t want to keep her up anymore than he’d already been doing. Eventually it had to come to a close. It always did. And this time it really was Steven’s fault.

As a rule, Steven tended to avoid drinking. Never really saw much of an appeal apart from some of the ones that tasted nice. He didn’t like the loss of control. Something about it just made him extremely uncomfortable, not that he understood why until he’d found out about their mum’s drinking habits. But he knew Marc drank, albeit sometimes unhealthily, and so eventually he concluded that they’d have the same type of tolerance given the fact that it was the same body. He was still getting used to it, finding it easier to just continue avoiding the substance without any qualms, but occasionally he’d partake.

This was one of those nights. He knew it wasn’t exactly the healthiest of ideas to start drinking with the intent of using it to get him to sleep, but it would just be a one time thing. Honestly. He just wanted to see if it would do anything. If it would help ease him into the action without hours of anxiety spirals to keep him awake. So, he picked up the bottle of hard liquor that he knew Marc had stashed in the back of one of the cupboards in the kitchen and took a large mouthful of it.

His immediate reaction was repulsion, the instant impulse to try and spit out the liquid that felt like it was numbing his tongue, but he powered through it and swallowed hard. The burning sensation that scraped down his throat was strong enough to cause his eyes to water almost immediately afterwards and he jolted forward to grab a half empty glass of water that had been left out on the kitchen top. He felt the alcohol settle heavily in his stomach, an empty feeling that made him realise he had forgotten to eat anything that wasn’t a small snack or two throughout the day.

Overall, it was an unpleasant experience that he would rather not repeat or continue doing. But the distraction of the alcohol scratching at his throat would probably be enough to draw his focus away from the anxiety his nightmares caused, which is why he made the great decision to take another few large mouthfuls from the bottle before setting it down and flopping into bed. Enough to make a small, yet notable difference in the contents of the bottle. He grimaced and coughed as the liquid burned down his throat again, pulling a slightly disgusted face as he realised he could smell it quite intensely on his breath.

After about ten to fifteen minutes of lying in bed, waiting for the pain to dull down slightly, he started to feel somewhat dizzy. Like a mild vertigo, almost like dissociating in a way. In an attempt to settle the feeling slightly, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, counting the beats between each inhale and exhale like sheep. His mind started to drift as he focused on the waviness of it all, the floating sensation creeping into his brain as he felt himself lean deeper into the mattress. Gradually, he stopped being aware of his behaviour, his thoughts, the waking world. Apparently a mixture of sleep deprivation, alcohol, and lack of food made a great recipe for sleep.

From Marc’s detailed experiences of drinking and sleeping, alcohol made dreams more vivid. It also made them way more memorable when he woke up from them. And usually, it was more likely to be nightmares than dreams when alcohol had a part to play in the events leading up to sleep. Sometimes it would be more trauma-centric nightmares, but usually 3.5 out of 5 times it was some random bullshit nightmare that most of the general population gets. Something mundane like accidentally yanking his teeth out and swallowing them or something. The point was, it was fairly easy to tell when a dream was influenced by alcohol or if it was just a typical, regular dream. Which is why he was so disoriented when he woke up with sweat soaking their bedsheets and his chest heaving painfully as he tried to draw in the breaths he didn’t even know he was lacking.

He tasted the liquor he’d bought himself, coating his mouth and mixing with the flood of saliva as he jolted to grab the bin they kept beside their bed to heave into, watching as the majority of his stomach contents turned out to be the alcohol. A sight not quite shocking to him, borderline familiar with the amount of times it happened to him in the past, but still confusing. Confusing because he could’ve sworn he hadn’t had anything to drink. That he hadn’t fronted for pretty much the entire day so unless he’d had a full blackout of his own memories, he hadn’t touched the bottle. And he knew that Jake hadn’t been the one to drink it either, simply because he knew that the man hated his choice of liquor and wouldn’t voluntarily drink it unless he was forced to, and even then he’d have tried to buy some before falling back on Marc’s stash. Which just left one other person to blame. Steven.

Why the hell would Steven be drinking? He hates drinking. Or at least hates drinking this stuff.

As Marc continued to retch into the bin, a worry started to overshadow the initial confusion he was feeling. It didn’t make any sense. The man never went out of his way to buy or drink, and when he did he always went for the softest stuff. The stuff that barely tasted like alcohol, just fruit or sugar. He’d made it clear time and time again that he’d hated the feeling of it, hated the taste, hated the aftermath. Hated everything about it. Which is why Marc just couldn’t understand why Steven would feel the need to drink so much of this stuff. Surely the Brit would’ve tried to speak to Marc or Jake if there was something going on, right?

Suddenly feeling unsure about his headmate’s transparency, he started to try and remember any signs in the past few weeks that something was wrong with Steven. Briefly, he got glimpses of the man falling back into his old habits of trying to avoid sleep. Of not eating as much as he usually would, or leaving the house as often as he did. Of watching their phone and waiting silently for it to stop ringing and for the familiar contact of Layla to disappear from the screen. Then he thought about last week. Something recent came to mind. Something hazy. They were sitting on the floor. Reading something- No. Being read to. Marc didn’t understand the words but he knew the voice speaking them. Felt the panic dying down as Steven realised who it was as well.

He needed to call Layla.

Without looking, he reached over to the side table to grab at the phone he knew would be there with one hand as he placed the bin in the other hand now that he was confident there was nothing left for him to throw up. The bright light from the screen blinded him for a moment as he scrambled to turn down the brightness, cursing the Brit quietly for his adamance at having the setting so high all the time. After a moment of letting his eyes readjust to the sight of it, he opened his contacts and hit the dial button over his wife’s name. A moment of regret and remorse flickered in his chest as he looked up at the time on the top of his screen reading ‘02:38’. Maybe he should’ve waited until the morning to figure this out rather than disturbing her sleep and waking her up at this time for such a petty reason-

“Hello? Steven? Marc?... Jake?”

A wave of familiarity washed over him as he heard her tiredly croak out a response over the line, clearly having just been woken up by the phone. He hesitated for a moment before realising he should probably start speaking.

“Hey, it’s me- Marc-”

“I may have just woken up but I can still tell that it’s your voice, Marc. You don’t have to tell me. We’ve been married for about ten years.”

He pauses awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for his stupid attempt at trying to help her as though she hadn’t spent a decade waking up to hearing his voice. Clearing his throat, still raw from the alcohol going in and then out of his system, he swallows before continuing.

“I know it's late, didn’t realise until i’d already hit the call button. I wouldn’t have phoned if it wasn’t important, or at least I’m pretty sure it’s important-”

“Marc, I love you and I'm listening but I'm still incredibly tired. Could you maybe skip to the reason you’re calling me at… two in the morning?”

He stays silent for a moment or two, apologetic that he woke Layla up at this hour, but also more apprehensive to speak the words out loud. As if the reality of the situation, of the things he’s thinking, will settle in and manifest. That it’ll be real once he says it. Taking another deep breath, his throat feeling slightly strangled as he forces the words out of his mouth.

“Steven was drinking. I don’t know why, I just know that I woke up in a pile of sweat, having one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while, promptly followed up by me puking my insides out and seeing he’s barely eaten anything all day. And a nightmare that I know was about our childhood that I can’t even remember to top it all off. I just- I thought if he’s spoken to anyone about any of this… it would be you.”

The line was silent for a while, the only clue that Layla was still there and that it hadn’t hung up or frozen was her muttered swears that the microphone just barely managed to pick up. He heard a brief shuffling, almost as though she was moving around to sit up in bed or something. Another few moments of silence passed before she spoke hesitantly, her tone reluctant but much more awake than it had been. Much more alert.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything… He said he’d- Never mind. I don’t really know how to say this, it’s not my thing to say but if he’s getting to this point instead of talking I-”

The confusion and worry in Marc’s mind only stood to grow even more at the vague words. What was Steven not telling them? What could be so bad that he’s made Layla promise not to say anything? All members of the system had the understanding that there was a level of confidentiality between some of their personal conversations with Layla. If they wanted or needed to tell her something, or just didn’t want the other two to know about it, then they wouldn’t ask her. A mutual respect that they wouldn’t pry into things or try to force their partner to talk about things that didn’t concern them unless it was important enough for them all to know. And to Marc, this seemed like it was something pretty fucking important for them to know about.

“What? What do you mean ‘not your thing to say’? ‘Getting to this point’? Layla, what's wrong with Steven? I mean he knows he can talk to us about things, he’s always going on about being open and honest and how things are better when we all work together to try and solve them so what could be so bad that he’s hiding things from us-”

“He’s been having nightmares, Marc. About your childhood. About your trauma. He’s been having nightmares and flashbacks.”

As Layla cuts his ramblings off and tells him the truth, he’s stunned into silent shock. It's almost like the words just don’t process in his mind. At least not for the first minute or so after he’d heard them. Like his brain just refused to acknowledge them as the truth, or even just as a possibility at all. He almost asked her to repeat what she’d said, to give her the opportunity to say something else. Almost hoping that what she’d said was a mistake, or that he’d just misheard her. Until they actually started to settle in his head.

Steven had been having nightmares. Their Steven. He’d been having nightmares. He’d been having their nightmares. Marc and Jake had finally been freed from them, celebrating and joking between themselves that they’d been given a ‘mini restbite’. And Steven had been forced to deal with them instead. The Steven that would take their place and stay up for hours after they’d jolted awake to reassure them they were alright. The Steven that would talk outloud and describe every single item and object in their flat, as well as the layout of the floors, if it meant that they could believe they were safe and in their own home, not stuck in that house with their mother. The Steven that once decided to make a crappy little blanket fort at three in the morning for Jake because the man had been borderline inconsolable after he had screamed himself awake as a result of a particularly brutal nightmare. And now the same man was trying to brave his way through it all on his own, and had been doing so for months, all while Marc and Jake had been none the wiser..

“You need to talk to him about it, Marc. All three of you. He thinks that- He doesn’t want you to see him as a burden. Thinks that if he proves he can handle this on his own then he can prove he’s ‘contributing’ to the system, taking responsibility. That you’ll stop trying to keep things from him or I guess treating him like a child.”

Marc sits in a stunned silence as he listens to Layla speak, thoughts spinning like a tornado in his head. That couldn’t- That couldn’t be right. Steven doesn’t really think that. Doesn’t really believe that. Right? He couldn’t. But it was true in some way, they did keep things from him. They did treat him like a kid. Even if that was never their intention, they did it all the same. Falling into old habits of trying to keep his innocent naivety protected, keep him protected. And it’d backfired and made the man feel like he had to prove something to them. That he had to suffer in silence to be treated the same.

The stark realisation made Marc’s stomach lurch with nausea as he swallowed back the urge to gag, trying to suppress the growing pit in his stomach that had opened up like a sinkhole. His immediate reaction was that of self hatred, of anger, of a need to punish himself for not realising sooner or for making his headmate feel like that. But he knew that was no good, and it was probably the exact reaction that Steven had being trying to avoid by not telling him.

He sat in silence for a moment longer, not being able to think of the words he could use to formulate a response. Layla knew him well enough to understand that, even over the phone. He nodded slightly to himself as he continued to process her words, a small hum escaping his lips. Mumbling a tired but appreciative thanks to his wife, he makes the promise to fill her in on the aftermath before hanging up the phone with a mumbled ‘love you, thank you’. As per usual, she was right. They did need to talk. Sooner rather than later. Now.

Usually he wasn’t the one to initiate the contact in the innerworld, meditation like things having never really worked for him, but drastic times called for drastic measures and what better time to put this into practice than now. He took a few deep breaths, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts and feelings on the situation. Steven needed stability, reassurance that he could talk. Having a major freak out and blaming himself would only make the Brit want to comfort Marc and focus on him rather than the real issue centred around him. He just had to fill Jake in on the situation before. He knew the man would appreciate the forewarning, plus it would give them a better chance at being able to help Steven in a way that didn’t make him feel cornered.

Leaning back in bed, he slowly took some deep breaths and closed his eyes, just like Steven had told him to do when explaining it all, and tried to reach out to Jake. The man hated the use of mirrors most of the time, hating how jarring it was to be perceived, but Marc also just couldn’t be asked to get up out of bed and walk to a reflective surface. It only took a moment or two for Jake to surface, the man always on the wings somewhere in case he needed to jump in at a moment’s notice. He blinked his eyes open as he adjusted to the shift in his surroundings, stood next to the sofa in their innerworld flat instead of laying with closed eyes in bed. Beside him, Jake sat on the chair polishing his boots with a calmed expression, glancing up at Marc once he noted the man’s presence. Awkwardly, Marc just stood there for a moment, looking around the room as he tried to figure out what small talk he should try and make before leading into the main issue.

How the fuck was he supposed to start this conversation?

“So… How’s the weather been lookin-”

“Just spit it out, Manito, I don’t bite.”

Instantly, Marc clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to combat the self-consciousness as he became aware of how he was just standing in the middle of the room. His eyes flickered back and forth between the other man, his boots, and the fish tank bubbling away in the background as Gus and Gus swam calmly as he tried to figure out how to formulate his sentences. They really needed to get better names for the fish. He bit his lip as he stood there in silence, chewing at the slightly cracked skin and trying to bite it off. As he tasted iron, he opened his mouth to respond.

“Steven’s been having the nightmares. Our nightmares. Having our flashbacks too. For months. He was drinking my stash before he went to sleep tonight. Layla’s seen him wake up screaming bloody murder after thinking he was still stuck in a dream.”

Jake’s hands stilled as he wiped the remnants of the boot polish over the material, his reaction perfectly frozen in a way that Marc assumed meant his thoughts had started to spiral immediately like his had when he’d found out. It also meant he was also trying to figure out what to do next. Just like Marc had. After a few moments, the cab driver gently placed the cloth down and started to nod quietly, processing the information he’d just been given. It was clear he was still trying to wrap his head around it, and so Marc spared him from having to try and speak, electing to continue his words.

“Apparently he said he’d talk to us, but I think we need to start the conversation first. She- Layla said that he’s trying to show his contribution to the system or something. That we’ve been treating him like a kid by trying to keep him safe from things. That we’ve been leaving him out. Making him feel like a- like a burden.”

Jake continued to nod, somewhat more forceful as Marc continued to talk. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his body language grew into a more spread out and tense defensive stance, his eyes scanning over the table back and forth as he did. Reaching up to remove his cap, he ran gloved hands through his hair and out of his face roughly, sitting back and looking up at Marc as he held the accessory in his hand like a lifeline. His jaw clenched a few times, his back cracking as he straightened his spine slightly. After a few more moments of silence, Jake took a deep breath and swallowed, staring off at the empty desk that sat tucked next to the stacks of books. A beat or two passed before he stood up, looking to the other side of the room as though staring at someone. As Marc followed his gaze, he had to mask his shock as suddenly sat in the uncomfortable desk chair was the main focus of their conversation: Steven.

The Brit was hunched over a book, reading as though nothing was happening until the confusion hit him and he looked up with a disorientated expression. Spinning around on his chair, his eyes immediately landed on the two men who were looking… worse for wear. That being said, Steven probably wasn’t looking so great either. He looked down at his clothes and realised he was wearing the black sweatshirt and joggers he had been wearing when they were stuck in the asylum. His hands were mostly covered by the sleeves being pulled up over them and as he reached up to brush his curled fringe out of his face. The dark strands felt greasy and knotted in his fingers, and he was suddenly very aware of how awful his face felt. He felt the weight beneath his eyes, dark circles sitting beneath them. His cheeks feeling somewhat sunken, and the rest of his face feeling oily. He felt like shit. He was literally projecting how he felt and he couldn’t get it to stop.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely vulnerable as he looked at the other two men, his legs bouncing nervously. He felt like a bug under a microscope, like he was about to be pinned to a canvas frame. The more he looked at them, the more he realised he’d been brought here on purpose, the way the Americans were glancing at one another and back at him as if they knew something. Like they were trying to silently argue about something. Something to do with him. Why was he here? It’s not like they had anything important to Steven, they never included him with that kind of thing so why-

In an instant, his heart stopped dead, his spine straightening and body tensing as he frantically looked at the pair as if he’d just been struck by lightning. He felt himself rocking back and forward in the chair ever so slightly, counting slowly as he tried to focus on his breathing. Was it even possible to have a panic attack on the innerworld? It felt like he was about to find out. He blinked desperately, hoping that with enough force he could try to escape this situation and take over the body to get out.

They knew. Somehow his headmates had found out about him. About his situation. How? Or- Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe if he tried to play it off and fake ignorance then he could get out of it. Maybe they only realised he was withdrawn and they were none the wiser about his-

“We know about the nightmares, Steven. Layla told us.”

For a brief moment, he felt a pang of betrayal in his chest towards her. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t tell them so why on earth would she-

“I woke up throwing up all the liquor you’d drank on an empty stomach, bedsheet drenched in sweat, on the tail end of the worst panic attack I've felt in months. Of course I was going to call the only person who would have any inkling as to what the fuck was going on with you. What were you thinking? Why would you-”

Marc was cut off by Jake lightly stamping on his foot in a clear signal for him to stop talking and calm down, clearly having realised how the man’s worry was definitely coming off as confrontational instead of reassuring. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to reset his attitude, before looking back at Steven with a stern but slightly apologetic gaze. Clearing his throat stiffly, he walked over to Steven and sat a few feet away from him on the floor to give him space. Jake followed suit behind him and sat on a small table to the side of him, just barely above Steven’s natural sitting eye level. The three men sat in quiet for a few more moments, before Marc spoke up once more and broke the silence.

“We’re… sorry. I’m sorry. We thought we were doing right by you and clearly it did the opposite. You never should’ve been made to feel like you couldn’t talk to us and- Yeah. I’m sorry, Steven. Genuinely.”

Silently, Jake nodded along with the man as he watched Steven’s eyes shift around looking at the floor. A minute of silence passed as the Brit let the words sink in. They were apologising… To him. A part of him wanted to backpedal, immediately try to reassure the two men that it was no harm done and that he knew it wasn’t deliberate. But another part of him was just tired. Tired for the months of struggling silently, albeit because of his own choice to try and hide it, but he still felt like he wasn’t worth the fuss that would be caused if he spoke up. And they were apologising for it. Eventually, after another minute or two, he looked up at the pair with red rimmed eyes slowly filling with tears. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, there was no point trying to hide it anymore because they saw him in the same way he felt. They knew the way he felt because they’d felt it as well at some point.

“How do you do it? How do you both cope with it so well?”

There was a brief moment of shock that crossed their faces at Steven’s question. Marc’s expression leaning towards reluctant realisation at how the man saw the pair at the words, and Jake’s steering more towards a neutral acceptance of his perception. Neither of them looked as though they agreed with the wording of Steven’s inquiry. Marc spoke up once more to answer the man nonetheless, Jake taking over once he stops.

“We can’t cope with it, Steven. We just grit our teeth and push through it. You want to know how we can do it? You. You’re the reason we can survive it.”

“He’s right, ricitos. We don’t know how to look after ourselves in the way that lets us live. Without you we’re just barely existing. You look after us. Love us. Support us. You’re everything to us, and we’re sorry that we’ve made you feel like you’re not.”

As they both watched Steven react to their words, they could’ve sworn they felt their hearts break in that single moment. At the realisation on how the men viewed him, Steven’s disbelief started to melt into something almost sobering. His brows lowered, rising slightly on the inner parts showing the clear frown lines on his forehead. He gently caught the bottom of his lip between his teeth for a moment as the corners of his mouth tilted downwards into a stunted frown. His eyelids drooped slightly as the redness lining the rims were contrasted against the purple bags beneath his eyes, shimmering slightly under the dim light as tears started to delicately stream down his face. They watched as his lip quivered ever so slightly as his eyes downcast to his hands that were clasping one another, wringing together as he let the words wash over him. As he sniffled quietly, he bit his lips together into an even clearer frown, the lines that usually showed from him smiling too much framed them painfully. In a shaky voice, he eventually spoke up.

“I just thought that the alcohol might make it easier to fall asleep. That it would… I don’t know. Distract me from my anxiety or something. Didn’t realise I had forgotten to eat until I’d already started drinking. It was absolutely minging, just for your information. Don’t know how you can drink that stuff. I won’t- I’m not going to do it again though. And thank you. For apologising. I appreciate it a lot.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Marc speaks up, somewhat nervously. Afraid of something. Insecure about himself, about the possibility of messing up this fragile interaction by saying the wrong thing.

“You could’ve asked us to stick around. Just to keep you company getting to sleep- You still can. It might be kind of a shitty downfall of this disorder, but in some cases never really being alone might be a bit of a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Neither would Jake.”

He looks up and over his shoulder from his seat on the floor to see Jake giving the gentlest smile he’s ever seen from the man in a reassuring manner to both Steven and Marc, nodding slowly in agreement to the man’s words. Steven focuses on the gloved man while thankfully flashing a weak smile towards him, replicating it as he looks down to Marc. He wipes his dripping nose on his oversized sleeve before grimacing slightly in brief disgust at his own action before responding.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I… I thought it might make you treat me like a child even more. I didn't want to be babied- Even if you never meant it like that it just- It just really started to piss me off, if i’m being honest. I just want to be treated the same as you treat each other.” He pauses to take a steady inhale before flashing a friendly smile to the pair, almost endearing in his own way. “I’m an adult, lads. A grown man, same as you. I don’t care if you keep me out of… ‘darker’ conversations. If it’s something I shouldn’t know yet, that it would be bad for me to know about just now, I wouldn’t mind. But it feels like it’s all of the- all of the trauma. All of the time. Sure, I didn’t know about it until recently, but that doesn’t mean I’m still clueless. I mean, hell, how can we even be sure that there are pieces of it that I know about but you both don’t. Did you ever think about it like that? What if I’d been the one to trigger something in the both of you because I just assumed it was common knowledge that you both knew? It’s not a one way street, you know.”

There was a slight shift in the air as Steven concluded his words, the Americans glancing at each other in apprehension as they realised that their headmate could be right. They really didn’t know what Steven knew and what he didn’t because they’d tried to keep him out of the conversation. Which meant that there was a genuine possibility that he might know something they weren’t aware of. Something he might’ve experienced on his own in their childhood and just repressed it so none of them knew about it. It was a quiet fear that they’d never known they shared, or even had, until that very moment. Trying not to dwell on it too much, at least not for now, they turned back to the Brit with matching sombre yet genuinely understanding expressions, having begun to listen and acknowledge the crying man’s points.

“What was- You don’t have to answer this- You might not even remember it but- That night with Layla. When you had the nightmare… What was it about? Layla didn’t tell me anything about it, just that it was the worst she’d seen in a while. That she actually thought it was me or Jake for a second before you started speaking.”

The Brit looked towards Marc in surprise at the revelation, the past betrayal he’d briefly felt against Layla being completely washed away at the realisation she’d really only told her husband the bare framework. Just enough to fill him in on the situation and get the ball rolling. It was a feeling quickly squashed by the dread that appeared at the thought of talking about the nightmare. A new found fear that he might be telling them something they didn’t know about. He could suddenly understand why they had been reluctant to include him in these types of conversations. Why both men were still so guarded, even to each other, when it came to the trauma they shared and spoke about if they spoke about it at all.

But he’d always been the one to say they should talk about it. He’d literally just made an entire little speech about how they should include him when talking about this stuff. If anything, this would be an olive branch. To consolidate that Steven shouldn’t be excluded, not that he needed to give a reason to prove his point. He didn’t have to share if he really didn’t want to. The three of them understood that things like this shouldn’t be pushed. Shouldn’t be forced. Enough of their shared lives had been forced and taken out of their control so, as a baseline of respect, they always gave that choice to say no and back out at any time. Which is why Steven felt safe enough to make the choice to tell them.

“It was about mum. I’m assuming they usually are.” He pauses to read the pair’s expression, feeling slightly discouraged as they huffed sad laughs in agreement but also like there was a new found solidarity with even just a small half joke like that. “We were in the car. I don’t remember a lot of it to be fair, It was quite a bit ago. She started shouting things at me, starting screaming. Started to speed up. Started to swerve the car in the road. Started to scream about crashing and getting rid of us both, let go of the wheel and I just remember the fear and the panic and just the realisation that I was about to die. I thought I was going to die right there. Thought that was it. That if the crash didn’t kill me it was going to be my heart exploding right out of my chest because I couldn’t breathe and I was crying too much.” His expression turned to a devastating revulsion as more tears streamed down his face, a brief sob getting trapped in his throat before he continued to talk. “I don’t remember most of it but the one thing I can remember thinking the clearest was how worried I was that she would get in trouble for her driving. I was convinced I was about to die, and I was still worrying about her and what would happen to her if someone saw her driving like that- She tried to kill me- Kill us- And I was thinking about her fucking reputation- What the fuck is wrong with me- Why did I- I couldn’t- I don’t know- How could I-”

By the time Steven started to reach the end of his recount of the nightmare, he was clearly working himself up into a frantic state. The pair watched worriedly as their headmate started to breathe heavier and heavier, spiralling into the start of a panic attack. In an attempt to prevent it before it got any worse, they moved closer to him. Marc started quietly mumbling hushed reassurances, knowing exactly how painful it was to still love the person that had put them through more than any child should have to bear. On the other hand, Jake decided to pass Steven’s plushie to him and drape a blanket over the man’s shoulders to add a comforting bit of pressure in the hopes of grounding him. He didn’t share the connection to Wendy that the other two men did. Saw her as nothing more than the woman that made their lives a living hell. In his eyes she was even less connected to him than a stranger. Maybe when they were younger he might’ve felt something different, but he grew out of that as soon as he could. While Marc tried to reassure the Brit with a unique understanding that they were both extremely familiar with, he moved over to the space that had been designated as their living room and started to move around doing his own thing. As he did so, he picked up on their close but distant conversation.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven. There will never be anything bad about the fact that you are so capable of loving people.”

“The things she- It’s not- It’s sick that I still-”

“She’s our mom. All of the bad outweighs the good by tenfold, but that doesn’t mean that we can just forget about all of the good. It would be easier if it was all bad. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with this. But you are not at fault for being human and still loving the good things about her. The good things that we experienced.”

“It hurts so much- Why did she have to-”

“I don’t know, Steven. I don’t know.”

Jake quickly glanced over as he heard their interaction tamper down in volume to see them holding each other, clinging to one another like a lifeline. He was never one for physical contact, not really. That's what happens when you’re brought into a life that so sorely lacks it. Its hard to miss what you’ve never really had, and that’s why even when given the option in the past he’d never really accepted it. The few times he had had been damn near crushing when it was over. Any other physical contact was never good news, and it was never a choice. But as he looked at the two men, he almost felt a longing to be included. To walk over there and hug the pair. He couldn’t tell if it was fully for their benefit, or if there was an almost selfish ulterior motive for himself as well though. He looked down to the pillows in his hands and started to speed up the process of finishing his idea, placing them in the spot he deemed to be the best and shift one of the blankets to the side.

A few more minutes passed before Steven had started to calm down, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as his tears slowed to a stop. Marc’s arms stayed wrapped firmly around him, sniffling slightly as the Brit realised his counterpart had at some point also started crying alongside him. He squeezed the man tighter for a moment, a brief reassurance to him that Steven was there for him as well. That they weren’t going to suffer with this alone. It was then that he also realised the distinct lack of their third headmate, the man having seemingly disappeared from their close proximity. With a fleeting moment of panic, his head jerked up to cast a look around the visible areas of the flat to find him. Marc pulled back with a confused face before arriving on the same train of thought and joining his short search, their shared worries quickly subsiding as they saw the man looking over at them with an amused but warm smile and motioning for them to go over to him.

Groaning slightly at the strain in his joints, Marc used Steven as a bit of leverage to pull himself upwards from his uncomfortable kneeling position on the floor. He wrapped an arm around the man’s torso lightly without a word, pulling him close as they moved to walk over towards Jake. He softly tried to secure the blanket around the Brit’s shoulders as they made their way towards him to stop it from falling onto the floor. The man had put his plain, dark flat cap back on and was trying to hide the half proud, half nervous look on his face as he stared over to the sofa and back at the two men to watch their reaction closely.

Somehow, in the time that Marc had managed to calm down Steven and simultaneously have his own emotional breakdown after seeing so much of his own inner struggles in Steven, Jake had managed to rearrange the furniture and construct a makeshift fort from blankets and pillows. It was clearly rushed, but still surprisingly well built with a sturdy structure. He’d even used the duvet and pillows from their bed. Small battery powered tea lights were dotted around the outsides, as well as a few on the inside, that somehow gave it a warmer feeling. It was a perfect haven that faced the television that hummed with life, the images on the screen gently shifting with a low volume to accompany them. Connected to the television via an old DVD player they'd recently found was one of Steven’s comfort films: Matilda. The pair faltered in their step at the sight of it all. At the safety that just radiated from the space that Jake had created for them all.

The man in question’s face contorted slightly into a rarely displayed uncertainty, a worry that the other men didn’t like it. It wasn’t often that Jake really doubted himself. There was never really time for that, never a room for error when the majority of his past life experiences had been born out of a final surge of pure instinct to survive. So when he couldn’t read the pair’s expressions, only seeing the tears and exhaustion from moments earlier, as well as the shock on their faces at the sight, he started to shift nervously from one foot to the other. He wasn’t good at physical affection, wasn’t the best at words of reassurance, especially when the subject matter was an incredibly personal and unique feeling that he wasn’t quite aligned with. He’d always heard the expression ‘actions speak louder than words’ and in that moment he was desperately hoping that his actions said the things he wanted to tell the other men. So when he saw the smiles that broke out onto their faces, he couldn’t help but earnestly mirroring it back at them.

Without any words being exchanged, they all moved to situate themselves in the centre of the fort, Steven in the middle being flanked comfortably by his headmates. Jake reached to turn the volume up just ever so slightly, so they wouldn’t be stuck just reading the captions alone. They all shuffled comfortably under the blankets, the Brit almost fully covered while the Americans stuck at least one or two limbs out from beneath the material to avoid feeling too overheated or trapped. The film continued to play as the three situated themselves in a close pile, Marc holding and leaning into Steven while Steven threw an arm over his and leaned into Jake’s side. Expectantly, he looked up at the cab driver before smiling, clearly pleased with himself as Jake threw an arm around him that reached over to Marc as well. It took a few moments for Jake to relax but eventually the tension bled from him as he leaned into Steven’s side as well. He traded a quick glance over the Brit’s head towards Marc and saw the man looking equally content with the situation and how it had played out.

As the film progressed, the three of them gradually started to feel themselves drift off into varying levels of sleep. Steven had been the first to nod off, barely making it more than fifteen minutes before the comfort of the two men either side of him combined with the exhaustion of bearing his soul caught up with him and lulled him into unconsciousness. Marc, having also not escaped the weariness that came as a side effect of heavy crying and emotional fatigue, drifted asleep about five minutes after Steven had. Jake on the other hand had kept awake until the credits to the film started playing, splitting his attention between the plot of the movie and watching over the two men sleeping beside him. Slowly, he reached to grab the remote, desperately trying to avoid waking up the other men as he clicked onto the menu screen and clicked the play button to restart it. He could understand why Steven liked the film.

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