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bigbadripley · 6 months

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Chapter 15 - No Love

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summary: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT | Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Angst, alcohol use, reference to smut (sorta), major second-hand embarrassment for Simone in this one ugh, Jen playing babysitter is cute and she has a lot more patience than I would.

Words: 3K-ish

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"Funny how you say you 'bout us You don't ever pull up on me, put it on me, get me right (Right) You the one that ruined us, can't give no, can't give no Fuck (Fuck) Get drunk (Get drunk), take drugs (Take drugs) (Fuck love)" -"No Love" by Summer Walker

When Jen returned from her trip, it was clear she felt compelled to take Simone out of a girl's night. Though Simone would typically decline to party at the clubs or bars, having not heard from Miguel since their fight had taken a much larger toll on her. She craved an escape from her mind— The mind that cursed her into this mess.

Simone accepted the proposition without a second thought, wearing a tight white t-shirt and black leather skirt. Her better outfits were stored in boxes stacked on each other in Matt's apartment, and it wasn't worth the effort of going through them.

From the moment they arrived at the flashy club affectionately called Flame, Simone went straight to the bar and narrowly avoided the dancefloor and the sweaty people on it. Jen followed closely and watched as the friend she knew not to drink anymore examined the wall of liquor bottles behind the bartender.

"Two shots of Suerte, please!" She exclaimed over the booming base. The blonde barkeep with a brown beard gave her a single nod before grabbing the bottle and preparing the small, tall glasses.

Jen studied her friend's face as she eagerly awaited her liquid prize. She had never seen Simone so excited, even when she knew her to be a regular consumer.

"Hey, should we take it easy tonight?" Jen asked loudly as she leaned to her left for Simone to better hear her. The face she gave in return showed Jen that she thought she was nuts.

"Fuck no!" She yelled back with a jovial chuckle to follow right as the two shots, a small saucer of chunky salt, and lime wedges were sat down in front of them. Simone took one, Jen took the other, and as Jen dunked a fingertip in the salt, Simone held her shot up. "To happiness!" She shouted.

Simone didn't give Jen even a second to let the salt sit on her tongue before downing the room-temperature tequila. It flowed down her throat slowly, burning her nostrils upon exhaling. She felt the old friend nearly roam back up her esophagus, prompting her to go for one of the lime wedges.

God, it's like lighter fluid. She thought to herself. The green citrus narrowly stopped at her lips as the thought played again, this time in a voice much younger than hers.

That's what I imagine lighter fluid tastes like.

The revulsion reminded her of her first time trying the drink. She was transported back to the woods, bare feet along the creek.

Her disgust was quickly replaced with sorrow, and the lime wedge was placed back on the platter as she held up two fingers to the bartender, signaling for him to bring two more shots over.

Jen watched as Simone took another shot, straight-faced. She still had no idea what happened between her and Miguel and didn't want to pry, but the effects were evident— Her friend was truly and deeply saddened.

Eventually, Simone was sauced enough to dance, and Jen was more than happy to get her away from the bar. In the bright, flashing lights and loud music, the pair mainly danced with each other, smothered in the crowd of sweaty people and swinging limbs. It wasn't the ideal place to talk about what happened with Miguel, but Jen figured she would try.

"So, Miguel?" Jen yelled the inquiry. Simone's wide grin didn't fall.

"I dunno!" She shouted back, misunderstanding what Jen had asked. The other woman shook her head in frustration.

"No, no. I mean, what happened?" Jen asked, grooving slightly closer to her. Simone was taken aback by the question, finding it a strange time to ask. She was out to forget about Miguel for a while, not be reminded of how she screwed up.

The thought caused Simone to take an uncoordinated step back, and she bumped into another taller woman with a short, jet-black bob and sequin top. Just as she began winding herself up to apologize for her misstep, the woman smiled back at her and almost made her forget Jen's query.

"We'll talk about it later." She responded loud enough for Jen to hear before turning fully toward the tall woman and continuing to dance.

At this point, Jen found it to be a lost cause and went back to sit at the bar in hopes of Simone's return, which didn't take long. In her company was the same woman.

"Jen! This is Raya!" She greeted as she pulled the woman over by her hand. All Jen could think to do was smile politely at her and return to her drink.

After a bit of eavesdropping, Jen learned that Raya had a thick Russian accent and seemed to really be taken by her drunk friend. Either that, or she was enjoying the free drinks that Simone bought her as she downed a few more shots.

To Simone, she couldn't be any more of a casanova. Confidently and charismatically flirting with this striking woman she had just met when in reality, she was a bumbling fool with the hiccups.

At the same time, Simone began to hear the apparent disinterest in Raya's voice which caused her to question if it was a sudden tonal change or if it had been there this whole time. She started feeling insecure and annoying as anxiety bubbled up out of nowhere, and nervous laughter followed every sentence.

You idiot! You absolute idiot! She thought to herself as her heart jumped into her throat. Only, it wasn't her heart.

"Oh, my god." She mumbled to herself as she stood from her stool, clutching her stomach and taking off in the direction of the bathroom as quickly as she could in her state. The motion only made the sickness more intense as she focused on holding back and breathing deeply in the warm, muggy atmosphere. Somewhere along the way, she lost a shoe.

The second her bare knees hit the frigid tile floor of the surprisingly clean club bathroom, she spewed through lips she couldn't get open quick enough. Her light lunch and lack of dinner with a mix of tequila and stomach fluid hit the white porcelain, barely making it all the way into the toilet.

Jen, who followed closely, stood behind her outside of the stall in wait with her arms crossed, checking for the signs of a second wind so she could hold Simone's hair back.

She brought it on herself. Jen thought before immediately feeling bad about the thought. They had shared numerous wild nights together since they had met, but never had she seen her friend in a state like this. She wasn't drinking for fun— she was drinking to punish herself. What she needed to be punished for was lost on Jen.

The twirling in Simone's stomach disappeared after one upchuck, followed by a few cautious splits to remove as much residue as she could from her tongue, but getting sick did little to sober her up. If anything, only her mood dipped significantly.

"You okay?" Jen asked as she watched Simone get back onto her feet, shakily, using the plastic toilet paper dispenser for leverage. Simone slowly turned and looked at Jen with eyes still red and wet from the force of throwing up.

"I'm never gonna be okay again." She answered hoarsely. She was swaying slightly and missing a shoe, signaling to Jen that there was no way she would be able to walk out of there by herself.

To Simone, the room was spinning just enough for Jen to turn into She-Hulk before she could register it. Without warning, the now large, green woman picked her up bridal-style and carried her out of the bathroom and through the exit of the club, where she would sit her down on a bench outside.

The fresh air did wonders to settle the teetering world before Simone's eyes as the bench shifted slightly, taking on the bulk of Shulkie.

"You can tell me what's up now, Sims. Is it Miggy?" Jen attempted to pry. The question brought back every bit of shame and embarrassment that Simone felt that morning, seeing Miguel's face flood with disappointment in her. It was a look she more often saw on Marc's face these days after receiving an earful from her. Absolute betrayal.

It was at that point that Simone felt outrage wash over her. "No, not Miggy. Never." Simone slurred her reply. "Marc. It's Marc's fault."

Jen cocked her head at this, both knowing and unknowing of what she could mean. There were plenty of things Marc had already done to warrant Simone's behavior, but it had to have been something new. Something recent.

Before she could answer anything further, she looked down and saw her friend's single bare foot, remembering the missing shoe that Simone seemed to not be concerned about at all. She began to stand up,

"I'm gonna run back in and look for your shoe. Don't go anywhere." Jen told her sternly. Simone didn't respond, all too deep in thought, which prompted Jen to rush back inside.

Between the liquor and the broken heart, Simone wasn't completely in her right mind. Her judgment was gone, and all she wanted to do was scream in Marc's face. Unfortunately, the Mission was too far away and she had to wait for Jen to come back.

"That's what phones are for," Simone mumbled to herself before she pulled the device in question from her pocket, skipping over her contacts list and going straight to the dial screen. Deleting Marc's contact was simply to ensure she couldn't easily access him anymore. It was all a ruse, though, as she knew his number like she knew her own.

The line rang in her ear as it had so many times. Once, twice, and typically she would chicken out and hang up on the third. Not this time. This time, she needed to wait until he answered. Surprisingly, the only version of Marc she got on the other end was his voicemail message.

This is Marc's cell, leave a message if it's important.

She couldn't help but scoff at the uncaring tone the recording took. Monotone and cold, just like the last thing he said to her.

You, also, Moni.

This made her blood boil as more rage stirred in her drunk, stewy brain. The original intention wasn't to leave a message but the moment the beep rang through her ear, she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself.

"So, you can be over my shoulder everywhere I look but you can't even answer the damn phone? What is it this time? More clones, or vampires, or fucking sea monsters?" Her voice slowly rose with each word, cracking and slurring as more emotions peeked through. "You ruined me, Spector. Do you know that? Was it your intention? To make me completely unlovable to anyone who isn't you?"

Jen made her way back outside of the club with the singular shoe in hand. As the loud music disappeared, the sound of a woman drunkenly yelling and crying hysterically became more clear. Once she made it back to the bench, the culprit became clear to be Simone with her phone to her ear and fresh, angry tears falling from her face.

Not much of what she said made any sense, but all it took was one mention of "that stupid church" to shed light on who she was speaking to, and it wasn't good. Jen knelt in front of Simone and took her phone from her hand, using little force, and hit the red button that ended the call.

"Bad idea," Jen said simply, placing the phone in Simone's lap. She expected her to be upset with the interference, but the small, timid nod told Jen she made the right call.

Jen realized she didn't need to be hulked out anymore and reverted back to her natural self as she assisted Simone in putting her shoe back on. Light hitches in her woman's breathing spoke volumes for how emotional she got over the phone. The last thing she needed was to leave her with Murdock in this state and chose to have a cab take them to her place instead.

Jen got Simone settled in and sent a text to Matt so he knew the plan and didn't wait up for her return.

Simone had a rough night, she's at mine.

A shower and a few glasses of water later, it didn't take long before Simone finally said something to give Jen an idea of what was going on with her. She was about to let it go entirely.

"I fucked up really bad." Simone groaned as she laid back on the couch. Jen assumed she was referring to the phone call, given her near refusal to discuss what happened between her and Miguel.

"I'm sure you've said worse things to Marc. Not like he didn't deserve it, though." Jen snickered as she unfolded a throw blanket to cover Simone with. The other woman shook her head slightly.

"No— Well, yes, that— but with Miguel, I mean." She started, voice floating just above a whisper as she spoke his name as if he would appear if she said it too loud. Jen sat on the other end of the couch, facing her.

"How bad are we talking?" She asked, millions of scenarios flooding Jen's mind before she remembered that she brought up Marc earlier when asked.

Marc. It's Marc's fault.

Before she could speak again, Simone's face was masked in shame and her eyes were dull as they dropped away from Jen's gaze. She then explained everything that transpired the morning after the incident with the clone, or, at least, explained to the best of her knowledge.

It was more strange than Jen expected, almost to the point where she questioned where the problem was. "It was a dream. Miguel's a smart guy, he should understand that you can't really control that."

"I'm positive it was everything outside of the actual dream," Simone stated. "If he comes around, he comes around. If not-"

"Don't think that way! You two were doing so well. One hiccup doesn't just erase good times." Jen cut her off promptly to shed a bit of optimism. Simone couldn't bring herself to think that way, knowing there was so much wrong with her that it was only a matter of time before it blew up in her face.

"It wasn't a hiccup. It was a natural disaster." She corrected.

Jen took an audible deep breath and pursed her lips, unable to think of anything to bring comfort to her friend whose eyes slowly fluttered open and shut as she fought herself from dozing off. Eventually, the silence between them grew permanent once drunken sleep overtook her.

Mr. Knight had returned to the Mission after a run-in with Zodiac that ended with the guy being taken away. After a brief inventory, he found his phone was dead and promptly plugged it up to a wall charger while taking a load off in his chair.

Shortly after, a small ding told him he had a missed call, causing him to scramble from his momentary relaxation to see who had called. He sat up straighter when he saw it was Moni, and that she left a voicemail for him. He immediately assumed she was in some kind of trouble and hit the play button on the message.

Sooo, you can be over my shoulder ever'where I look butch'u can't even answer the damn phone? What's it this time? More clones, ooor vampires, or fuckin' sea monsters? You ruined me, Spectooor. D'you know that? Was it ch'your intention? To make me completely unlovable to an'one who isn't ch'you?

A small pause reported through the speaker, followed by a burp. It was clear Moni had been under the influence from the rambling and impaired speech.

After ever'thing, the least'ch'you could god damn do's answer the pho-one. You blame me and shay that I ran'way but it was ch'you who ran after tellin' me you wouldn't run 'gain. The only thin' you never sheem to run from is what shtupid bird, you shit... and that shtupid church! I-

The voice seemed to have been interrupted by a bit of white noise, then the recording ended. If Moni hadn't been obviously sauced, it would have stung a lot more. Instead, it raised a lot of questions, particularly about why she felt the need to call and what it all meant.

Marc replayed the message several times, picking each word apart until he felt his consciousness take a backseat, unwillingly.

"That's enough of that, mate. Can hardly stand it." Steven said, closing the screen. Once the phone went dark, he caught a glimpse of his reflection and had to do a double-take at the unkept hair, unshaven chin, and bruises that he dawned. "We look like hell."

"You wanna take the time to get a haircut; have at it," Marc responded in the reflection, carelessly.

What was she going to say before the message ended? Would it have mattered at all? He wondered. Should I call back? No, it's already been over an hour.

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bigbadripley · 9 months

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Chapter 14 - Nights Like This

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT | Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. THIS IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. Somnophilia if you squint but there is handriding while asleep, ANGST, alcohol use.

Words: 3K-ish

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"You think I'm a fool, ain't nobody stupid I see all the signs, I see all the clues Yeah, sometimes I reminisce 'bout that shit when I'm bingin' Can't believe it's been a whole year, yeah, but On some nights like this, shawty, I can't help but think of us" -"Nights Like This" by Kehlani

It was just barely dawn when Miguel was awoken by movement and sounds next to him. He had been half-in-half-out of sleep for about an hour as he felt his sleeping girlfriend toss and turn, and when he rolled over to hold her, she wiggled her bottom against him several times, igniting the fire in his belly.

She must be dreaming about me. Miggy thought as he heard small whines brush past her lips. They were such pretty sounds, and he couldn't help but press his hardening length against her more as she gyrated and ground against the bunched covers between her legs.

"Please." Simone cooed, still very much in her unconscious state. It was music to Miggy's ears. He was never one for morning sex, but he would happily oblige if she were to wake up and need him to fuck her.

More moans filled the dim room as his cock rubbed between her round buttocks. He imagined what could be playing in her head and wanted to be there. Clearly, the knotted comforter wasn't enough for her, and he wondered if he would hate her for touching her in her sleep.

"You want me to help you?" He whispered in her ear. All he got in response was a simple but weak mhm sound, and he figured the worst that could happen was she woke up and told him to stop.

Miguel snaked his hand down her belly and between her legs, taking the space against her clit where the blankets were. She was fucking slick, and the thought of burying his dick in her right there nearly made him finish in his boxers. "That's it, fuck that hand instead." He whispered.

Another precious mewl echoed in his ears as she grew more wet over his fingers. He pushed himself harder into her soft ass, the friction bringing him closer to release. He imagined she dreamt about him eating her pussy, but in his mind, he was deep inside her. He wanted to flip her onto her stomach and finish her off, but he was so close.

"Yes, keep going." She spoke sleepily. Miguel felt her abs stiffen against his forearm, and he knew she was right where she wanted to be. She continued rubbing her ass against him, and he started humping faster, wanting to meet her there as the golden sun barely shone through his blackout curtains.

It was just as he was about to be hit with a blinding orgasm that Simone began to quake and cry out against his hand. "Fuck, Marc!" She half-howled.

Miguel's movement stopped, suddenly no longer thinking about finishing as the name that wasn't his own replayed in his brain. It sounded foreign to him, and he backed his hips away from her ass as his hard-on died down. He pulled his slick, pruney hand from between her legs, unable to understand what she just said.

He began to feel sick to his stomach as Simone stirred awake, turning her body to face him, seemingly unknowing of the events that had just occurred, with a wide grin on her face.

Of course, Simone woke up angry over the events that transpired in her dream but was happy to wake up to Miguel. She didn't expect the look of sheer terror on his face like he had just awoken from a nightmare. His red eyes were wide, and he didn't seem the least bit happy to see her.

"You okay?" She asked with a nervous laugh. Miguel blinked at her a couple of times.

"You were fucking him in your dream." He spoke dumbfoundedly and stone-faced. Simone's breath caught in her lungs, shocked by what he just said to her.

"Wait, what? How do you know?" She questioned. "Can you read minds or something?"

Her attempt to make the situation light-hearted was almost enough to push Miggy over the edge. He sat up roughly and threw the covers off of himself.

"You talk in your sleep, apparently. I thought you were thinking about me, but boy, was I fucking wrong." He raised his voice slightly as the pads of his feet hit the hard floors. Simone didn't know what to say. Her throat felt like it was coated with peanut butter. She had to say something.

"Miggy, I... it was a dream. I couldn't control it!" She croaked out.

"Right. How often do you dream about that asshole?" He asked, now pacing around the room. He was heated, and Simone was anxious.

"Only sometimes when I take my sleeping pills, babe. I promise it's not what it seems. I want you!" She exclaimed, trying her best to save this. Miguel shook his head,

"You say that, but apparently, you don't even believe that. You came and said his name." He told her, now nearly shouting. Simone looked down at her hands, embarrassed in herself. She wished she could hide but knew she had to face this head-on, even if she didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry." She said, voice barely louder than a whisper. Miguel stood, still only in his underwear, staring at her before he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I need you to leave." He said plainly. Simone's chest felt heavy, but she knew her pain was nowhere near the magnitude of Miggy's. He no doubt felt betrayed, dream or not. "You need to figure out if you want him or me."

The time was about 6:30 in the morning, so she had enough time to go back to her place to get ready for work, knowing she wasn't welcome to freshen up here at this time. She threw on her sweatpants, grabbed her belongings, and left quietly, knowing crying or apologizing again wouldn't help.

When Simone arrived at her home sweet home, it was hard to miss the sheet of paper taped to her door that read in capitalized red letters "Eviction Notice" and a smaller explanation at the bottom, stating she had 30 days to vacate and that it was due to the destruction of property and disturbance. She would lose her deposit for damages, as well.

Fuck, could this day get any worse? She thought as she entered the apartment. It was clear the owner of the building entered after she left and found the damages while investigating the disturbances that were no doubt reported by her neighbors.

Though her own property had been hit the hardest, the scorch marks along the floor, walls, and ceiling were unmistakable, even if unexplainable. Due to there being no emergency calls or sign of Simone after the event, it could easily be ruled purposeful. She wouldn't be able to argue it.

A good piece of news came when Simone arrived at her office to find her lovely new receptionist Lindsay there to greet her.

"Good morning, Dr. Fredrick." The redhead said with a chipper, early-bird smile. "I got your coffee started already."

"You're a saint, Linds, thank you. And call me Simone, please." Simone replied as the smell of the now slowly filling coffee pot called to her.

"It's nothing, Doc- Simone." Lindsay quickly corrected herself. "And I got a call when I got in. Mr. Barnes is requesting his files be transferred to Dr. Jane Morris."

Simone stopped pouring her coffee for a second, unfamiliar with the name and more concerned over why James would want to transfer.

"Uh, yeah, we can do that. Who is this doctor?" She asked.

"She's a psychologist in Louisiana. A pretty big deal down there. I guess he's moving?" The young woman answered as she shuffled her papers. Simone could have sighed with relief now, knowing it was just him and Sam taking that big step.

"Oh, good for him. Remind me to call and tell him congratulations."

The remainder of her work day was distracted but overall productive as she made it through her schedule in a breeze. Between patients, she impulsively checked her phone for something from Miguel but wasn't surprised when nothing appeared.

Simone hung back at work for as long as she could manage, even after Lindsay went home and her office neighbors called it a day. She knew Jen was out of town and wouldn't be back for a day or so, so staying at her place wasn't an option, and she was too chicken to go back to hers for a whole night.

In her mind, that left one option, and that option was to go to Murdock's. He had already offered some space to store her stuff until she found somewhere new, but she didn't mention staying with him when they talked about it. He still assumed she would remain with Miguel.

The worst he can say is no. Simone thought as she gathered another overnight bag and snuck out of her place, unnoticed by prying neighbors. Then what do I do? Stay with Marc? I'd rather sleep on the subway.

It was near dark when she got to Murdock's, and she was sure he was home by now. The answer at the door after her knock confirmed it, as he opened it with his untucked and partially unbuttoned shirt, signaling he had just gotten here also.

"Simone? You okay?" He asked, knowing it was her right away but not expecting her.

"Not really." She sighed with a wan smile that Matt could sense but not see. He stepped aside to let her in, finding it unnecessary to ask why she was here with a backpack on.

"I'll take the couch." He said as he followed her.

"Really, you don't-" Simone ended up cutting herself off as she noticed the lights outside the big picture window of the apartment. She had forgotten all about that, having not been here in so long. "Right, never mind."

This garnered a chuckle from the man as she flopped down on his couch and dropped her bag to the floor. Though the thought of liquor grazing her tongue was a bit nauseating, she just wanted something to calm her nerves. "Got anything stiff to drink?"

"Should I be concerned that you're asking?" Murdock wondered with a confused look on his face as he walked toward his kitchen with perfect muscle memory. Simone shrugged, if not for him, for herself.

"Last night was a hell of a night for all of us." She half-lied. A loud, disbelieving snicker erupted from the kitchenette area,

"That, you are correct, but normally people drink to take the edge off right after the shit goes down." He replied as he grabbed a glass bottle of brown liquid from the countertop.

Whiskey. Christ on a skateboard. She thought as he made his way over to the couch and held the heavy bottle out to her.

"Something happen over at Miguel's?" He asked, taking a seat on the opposite cushion and shifting the weight on the sofa.

"Yep, just don't really know how to explain it." Simone started before her phone began ringing in her pocket. Though she hoped the caller ID would tell her it was Miggy, she was happy enough to see Jen's name pop up. Holding a finger up to Murdock in a pardon me manner, she answered. "Hey, girl."

"Hey, Matt told me what happened with the clone robot thing. Just wanted to check on you."

"I'm totally fine," Simone told the ambient voice before slowly turning away from Matt, who clearly wasn't buying it.

"Are you at Miguel's?"

"Well, that was the plan, but now I'm at Murdock's."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Still trying to wrap my head around that. I'll tell you more tomorrow."

"Of course. Talk to you later."

"You too, Jen."

Simone closed the call and immediately sank back into the soft couch, forcing air from between her lips in frustration. She didn't know what to call the issue with Miggy.

Are we broken up? On a break?

"How do I continuously fuck up every good thing that happens to me?" She asked aloud, not directing the question at Murdock but more to herself as she cracked the lid off the bottle and brought it to her lips.

The liquid was room temperature and burned as it came into contact with her tongue, and she remembered how she used to like this brand. Once she forced the harty swing down, she coughed and gagged at the aftertaste. Murdock laughed at this and took the bottle from her hand,

"If you puke on my floor, you're cleaning it up."

Between hacks, Simone somehow conquered a smile. Once she caught her breath, she was able to reply. "I know. Been a while since I've hit the bottle."

Murdock took a drink next and handled it much better than Simone did. He knew it had been long since she drank, having been there when she had her last tequila shot before losing a taste for it. That was before he knew she was pregnant and before she decided she wouldn't get the abortion.

It wasn't lost on Simone how much Matt had been there for her through just about everything since arriving in the city. She was used to seeking insight from who she considered one of her closest friends, having spent long nights deeply discussing religion, guilt, careers, relationships, and the like.

"As my legal counsel, is there any way for me to not get kicked out of my place?" She asked, knowing it was a long shot.

"Jessica had a similar thing happen to her not too long ago. There's no saving it after a small, unexplainable, controlled explosion."

"Fuck." She muttered, dreading the moving process more than anything as she took the bottle back and choked down another mouthful.

If I can get enough of this in me, maybe I won't need the sleeping pills.

"On the bright side, you're welcome to crash here as long as you need." Murdock offered.

This isn't gonna be one of those cheesy things where we fall in love from staying together, is it? Nope. Not a chance.

After another thirty minutes of chatting, Murdock got suited up and went out on his night watch. Once he was gone, Simone took a few more swigs of the poisonous beverage and curled up into his bed.

The sheets were silk, and the mattress was plush. Luxurious, beyond what she ever treated herself to. Even then, it wasn't enough to knock her out right away. If it wasn't the unfamiliar surroundings that kept her awake, it had to be her mind replaying how she got here in the first place.

Stupid. Simone thought to herself. After everything. You still can't get him out of your head.

Her thoughts went from the fight with Miggy to the dream leading to the fight as her mind wandered without permission. It felt so real, and in some ways, according to Miguel, it was.

But that's all that's left—sex dreams. Otherwise, I could barely stand to be in the same room as Marc. He has to understand that. She thought. God, why would I even be having these ridiculous dreams anyway? Am I really so insatiable?

All her questions drew several possible conclusions, but none felt right to her. She supposed the only real way to find out if she wanted Marc was to sit down and have a conversation with him, but the thought of doing that made her heart palpitate with fear.

Not for fear of Marc, Steven, or Jake. But for fear of what might come of the conversation. Or worse, what she might do when face-to-face with her former lover. How she might feel when they genuinely open up and remove the hate goggles she keeps on for him.

It could be a new beginning or the final nail in the coffin. Still, something in Simone didn't want either of those. The floating ambiguity of her stance towards Marc obviously bothered him and made him feel like he was in limbo. It was spiteful of her to keep him there.

She felt he deserved it.

Miguel, on the other hand, didn't deserve it.

While the liquor was going to Simone's head, Miguel was sitting in his office at Parker Industries, trying to distract himself from the shitshow from that morning.

His thumb hovered over the small dial button under Simone's name and photo, admiring the smile the woman wore. He wondered if he was too harsh, letting his temper get the better of him. The truth was, he was envious of the man she had dreamt of while being inconsolably rageful over the whole incident.

Miggy couldn't help but wonder if he made a mistake opening himself up. It was a thought he hadn't had much recently as he considered Simone to be everything he wanted, even if it meant sacrificing returning home.

If home is ever home again. He thought as he locked his phone and swiveled his desk chair around to look out on the New York night from the high-rise office Peter set him up in what felt like ages ago now. He believed he could have considered this place home. Now he isn't so optimistic.

Time for a trip to the basement.

3 notes · View notes