marveldcmistress - Tumblr blog

marveldcmistress · 13 days ago

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All Things Go 2

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Summary: It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine!

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), Steve actually having to deal with the PTSD and depression and anxiety he would so clearly have if he'd been through everything in the MCU, this one really focuses on the depression, patterns of disassociation, pretty troubling self-talk, use of a derogatory term for sex-workers, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, possible slow burn - we'll see. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

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A/N: Oh boy. This one might officially be my angstiest story. I know the competition is stiff, but Steve is really going through it here. Please be sure to read the warnings and take care of yourselves, my friends!

Thanks to @bigtreefest for doing a gut-check on the parts I wasn't sure about and always being a great cheerleader in general.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The rhythmic slaps of his feet hitting the pavement were helping drown out all the noise in Steve’s head. He felt the air fill and leave his lungs as he pushed himself forward. His arms pumped at his sides, his hands curled into tight fists. He could go faster. He would. He needed to.

He wasn't sure what exactly had happened. One moment he'd been sitting across from you, the next he was on the floor. A moment later, he was on the street in front of his building, dressed in his running gear.

He’d reacted strongly to the news he was being benched for at least three months; he knew that much. It was embarrassing, losing it like that in front of a complete stranger. He was better than that. Stronger than that. He had no excuse to be that weak anymore.

He pushed his body harder, faster, needing the burn, the ache to be louder than everything else going on in his head. The scenery blurred beside him as he just focused on going further further further. Harder harder harder. He felt the never-ending cycle of pain and healing in his feet, his shins, his quads. The skin cells of his palms trying to grow back as his fingernails bit in. He hadn’t been able to decide if it was a good thing or not that nothing he did to himself ever left any marks.

He stopped short when the asphalt in front of him suddenly disappeared, wrought-iron guard rails standing in his way. Oh. He’d made it to the bay. He hadn’t realized he’d gone that far. He took a breath. Then another. He should turn around. He should go home. That’s what he should do. But he just couldn’t make himself turn around, head in the right direction. He briefly contemplated leaping into the bay, swimming to Staten Island so he could keep going, keep running. But the idea of the icy water engulfing him was too much to bear.

“Holy shit! Is that Cap?!”

He grimaced, and the urge to take his chances in the water grew stronger. But only for a moment. Then he pasted a friendly smile on his face and turned around, waving at the onlookers. He posed for ten pictures before he felt like it wouldn’t be rude to pull away, his skin crawling the whole time, desperate to hide from the attention. He still couldn’t wrap his head around everyone having cameras in their pockets. Wanting to remember every moment like that was terrifying.

After waving goodbye to the growing crowd, there wasn’t really anything else to do but run back to the apartment. He dragged his feet as he turned around. It would be fine. He would be fine. He always was.

Not long after everything, S.H.E.I.L.D. had set him up in an apartment that occupied the entire 2nd floor of a brownstone in BedStuy. Agents lived in the units above and below him, although he wasn’t supposed to know that. He’d thought a few times about telling Fury that he might want to invest in a more subtle form of surveillance, but what would be the point? Nothing he said really mattered. To anyone.

He’d requested it when they first moved him out of HQ, a place in his beloved Brooklyn. But now, as he did his best not to look at the city as he ran past it—the skyscrapers, the neon signs, the national chains—he thought for the thousandth time how foolish that had been. The Brooklyn he loved was gone. And he would never get it back.

Too soon, he was slowing down in front of his stoop. He reminded himself to breathe. And again. And again. It would be fine. It was his home now. It was ridiculous to feel like he was scared of a place. It was just a series of rooms. It couldn’t hurt him. Not much could. Not in a way that mattered, anyway.

He pushed himself into the building, then up the single flight of stairs that brought him to his apartment. One last deep breath gave him the strength to open the door and walk into his home. Or, at least, the place where he lived.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

Your exclamation brought his attention across his open-plan living room to where you were in his small kitchen. All of the cabinets were open, and there was a notebook lying open on the counter with a pen beside it. He quickly walked over to you. “What are you doing?”

“Huh?” you asked, looking around like you were seeing all of it for the first time. “Oh. I’m taking an inventory of your food and making a grocery list.” And then you didn’t pause long enough for him to follow up. “I know we haven’t had a chance to set up guidelines and establish boundaries, but while we’re working together, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t storm out of here without your phone. Especially when you’re in such a vulnerable state.” You took a deep breath. “I was very concerned.”

He looked at you, confused, the tension in your shoulders, the furrow in your brow. You’d changed, he noticed for the first time. You were no longer in the professional attire he’d greeted you in, but now stretchy leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off your shoulder. His gaze settled on your soft skin and the empty space at the juncture of your neck and shoulders where a bite mark would g– His gaze jumped back up to your face. “I wasn’t in a vulnerable state. I was running. For exercise.”

Your lips turned down into a thin line. You held his gaze in a way that made him both want to look away and somehow unable to. “Right,” you finally said with a sigh. “Well, in any case, I’d appreciate it if you brought your phone with you when you go out. Just in case.”

He nodded, mostly to placate you. It wasn’t that he left it on purpose. He just… never thought to bring it, hardly thought of it at all. He wasn’t used to having a phone in his home, let alone his pocket, so the idea of feeling lost without it was completely foreign to him. But everyone looked at him like he had two heads when he tried to explain that, so now he kept it to himself. It was just one of an ever-growing list of things he kept to himself.

But his nod seemed to be enough for you. You let out a sigh of relief and said, “Okay. Thank you.”

He just nodded again. He didn’t know what else to do.

You gave him a long, serious look. It made him want to run again. But he didn’t. “How are you feeling now?” you finally asked.

“Oh, uh.” Embarrassed. Ashamed. Anxious. On fire. Ready to bolt. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine.”

You hummed in consideration and tilted your head in thought. “You know,” you started, your tone too even, “I’m actually not a big fan of that word. Fine. It’s a cover-up word. I think we can do better, don’t you? While we’re working together, describe our feelings in a different way.”

He swallowed the scoff, just dying to crawl out of his throat. We. Sure. He’d been brought in front of a gaggle of therapists after he’d come out of the ice. They’d said nonsense like that, too. It was all useless. “I honestly don’t know how else to say it,” he said with a shrug.

“Can you try? Today got pretty intense, you must have some feelings about it.”

He sighed. The only thing that made him talk was the way you were looking at him, your face shockingly free of judgment. “I feel silly,” he said quietly, “to have made such a big deal over nothing. This is just the way my life is now. There’s nothing for me to do but accept it.”

You let out another thoughtful hum. “I’m not going to argue any of those points with you for now. But. I do want to say that I will never think you’re silly for having strong feelings about what’s happened to you and the way your life’s turned out. I can promise you that.”

He felt something move inside his chest at that. His fingers drummed against his leg. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Everyone expected him to adjust and move on. But the look on your face was so sincere, so accepting, that all he could do was nod once, and then look away while clearing his throat. He glanced around again at all the open cabinets in his kitchen. “Why are you taking inventory of my kitchen?”

For the briefest moment, you looked sheepish, but it was gone in a flash, replaced by the determination he was already coming to associate with you. “Well,” you said, “I started it to give myself something to do while you were gone, but then I discovered that you don’t have any food, Steve.”

“I have food,” he said, purposely not looking at all of the bare cabinets and shelves. “It’s all in the refrigerator.”

He was surprised when you rolled your eyes. Not because it felt judgmental, but because it was casual. Comfortable. It’d been a long time since someone felt comfortable with him. “Yeah,” you said, “I found the protein shakes in the fridge. That isn’t food, that’s–” you paused to find the right word. When you did, it was dripping with disdain, “sustenance.”

He took a step back, suddenly self-conscious. “I need a lot of calories a day. The protein shakes are just easier.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Okay,” you said. “Noted on the calorie intake. And–” you paused as your gaze softened, “I understand things like meals and such feeling too hard, but, Steve, you’re allowed to enjoy things, that’s what makes a good life.”

He swallowed around a lump in his throat, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t—couldn’t—tell you that he was pretty sure that ship had sailed for him. Even if that was the truth.

After a long moment of silence, you spoke again. “Listen, I’m not going to make you get rid of the protein shakes. But I am going to put in a grocery order,” you held up your small notebook, the page filled with your neat handwriting, “just so we both have some other options. And” you added, glancing at the time on your phone, “I think we should order in for dinner. What do you think about some Thai food?”

He cleared his throat as heat flooded his face. “I, uh– I don’t really know what I think about Thai food.” He braced himself for your inevitable reaction. Oh my god, seriously?? Or how have you never had Thai food???

But you didn’t ask either of those questions. You didn’t act appalled or scandalized or even surprised. You just cocked your head to the side and asked, “Do you trust me?”

He just stood and stared at you, his mouth wide open as he tried to find any words that might answer that question, even though he had no idea what that answer would even be.

Before he got any closer to figuring that out, you gave an embarrassed laugh, shaking your head. “Oh my god, why did I ask that? Of course, you don’t yet. It’s only been, what? Three hours since I barged into your house? Sorry. Let me ask this instead: Would you be okay with me ordering a bunch of different dishes, and you can try any of them that look good and see what you like?”

Your phone was already in your hand, swiping across the screen. “Sure,” he said, even as dread filled him. This had happened countless times since he’d woken up in this century. He’d be presented with something new to him that was apparently commonplace now, and then whoever it was (usually Tony) would watch him like a hawk to see how he reacted. To make sure he had the right reaction. It was so much pressure. He hated it.

“Okay,” you said, with an easy smile. “I’ll let you know when it’s almost here.” And then you went back to working on the grocery list.

Surprised at being seemingly dismissed, Steve realized it was probably time for a post-run shower.

After unpacking what looked like an actual mountain of food, you must have caught Steve’s deer-in-the-headlights expression because you quickly offered to make him a plate. You explained each dish to him as you added it to the plate, then handed it over with much less of a to-do than he was expecting. You turned your full attention to your own food and mostly left him alone. It was a relief not to have to put on a show of trying new things. It was almost a new experience to just be able to taste the food and form his own opinions.

But he still felt uncomfortable with you in his home, just eating silently next to you. What would Sarah Rogers have to say about his hosting abilities? “So, uh,” he tried, in between bites, “you said you’ve done this for three other SHIELD agents?”

You nodded as you swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve been called into SHIELD three different times, usually after missions gone wrong. To help the agents at the center of it process what happened and reset. And give them a safe space to do so.”

Steve mulled that over for a moment. He wasn’t sure what exactly there was to process. Bad things happened. The wrong people survived. And everyone ended up alone. What was there to reset? “Do you work exclusively with agents?”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head. “The majority of alphas I’ve worked with have been civilians. I’ve had long-term assignments with eight alphas in total, so far. You’re my ninth. I do other short-term work in between. But the long-term assignments are my favorite.” It had to be the exhausting nature of the day he’d had that was the reason he couldn’t hide his shock at that number. You furrowed your brow at him. “What’s so surprising about that?”

“Oh,” he ducked his head, trying to school his expression. “I just– My understanding was that part of the point of all this for you, for omegas, was to find a mate. I thought the long-term ones often ended up that way. I was just surprised you’ve done this so many times and are still…” he trailed off at the look on your face. The only word that came to mind was thunderous.

And that’s all you did for a very long moment, just stare at him silently. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, you said, “The point of all this is to help alphas, even the most bone-headed ones. I do this because I believe that everyone, no matter their designation, deserves to feel safe and happy and have access to the mental health care that will serve them best. So, no, I’m not just doing this as a way to get someone to mark me.” And then you took a large bite of food and chewed it so very angrily. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone do that before.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down. He was fucking everything up, everywhere he went. He never tried to offend, but that was all he seemed to do. And it didn’t help that no one seemed willing to ever give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been immediately branded as old-fashioned upon waking up, and he’d quickly gathered that that was thought to be not just bad, but malicious. But no one bothered to explain things to him without judgment. If given the chance, he would swear not to cross any lines. He just needed to know where the lines were first.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I didn’t mean– the omegas I used to know, they wanted different things, I guess. And maybe I’m not doing a good job of catching up, but I’m trying.”

He could feel your eyes on him for a moment that just stretched on. He didn’t dare look up to see what your face was doing. Then, he heard the air rush from your lungs, and you said, “And I probably reacted too harshly, so I’m sorry for that. There’s just– there’s a lot of cultural baggage around support omegas. Some people call us ‘hookers with advanced degrees,’ or other things that are a lot worse. But I really am just here because I want to help people. Steve, I want to help you.”

He let himself look up at you and found that your anger was completely gone, replaced only by sincerity. He nodded as he moved some food around his plate with his fork.

You let the silence last for a minute, then asked, “So, what’d you think? You like any of the food?”

He took the olive branch for what it was. “It’s good. Different, but good.” He pointed to a noodle dish, “I really liked that one.”

You smiled, and it lit up your whole face. “Pad Thai. That’s a good one. A classic.”

He smiled back at you, and it didn't feel entirely fake.

When it came time for bed, he went through the motions. He changed into sleep pants and a t-shirt. He brushed his teeth. He washed his face. He said goodnight to you and watched you go into the guest room. He even went so far as to sit on his bed for several long minutes. But he didn’t lie down. He couldn’t do that.

If he lay down, then he risked falling asleep. And if he slept, then he was pretty much guaranteed to have nightmares. And after the sort of day he’d had, they were sure to be especially horrific. No. He didn’t need sleep. He’d be fine.

So he sat. And he stared at the wall. And he listened and he waited. The house settled, and everything got quiet. When things had been so quiet that you must have been asleep for several minutes, he moved into the living room as quietly as he could. Not that this room was much better, but it was bigger and he felt less hemmed in. Now all he needed to do was kill time until the sun started to come up. Then he could go for a run, and if you caught him, he could just act like he was an early riser.

But the night stretched on in front of him. He tried to read, but he couldn’t focus. He had a TV, but he never really knew what to do with that, and he didn’t want to risk waking you up. Before, he may have passed the time drawing in his sketchbook. But he couldn’t stomach it now. So he settled in for a long night of staring at the clock.

He must have been so in his own head that he was startled by a noise in the hallway. He looked up to see you walking into the living room, dressed in soft-looking PJs, trailing a blanket he’d just purchased behind you. He gaped at you for a moment. “Oh, uh– I was just–”

You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you said, gently. “We can just sit, if you want.” You settled yourself on his couch before giving him the softest look he’d been on the receiving end of since his mother died. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

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marveldcmistress · 15 days ago

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Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: You confront Nick before confronting your feelings for Ransom.

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Angst, Self-esteem issues, Talk of sex dreams. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

You park in front of the restaurant and turn to Ransom. "You're going to let me do the talking, understood?"

"Yes," he nods. He hasn't been able to make eye contact with you since his confession.

"Steve says he and Newbie are already in there with eyes on him."

"He's probably noticed them," Ransom comments. "Nick's pretty smart."

"No he isn't," you shake your head. "If he was really smart, he wouldn't have messed with us."

"Us?" he turns to look at you, cautious hope in his eyes.

"We're still friends, Ransom," you explain. "I've accepted your apology and you're working towards forgiveness. And after this whole thing with Nick, you and I are going to have a more in-depth, private conversation about where we stand. Understood?"

"Thank you," he breathes, eyes soft with a mix of emotions.

You direct Ransom to sit in the booth first before sliding in and sitting across from Nick.

"I didn't plan for a double date," he smirks.

"This isn't a date," you remark.

"That wasn't the deal."

"Oh no," you mock pout, "the private investigator is having memory problems!" You roll your eyes and drop the pout. "Ransom explicitly told you that I would meet you here at this restaurant at this time. There was no agreement as to this being a date nor that he wouldn't be accompanying me."

Nick licks his lips, eyes piercing, but you don't react. He smirks, "I suppose that's true. I'm guessing he told you what was going on?"

"Yes, which is why you're going to back off now before you get reported and lose your PI license." His smile drops and he raises an eyebrow, a silent question. "Legally speaking, a PI isn't allowed to divulge information about their investigation to anyone not approved of by the client. Not only do I doubt that Linda Drysdale would want you to inform her son, Hugh, that you were investigating him, but you told my friend, Ransom, that you were doing so. That is quite the breach of protocol."

Nick's smirk returns. "The wording of the rules are that I may not release information acquired during an investigation to anyone not approved by the client. Saying I'm investigating someone isn't breaking the rules."

"No, but it is incredibly unprofessional," you counter. "And how do you think someone as rich and powerful as Linda Drysdale would react to such behavior?" He flinches ever so slightly and you struggle to keep your own features schooled. "And remember, we have plenty of witnesses to this very conversation where you confirm you told my friend, Ransom, that you were looking into Hugh and that you were using this information to extort a date with me which, with the right lawyers, could easily be turned into a blackmail charge."

Nick gently shakes his head. "You're too good for him, you know. But I'll happily admit defeat to such a skilled opponent."

"I want exact details on what 'defeat' means to you."

He smirks, "I'm definitely not getting that date and that hurts because you are everything I knew you'd be and more."

You hide your instinctual embarrassed reaction by rolling your eyes. "Anything else?"

"I'll leave you and 'Ransom' alone. But I still need to get paid so I will be giving my client some of the details I picked up on a person who fits the profile of her lost son as well as where he works and lives."

"If you give her my friend's home address or personal phone number, you will be facing charges for blackmail."

"But the office is okay?" he raises an eyebrow.

"If you must. After all, even a bottom-feeder needs to eat."

Nick throws his head back and laughs. "We could have been wonderful together, but I will respect the loss. Make sure your 'friend' deletes those dating apps."

With that, Nick stands up and leaves the restaurant.

As soon as he's out the door you let out a big breath and practically collapse into Ransom. He remains silent, but gently wraps an arm around you. His touch becomes firm when you don't tell him to back off. Soon you're joined by Steve and Newbie who are all praise for how well you handled him.

"That was one hell of a verbal beat down!" Steve praises.

"I didn't insult him that much," you counter, voice shaky.

"No, but the way you were obviously in control of that whole thing was nothing short of amazing!" Newbie effuses.

You sniffle a little, feeling drained in every sense of the word. Ransom gently squeezes you and says, "maybe some food and drink would be a good idea?" You nod, wiping your teary eyes, and everyone agrees.

When you finally make it back to your apartment, you're feeling a lot steadier. You sit on the couch and pat the cushion next to you, indicating for Ransom to sit next to you.

He's felt a strange combination of relief, uncertainty, stress and he's not sure how to handle it. His old self would be making everything worse; biting comments, snapping at everyone, burning all the bridges. The instinct is still there, if only out of self-preservation. But you've accepted his apology, you protected him, you let him hold you. Even after hurting you, betraying your trust, you're still good to him. He can't ruin that. He won't.

You place a hand on Ransom's knee. "You don't actually have to go to that therapy appointment if you don't really want to," you start. "I think pushing you to do that was probably an overreaction on my part."

He places his hand over yours. "No, I think it was the kick in the ass I needed. I'll at least keep that first appointment and go from there."

"I just...I've told you before, about how my family is. Growing up with Christian Fundamentalist parents really skews your perception of things. The first time I had a sex dream, I truly believed I was being tested by the devil. But I also knew that, if I told my parents, they'd believe they needed to beat the devil out of me." Ransom inhales sharply, gently gripping your hand. "It took years of therapy and 'deprogramming' to learn that these things are okay. I learned a lot about hormones and their effects on the brain."

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. "So when I found out you'd been lying to me, avoiding me, all because of a sex dream, it threw me into a rage. You're far more educated on these things than I ever was. You're also way more experienced. So to learn that you reacted so strongly to something I've worked for years to destigmatize in my own brain..."

"I understand," he says with another gentle squeeze of your hand. "And I don't blame you, at all."

You sniffle, "thanks. But I still feel like crap for reacting like I did."

"You were hurt," Ransom counters. "Still are. And I'm the one who hurt you. And anger at those who hurt you is something that I very much understand."

"Also, for the record, you're not the only one who's having sex dreams," you confess. "I've actually had a few of them...about you."

"And yet, you acted the adult and didn't let them interfere with our friendship," he praises. "You really are too good for me."

"Please don't say that," you shake your head. "Self-deprecation gets you nowhere."

"I'll try," he promises. "So...where does this leave us?"

"We're still friends," you reassure him. "Maybe someday we can be more than that, when I'm no longer angry at you. But for now, I think we're going to be okay."

Ransom breathes a sigh of relief. "Can I hug you?"

"Of course," you nod.

The two of you sit quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness, until Ransom breaks the silence. "Is it too soon to ask you what happened in those dreams?" he smirks. "I mean, I just want to make sure my performance was acceptable. I'll even tell you about my dream if it would make it easier for you."

You chuckle, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not saying anything!"

"Ugh, fine," Ransom softly teases. "So long as dream me treats you like the gift you are."

"Real you is doing that, too, you know?" He scoffs. "Yes, we had a minor setback, but healing isn't a linear process. And you've learned, grown, and will do better in the future."

"How can you be sure I won't hurt you again?"

"I can't. But I know it won't be intentional. And I trust you to take responsibility."

"I don't think I've ever had someone trust me," he admits.

"Well now you do."

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82; @thiquefunlover63

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marveldcmistress · 15 days ago

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Angelfish

Part of the Sun, Sea and Sirens Collection

Header by me in Canva, images sourced from Pinterest (credit to OG creators/posters) | Dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Lloyd Hansen x f!siren!reader

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk.

Tags/Warnings: death, blood mentions, hint of smut (nipple play, chasing, mention of having kids), sweet and fluffy too, Lloyd being Lloyd, talk of mates too!

Summary: Lloyd loves to show off his possessions; especially when when they're as beautiful as you.

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I've been sitting on this one for a while, I hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be longer but I liked it short and sweet for these two 🐠

Lloyd Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Lloyd Hansen never, ever invites his henchmen to his home unless he's going to assign them to a strictly confidential job, promote them or kill them. So when Darren was invited, he was convinced he'd be one of the former two options.

Lloyd made sure to give him the grand tour, why bother with that if he was going to kill him? Lloyd's home was in the middle of nowhere, hidden away with a state of the art security system that money could buy. The house itself was modern and stupidly large; a display of wealth that Darren and many other of Lloyd's employees envied. Although, it wasn't as if Lloyd never got his hands dirty alongside his men, which was why he commanded such respect.

"Would you like to see the aquarium?" Lloyd asks, pouring whiskey into the two tumblers, handing one out to Darren. They'd ended the tour in the kitchen, either side of the island, with Darren rocking on his heels awkwardly. Lloyd still hadn't explained what he wanted.

"You have an aquarium?" Darren's eyes widen. He doesn't know why he's surprised, Lloyd lives in such a big, lavish house that of course the rich bastard would have an aquarium.

"'Course." Lloyd says smugly. "I like fish."

The aquarium wasn't just a tank.

It was a whole floor.

Walking through one heavy oak door in the basement led to a small oval room no larger than ten feet wide with reinforced glass panels from floor to cieling covering a good ninety percent of what would have been a normal room.

There was a small loveseat, brown leather, and a fur rug beneath it with an end table off to the side in the centre of the room but no lights. The light came from the tank. Huge, tree-like stems of seaweed disappeared upwards towards bright, white lights. Some fish swam by, some big some small, but Darren shivered. It felt like he was being watched.

Lloyd gestured to the seat behind him as he stepped towards the glass and rapped on it loudly. Some of the fish disappeared, some paid it no mind.

Darren took a seat, unable to shake the unease. He didn't even want to distract himself with what Lloyd did down here. He surely didn't just... watch the fish in the dark? He knew the guy was a freak but that was taking it too far.

"How much did it cost you?" Darren says, taking in the room again. It had to go further back.

"A pretty penny." Lloyd whistles, peering through the glass like he's looking for something. "Custom built and all that jazz. The filters, the fish, the food."

Lloyd turns back to Darren with another shark grin. "It spans the length of the house."

"And if it bursts?"

Lloyd scoffs and taps the glass again. "Re-en-forced." He punctuates. "But - I also made sure they put pipes throughout as a fail safe."

Darren hums in acknowledgement and Lloyd frowns into the glass, his sigh creating a little bit of condensation that he draws a smiley face in. "Wanna to see how I feed them?"

The walkways across the tops of the tank criss cross in a number of sections, illuminated only by the white lights underneath that made the dark water reflect silver. Lloyd strolled across it with practiced ease, banging a bucket full of what looked like blood and pieces of meat while Darren teetered and struggled to keep his balance.

"Here fishy fishy!" Lloyd calls out and Darren wonders if he might actually be insane.

"What- what's in the bucket?"

"Chum." Lloyd says cheerily but doesn't elaborate further.

Water ripples along the surface, a flash of white in the darkness. What the hell kind of fish does he have that are that big?

Swallowing nervously, Darren wipes his hands on his jeans and follows Lloyd until he stops. The stench of blood tickles at his nostrils and he grimaces, watching Lloyd carefully.

"Do you know I have to keep the temperature just right in this thing? Too cold they die, too hot they boil. Pain in my ass." Lloyd sighs and shakes his head, hands on his hips before looking at Darren. "You know why you're here, right?"

Darren stiffens. There's that smile again - you never know what Lloyd is thinking. It's off-putting. Dangerous.

The water ripples again, closer this time, and Darren shivers. Lloyd didn't specify what fish he had in this tank and given his nature: it probably wasn't something Darren wanted to see face to face.

Darren shakes his head slowly. "Uh. No, sir. I don't."

Lloyd clicks his tongue and hums thoughtfully. It's loud, bordering on obnoxious, but there's something about the way Darren can feel the vibration through the metal of the walkway that makes fear seep into his bones. He stops after a moment and sighs, fixing Darren with a sheepish look.

"She's a little shy today."

Darren blinks, today was getting crazier by the second. "Sir?"

Lloyd waves a hand before kicking over the chum bucket letting the thick congealed blood and offal pour into the water below. Below the surface, in the light of the walkway, fish begin to appear. There's a variety, some colourful - some not, but there's nothing as big that looks like the tail Darren saw earlier.

"Look. I know about the deal you worked with one of the agents in the CIA." Lloyd shrugs. "I get both sides; up and coming agent, a great opportunity for you to make a load of cash..."

Darren's blood freezes. He can't move. The only people that knew about the deal were him and the agent. And if that were true that meant the agent truly worked for Lloyd...

"That agent doesn’t work for me." Lloyd says, reading Darren's expression. "But he did work for a friend of mine. Problem is he was a terrible brag - that's like rule one of spy school by the way. You don't brag about your plans."

Did. It didn't take a genius to figure out the agent was already dead and gave up Darren in the hopes he would be allowed to live. That was laughable when he was dealing with Lloyd Hansen.

"You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"

"No shit, Sherlock." Lloyd snaps, shaking his head slightly. "I pay you well, I pay you to keep you loyal and you betray me? Why the hell would I let you go? So you could do it again?"

Darren winces and tries to force his feet to slide backwards across the walkway. "Gonna feed me to the fish like some mafioso?" He spits, anger finally over taking the fear. "God, you're fucking nuts Hansen."

Lloyd scratches head and then shrugs again, clearly unsurprised nor offended by the accusation. "I mean, they'll clean you down to the bone which saves me money and time. Work smarter not harder."

"You're not human." Darren says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I never said I was." Lloyd grins.

Darren charges at Lloyd with a roar - a last ditch attempt to escape the hellish mansion, and his death by killing Lloyd first. Whilst Lloyd looks surprised by the outburst, he steps back and to the side so that where Darren should have collided with him, he is now perpendicular to him. All it takes is a hard shove to Darren's ribs to send him off the edge of the walkway and into the water, scattering the fish below.

Darren swims upwards in a blind panic and reappears gasping for air, staring up at Lloyd who is in the middle of stripping. Lloyd is mid-fold of his shirt when he spots Darren's soggy form and smiles.

"You really thought running at me would work?" Lloyd shakes his said like a disappointed parent. "Honestly, I expected mo-"

Darren disappears. There's no scream, no loud splashing. He just vanishes. Lloyd blinks at the calm of the water surface for a moment and then Darren reappears about six feet from where he disappeared, frantically splashing trying to get back to the walk way.

Lloyd watches as he takes off his shoes, hearing Darren's gargled call of his name before he vanishes again, for longer this time.

As Lloyd begins to undo the buckle of his belt, Darren's battered body is launched out of water, splashing centimeters from the walkway, soaking Lloyd. Lloyd rolls his eyes and continues to remove his clothes. Darren's body is facedown in the water; he wasn't dead ... yet.

"Honeybear, don't be like that." Lloyd faux-pouts with a small smile, crouching to dapple his fingers into the warm water. He waits for a moment and as he goes to retreat a hand jumps from the water grab his wrist and yank him forwards; sending Lloyd toppling head first into the tank.

When the bubbles clear from his fall, Lloyd's blue eyes flit around him until they settle on a figure swimming towards him.

"My love," Your voice, serene and angelic, travels through the water clear as day. "I wish you would stop bringing trash into our home. You know how much I hate it."

Lloyd pushes forward with a beaming grin, meeting you halfway. You looked radiant - you always did - wearing nothing but your wedding and engagement rings and a delicate teardrop pearl on a white gold twist chain around your neck. All gifts from him.

You're trying to look annoyed as he twists around you, making your tails intertwine but when his hands find your hips, the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Angelfish," Lloyd coos playfully at you, his moustache tickling the back of your neck as he places sweet kisses there. "Forgive me."

You beat the end of your tail to move upwards, twisting to glower teasingly at him. His and your hair dances freely around you like halos in the light; weightless and free.

"You're lucky I love you." You dip your head to press your lips against his and allow his hands to guide your hips back down so that your pearly iridescent tail flush with his black-and-white tiger striped one. You both smile into the kiss and your arms wrap around his neck and broad shoulders lazily. When you both part, you gaze up at your mate as he spins you gently in a circle, starting to hum a song hoping you'll join in this time.

You concede to his request and for a few minutes, you both float entwined together in song - as one - and happiness radiates between you both. That is until you look up and see Darren's now-dead body and huff a bubble of irritation up to the surface.

"But I mean it, Lloyd. Stop bringing them here."

"But you know I love watching you terrify them." Lloyd half whines, following your gaze upwards and admiring the huge purple welt across Darren's ribs. "Look - you even broke his ribs this time!"

You growl quietly, frown deepening despite Lloyd's nuzzling of your neck. You didn't like strangers in your home; baser instincts came into play and more often than you'd like a dead body was left somewhere in the tank.

"My Angel," Lloyd murmurs, his hands releasing your hips and trailing to your hands, bringing them to his lips. Your frown melts away despite your annoyance. Your husband had such a way of charming you even when you were annoyed. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

"Yes," you tease, brushing your nose against his. "But tell me again. Tell me for the rest of the night."

"That can be arranged." Lloyd licks his lips slowly, eyes shamelessly roaming your figure. "You know that water bed finally showed up."

You snort and pull a face as Lloyd wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh Gods. Why would you order such a thing?"

"Because I thought, as merfolk, we should try it out." Lloyd winks at you, kissing at any bare skin he can find.

"Absolutely not!" You squeal and swim away from him quickly, disappearing around a strategically placed boulder.

"We're obligated by nature." Lloyd laughs and gives chase, inching around the boulder as you do the same, pulling yourself diagonally up the rock by your fingertips so you could pat Lloyd's ass and dart away further into the tank.

With a squawk of surprise, Lloyd makes a grab for you, missing you by centimetres.

"Playing hard to get, honey?" Lloyd teases, following you through a rocky archway. "Just like when we first met."

"Mm." You purposefully hum, looking back long enough to see Lloyd shiver at the sound and head towards the dark patch of green underwater plants, hoping to lose him.

You swim through the thick, tall vegetation but as you reach forward and you knot your hand to pull, the plant twists and you cant get free. You panic slightly as you tug and you wrist remains locked in place, excitement rushing through your veins knowing Lloyd would be on you any second.

"This is also like when we first met." Lloyd murmurs from behind you, ghosting his fingers over the exposed flesh of your stomach to make you squirm.

"Lloyd..." You pout at him.

"You know, you're just as beautiful as the day we first met." He purrs into your ear, catching your other wrist as you make a half-attempt to swat at him.

"And you're just as handsome." You chuckle as his other strong arm wraps around your waist and holds you close. His body is warm against yours and you relax into him.

"I think I'd like to see how our beautiful genes would look like combined." He noses your cheek gently, watching your eyes grow wide with surprised excitement.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly." He grins, tweaking your nipples playfully to make you whine. "Whaddya think?"

"I think," you begin, giving your husband - your mate - a breathless smile. "We should find out just how buoyant this water bed is."

Angelfish END

A/N: Hiiii! How we feeling? Just thought I'd come down here and say thank you for reading and impartl some fun facts about Angelfish that helped me build these two love birds (fish?) - because I'm a nerd like that. Definitely think I may have to do some drabbles of them in the future.

1. Angelfish are tropical and freshwater fish with variety of colours. Lloyd's tail is similar to the freshwater variant found in the Amazon (like Tiger stripes, their colouring helps to camouflage them!)

2. Angelfish mate for life and they raise their young together 🥺

3. Angelfish are super territorial ;)

Taglist - Add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @pandaxnienke @looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @bridgetina @steviebbboi @late-to-the-party-81 @brianochka @dontbescaredtosingalong @waywardwifey @queen-honeybee-stories @alicedopey

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marveldcmistress · 18 days ago

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Dorky & Do-able

For @yenzys-lucky-charm 's Cranky! Grumpy! Stabby! Oh my! Challenge

Pairing: Jake Jensen x f!reader

Prompt: "Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?"

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: Highly Suggestive Content, no smut but hoe thoughts ✊🏻😔, fluff, a sort of confession, Jake being an oblivious dweeb (bless him), 18+

Summary: Aisha's cute friend Jake drives you insane with impure thots thoughts. And there's only so much a girl can take.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I had a few prompts lined up (because this was so fun!) But I just had so many wips I couldn't make it through 🥲 shout out to @bigtreefest who inspired the sandwich one 🤭

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Jake Jensen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Alisha had warned you about flirting with her other friends - about Clay's Cassanova Cowboy charm, Roque's brtuish tough-guy facade, Cougar's silent sultriness, how Pooch was happily married... however, she had omitted to warn you about one adorably dorky and utterly do-able Jake Jensen.

He half trips over himself when he greets you and beams a smile so bright you swear puppies and rainbows magically surround him. You were smitten at first sight and tried so very hard not to flirt or flounce every time you saw him, per Aisha's warning glare.

That did not mean, however, that Jake made it easy on you for the week you spent visiting your best friend.

The first time it happens - you can kind of blame yourself. You were staring. It's not your fault he was a snack, or your fault you'd used your laptop as a bath bomb and asked him to fix it, but the way his tongue runs over his bottom lip ought to be a crime.

His eyes are fixed on your motherboard - you think that's what that is anyway - focused with an intensity that surprised you and it did things to you that was only spoken about in books.

"How did you learn to do this?" You ask more dreamily than you intend - not that Jake notices. He has to shake himself from his thoughts to give you a smile and an answer.

"Oh... you know - I was just always good at fixing stuff like this." He shrugs and turns back to the pieces of your laptop.

"Uh huh."

He picks up a tiny screwdriver and gently pries under a piece of metal. "It came in handy when my mom or sister needed me to do something."

"That right?"

Jake peeks up at you, smiling again and you want to tackle him. "It was nice to feel useful. Like a handyman or something."

"Well, it's nice to jnow you're more than a pretty face." You're about to wink at him, but the slam of Aisha's mug on the countertop startles you both, and you resign yourself to an apologetic smile her way and watch Jake's cheeks grow pink in your peripheral.

Chin in your palms you continue to watch him work, hoping he or anyone else in the room, didn't suddenly develop the power of telepathy.

You feel cursed. Wanting something you can't have is one thing but craving something you've never had is an entirely different ball game.

You had popped to the store for some snacks and had totally accidentally bumped into Jake. Well, he bumped into you. You were too busy trying to look nonchalantly to the snacks at the very top of the shelves - ones you certainly could not reach.

"Hey!" Jake greets, again with that goofy grin. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hi." You try not too excited. "What a coincidence."

"Yeah!" Jake clears his throat and looks up to where you'd been staring before looking back at you. "Want me to grab those chips for ya?"

"Oh, if you wouldn't mind!"

You couldn't care less about the chips. They weren't even your favourites. Any excuse to talk to him without Aisha present was a chance worth taking.

However, as he reaches up, your eyes catch on his bright graphic tee just in time for the material to rise up and reveal his snail trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his jeans.

Time stops. You wish you could rewind time. The unbearable throb of want coursing through your body like a drug makes you want to scream in the middle of the store. You dont even notice, in your stupor, that Jake is holding the chips to you until he says your name.

"You okay?"

He looks so concerned, bless his cotton socks and you have to wipe your mouth to make sure you haven't drooled anywhere.

"Headache." You lie quickly. "I'll be fine."

"Oh, man, uh... do you want me to drop you back?"

You cant think of anything worse than being trapped in a close space with him at this moment in time so you wave your hand and tell him you'll enjoy the stroll back alone (with your impure thoughts).

The following day, everyone is gathered for a late lunch. Jake had promised the sandwiches from a local deli were the best around and the comment had gone uncontested so, suffice to say you were excited to try what was on offer. However, once again, you were only here to suffer.

"Oh fuck -" Jake moans around his sandwich loudly and as he moves it back, he's licking away sauce from his lips and fingers. "Tastes so good."

The table creaks under your white knuckle grip. You are close to your fucking limit with this guy. Your jaw sets, your thighs clamp shut and you beg for mercy on your soul. Someone this hot cannot know what he's doing.

You are seconds away from slamming your face against the table when Jake's blue eyes flick up from his sandwich (which does look ridiculously good) and meet yours with an innocently curious gaze.

"You not gonna eat?"

There is only one thing on your mind right now that you want to eat and that is one Jake Jensen.

"It's good I promise." He continues when you only stare at him wide eyed as he licks a finger again. "It'll blow your mind."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you just that oblivious?" You blurt suddenly, causing Pooch to almost choke on his sandwich and Roque to gag on the straw of his drink.

Jake's cheeks go pink and he half gapes at you like a fish unsure of what to say while you continue to stare him down waiting on an answer. You then point at Aisha who's sat across from you.

"Did she put you up to this?"

"I - what - no!" Jake blunders looking around the table for help but his friends are either being rescued from choking or snickering to themselves.

"I didn't do anything." Aisha protests and fixes you with a sarcastic smile. "But watching your brain break has been great."

"I hate you." You say flatly, staring at your best friend in disbelief, trying not to let the corners of your lips twitch. "This week has been torture."

"Uhhh, can I ask what this is about?" Jake says quietly, taking another bite of his sandwich and looking between you and Aisha.

"To answer your previous question; yes he is just that oblivious." Aisha says, leaning back to pop a fry in her mouth. "And your ban is lifted."

"Oh wow," you raise your eyebrows. "That's.... wow."

Jake shakes his head slightly going back to his sandwich. He'll just have to make sure he asks you later.

Later, as you pad to the bathroom ready to complete your nightly routine, you bump into Jake on his way out; hair and skin sparklingly moist, taut muscles and tats on display all the way down to the towel cinched around his slutty waist like nobody's business. Without his glasses he looks just as good, if not better. You can't help as your tongue darts out across your lips, it's the best you can allow otherwise you would be licking him.

"Hey."

"Hi." You eke out, mouth dry. You force your eyes to stay on his face but there's taunting rivulets of water running down the lines of his muscles, following his snail trail and into the towel.

"I need to-" he points past you to his room and you jump out of his way.

"Sorry."

As you enter move to enter the bathroom, he calls your name and you turn back and he's studying you closely, as if trying to catch you out.

"Earlier today, at the table." He begins slowly. "What was that about?"

This is the worst interrogation ever.

"Uhhh... when?" Playing dumb was a dumb play.

"About me turning you on?" He presses, making both of your cheeks grow hot.

"Maybe don't... say it like that." You wince a little but somehow managed a smile. "But look at you! You're gorgeous! Who wouldn't want a piece of that?"

Jake's blush deepens, spreading pink splotches over his neck and chest too. But this was an opportunity to get it all off your chest, you couldn't not take it! Anything to make that boy blush...

"Aisha made me promise not to flirt with you - since I have a bad habit of collecting cuties." You lean against the doorway, hoping the shift in your legs draws attention to them (it does) but giving a half chuckle of relief. "I stuck to my promise but holy shit, you did not make it easy."

"I didn't?" Jake is a strawberry now, clutching his towel in a death grip.

"Nah," you snort. "But since Aisha lifted the ban; you're fair game now lover boy."

He blinks for a moment and then a grin spreads across his face. "You're gonna put the moves on me?"

"Not just the moves," you say proudly. "My moves."

"I think you're going to eat me alive." He chuckles, raking a hand through his wet locks; inadvertently flexing his muscles.

"And then some." You add quietly, glancing up at him to catch a delightful deer-in-headlights look. "But I should let you get to bed..."

You sigh dramatically before fixing him with a smirk and sultry gaze. "Unless you want to jump into mine?"

Jake swallows thickly and has to adjust his towel while you try not to giggle. "Yeah, um, that... that works."

"Let me brush my teeth and I'll see you in five." You wink at him and skip into the bathroom feeling higher than life. This week just got so much better.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

Support writers. Support artists. Support the fandom.

Love ya! 🫶🏻

A/N 2: I didn't think this was 1.6k - it was supposed to be a drabble! 😩 but that's 2 of 13 fics done 💪😌

Taglist - add yourself here

@stargazingfangirl18 @late-to-the-party-81 @irishhappiness @looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @alicedopey @brianochka @steviebbboi

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marveldcmistress · 25 days ago

Note

Need Steve bruising my cervix fr

you go to the hospital for your mysterious gut pain and they explain to you very kindly that, whatever monster toy you're using, you've got to find a smaller one, and stop being so rough with it. meanwhile steve's parked in the chair to your left wide-eyed and tight-lipped, bouncing his leg because he happens to be the monster toy

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marveldcmistress · 26 days ago

Photo

If I wasn't already horny from ovulating, this made me feral🤤🥰

ENDGAME STEVE: Clean-shaven + long hair.

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marveldcmistress · 26 days ago

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marveldcmistress · 26 days ago

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marveldcmistress · 27 days ago

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Starved for You

Written for @steverogersbingo. D3 - Touch starved.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Steve Rogers Bingo | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 728

Summary: Steve never believed himself to be touch starved. At least until he met you. Then, he became addicted, always wanting more.

Warnings: not much; mostly fluff and self-awareness on Steve's part

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Steve would never admit that he missed being touched.

He definitely wouldn't admit that he was a little starved for a loving touch or even a simple touch that most would take for granted.

No, he wouldn't.

He wouldn't.

Yet, he really wanted your touch.

No, that wasn't quite right.

He craved your touch.

He found excuses to get your hands on him anyway he could manage it.

This didn't go unnoticed by any of the Avengers, either.

Well, almost any of the Avengers.

You never seemed to notice how much he craved and sought out your touch.

No, you were the sweetest person on this planet, happy to give him whatever he needed without hesitation. It was just your nature to be so tactile with others, and that included one Steve Rogers.

It had all started innocently enough.

He'd been injured during a mission. Nothing major, just a cut along the shoulder and across his cheek.

Thought nothing of it really, too.

Well, he didn't until you spotted him when he entered the common room.

You'd jumped up from where you'd been reading the latest from your favorite author, gasping at the two streaks marring his otherwise unblemished skin.

One of your hands grabbed his chin, tilting his face one way or another. No doubt trying to see the cut on his cheek at every possible angle. The other hand stayed on his uninjured shoulder, keeping him from moving away.

While he could feel the firmness of your grip, you soon surprised him with letting his chin go and running a finger beneath the cut. It'd been such a soft touch that he almost missed it. If not for the way his nerves lit up, he would've.

You refused to let him go, either, until you'd cleaned him up and put bandages, unnecessary as they were, on his cuts.

You insisted on it, moving him backward until his butt landed in one of the bar chairs near Tony's extravagant bar. One finger came into his line of sight as you commanded, "Don't move. I'll be right back with the first aid kit."

He didn't dare move, either.

Maybe he couldn't move.

You'd certainly seemed to paralyze him with a single, simple touch.

The clean up proved easy enough.

Soon enough, he sported two Captain America-themed bandages, leftovers from a kid-friendly event you'd helped to organize, where he'd been cut. They'd be gone by morning as the serum would've done its job by then.

What wouldn't be gone, however, was the way your touch unlocked something within him. Something he hadn't thought he'd missed until you took such sweet care of him. Your gentleness and your warmth infused him in ways that he hadn't felt since before going into the ice. Maybe ever.

He'd decided to ignore it.

He really did try anyway.

The next time you touched him happened at a gala event that Tony insisted they host at the Tower.

Tony himself had shooed Steve towards the dance floor with your hand wrapped up in his. He refused to let Steve leave until he had at least one dance that evening, tired of seeing Steve sitting on the sidelines.

You'd felt right in his arms, too.

That'd been the worst and best parts.

It turned that switch again in his mind. The same one he'd decided to ignore after you patched him up. Made it harder to want to ignore how much you affected him.

Two songs later and he finally let you go.

That had been the hardest part for him.

After that, he couldn't ignore what he needed, what he wanted. He sought you out for every little cut and scrape. You patched him up just like the first time. Your fingers never straying from their gentle purpose until he felt better.

Every time he had a rough day, he'd find you and let you play with his hair.

Oh, that'd been a heaven he hadn't even known he was missing. He'd heard stories from Bucky and a few of the others, but he'd never experienced it until you. After that, he had more 'bad' days just for the excuse of having you twirl his growing locks and scraping his scalp soothingly with your nails.

He had it bad, and he didn't even care.

As long as it was your touch, he'd never care.

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