#👤 — user : kira

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴘɪɴᴘʀɪᴄᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — what would you do if you discovered someone close to you was a mass murdering vampire ?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.4k

there's a certain aspect to miguel that leaves you slightly baffled at times. you know he works long hours at alchemax, sometimes to the point where he'll even stay the night or two but on days he comes home, he's… different.

he becomes snappy and snarky, his usual towering height hunched over, tanned skin a shade lighter from how much he forgets to take care of himself, eyes sunken and discolored and if you look even closer, the slight protruding canines he tries to hide by mumbling whenever he speaks.

but after a few hours of going on a ‘walk’, usually during the night, he comes home looking alright again like he didn't look like he was about to be on his deathbed. standing tall again, his hulking frame towering almost everybody around him. most nights then he'll come back looking normal again, appearance and behavior-wise… save for the way his usual brown eyes border a red hue under the light.

the supernatural don't exist on this earth. lots of robotic stuff and ai, yes, but werewolves and vampires? what year are you living in? twilight’s just not it on earth-928.

but slowly and surely, there's been mass reports about random strangers being found dead in dark alleyways. according to the police, they're drained of their blood with two puncture marks on their neck. nobody wants to say it, but it's definitely a vampire. but how would a vampire survive in a world like in nueva york?

it's a city of constant progress and although there are lots of nooks and crannies to hide in, the sun here is bright and blazing and it will touch every dark corner of nueva york. who among the population is the culprit?

well, you definitely didn't expect it to be your miguel that's for sure.

you were never supposed to find out about his secret. you didn't mean to wake up, cold and alone in your shared bedroom that night. you didn't mean to walk in on him in the kitchen with his face and clothes all bloodied.

you didn't mean to make a noise, a gasp of surprise, a squeak on the floorboards. you didn't mean to make him hear you. you didn't mean to catch his attention.

the way his head snapped in your direction. eyes wide, not like a deer caught in headlights, but one of an alert predator, his irises as red as the blood that stained his being. the way his body stills and his lips curl into a snarl, revealing a set of canines the same as the puncture marks they've been showing on the news.

you didn't mean to find out, you really didn't, but you've just made yourself his next target.

"i'm sorry querida but i can't let anyone snitch on me. you understand right? this is for your own good too."

[corfurem]

the account and the owner

PLAY HERE

for my plus sized wives and babes → PLAY HERE

npt : @winniethewife @noodlelooodle @summonthesoups @reallyrallyauthor and anyone who sees this !

[bibliotheca-amoris]

ⓘ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐀 ₃.₀ — 21 , aries . writer , mother , dumbass . works on main ; tag games and shitposts on perosnal . ageless , blank blogs and minors dni .

　　　　　　　　　main　　　　　　personal

[niente-esiste]

ⓘ 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐀 ₃.₀ — 21 , aries . writer , mother , dumbass . works on main . ageless , blank blogs and minors dni .

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 . . . ➟

　　　prompts → ʜᴇʀᴇ　　　tips → ʜᴇʀᴇ　　　help → ʜᴇʀᴇ

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ , ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a treat for you and your lover .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.5k

baker!steven who loves making you treats and sneaks them into your lunch bag without you knowing.

baker!steven who makes the most of his goodies gluten free but will occasionally (read: every time you ask for baked treats) indulge your request to make them sugary and sweet.

baker!steven who would spend sleepless nights in the kitchen concocting new recipes.

baker!steven who, with enough encouragement from you, opens up a shop after his sudden unemployment from the museum.

baker!steven who cried upon hearing that you had used up most of your lifesavings to get him a quaint spot downtown with a busy enough street that guarantees him a steady flow of customers.

baker!steven who promised to pay you back for your investment and won't take no for an answer which in the end resulted into agreeing to open a joint account so his 'debt' would be put to other uses like your shared responsibilities like rent, groceries and for emergencies.

baker!steven who absolutely adores his shop, making sure to keep his customers saitisfied with quality food (he has two menus, separating gluten free items for the vegan options).

baker!steven who makes friends with his regulars, chatting up with the old ladies that come in for afternoon tea and crumpets, helping college students to the best he can but absolutely enjoys it when they ask help for history subjects and entertains little children with ancient egyptian trivias and gives them tiny trinkets for free.

baker!steven who refused to serve donna when she came in for coffee after the horrible treatment she had given him when he used to work at the museum.

baker!steven who closed shop for a few hours to call you up looking for comfort because seeing donna so suddenly after finally recovering from what he had endured from her before shook him.

baker!steven who would most definitely close the bakery after lunch rush to personally visit you at work to hand you a basket full of extra baked goods to share with your co-workers.

baker!steven who loves when fall arrives because he gets to decorate the shop in fall amd halloween themes and gets to experiment baking with different pans and cookie cutters.

baker!steven who eventually experiments with learning how to make drinks so the equipment you had gotten him will be put to good use until he learns the hard way that brewing coffee is not good for his autistic brain.

baker!steven who would hire a barista instead to make the drinks and gets along with them, gives them free treats during lunch break and gives them leftovers from the day's batch.

baker!steven who eventually joins the farmers market after getting enough recognition from customers in his street and encouragement from aunties from the neighborhood.

baker!steven who had to close his stall after just a few hours because he had sold out all of his baked batches for the day.

baker!steven who 100% loves his new career path.

baker!steven who would drop by the street act he used to talk to after work hours from the museum to give him a goodie bag and a big tip just because.

baker!steven who waits for you before closing up for the day so he can dance with you between counters and tables, murmuring sweet, sweet love to your ears in between laughter and feeds you a small fresh batch of your favorite cookies before walking back to his place hand in hand with you.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — just some waddling birds and a man waddling through his emotions .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.9k

marc never thought he'd find love, not after his abuse, not after layla. he found himself unlovable, there was nothing about him left to love. there was only the broken fragments of who he used to be, a shell of a man he once was.

until you came into the picture.

you showed marc that all hope isn't lost, that you'll fill in the blanks of his heart and soul with your own.

funny enough you and marc met at an aquarium. he needed to be in a place he could silence his mind. the library was out of the question, he wasn't a book person and steven might get a little too overexcited and take over. the museum wasn't even an option, he's seen enough of the place when his alter still worked there.

he could go for coffee at a cafe but it's usually crowded with boho people or teenagers so that's scratched from the list as well. the only other place he could go was his old and cold storage unit which steven absolutely loathes so the brit had kindly offered the suggestion of going to the aquarium.

it was a big place, slightly crowded but it was mostly just a bunch of families. besides there were areas in the aquatic place that plenty of people don't visit.

but funnily enough, marc finds himself staring at penguins. waddling birds diving into waters or just penguins being silly penguins. he finds the monochromatic aviators funny and calming that it soothes the ache in his mind that plagues him with memories of his past.

when was the last time he went to the aquarium? was it when he was just an only child? or one of randall's birthdays? when was the last time he gazed at the fishes and watched his reflection on water and glass without his past rearing its ugly head at him, reminding him why he can't have the luxury of doing something so simple?

marc can't remember at all. he hasn't done anything fun for himself in a very long time. not since roro died, not since his mother beat him up as a child. fun became a foreign concept to him. his version of fun was what led roro to drown in that cave, his fun is what had killed, albeit accidentally, his younger brother. so ever since, he hasn't done anything remotely enjoyable for himself.

"did you know male penguins woo females by offering them rocks?" a voice asks, interrupting his spiraling train of thoughts.

when he looks at the person talking to him, he finds you standing next to him with a friendly smile and a gentle look in your eyes. "also they're monogamous birds. but only for the season, they can still choose a different mate the next or they'd stay with the same penguin but that depends." marc raises a curious brow before pointing a finger at himself, "are you talking to me?" he asks and you laugh, a sound so soft like tiny bells ringing.

it's a pleasant sound, he thinks to himself. he doesn't mind hearing that again.

"who else would i be talking to?" you retort with a shake of your head. you lean your arms over the metal railings of the penguin enclosure as you turn your head to look at him. "you were looking at them so intently so i thought you were interested in them. apologies if you weren't though."

he was a stranger and yet you acted so nice, so warm and friendly. he wonders if you act the same with everyone else.

somewhere in the deep crevices of his mind, he wishes you don't. but that's not for him to know just yet.

it's that simple act that marc found himself listening to you as you listed down all the tiniest facts you knew about penguins, followed you down the halls of the large aquariums as you toured about every aquatic exhibit. if you weren't telling him silly things, you'd make goofy interpretations of the fish that swim by you.

he shouldn't find this funny, he shouldn't be laughing at all but he is. you were doing something so childish and yet marc was entranced, he was enchanted by your youthfulness and how you carried with you a childlike wonder that drew out that little boy in him.

you had marc in the palm of your hand, he was yours that day, hook, line and sinker.

whatever gaps he had in his childhood, you fulfilled and made true. you completed those empty holes in his life by making or recreating them so whenever he'd look back, the painful memories of his past were hidden behind the ones you made together.

you made him do things he's never done, challenged him to be better each day, whate er he had missed out on as a child and as a teen, you made him feel and experience. marc was eternally grateful for that.

marc had always thought he wasn't worthy of love, that nobody can ever love a man like him and yet here you were. you stuck by his side since that day in the aquarium, held him on nights when he's plagued with nightmares, brought out a side of him he's long since buried because he's deemed himself unworthy to be a child once more. but through time and time again you show him how wrong he is about himself.

marc spector never thought he'd love again, but now his heart only holds your name. burned to his skin like a tattoo with every kiss shared, marc knew by then that he is yours, just as you are his.

and you always will be.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴍɪɴᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — he's gotten awfully close , thank god you didn't know much better . at least , that was good news to him .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd, constructive criticism is welcomed . comments and reblogs are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.7k

you've been working with steven at the museum for quite a while now. him, still a gift shop-ist and you a new guide for the greek exhibit. at first steven was jealous how they easily gave away the position of tour guide but when he passed by your group during your first month when donna made him do inventory, he was hooked.

you were smart and passionate, fun and easygoing. plenty of the people you guided had questions to ask that you readily answered, both from adults and children. usually the former are quiet, uninterested in the old history but you had a way to charm people, steven was no exception.

so he made the effort to befriend you. approaching you more until it was you who would seek him out during lunch. on days you were able to leave early, you'd join steven doing inventory because donna got mad at him again for being late. as per usual.

"you don't have to stick around f'me love, i'm used to it." earthy browns would look at yours through curly bangs, sheepish at having held you back from going home early. "i know i don't... but i want to."

and that was when he had truly fallen in love with you. if you can even call that love. steven was obsessed, he was obsessed with your kindness, with your knowledge. he wanted that all to himself. how can he not when you readily give it when he comes by to ask for your time. you were so nice, so good, so beautiful... he hopes you like what he has planned for you.

he began following you in and out of work, uncaring he loses sleep. not that he gets that many hours in anyways. he followed you for months until he has learned your routine outside your house, after that he learned how to break into your place and get to know you even better in the comforts of your home. he steals a few things, a spoon you used that day, a shirt buried underneath your laundry, a pair of panties from your freshly folded ones... some he returns and others, well let's just say they became a permanent part of his collection of you.

he worships the things you own, treats them like fine china. most of the time that is. he uses them to his pleasure other times, unable to hold back. your smell would linger on the items he'd steal and he'd sniff it until it disappears, replaced by his own. then he'll clean them up (he bought the same laundry detergent just for this case) and return them. most of them.

nearly a year into your friendship, steven asked you out for a simple hang out at the park, saying he found a nice spot for a picnic just you and him. unaware of his true intentions, you had agreed.

at first it had gone well, you and steven chatted and chatted, eating the sandwiches you had prepared until he handed you a glass of lemonade did it start going downhill. half an hour after your brunch you started feeling sluggish, your mind hazy and muddled. you don't notice steven grinning in joy, knowing that his plans were finally coming into fruition. he had drugged your drink, enough to weaken your muscles for you to go down without a fight and then... light's out.

oh how long did he wait for this moment.

"oh love, i've wanted you for so long... ever since i passed by your first tour i've been madly in love with you d'you know that? of course you didn't silly me." he circles your weakening body, struggling to stay awake, struggling to hear him. "w-why?" was the only thing your lips were able to get out in your fight to stay conscious, alarm bells ringing in your head at steven's approaching figure.

he grins a cruel, wicked grin when you're finally unable to hold yourself up, lying limply on the blanket he had all but spread out and you looked like a masterpiece to him at that moment. like a fallen angel in your pretty white dress, hair spread out before you like a beautiful halo. like a painting, like art had come to life, you were so, so beautiful. you were gorgeous in his eyes and you always will be.

"why? well... i can't stop thinking how perfect we would be together."

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — just a little lip scrub magic .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k

it's another friday night for you and steven and as per usual, the brit finds himself within the comforts of your home dressed in his comfiest pajamas he's long since left in your place, smelling much like your fabric softener, cherries and vanilla.

he's got his wild and untamed curls pushed back by a fluffy headband, a blue one to match your pink headband, and sporting a facemask that's about to hit the 15 minute mark. you were still in the bathroom, washing your face and applying oils to your skin, only halfway into your routine.

the door's been left slightly ajar, with him occasionally peeking in to keep you company or to ask how far along you were, too excited to help you put on the remaining bits of your skincare to wait for you patiently. you don't mind it, though more than half the time you'd end up splashing him with some water out of surprise. he's got pretty silent footsteps for someone as clumsy as him.

he sits on your living room couch, surfing through channels for something to watch (which definitely becomes white noise after a while since none of you pay attention to whatever's showing anyways) and settles for a 90's slasher film. he doesn't know the title but it's either that or a rom-com, something he's surprisingly not in the mood for.

he's got a nervous energy about him that he can't place, thrumming in his veins as if he's been injected an additional dose of antsiness. he fidgets in his seat and plays with the hem of his loose sweater, trying to watch but his mind pulls his focus somewhere else. you.

it's almost as if he's suddenly hyper aware of your presence, as if he hasn't been doing this with you for months now. how close you two can get and how touchy he gets anytime you're within arms length from him.

only when he feels the couch dip with another person's weight does he snap out of his daze, cheeks flushed under the sheet mask that you gingerly peel away with expert ease. steven's staring at you now, there's an emotion in his eyes you can't exactly name, or maybe you're just a little too scared to admit to yourself he's looking at you a little love-drunk.

you crumple up the used mask and place it on your coffee table next to a few items you had brought with you. unlike steven, you weren't putting on a facemask today, you had another thing in mind to cover up: your lips.

it's been cracking and drying up recently even with a thick layer of lip gloss or lip oil and you weren't about to have any of that (not when you've started catching steven stare at your lips for a while now). you rip open a new sheet, placing the too big lip mask over your own, rubbing the essence to ensure all of it gets absorbed. all the while steven's just been staring at you, watching you with rapt attention.

you struggled to laugh as you poked his nose, breaking him out of his trance as he blubbers out a string of apologies you shushed by placing a finger on his lips, being unable to speak and all, but your eyes squint with a hint of a smile. the next fifteen minutes were spent in silence, you scrolling through your phone while waiting for the time and steven finishing up the last of his own skincare routine.

once your timer goes off, you peel off the lip mask and smack your lips for extra measure. piling it on top of steven's crumpled up face sheet, you grab a tiny pink jar next for the last steo of your routine for the night: your lip scrub.

twisting the cap off, a faint scent of strawberry filling your nose. but before you can dip a finger in, steven covers the jar with a palm and a shy smile. "d'you mind if i do that for you, love?"

surprised and a little flustered, you wordlessly hand it over to steven, watching him scoot closer to you on the tiny loveseat. with a shaky gentleness, he dips his middle finger into the sugar scrub and takes a good amount, swiping the slightly rough formula over your moisturized lips.

the scrub was sticky and the scent of fruits and vanilla filled your nose, the close proximity of steven to you causes your heart to stutter and your cheeks to heat up. he looked even prettier up close.

untamed curls swept back by the headband, his usually relaxed brows knit together in absolute focus. steven's bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he concentrates on the way his finger swipes over the plushness of your own lips and his eyes, gods, his eyes.

clouded with a slight haze, a mix of emotions you can't all quite place swirling between earthy hues and in the harsh light of the tv, looks like warm chocolate

the way he looked at your lips sent a heat to your belly intensified by the way he massages the scrub over your lips with such gentleness. steven won't show the same attitude when he does his own lip scrub. the contrast has butterflies fluttering in your stomach because he's being gentle for you.

after a long, painstaking three and a half minutes (you were counting in your head to distract yourself from thinking thoughts that don't belong to your friendship), he rubs your lips clean off the sugar with a hand towel. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding, unconsciously licking your lips and tasting the sweet taste of sugar and strawberries lingering on your lips.

"thanks." you whispered, almost breathlessly, lashes fluttering as you look at steven. steven who hasn't taken his eyes off your lips not once since he asked to do your scrub. he's been staring at them with such intensity it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.

and when he finally does look up, he looks at you with a darkened gaze, heavy with a want and desire you've never seen before. your breath hitches yet steven doesn't falter, his own breathing heavy with restraint. like he's trying not jump on your bones.

voice strained, like the act of asking his question hurt, "may i?" and aside from the clear arousal brewing within those beautiful warm eyes, lies a hint of desperation. deep down, you had a hunch saying no would crush him. he's inching closer and closer, your breaths mingling with each other, noses brushing. he looks hopeful as he is desperate.

you nod twice and steven does not hesitate to press his lips on your lips, palm on your cheek as he tilts your head like he's about devour you whole.

steven kisses like a man starved and you were the first meal he's had in a really long time. he tasted like mint toothpaste and lychee and something inherently steven, it makes you moan softly against his lips.

you pull away first to catch your breath, willing air back to your lungs but steven, sweet steven, chases after you. he can't get enough of it, the feel of your lips on his, the aftertaste of your lip scrub hanging on to your lips and he's addicted. within the first touch, he's completely and utterly addicted to you and steven thinks to himself that he may never recover from you.

"taste so sweet…" he mumbles against you, "so good, love. wanna taste more, can i? please, can i kiss you again?"

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴍᴀᴍᴀ'ꜱ ʙᴏʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — who did he take after ?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — this is a little bit different from my regular works and more of a short self-indulgent insert of what i think about marc's character . i do find him interesting and wish to dissect him piece by piece . dedicating this to @ominoose , the loml when it comes to angst . not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.6k

hey

normalcy (noun)

the condition of being normal; the state of being usual, typical, or expected.

how do my plans fit in with yours? (oh)

you're such a doll and i'm a boy

where did my parents go? (oh, oh)

i'm not in italy

they like vacation homes much more than they love me

what was normalcy? was it the familiar sting of the belt in his mother's hands on his body? or her palms on his cheek? was it the loud volume of her voice whenever she spewed whatever drunken and grief-stricken profanities she was able to come up with? was it the way she would constantly bring up his dead younger brother on every opportunity she had?

to marc, that was what he had considered normal during his childhood, at least until after randall passed. he had a relatively happy childhood before the accident, the flooding and the rain. oh yeah, marc stopped liking rainy days and storms after that day.

you're made of plastic, i'm just blood

when i was born, you were produced

then he left home and served in the military. his next perception of normalcy became the heat of his gun to his cheek (like when his mother would slap him). or the scorching heat of the desert on his skin (like how it feels after he would be abused). or the way everyone would be barking orders at each other or cussing on the battlefield (like she would whenever she saw him outside of his room).

actually, his life after leaving his childhood wasn't that much different than he likes to think. violence was still violence, just in a different form and with a different target.

will he ever be able to leave that past behind?

i wish i was a toy

you say, "hahahahahaha"

and you laugh

and i cry

after the seals, he became a mercenary and then became moon knight.

taking orders from a god that constantly spoke over his shoulder (like his mother would before she'd beat him up). the way he'd get his knuckles bloody and his body bruised (the way his younger body would after every visit she makes). the violence, the anger, the channel… nothing much ever really changed, not really, not ever.

violence was violence. it's embedded in marc's dna.

the way he had randall killed by dragging him to that cave with him.

the way he'd enjoy the way his fists would do the talking; like mother, like son.

the way he'd drink to forget but never will, in a way he was a mama's boy but in the worst ways possible.

half of my heart is in your chest

i'm not a mama's boy

i'd go see italy

i'd go see tuscany

if you could come with me

marc’s worst nightmare would be told that he's like his mother. the violence, the anger, the self-loathing… not that it wasn't true. for the most part.

in a way, he was and will always be his mother's son and not just by blood. not when he acted much like her, as much as he loves to deny it.

maxa-maxa-million, what you waiting up for?

please come out and play with us more

izzy-izzy-izzybell likes to stay in the house

please come out and play with us now

marc spector was a mama's boy, not because she loved him (maybe she did, once upon a time?), but because half of him is built and crafted from years of torment and abuse. molded by her fists and her hurtful words. bent and broken and shaped into the man he is today, a replica, a fragment of the woman he had grown to loathe throughout the years.

under her inescapable shadow, marc spector, the man he is now. marc spector, a reflection of his mother. marc spector, mama's boy.

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ — ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟɪᴛᴏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — life with an itsy bitsy spider except he's not so itsy bitsy and he's not as venomous as most people think .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 2.8k

let's say that you and miguel have been together for a good year already. you're past the honeymoon phase but you're comfortable and still love each other the way you did the first few months.

you've practically all but moved in with miguel at this point, most of your stuff are already with him and you only visit your own apartment if you happen to forget something that isn't already with him (after refusing miguel's 6th attempt to persuade you to let him buy it instead of going back for it).

whenever you two find the time to be with each other, you often take naps together. nobody is big spoon or small spoon between you. miguel makes you lay on top of him like a weighted blanket. he feels reassured that you're still alive and around with your breathing on his shoulder and your steady heartbeat matching his own.

he likes to sprawl a hand on your back under your shirt like this, just tracing lazy patterns on your skin. on the times you manage to slip away from his hold to grab a glass of water in the kitchen, he would stroll in after you still half asleep, gruff voice pleading you to come back to bed with him even if you were planning on doing just that.

the man would wake up the moment the pressure of your body on top of his is gone.

OR sometimes on his rare off days, he'd spend the whole day asleep. one time you catch him lying on his stomach in nothing but sweats, his top shirtless exposing the large expanse of his shoulders and back to you.

you just finished doing whatever chore you had for the day before you had decided to just... plop yourself on his back, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. miguel then wakes up hours later when the sun has set but unable to get up due to a weight on his back. he turns his head around and finds your body nestled comfortably on top of him, still sound asleep.

it doesn't matter if he was starving at that point, he wouldn't dare wake you up.

you try not to mix yourself up much with his job since you know it can get dangerous but when miguel gets too clingy and refuses to go to hq for the day, he'll take you with him!

in the movie we see him standing on his platform but in this case, he rolls out a chair that he can sit on so you can sit on his lap while he works. he claims that it helps him focus better when you're there, playing with the ends of his hair on the back of his head or peppering the exposed skin of his neck with featherlight kisses that he responds to with a hum and a deep press of his lips on the side of your head.

this in turn gives lyla the freedom to take so much pictures of him being clingy, literally waits outside the bathroom stalls for you when you need the loo, and when you exit he asks if you washed your hands after, you tell him yes and then holds your hand to lead you back to his "office."

lyla teases him endlessly about it when he comes back the next day alone.

you treat lyla like she's one of your girlfriends, gossiping about things outside the spider society and in return, she would tell you all the tea in hq.

and now that you two have bonded, miguel groans and ribs his forehead because that means lyla gets all the new details about miguel's private life that she uses against him on the worst opportunities but he won't be able to tell her off when you're there because miguel would never want to make you mad.

there was one time to woke up with a start in your shared bed with miguel, a nightmare of miguel's body limp and cold on nueva york's streets and if course it freaks you out. being spider-man was dangerous and it meant having lots of enemies whether they're superpowered or not.

miguel woke up and saw you panting with your head buried in your raised knees. he would wordlessly pull you into an embrace before singing you a lullaby to help to fall back asleep.

date nights with miguel are as rare as his day offs, maybe even more so since he prefers to stay indoors to rest and recuperate. on the times he does take you out, he makes sure it's fancy and extravagant as a way to make up for the lack of nights like this where you'd enjoy candlelit dinner in a popular italian restaurant on nueva york's more posh streets.

getting ready for said date, you'd wear this jaw dropping blue dress that matches the color of his suit paired with your favorite red bottom heels and the pearl set accessories he'd gifted you on your six months anniversary. you'd exit the bathroom back into your shared bedroom where miguel was waiting for you in a fancy tux himself and he'd stop whatever it was he was doing just to stare at you with lovesick eyes.

you'd flash him a pretty smile before turning around, asking him to zip you up. he'd brush your hair aside, the tips of his fingers grazing against your nape. he'd pinch the tiny metal between his thumb and index finger and slowly drag it up, kissing your neck softly when it's zipped all the way up.

OR sometimes after these aforementioned date nights when you would return home with full bellies and wine tasting lips, you'd huff and take a seat on the couch, legs straightened before you as you groaned, head tilting back to rest on the back of the couch. miguel promptly follows you, kneeling in front of you and taking in the sight of you, all tired and lazy but still so so beautiful nonetheless.

he'd take a foot and place it on his leg, not minding the way your heels would leave a bit of a dusty print on his dark trousers. he kisses the length of your calf as his hands take off your heels, resulting another groan from you but this time in relief. it spurs him on, stroking his ego the way a simple act of taking your shoes off elicits such a reaction from you.

he does the same to your other leg and it usually ends up with him making out with you on the couch, you still seated at the edge while he kneels in front of you, hands gripping your small waist and your own mussing up his styled hair for the night, teeth nipping at each other's skin and lips until you're both red and panting.

he likes to give you kisses. one of his biggest love languages is definitely physical touch. just feeling your warmth under his lips as he presses random kisses on you throughout the day.

you'd wake up with a peck on your forehead, followed by a kid to the top of your nose as to hand him his coffee. when he finds you seated on the couch and reading a book, he'd give you what he likes to call 'drive by kisses' on your cheek as he walks past you.

in general, lots of kisses by miguel. but i think one of his favorite places to kiss you (side from your lips) is the inside of your wrist where he can feel your heartbeat pulsing as he brushes his lips against the skin repeatedly.

when it rains, miguel would complain and grumble under his breath at how wet it becomes because you'd pro a window open to let some rainy breeze in, the sounds of raindrops against glass intensified.

he would act like a grump at first before settling next to you on the couch, propping your feet up on his lap as he browses on his work on his tablet, one hand occasionally massaging your sock-clad feet as you lay there either scrolling aimlessly on your phone or reading a book.

nueva york is a city of progress so it's mostly skyscrapers and tall buildings. one time you expressed that you wanted to be able to see the stars and you can't do that here at home since the city lights always outshine them. and what did miguel do?

he took you to a different dimension, one where it's mostly nature and the stars twinkle so brightly it feels like you'd reach them if you stretch a hand out.

it's one of the rare times miguel lets you travel with him to a different dimension. he only does it to see that absolutely dazzling smile on your face, the way you quite literally lit up as you tugged his arm, pointing at a certain constellation and talking his ear off about the story behind it even if it's not exactly accurate or scientifically or canonically correct.

miguel won't tell you that, instead he'll just stare at you the whole time with the most dopey lovesick look ever i'm talking hearts in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips. and when you finally turn to face him, he's been staring at you the whole time.

sometimes his work isn't always stored in some tech like his laptop or tablet. he's old-fashioned, writing stuff down until he comes home with a bunch of papers and files.

he has an office in his apartment so he ends up just dumping them there and eventually forgetting them. so when the day comes and you're cleaning the place up, you find his office in complete disarray. i'm talking about piles and piles of paperwork on his desk, books not tucked in the shelf and his blinds drawn leaving little to no natural light in the room.

you clicked your tongue, pulling the vacuum inside. but first, you snap a pic of the office to miguel and sending it with the caption 'you live like a goddamn toddler 🗑️' yes emoji included because the whole room can be compared to a dumpster.

you clean the place, vacuuming the floors, rearranging his shelf and dusting the whole place until the only thing left to fix was his desk.

you'd grumble under your breath while working because you're sure you spent an hour and a half already with just miguel's office and you were losing daylight quickly when you still have two other rooms to clean. you were shuffling the papers and sorting them by the date stamped on the corner of each page when one paper stands out to you. it's colored a baby pink and written in miguel's scrawly penmanship.

at first you think nothing of it until its contents catch your eyes do you realize it's a love letter. addressed to you. it makes you swoon of course. miguel loves giving you letters, handing you quite a few throughout your relationship especially during important milestones in your lives but these? these were unsent letters he had written to you.

you continue to fix up his files and you see more and more of these oddly colored papers throughout the pile, in between folders and stapled papers were various love letters written in multiple shades of pastels. sometimes it's just one page, others would consist of at least three. it's sweet and really endearing but you don't read them. there was a reason miguel didn't give them to you after all.

you simply compiled all the letters you've found before tucking them in a drawer on his desk. knowing that he had done those was filling enough for your heart. it was enough to bloom warmth on the apples of your cheeks and giggle at how much of a sap your boyfriend was. but he's your sap and you won't have it any other way.

on the fourth month of your relationship with miguel did you stumble upon the knowledge that miguel cannot cook for the life of him. he tried to make you toast once and ended up burning both the bread and your toaster. since then you've banned miguel from cooking in both your place and his.

that means you are always on kitchen duty, greeting miguel when he comes home to you after work with a kiss and freshly cooked dinner. but on the rare occasions he surprises you by coming home early, he'd offer a helping hand while you prep dinner.

you were skeptical of course, having flashbacks of his toaster fiasco, but his pouty lips were making it hard for you to say no. so you ended up giving in, instructing him on what to do. you leave him be for a few minutes before he's calling after you like

"um... mi amor, is the sauce supposed to look like this?" miguel asks, tapping you hesitantly on your shoulder. your eyes practically bulge out of your skull at the purple colored pasta sauce you had told him to stir. how did he make red tomato sauce into that?

"miguel, baby, did you do something while i wasn't looking..?" he shakes his head, not saying that he was only stirring the pot like you said.

in the end you had to shoo him out, instead making him sit his too large frame on the tiny island chairs as you redo the sauce, pushing back dinner for another half hour because he had mysteriously managed to turn your completely normal sauce purple.

you kiss his lips though and tell him you appreciate the gesture but leave the cooking to you from this point onwards. you do tell him that he can just help you with grocery shopping, saying that his senses would come in handy with picking out fresher veggies and fruits.

OR you decided one day when miguel didn't need to come to hq and was working from home to do a fun little activity you both can partake in. you had everything ready and laid out on the kitchen when you call for your boyfriend in the kitchen.

"baby, can you come here real quick?" you hear his bunny slipper-clad feet shuffling as he approaches you, hair head back by a cat eared headband that originally belonged to you and his glasses perched on his nose. his appearance makes you giggle, earning him a peck on the lips.

"what did you need me for mami?" he questions you, his hand naturally finding its way to your waist. "let's make empanadas together."

this was the only time miguel wasn't a disaster to be in the kitchen.

the whole time he had his eyebrows scrunched together in total concentration, obeying your orders like it's the gospel simply because he wanted them to come out at least edible. you worked so hard to prepare this all for him, the least he wanted was for the empanadas to turn out to be good enough to be eaten and to both your surprise, they do!

some are a little disfigured, others too big or too small with stuffings coming out at the seams but they were more than just edible regardless.

now miguel makes it a tradition between you to make empanadas whenever he works from home.

you don't know how miguel finds the time to buy you gifts when he's already so busy with being spider-man and the leader of the spider society so it really does come as a shock when you would wake up every now and then to a gift on top of his pillow and a note under the neatly wrapped box saying how he had bought it thinking of you.

it's basically routine how he wakes up and leaves before you even get out of bed, sometimes he tells you that you look so comfortable asleep that he struggles to get up and get ready himself. anyways, it's a cute little surprise that he leaves you at least three times a week.

sometimes it's something silly like a fridge magnet or a bunch of sticky tabs for when you're bookmarking something on your books. other times it's so precious it makes you wonder if he's breaking the bank by buying you a diamond necklace like every week.

your jewelry box holds an assortment of accessories, rings with the prettiest rocks, bracelets with his name or yours or an important date lasered on the back, and a bunch of necklaces with delicate chains and tiny but adorable charms. oftentimes he'd leave notes for these stuff saying, 'i remember you said you liked daisies so i got you this' and inside would be a necklace with the prettiest daisy charm hanging in the middle.

miguel is funny, thoughtful and expensive with his gifts. he does believe that it's just another way to make up for having to leave you in the mornings to go to work.

but to you? it's just another thing for you to love about him. to you, it means waking up and looking forward to what life and miguel have in store for you. it makes you feel hopeful about a lasting future with miguel that would one day mean taking on his last name as mrs. o'hara.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʟᴏᴠᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — we love a king who knows how to pamper himself .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k

steven grant has been your best friend ever since you wandered into the gift shop section of the museum, wanting to buy a taweret plushie that you've been eyeing since seeing them when you passed by the area during a tour.

he was just a gift shop-ist at that time, nothing really special but when you had asked for a recommendation of what knick knack was the most historically accurate you could buy, he went on a tangent about egyptian mythology. it landed him a scolding from his boss but a laugh from you. maybe it was because he was just so pretty or that he fascinated you with his knowledge that you gave him your number.

ever since that day, you two hit it off really well. one text led to two and then a call, one too many which turned into you visiting him more at the museum whenever you're not too busy to go out on weekends. not too long after that, you invited him to your place and the rest have been history. it all happened in the span of four months.

you and steven made it a ritual to have a regular sleepover at yours on the last friday of the month (even if steven was working overtime doing inventory and the commute to your place added 30 more minutes before he reached you). but why would he go through all that trouble?

well, it's simple. the first time steven slept over, he became witness to your entire nighttime skincare routine. he was fascinated by all the products you used from face masks to serums to creams, anything you applied to your face he was paying absolute attention to the process of it all.

he loved how every single one of your products would have a benefit to your skin's health so much that he asked if you could do it to him too. now steven's actually very meticulous with his looks, all the boys are really, but steven liked to nitpick at his reflection (marc grumbles incessantly about it though neither of you knew that).

he wears chapstick because his lips get dry easily and since he does have that 5 o'clock shadow, he has a well thought out aftershave products. but skincare all in all? he thinks soap and water is enough.

every product you'd lather on his face, he'd ask what it does and you'd ramble about how retinol serums do help with wrinkles but it shouldn't be applied daily if he doesn't want to burn his face. he thought chapsticks were enough to keep his lips moisturized but when you pulled out a lip mask and a scrub, boy he was a goner.

the next time you guys hung out outside, steven dragged you to the mall and had you help him buy his own set of skincare products.

it made you giggle before directing him to a pretty popular clinic in the mall first so you two know what products to use with professional help rather than guessing what to buy and end up ruining his pretty sun-kissed skin.

[the following information is not accurate, i'm only saying what i remembered from when i was a heavy skincare girlie, i've turned to a much simpler routine now]

okay so, according to (me) the doctor, he's got a little bit of dryness on his cheeks and some oiliness on his t-zone, poor baby's got wrinkles from the stress he gets from donna and the heavy purpling bags under his eyes.

she recommended him quite a lot of products which included 2 cleansers, 2 moisturizers, 3 serums, a cream and an spf all with a variation of AHA, AAA, BHA, retinol, niacinamide and more. he bought them all.

steven absolutely splurged that day, not only did he buy everything the dermatologist recommended, he also went and bought stuff he saw you use from memory, the face masks, lip masks and scrubs, everything. hell he even had you buy your own recommendation of good shower products because "you always smell so nice and i know you're not really a perfume person".

that night, steven had you demonstrate each process step by step or can also be read as steven asking you to apply them on him like at a spa or clinic. he fell asleep with a sheet mask on.

when he woke up the next morning, you told him that you actually completed his routine while he was sleeping, much to his embarrassment, to which you replied with, "it's no problem at all, i got to take care of your pretty face and you were sound asleep, couldn't bear the thought of waking you up when you clearly needed that."

now every time he comes over every last friday of the month, you two would have your me-days. you two don't hold back on any of your products even if it rips a new hole in your wallets every time you two shop to restock.

lounging on your couch in a comfy pair of steven's shirt he forgot at yours some time ago and some sleep shorts, hair held back by a fluffy headband with a face mask on you, you surf through channels to find some trashy movie to watch with steven.

said man was in his own pj's, lip mask over his lips with the front of his curls tied up as he lay his head on your lap. he was reading his egyptian mythology book, reading glasses perched on his nose as he highlights bits of information he considers important.

your hand unconsciously runs through the curls that aren't tied up as you find a channel that's showing a rerun episode from the office and you settle for that. steven would occasionally hum and turn his head to watch, laughing at the jokes they'd make before returning his focus to his book. it's all so comfortable and perfect and somehow really late in the night.

steven notices your hand stopped combing through his hair and was about to ask why but only to see you sound asleep, mid-face mask. kind of like he was when you gave him his first spa treatment.

so he tucks his book away and takes off his lip mask. then continues to take off yours. he brings over your items carefully and starts to finish off your routine for you, making sure his hands don't rub too hard to wake you up. in an odd sense, it's like steven was trying to say thank you.

for the first time you showed him the way to care for himself more than just food and shower, for letting him learn alongside you how to feel better about himself as he applies skincare products on his face and so many more reasons pertaining to your friendship.

he finally finishes yours with great care and he makes quick work of his own, throwing away the masks before shutting the tv off, carrying you with surprising ease back to your bed and tucking you in.

he sneaks in beside you afterwards, holding you close to his body as he mumbles his goodnight. steven never had to worry about his sleeping disorder when with you, never needing an ankle restraint when you were always there to keep him grounded.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɴꜱʜɪɴᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — how's life like with the sweetest british man ever ?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection , mild smut virus

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.6k

you and steven have been together for a good half a year and i picture steven as a more needy kind of boyfriend. the man lacked so much attention and affection before and now that he has you in his life, he never wants that to stop. he tries hard not to be needy or clingy but he can't help it.

he just wants you to look at him, love him and spend your time with him and only him. sometimes it's overwhelming but you always make sure to tell steven when it starts to get too much but those are extremely rare. you're always happy to indulge the man with some well deserved love and affection!

he's brought up the idea of you moving in with him when you hit the fifth month of being together actually.

you always end up staying over at his place whenever you two hang out (because he literally won't let you go home sometimes under the guise that it's too late for you to go back and he doesn't want anything to happen to you). i mean, he's already given you the spare copy of his keys with a matching koala keychain attached to the keyring.

you tell him that you'll consider it, not saying yes but not really saying no. he's hopeful though, would keep asking you about it after every week as both an inside joke and a serious offer.

after the whole ammit stuff that went down in cairo, steven actually reapplied at the museum! he managed to get word that donna was fired and someone else has replaced her spot . you convinced him to go back and do what he loves, reassuring steven that he'll do great.

it took a few days of convincing but in the end he did listen to you and applied for the tour guide position and he got the role with flying colors! the museum was thoroughly impressed by his knowledge of ancient egypt and gave him the job on the spot and he would be starting as a guide the following week.

you treated steven with home cooked vegetarian meals and wine that night and proceeded to end the night tangled between the sheets.

you definitely cook in the relationship. steven got a taste of you cooking stir fry once and he's begged you to keep cooking for him ever since.

he had shyly asked you to pack him lunch when he was about to start at his new role as a tour guide and you happily obliged! you make him cute vegetarian bentos daily and leave a small sticky note on his lunch box filled with words of encouragement.

you don't know this but he actually kept every single one of them in a tiny box and hid it within his shelves.

you own a car which makes steven your permanent designated passenger princess!

you think it's adorable the way he blushes profusely when you open the door for him and whines that he should be the one doing that for you, only for you to shush him and tell him that you enjoy doing it for him.

you 100% hold hands a lot especially during longer drives or if he's feeling cheeky, he'd sneak a hand on your thigh that would begin to travel higher and higher.

on those days you'd have to find a place to park and fast to sneak a quickie, edging poor steven until he's all whiny and submissive, begging for his release. but you do remind him he was being bad by distracting you while driving. he'd have to wait until later that day to be able to cum.

at times like that he's glad he wears loose and baggy clothings because it would have been embarrassing to walk around with a raging hard on outlining his jeans even though it's his fault in the first place that he has to deal with his boner while on a date with you.

you tried to build furniture together once. it was just a shelf actually, so that the book piled on the floor of his flat would have a better home. but you found out you both sucked at it, there were screws missing and the manual confused the hell out of you two even though the instructions were really easy and simple to follow.

you both gave up mid-work and the poor shelf ended up as a half finished product tucked away at one corner of his flat collecting dust.

i'm a firm believer that steven is a romanticist. he's pretty old-fashioned about it too.

he writes you handwritten letters every month celebrating the day you had agreed to be his girlfriend. if his shift at the museum ends earlier than your work, he'd pick you up at the lounge area of your work building with a fresh bouquet in hand. he plans your dates together!

he'd always make sure to ask you your free days and tries to align his own schedule with yours so you can go on a date next weekend for a trip at the farmer's market and then have some breakfast at a quaint café a little ways from the city. he's a romantic sap and you wouldn't have him any other way.

you buy gus the second new decorations in his aquarium. you never saw the original gus, all that you knew was that the first one really only had one fin.

when you asked about how the original gus was replaced he was hesitant at first, thinking you might be weirded out by his condition but marc was the one who dared him to try and tell you. so he let you know bits and pieces about his did, introduced you to marc after many heavy debates with his reflection (when you weren't around).

in conclusion, the chicagoan liked you for steven which in turn meant that he did too but that's a story for another time.

steven is a sub and you can't change my mind. bratty but a sub nonetheless. he likes that you take control and he's more than happy to give it to you with very little resistance. a little spanking sets him straight if he doesn't behave.

i also headcanon him being into bondage. he likes it when you tie him up, colorful ropes knotted and binding him in place, the anticipation of waiting for you to touch him turns him on even more.

he prefers things like silk ribbons rather than handcuffs and yes, you've definitely gagged him before when he starts to get too loud after receiving a complaint from your downstairs neighbor about your activities.

you once made an offhand comment about steven looking extremely peggable, it left him a blushy stuttering mess. but one day when you come home from work, steven is sitting on his bed looking nervous and squirmy, a big paper bag next to him.

"steven baby, what's wrong?" you ask as you set your bag on the floor next to him before kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in your own. "i um... do you remember love when you— you said i was... peggable?" he says the last word in a tiny whisper, a blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck. he lets go of your hand to give you the bag with shaky nervousness, looking away as you peer at the contents inside: a strap on and a big bottle of lube.

"d-do you think we could uh— would you like to try it love? i-i'm fine with it if you are." let's just say you and steven had a very fun time experimenting into his new kink.

i feel like sweet steven would propose to you after a year and a half into the relationship?

yes he knows he's moving too fast but to him, you're everything. you're it. (let's say marc and layla divorced after cairo okay? okay.) plus marc liked you too. he liked you a good amount (he loves you but marc's stubborn and insists he only likes you a healthy amount) he would front and spend some time with you too. to steven that's like the best thing he could ask for.

"we don't have to marry right away, love. we're busy with work with you getting ready for your promotion and i'm getting more and more tours and it's been hectic enough for us as it is but one day yeah? one day i would love to see you walk down the aisle where we'd both say our vows and by the end of it, i get to finally call you my wife." he rambles as he kneels in front of your crying figure, ring in hand.

i know we all think he'd be a blubbering mess when proposing but i personally don't see him doing that.

if that man proposes, it's because he's set his mind into it after thorough deliberation. if he proposes, it's with confidence and purpose.

he doesn't prepare a speech, just relays what his heart tells him and it's telling him that his love for you was more than life itself and that he wants nothing more than for you to give him the absolute honor of having him as your husband. you had to kiss him to shut up so you can finally tell him...

"it's a yes steven, it will always be a yes for me. i love you more with each day i get to be with you, and to spend the rest of my waking days with your last name as my own? if this was a dream steven grant, never wake me up because i would love to be your wife. i'm yours and only yours if you'll have me."

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ; ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ghosts aren't the only ones capable of haunting , sometimes it's the people you love most in the world .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.8k

sometimes we fly

sometimes we fall

sometimes i feel like we're nothing at all

dream in the light

dance in the dark

you fill the spaces inside of my heart

married for 3 years, dated for 2, you'd think by then you would know a person so well, better than you'd know yourself. but for you? for you it feels like you never knew marc at all. he still looks like your husband, talks and acts like him but at the same time he's not. distant, quiet(er) and cold, so very much unlike the man you had fallen in love with in the beginning. sure he was like that when you first met but you got to know him better, saw the deepest, darkest parts of him and kissed them all.

marc has a certain warmth once you get past his shell, a type of fire that burns bright that not even the rain of his tears nor the floods of his past can put out. he was always tough or rather, time made him tougher. the abuse he faced after randall's death, running away from home because he can no longer handle his mother's beatings eating away at the very core of him. he had hoped joining the marines might help him forget, it didn't. not all the way at least.

the rain of bullets sometimes reminded him of his time at the cave, the torrential downpour that afternoon flooding the cramped hole they were in, roro's desperate pleas for help. every pull on the trigger brings him back to the sounds of a leather belt clutched in his mom's fist as she slams it down on his childish body again and again, spews of profanities and accusations, wanting her youngest child back and it would go on for what felt like an eternity until his father would hold his mother back, physically dragging her away from his curled up form on the floor with welts blooming on his skin, hands pressed to his ears as he sobs repeating the words 'it's not my fault' until he passes out.

life hasn't been kind for marc spector since then… until you.

marc never knew how sunshine felt on his skin until your touch, only the way it burned during his tours or from his mother's hands. didn't recognize warmth until your hugs only the heat of his gun after a mission. he's long since forgotten how spring felt before your laughter reached his ears, he was a desert before he met you.

you were vibrant and brimming with life, a stark contrast to his bleak world of gray's and red's. marc often called you his star, as he is moon knight, he had told you that the moon can never be alone in the night sky if there is even a star that shone next to it. you kissed him breathless after that.

marc loves you, really he does. he still has difficulties expressing himself and often chooses to retreat within his shell whenever he's overwhelmed with emotion, especially the bad ones. but you had learned how to coax him out again, somehow you always knew when to save him from drowning, he thinks you're telepathic. and he had married you because he felt like you were his saving grace, his paradise after all the sins and pain he's caused to those around him.

he doesn't regret it at all, seeing you in white as you walked towards him. you shone like a star, fallen from heaven just to grace his lonesome self with your presence. that night during your wedding, he swore his heart was full and his love for you was endless. it'll never change, nothing will.

but recently, marc keeps on repressing himself. after every mission he comes back to, he becomes like a statue, devoid of any emotion. you've tried to help him as much as you can but he would only shrug you off, grabbing a can of beer before disappearing into the bedroom, not even glancing at the dinner you had prepare for him hours before while waiting for his arrival.

you tell yourself it's fine, he'll come around soon, that he was simply exhausted with the burden he carried as the vigilante moon knight, tired with an invisible god constantly speaking over his shoulder and head.

you tell yourself it's okay. but until how long will this cycle continue? how long has it been since the first time you've convinced yourself that it won't happen again? you don't know, you've lost count after a month of cold shoulders from him.

am i really mine?

are you really yours?

if all your emotions cut straight to my core

times when you cry, i feel it all

whenever you leave me i wait for your call

you are everything i'm living for

the first time marc missed a big occasion, you tried not to think too much about it.

it was your birthday, celebrated in the middle of spring ("fitting", marc has said before when he celebrated it with you for the first time, "because you are an ever blooming garden with so much love to give and yet ask nothing in return even if your flowers are plucked, only pray they'd treat it with kindness.") and he was nowhere to be seen. you weren't even supposed to go out that day, having decided that you would both spend the day in bed, eating cake and watching a game of baseball even if you didn't understand a single thing about the sport.

marc loved it and in turn you did too. but your husband was mia, not in bed or in the kitchen, he wasn't home. only when you checked your phone did you know that he wasn't even in the country.

'in kenya, be back soon. x'

not even a single greeting in his message. the apartment you shared felt cold that day despite the warm sun shining outside the large windows of your bedroom, bathing the space in natural lighting. a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

when he finally came home, two weeks later, he saw you sleeping on the couch. curled up in one of his hoodies and a blanket draped over your form as the tv played quietly in the otherwise silent apartment. kneeling beside you, his fingers brush away the strands getting in the way of your features, the brief gesture rousing you from your slumber as you blink your eyes awake, vision clearing to find your husband in front of you, a little worse for wear but still in one piece.

"hi baby." he greets you softly as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, "why are you sleeping on the couch? it can't be comfortable." you only sigh as you turn your head to look at him, the skin under your eyes visibly darker, clearly you haven't been sleeping well since he left you while you were asleep two weeks ago.

"you forgot." you told him blankly, running a hand through your hair, combing down the bedhead.

"forgot what baby? i don't— i don't understand." you smiled weakly as you raise your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head there. "my birthday." you whispered, "two weeks ago.

shit, marc thinks to himself. he had gotten so wrapped up with his duty as moon knight, khonshu giving him more and more missions recently that he'd forgotten. never in the five years you've known marc had he missed it since the first time he celebrated your birthday with you, never. until now. "i'm sorry baby, i— i forgot and i got so busy—" you had shushed him, cupping his cheek with your palm. it's okay, was what you had said, there's always next year.

marc knew you'd forgiven him but he doesn't quite think the same way. he carried you back to bed that night, the bags he brought with him forgotten by the door. making it a priority to cuddle you, talk to you until you fall back asleep.

when you woke up the next day, he prepared you breakfast in bed, having woken up early despite his jetlag to run by your favorite café to get you your favorites. he spent the day with you the way he was supposed to, promising to make it up to you.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

the house is silent most of the time, marc's presence haunting every corner of it despite his growing absence. you look around the place again, his favorite mug sitting on the kitchen counter with half of his black coffee still inside. a bunch of postcards thumbtacked and decorating a part of your living room walls, showcasing all the places he's been to ever since he became khonshu's moon knight. his favorite cap was still hooked on your bedroom door's knob, you keep forgetting to hang it in your shared wardrobe whenever you cleaned the place up.

there were so many traces of him living with you and yet he was like a ghost. you rarely see him these days, even more so at night when the god would demand of his time.

never had you been so jealous of a bird before.

sometimes we're right

sometimes we're wrong

sometimes the lines just never been drawn

nights when we fight

we strike a chord

and then we forget what we've been fighting for

the pattern continued for months and the days began to turn colder with autumn right around the corner. marc was beginning to miss bigger events and moments in your shared life. some of those would lead to larger arguments whenever you'd confront him about it, never screaming at each other but you had both definitely said a lot of things you regret but don't take back. well, marc doesn't. not like he hasn't even been communicating much with you anyways.

marc never apologizes after each fight, you do though. you'd press yourself to his back when you're both settled in bed, holding on to the back of his shirt as you whisper apologies, murmuring how you don't want to fight with him, you never do.

"i just miss you. you've been gone more and for much longer periods of time it feels like you're never here at all." you admitted weakly, sniffling as your emotions come bubbling at the surface again but you're exhausted, previous arguments draining your energy. "it's hard when you're not around."

he's missed so much in your lives it hurt, especially when you had lost your father during the fall, your only family, and he wasn't there to comfort you. during the whole wake, you sobbed in the arms of your godmother, your heart cracked and torn at the edges at the loss of the man who had raised you, the man who had walked you down the aisle to meet your currently missing husband and it broke you.

you lost one man and yet in that week and more, it felt like you mourned for two.

marc didn't show up at the three day service, not even for the funeral. all your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts left on read. whether he just doesn't bother to reply or was blatantly ignoring you, you'll never know but he was met with an empty apartment when he came back after another mission by the ancient god, you had chosen to sleep at your childhood home, yearning for your deceased father as you wept in his old bedroom.

the following weeks after that, you'd given marc the cold shoulder, much like he does to you until you broke, unable to stand the distance it sets between you. moments of love few and far in between fights and continual disappearances but it always ends the same way, with you in tears as marc holds you in his arms, whispers of empty promises gluing back pieces of you he doesn't even know he broke. a temporary fix.

lay on the floor

sleep in your arms

pausing the world to stay right where we are

close all the blinds

lock all the doors

things fall apart and i'm wanting you more

you are everything i'm living for

the final straw was when he missed your third wedding anniversary one winter evening.

you had both sat down and talked about this weeks ago, marc finally agreeing to make up for the times he's been gone and fighting when he's around. you were able to snag a reservation at a really popular restaurant downtown, buying yourselves a fitting outfit for the day as you had wanted to make it special. you secretly bought a small gift for marc too, nervous as you hid it away until said date rolled around.

when your anniversary came, marc, as per routine by now, wasn't in bed. he's already left for the day doing what he needed to do and promised you the night before that he'll be there in time to pick you up for dinner.

well... the hours ticked by fast, nighttime falling just around the corner amd snow beginning to settle on the concrete streets and you were dressed to the nines and warm, although it was already approaching quarter to eight and your reservation was at 8:20, the journey from your apartment to the restaurant taking at least 20 minutes if traffic wasn't too bad.

you arrived at the packed restaurant with three more minutes until your reservation was to be passed to someone else, the host guiding you to your seat, a table for two, though it was only you present. your server followed not too far, handing you a menu to which you had ordered a bottle of some red wine, hoping to ease your nerves with it.

it wasn't until it was almost 10 in the evening when marc arrived, his curls no longer staying slicked back and his tux looking like it was put on in a rush with his tie knotted loosely and crooked around his neck, his shoulders wet with melted snow and a wrinkled bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. but when he approached the host, stating his reservation, she looked at him with pity before shaking her head.

"i'm sorry mr. spector but your reservation ended thirty minutes ago, your wife arrived and paid for the bill on the bottle of wine she had ordered but that was about it."

he had thanked her before nearly dashing out of the restaurant, flowers still clutched in hand as he hailed a cab home. he ran a hand through his curls, muttering curses to himself throughout the ride back and ignoring the egyptian god in his head.

when he turned his keys in the lock, the whole place was dark, the heels you've worn for the night thrown haphazardly along with your coat and bag, all these items trailing to your shared bedroom.

he creeps in quietly, toeing off his shoes as he sits down next to your curled up form under the blankets. you didn't even take your dress off, only washing your face off the makeup you'd carefully applied but there was still some mascara trailing down your cheeks, it was obvious that you'd been crying.

his heart squeezes tight in his chest, guilt eating at his core. he knows he hasn't been the best husband as of late, dealing with a lot of things all at once with khonshu and all the goddamn missions he's been sending him off to in god knows where most of the time. but it didn't excuse the fact that this was something you mutually planned, talked about in the previous weeks.

god he knew how excited you were about it, your face lighting up for the first time in a very long while that he's seen and now it feels like he's been punched in the stomach— no it felt much worse than that seeing that not only did he stand you up for a date, your third wedding anniversary at that, he had gone and let you starve and made you cry yourself to sleep.

he's not sure that making up for this the next day could fix the damage he's already caused but he was going to try. he swore to himself he would...

had it not been for khonshu meaning him take on another mission, hunting down ammit's worshippers that very same night.

and you were left all alone yet again.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

you couldn't stand it anymore.

you love marc, god knew just how much you loved that man but good the past half year, it felt like you were married to a ghost and you don't want to spend another waking moment with him gone.

you don't know where marc was this time, long since updated you where he's been going, only saying when he'll be home. and he was supposed to be home tonight so you waited.

you sat on your living room couch, glancing around the room for the faint traces your husband was still with you, a ghost that haunts your memories, taking up space in your home even though he wasn't even around much anymore. you don't know what hurt more, the fact that you're married yet you two act like two strangers living under the same roof or that he's treating you like you were the ghost, lingering around your shared home and watching his every movement during the little time he spends there.

you're hurt, so fucking hurt it makes you numb. and that hurts even more because in all honesty, you want to cry and scream and punch, claw at his chest and make him see things your way but fuck if you weren't exhausted, tired from keeping a failing marriage alive. you don't regret being with marc, but you hate how much he's changed since then.

you sat there and waited as the hours passed by you, the moon rising and you begin to hear the familiar jingle of his keys turning the locks of the front door.

you didn't mean to turn it into a fight but you're drained and your patience was running thin and marc, god. he was infuriating with that cold shoulder. ignoring your pleas to talk and heading to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. it took all of you not to smash that metal can away from his hands.

"if you would just listen to me marc! i'm begging you! you're out more than you're home and you don't come back until it's deep into the night and i'm already asleep, jesus i don't even see you when i wake up!"

"i have duties—"

"yes i know, you do but baby, i'm not asking you for much okay?" your voice cracks as the dam cracks and fractures, all the things you've bottled up and ignored pushing against the walls in giant waves, testing the limits of your emotions.

"i'm not asking you to stop what you do... just look my way every now and then. is that— am i asking for too much to want my husband to come home to me?"

he sets the can down on the kitchen counter, the dim lights above the counter shines over him, casting a dark shadow over his face and he nearly looks unrecognizable with that unreadable expression on his face.

and for a moment it scared you that you were no longer speaking to your marc at all.

"all i ask, marc, is to set a time for me too. god knows i've been patient and i try to understand you as best as i can because i know you carry a heavy burden, okay? i know, but marc, does it hurt for once to be here? to be with me? because why the fuck are we even married if you're just going to act like i don't goddamn exist at all?!"

he stays quiet, eyes still trained on you as the tears start to fall, the dam beginning to fissure and break, the waves of hurt pushing and pushing and pushing until it shatters the intricately built wall you created.

"i miss you." you whisper, "i've missed you." you stress as you run a hand through your locks, turning on your heel to sit at the living room couch, burying your face in your hands as you take deep breaths, too fucking tired of being the understanding wife to a husband who was never around anymore, not in your time of need and not even when you hit rock bottom.

was this even the marc who had laughed so warmly at you as you both danced under the night sky, the one who would show up at every date with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers, was this even the same marc that said i do as he lifted the veil from your face just to kiss you like he's never before? because he sure as hell doesn't act like it anymore.

for once it's you who disappears, when the clock strikes 2 in the morning and marc had fallen deep asleep, your own bags packed the weeks before that lead up to this.

for once it was him who woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier apartment. most of your clothes gone from their hangers in the closet, your toothbrush gone from the bathroom sink along with your tray of skincare products, and with your disappearance did marc feel empty, a part of him missing as you left.

for once, marc begins to live here in your shared apartment again, looking around at the final traces of you lingering within these walls. now he lives with the ghost of you, haunting him through dreams and memories, his every waking and sleeping moment a nightmare the longer you stay gone.

for once, it's marc who deals with the loss of a loved one. and you're not there to comfort him and keep him from sinking, he drowns in the waters you've left from your broken dam of hurt, flooding his life and his heart with a burden much heavier than anything he's felt before.

you haunt him, like he used to haunt you. you went down and left, taking all the love you had with you. leaving behind the shell of the man that marc spector used to be. and now he was sinking too, drowning in your absence, drinking your ghost away.

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋʟᴇʏ — ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — three shots fired : two to the body , one through the heart .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.1k

my demons are begging me to open up my mouth

i need them, mechanically make the words come out

they fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce

ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about

jake lockley was a simple man. or at least that's what he likes to think. he was created by marc's subconscious to protect him from distress and physical harm. that was his reason for existence. nothing more, nothing less.

but the reality was that he was a broken man, much like his alters steven and marc. he was born from abuse, like steven, and his sole purpose was to shield that little boy from the horrors of his mother's pain. he shares a body with two others, needing to hide in the shadows because they absolutely cannot know about his existence nor the blood in his hands when marc's have been stained red enough that his conscience can't wash it all away.

he did not need to place the burdens he carries to his brothers, he was their protector and if staying in the dark and letting them be oblivious to his presence was the only way to protect them, then so be it.

jake was the one who took the hits for them, used his fist on those that dared try and harm the body, pounding the offender's face over and over until their face was black and blue and unrecognizable. even if it meant the boys would wake up to split skin on his knuckles. jake lockley is the system's protector, nothing is going to change that.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

when marc became moon knight, jake briefly took over the body and had confronted the 7 foot tall skeletal bird known as khonshu, the egyptian god of the moon and the night sky. he sees all and knows all despite being unknown by the other two.

at first he demands khonshu to release marc from their agreement knowing it will lead to more danger and marc, the original, cannot be harmed. he tried hard to fight for marc's freedom much to the god's entertainment before striking another deal with jake.

on the day marc gains his freedom from being khonshu's avatar, he shall take his place instead. why look for another avatar when there's a completely different person residing in marc's body that marc (and steven) is unaware of?

but jake? jake had other plans. he told khonshu he'll be his avatar then and there, to let him take on the bloodier and brutal missions to spare marc any more bodies in his hands. he'll take them for him instead. this, of course, amuses khonshu who promptly agreed. their body was never going to be free from his clutches and the egyptian deity was going to take full advantage of the man's brokenness to do his bidding.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

the job was easy for jake. he's used to a life of violence, letting his fists do the talking to get the answers he needed. he fought until his body held a constellation of bruises that don't easily fade away because he doesn't want to wear the ceremonial suit like marc.

instead he prefers his usual clothes consisting of his signature flat cap, a jacket, a white dress shirt underneath with a black tie done neatly, pressed trousers and black belt and some nice leather shoes.

what he did accept from khonshu was a pair of leather gloves, the knuckles of them designed with a faded crescent moon, to symbolize that he was doing the egyptian god's dirty (well, dirtier) work.

jake doesn't front often, only coming out when its necessary or when his brothers are sound asleep. some days he'd wake up in steven's warm flat, other times it's in that godawful tiny storage room marc uses. either way, he'd get up in the dead of the night, taking control of the body in what little time he has before letting it rest, relinquishing control to the other two once more when the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

most missions that jake partakes in are always the same. it's either a weasley person trying their hardest to evade getting caught by this mysterious person that's dwindling the numbers of their group or a particularly difficult man to put down. on cases like the latter, jake would use a gun or dagger. if his fists can't take them down, these things surely will.

it's gruesome to say the least, the way he can only come out when he's required to by his duty as khonshu's avatar or when marc faces imminent danger. he never needed to take control over steven because the brit wasn't in any danger working at the museum.

the only time he took over steven was to ask that one coworker of his out for steak. shame she thought it was steven, but he can't exactly give himself away in steven's workplace. poor man didn't need any more confusion and mess when he's already on his boss' bad side. steven didn't need jake to add another reason to her ever growing list to hate him.

selfish, taking what I want and call it mine

i'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine

they rush me, telling me I'm running out of time

they shush me (sssh), walking me across a fragile line

the only time jake gets to front for a long time, say two days, is when the system is exhausted. if marc pushed himself too hard or steven tried staying up all night again, jake gets absolute freedom for a few days.

he works as a cabbie, it's a method he uses to lure the poor victims on khonshu's hit list. one day, the door to his cab opens, to lo and behold, beautiful, innocent you.

jake never believed in love at first sight, he thinks it's cringe and stupid but you, oh you just proved him wrong.

dressed in a simple yellow sundress and white cardigan to maintain decency, you were a pop of color amongst london's gray streets and brick walls. you looked like sunshine after the rain personified.

you greeted him with a smile, telling him where you were headed, a psychiatric hospital near the general hospital. he was never one to make small talk with his innocent customers, until you. you who made jake break nearly every rule he's told himself since he cannot front for long periods of time. but you? oh he had quite the fun talking to you.

on the short trip it took to take you there, he had managed to learn that you work there as a permanent staff. he also learned of your name, testing the way it rolls off his tongue and ended up sounding like music to his ears. you gladly indulged his questions, a naturally friendly person, he notes to himself as he listens to you talk in his backseat, occasionally watching you through his rearview mirror.

it's another thing he finds out he likes about you but he can't help but worry if people would dare try and take advantage of you with your sweet smiles and lovely personality. jake shouldn't really bother himself with such thoughts but he found it hard to resist, not when it comes to you he realizes.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me i was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

khonshu knows about jake's new fascination with you. he'd often remind the man to forget about you, that you'd be nothing but a mere distraction to the higher purpose he's taken jake in.

on the rare times jake fronts in broad daylight, he would wait for your morning shift to end, parked outside the psychiatric hospital's door, leaning against his car with a cigarette lit and between his lips, the nicotine burning warmth into his lungs as he puffs out the smoke to london's every chilly air.

you'd come out of the doors mere minutes later in your casual clothes, the colors making your eyes stand out more as you smile and wave at him, bounding towards him with a giggle. he'd put out his cigarette, stomp it with the sole of his shoe before opening his arms to a welcoming embrace.

more often than not he'd lead you to his car with an arm slung over your shoulders, getting as close as he can amd enveloping himself in your floral and nectarine scent. he likes how your perfume lingers on the fabric of his jacket sometimes, it makes him feel like you're still with him even if he dropped you home hours ago.

jake began to pick you up more often on the two months marc and steven's worlds began to collide. he took advantage of marc's grief of the loss of his mother and steven's apparent confusion of missing days in his work.

he used those two months to build the relationship he has with you now, still platonic but there was definitely something more. if your lingering touches and flirty quips were anything to prove.

so he waits for you in the cold london air during the end of your shifts, sometimes even takes you to work when your night shift starts if he has the chance, and you'd always greet him with a smile and wave.

one time though, khonshu decided he's had enough of jake's silly little crush on you. it's past 7 in the morning, jake's driving you home and you were sat in the back and talking his ear off about the things that happened during your shift. he'd laugh and make a comment or two but he's more focused on driving, choosing to enjoy the sound of your voice as he does so. but the god has other plans.

he materializes himself, seated next to your oblivious self, just within jake's peripheral in the rearview mirror. the sight of the skeletal bird next to you has him tightening his hold on the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were definitely white under the leather gloves he wore.

he hates seeing the god next to you, his tall and boney form too undeserving of your sunshine and warmth, not that khonshu wanted either of those.

"i told you to stop meeting this woman jake." khonshu reminds him, to which he only responds with a clench of his jaw, "¡no te atrevas a tocarla!" he grumbles under his breath. "what was that jake?" you ask, curious and innocent to the 7 foot tall god next to you threatening him about you.

"do you really think she'll still love you, no— like you once she finds out who you really are?" the egyptian deity goads, thumping his staff on his car's floor.

"¡cállate, maldito pájaro!" he cusses out, a little harsher, a little louder this time. it makes your brows furrow, moving to the edge of your seat as you place a hand on the back of his seat on the driver's side.

"no, really jake... are you okay?" you were concerned for him, which warms his heart but does not ease the foreboding feeling of fear that he was about to lose you. he fights himself not to think about it right now, not while you are still around.

"estoy bien, neña. no te preocupes." you were glad to have taken your spanish classes in highschool seriously, often mingling with patients in the hospital who also spoke the language. "if you say so. but! if you need a friend to talk to, i'm always here for you."

of course, that's the type of person you were. kind, caring, to jake you were the most precious person there is in his otherwise bleak life. like a soft patch of grass and wildflowers in the otherwise dry land he calls life.

"por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera." he smiles, not wanting to worry you any further.

khonshu slams his scepter down once more, the echo loud in jake's ears as the threat of the god's words loom over him like his skeletal shadow before fading out of sight.

"stop this jake, while i am letting you or else i will do it for you."

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

he would never allow khonshu to get his hands on you. he may be the god he serves but he wasn't going to let him dictate his life. though deep down jake knew better than to go against him because he would never want you to get hurt. especially because of him. and if disappearing quietly from your life is what keeps you out of harm's way, then so be it.

it's been two weeks since jake last picked you up. he's avoided fronting as much as he could, only coming out whenever he's called in the middle of the night.

you thought he was just busy. he was a cabbie after all, he had other people to pick up and bring to their destinations. he won't always be available to take you home. doesn't mean you didn't miss him though. jake has made a small home in your heart, driving his way into your life and permanently parking himself there, a spot dedicated to jake and only jake.

he was the highlight of your day whenever he would come around the psych hospital, all the fatigue and weariness easing off your bones once he'd sling his arm around you.

so these past two weeks, your heart quietly sinks when you don't see his cab parked just outside the doors of the hospital, a cold puff of air greeting you instead of jake's warm embrace as he meets you, smelling of cigarette and leather and musk. you'd end your shift a little disheartened as you hail a cab to bring you home, always secretly hoping it was jake who would stop and take you in.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake missed you as well in those two weeks, terribly so. it felt like hell being in the dark corner's of steven and marc's consciousness where he'd wonder how you were doing, if you were okay. if you missed him like he missed you. you did, but he didn't know. couldn't know because of the risk he knows he'll put you under if he fronts to meet you.

it's half past two in the morning when he's able to grab hold of the body, his movements sluggish because none of them were getting enough rest with marc drinking his memories away when khonshu wasn't sending him off to places, steven would stay up late just to catch himself and keep himself from doing god knows what in his sleep and jake, who'd take control of their shared body at the wee hours of the night, barely an hour of sleep in their system but does he care right now? no. why? because two weeks of being away from you was hell and he won't stand another second of not being in your presence.

so he throws the sheets off their body, puts on more presentable clothes from steven's wardrobe since he was the one fronting during the day these past weeks. he found a simple gray sweatshirt and hoodie, exchanged his pajama pants for a pair of jeans and protected his feet with a pair of old sneakers the brit rarely wears.

after that he takes his time to walk to you, not caring if it would take him a while. he'd use this time to think carefully about what to say to you if he manages to even catch your attention while you work. or maybe you'd be on a quick break? he hopes so.

hold me down now

hold me down now

hold me down

jake was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't realize he was already at the hospital had it not been for your hands holding his shoulders. "jake?" came your voice, soft culverts coming out in a whisper that rings so loudly and lovely in his ears in the silence of london's empty streets. he snaps out of his trance upon hearing your voice, so sweet and kind.

wordlessly, he pulls you in an embrace, not caring at the moment if khonshu was watching his every movement, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. at first you were surprised, unsure on whether or not to reciprocate but in the end you do.

how could you not when your heart misses him so? even if he smelled different, like old books and clean linens, there was a scent you'd recognize anywhere that belongs solely to jake.

with your arms wrapped around his form, holding his body against yours as you breathe him in. he was real and he was holding you. it soothes the yearning that settled in your body in an instant. he was real and he felt like a safety net, anchoring you back to shore, rescuing you just in time to pull you back above waters before you sink into a sea of emotional turmoil.

that night in each other's embrace, you both felt like you'd come home after a long and exhausting day of being so far apart from each other. in that silence, you had both found solace and understanding where you stood in each other's lives. he was special to you as you were to him. jake had put up a delicate white fence over the luscious green grass and blooming flowers you had planted in his heart, his own garden in his desert he calls life. you were his oasis.

i sold my soul to a three-piece

and he told me I was holy

he's got me down on both knees

but it's the devil that's tryna

after that visit, jake slips away from your grasp again. steven and marc had found themselves in cairo, quietly lending them a hand when it mattered, saving them when their life began teetering close to the edge and quietly returning to his corner. they didn't need to know about him. not yet, not while his hands remain bloody and his ledger dripping red like waterfalls.

he helped marc amd steven out of sticky situations, even saving layla a few times as well. he thinks it's nice that marc had found a safe haven of his own with the woman but jake can't help but feel a little angry and jealous because he can't have you that way. not when they share the same body and face. so he took that bubbling anger out on the poor soul that had tried to hurt him, knuckles bloody and raw from punching so their face it's almost unrecognizable with all the blood pouring from their head to their mouth.

even though he was helping the two out in stopping an ancient god from killing off millions of people, jake's selfishness can't help but think of you during your time apart. he misses you even more now, he realizes. he wonders if he'll be able to see you again after this.

hold me down, hold me down

sneaking out the back door, make no sound

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake was proud of marc from his hidden corner of their consciousness when he refused to kill harrow, against khonshu's orders. he felt happy that his brother no longer had to stain his hands any redder than they should. but deep down jake knew he would be the one to end it all. after all, he is their protector (and with his affections for you, that extended to you as well).

he knew that khonshu would call for him one day soon to finish what marc cannot, for he is, after all, the one that carries the burden of dirtying his hands for them.

that was the deal he had bargained for his brother/s after all.

hold me down, hold me down

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown

knock me out, knock me out

saying that i want more, this is what i live for

jake finds himself in front of your hospital one afternoon when they returned from their duty in egypt. harrow was sent here, an idea he had left in marc's subconscious. in reality, it was just so he'd be able to see a glimpse of you.

selfish as it was, he thinks it's the only way he can see you again. he takes hold of harrow's wheelchair from a nurse, telling her in spanish that he was there for him. she had seemed to understand and let him be, moving on to a different patient to care for.

jake walks down the halls of the hospital, hoping to see even the faintest glimpse of your bright smile but to no avail. what he doesn't know though, was that you had seen him first, unsure in the beginning but you saw his signature cap and gloves and you knew for sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

he was back and he was taking one of the patients admitted at the ward? throughout the time he's picked you up and took you home, he's never said anything about knowing someone in here. you followed him silently, asking one of your co-workers to cover for you a bit.

you see him take arthur harrow inside a limo you didn't know he drove, kicking the wheelchair with such anger it makes you pause in your steps just a little ways from the exit. you see him enter the driver's side, windows rolled up and slams the door shut, you took that as cue to make your way out. you approach the limo with hesitant steps, about to knock on the tinted windows when you see two flashes of light from inside the car, the muffled sound of a gun ringing so loud it has you gasping, snatching your hand back before it lands on the glass.

jake did what he had to, he sought justice to the death their body suffered from when harrow shot them within the dig site where steven discovered ammit's ushabti. it was time to repay the favor, he had shot them twice so he thought it was only fair to do the same. though this time, arthur harrow won't have the same chance to return to the land of the living the way marc and steven did. he had to atone for his sins, there was no redemption for arthur harrow.

but he hears something outside his limo, makes him roll his windows down just a tiny bit only to see your shaken form right outside, fear and shock evident in your features; from the way you held your hands, holding yourself as you took some steps back and away from the white vehicle. jake knew right there and then that he had scared you away, that he might have just lost you. the god in his backseat remained quiet, his presence like a foreboding shadow.

"i told you to stop seeing her didn't i jake lockley? did you really think she'll accept the life you live, the blood staining your hands?"

a part of jake knew that the tall bird was correct but he didn't want to accept it, he couldn't— wouldn't believe it. he loves you and he knows you do too, if that one late night visit says anything about how you two felt about each other. but the longer he stared at your scared form, the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, the more jake began to realize he had to get away.

yes marc didn't deserve to know about the red on his hands...

translations:

¡no te atrevas a tocarla! — don't you fucking dare touch her

estoy bien, nena. no te preocupes. — i'm fine baby. don't worry.

por supuesto, cariño. ahora siéntate bien, no puedes lastimarte de alguna manera. — of course sweetheart. now sit properly, can't have you injuring yourself somehow.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍ — ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — bark bark bark .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 —

ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ

steven would be wary at first because he worries the dog might make an even bigger mess of his stuff on the floor.

he'd be forced to clean up, might grumble a little in the beginning but will eventually enjoy the clean up process.

he finds it therapeutic in a way.

steven will 100% spoil the pupper. treats? yes. toys? he's bought it. clothes? he'll learn how to sew just so he can dress the dog up.

spoiler alert: he sometimes makes dog clothes similar to his printed button downs and goes out on walks with the matching clothes.

steven gives the dog the name, something like jackie or didi depending on the gender.

steven buys them a bed but will always let the dog sleep on his bed every single night.

steven will totally exhaust himself playing with their new pet. sometimes you'll come home and find him passed out on the floor with the dog snoozing on top of him or snuggled to his side.

steven will fill up his phone memory just to take pictures of the dog. silly, candid ones or where he lets their furry companion model his handmade clothes.

steven doesn't like bathing them though, he'll whine when he gets himself wet plus his flat doesn't have a tub to keep the water from (mostly) getting on him.

ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ

marc loves the dog. internally. you'll rarely catch him showing the pupper affection though he'll grow into the dog soon enough.

marc is the only one who trains the dog like sit, heel, shake and all that stuff.

marc who finds comfort in the dog whenever you're not around. if you're out working or are unable to come home, he'll turn to the dog and give them love. he'll make it up to you when you're back.

marc who grumbles and frowns whenever his headmates tease him about hiding his affections.

marc who buys proper pet supplies like a leash, bowls and a pet drinking fountain.

marc takes the dog out for early morning runs.

marc who hates cleaning up after dog fur when they start shedding, mutters under his breath as he vacuums the couch, the carpet and even the bed because steven trained the dog to sleep on their bed instead of the dog bed.

marc who, funny enough, is the only one who doesn't complain when bathing the dog. probably out of military experience?

marc who only ever uses the colored towels to dry the dog and never the white ones.

marc who scolds steven for overfeeding the pup to which the latter would defend himself saying he's been trying to control himself from giving them too many treats.

ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

jake who absolutely adores the dog.

jake brings them with him whenever he works.

jake who bought a pet seat in his cab and some portable cleaning supplies in case the dog shits while they're on the road.

jake is the little shit who secretly gives the pupper extra treats without the other two knowing, not even you.

jake who dotes on the puppy, sings to them and plays fetch in parks when it's a slow day working as a cabbie.

jake, although loves the furball to bits, doesn't like it when they sleep next to him though. he overheats with the additional warmth and sticking a leg out doesn't help anymore.

jake who loves, loves, loves bringing the dog with him to pubs or any establishments (pet friendly ones). if he was single he definitely picks up ladies this way.

marc snitched on him about that thought and it resulted in you ignoring him which led to you not coming home for two days until he apologized and said he meant nothing when he thought that.

jake who teaches the dog more silly tricks like play dead, stand and talk.

jake who holds the doggo like a baby which you take notice of and comment on how he'll look good holding an actual baby like that too.

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — after two months of radio silence and he suddenly comes back to your life but he's not alone .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.3k

i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit

been saying "yes" instead of "no"

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though

it's been two months since you last saw steven. two whole months of leaving all your texts on read, missed all your calls, two months since he said and promised to go stargazing with you for your birthday. the celebration passed with no sight of him, making you blow your candles out by yourself in the middle of the park you two frequented under the light of the stars. now you and steven aren't dating. you didn't put a label on your relationship, haven't really spoken about it but you know there was something between you, a spark, an unspoken chemistry. now it seems like it's only you who thought so.

the taxi you hailed was a friendly old man, who played some jazz music on low volume while also chatting to you about his granddaughter. you indulge his friendliness, making small talk here and there but throughout the ride you had stayed silent, head leaning against the window as you watched the bleak scenery of london pass you by.

until you pass by a familiar street, a small waiting shed where you and steven would wait with giggles having run there in hopes the bus hasn't arrived yet whenever you stay over. you spy a mop of curly hair. it had you sitting straight in your seat and the car blocking your view made you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of your friend-but-not-really-friend steven. the vehicle passed by after a second, but to your dismay, it wasn't him.

you let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as you sink back to your seat. if the driver had noticed your strange actions, he made no comment about it.

i hit the ground running each night

i hit the sunday matineé

you know the greatest films of all time were never made

today was a cloudy sunday evening. it was half past five and the streets were slowly beginning to fill up with tourists and people wishing to spend a quiet evening out and about london's cobble streets. many, if not most, of them can be seen filling pubs and bars that littered the main street. your cab slowly comes to a halt, stopping in front of a quaint yet lively bar, the faint noise of laughter and a live band playing can be heard through the closed doors, the large windows showcasing patrons enjoying their drinks with their chosen company, talking amongst themselves, enjoying themselves. somehow, you envy them a little.

"this is your stop miss." the old cabbie smiles as he turns his head a little to face you. you hand him a 50 pound note with a smile of your own, "keep the change." you told him as you grabbed the strap of the guitar case next to you. you exit the cab, waving goodbye to the kind cabbie as he drives off.

your fingers tighten their hold to the guitar case as a chilly autumn breeze nips at your nose, other hand holding the lapels of your white denim jacket, the sleeves nearly consuming your fingertips. it was a couple of sizes too big for you but you always insist on wearing it. a little something you stole from steven's wardrobe, not that he minded. you clutch the fabric a little too tight to yourself, one of the few things you kept that reminded you of steven in his absence.

you walk through a dimly lit alleyway, entering the bar through its backdoor hidden within the building's gray bricks. warmth floods you as you step inside the staff/break room, greeting the guard stationed at the corner with a quiet 'good evening' as you walk past him before you slip past the red curtain that separates the small break room from the bar itself.

cozy booths covered most of the floor, the bar on one corner of the building and a stage at the other where a band was casually playing.

your boss, a burly woman with a passion for alcohol, waved at you from her spot behind the counter, tending orders of her regular customers that sat in front of her. you wave back with a smile before climbing up the stage, speaking softly with the members up there about your performance tonight. you talked briefly with them as you kneeled to open the case protecting your guitar, stamps and random stickers littering its shiny brown body, a singular name inked with permanent marker near its neck in neat letters. steven.

usually the small writing makes you smile before you begin performing, today though, it does nothing but tug at your heartstrings painfully and force you to tear your eyes away from it. you sit at the tall chair on the stage, one foot up on the wooden step to rest the weight of your guitar's body on your thigh, stationing yourself in front of the microphone placed front and center of the round platform.

i guess you never know, never know

and if you wanted me, you really should've showed

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

and it's alright now

"good evening ladies and gentlemen. happy sunday to you all. i hope you're enjoying yourselves tonight but let's liven it up a bit more, yeah?"

the night rolls by like clockwork, you sing and strum your guitar to requests made by the customers tonight. it stays like that for a few hours until the clock strikes 10. the bar has filled up quickly with patrons having to share booths with each other, the small space in front of the stage is filled with drunk people singing along to the songs as they place their tips on the small jar next to the mic.

you smile at them with ease, the music and melodies taking your mind off of your missing friend-but-not-really-friend.

"okay, what do you guys suggest we play next?" one patron yells out the 1 by taylor swift, female by the sound of it to which you nod, signaling the band behind you to ready themselves. "ooh i like that suggestion, hope you guys don't mind if i pour my feelings out to the song yeah? to all those whose heart long for another, those that wonder what could have been... i hope you find some comfort tonight because you're not alone."

the pianist and drummer nod to each other, tapping the drumsticks together three times before the keyboard begins to play with its signature opening, quickly followed by the strum of your guitar and the quiet beats of the drum.

the door jingles open but you don't notice the sound over the music and the ladies inside the bar singing along. two new customers find an empty corner booth for themselves to enjoy, the female opting to order for her and her company by the bar. once she's out of sight, dark eyes like molten chocolate find your form on stage, singing happily alongside the small crowd in front of you, easing easily to the chorus of the song.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

if you would've been the one

"give me the body marc. please." steven pleads desperately from the reflection of the window beside marc, the latter sighs, well aware as to why his alter is acting that way before surrendering the body to steven. eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second before a small gasp escapes his lips. steven's in control now.

for once, he's glad nobody really pays him any mind, even in the crowded bar. he had to beg marc to come here as soon as they came back from egypt, having disappeared without any word after getting sacked from his job at the museum.

it wasn't that he forgot about you, no, but between stopping an ancient egyptian god from being released to the world, being shot at and dying, learning about himself and marc and layla (he still feels bad for kissing her because he likes you a lot), he simply didn't have the time to. now here he was, after two months of complete radio silence, watching you sing from his corner of the bar.

he wants to tell you that he's here, talk your ear off about all that's happened to him but he was gone for some time, feeling unsure on how you'd react if he makes himself known.

sure you've known each other for some time now, you two were friends, best friends even although steven desperately wanted more. he's never admitted it though, happy to stay as friends with you if it meant keeping you by his side, too afraid that if he confesses, you might leave him to be by his lonesome self once again. steven can't handle that, he doesn't want to be alone again.

he wants to be selfish but he's scared it might drive you away, even more so after the stunt he'd pull for seemingly ghosting you. layla returns to their seat with two pints of beer in hand. she was about to call out to her husband until she takes note of his posture.

hunched shoulders as if trying to make himself small, the nervous bounce of his leg as he runs a hand through his slicked back hair causing a few curls to fall in front of his face. she sees his eyes, wide and openly staring at the lady performing on the stage, longing lingering within those earthy eyes with every passing second. "steven?" she calls as she set their drinks down on the table and taking a seat at the chair beside him, "are you okay?"

it was a simple question. at first he nods, mumbling a small 'yeah' before pausing and then shaking his head. "actually no, no i'm not okay layla." steven sighs, lowering his gaze to the floor before flickering towards her.

"i'm the farthest thing from okay because i might have just missed out on my only chance of asking out the girl of my dreams for, oh i don't know, dropping off the face of the planet around the same time of her birthday that i planned to take her out and celebrate only to get swept up with the whole khonshu and ammit business halfway across the globe?"

steven was being sarcastic but he was also speaking the truth. he had initially intended to ask you out on your birthday, it's why he promised to take you out stargazing, one of his favorite hobbies aside from reading books and learning french.

within the span of two months, layla's become fond of her husband's alter. it's not the same affection she pours towards marc, it was more like that you'd show to a younger brother. she takes his hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze as she flashes him a smile. "you can't possibly know that steven, not until you try."

i have this dream you're doing cool shit

having adventures on your own

you meet some woman on the internet and take her home

as the song enters the second verse, your eyes sweep over the bar, finding familiar faces in the crowd until you see him. in the corner booth by the window is steven's familiar slumped form but he wasn't alone. no. beside him sat a pretty woman, voluminous dark curls and tan skin. her smaller hands curled around his own atop the table. of course. so this was why he's suddenly cut off contact with you, he's settled down with someone else.

for a second you nearly waver and stumble over your words but you were quick to catch and save yourself, tearing your eyes away from the couple.

you feel an onslaught of emotions wash over your already aching heart, willing yourself to keep it together until the end of the song. how foolish, you think to yourself, how foolish of you to think that what you had with steven ran deeper than just friendship. you turn your attention back to the crowd, masking your hurt as you put on a show for them. and try as you might, your eyes keep going back to steven and the woman and each time you look, the more your heart cracks and falls apart.

we never painted by the numbers, baby

but we were making it count

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

maybe you should have told him sooner, told him all about the feelings your heart carried for him but now there's no chance because how can you possibly compare to her? she was pretty, you can tell even from where you stood. you feel a little sick to your stomach.

"i don't know layla, i'm already a proper prick for not even sending her one message for two months. two whole months i didn't contact her and tell her i was fine or even say how sorry i was for ditching her on her birthday of all days." steven sighed, exasperated and tired as he pulls his hands back from her grasp, running them down his face. he's so disappointed of himself.

he doesn't know how he can ever make it up to you. "well, you can always apologize to her first." layla gives him a smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i know it's hard considering you can't tell her anything about what happened in egypt but it's worth a shot."

he shook his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "no layla. you of all people should know how it feels when someone you love completely cuts off any sort of contact with you for months, keeping you in the dark for god knows how long about who knows what. isn't that what happened with you and marc before i found his phone and called you?"

steven's eyes were a mix of serious, hurt and regret as he looks at layla, "it's not fair to her, keeping quiet about why and what happened during those two months. i already broke a promise, i don't want to break her heart too."

i guess you never know, never know

and it's another day waking up alone

your eyes follow their every movement, each touch and each look they share stabs another dagger into your already bleeding heart but you can't look away.

maybe it was some form of self-punishment that you're so unable to take your eyes off them, reminding yourself that you've lost to someone better, prettier, someone who steven was much more comfortable to be with. your voice wobbles but doesn't break, the same way your heart shatters but you remain standing. how foolish, you scold yourself once more, how foolish of you to think you ever even had a chance.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

your fingers grip the neck of your guitar tighter, knuckles turning white with the pressure as his head turns towards you, your eyes meeting. you see his eyes widen and you can feel your own doing the same but you can't look away. god, why won't you just look away?

steven feels his heart rate pick up as soon as he sees those eyes gazing upon him for the first time since they've entered the bar, the first time he's seen them in two months. you've always been beautiful to steven but he can't help but think how gorgeous you are on stage, a singular spotlight shining on you from above.

you look like an angel heaven sent down to earth with that pretty green dress he remembers you bought during spring, your favorite but worn out white doc martens and oh- his white denim jacket he'd let you take from his closet the first time he let you stay the night at his flat. he didn't know you still kept it around, somehow that sends a new wave of guilt to wash over him.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you

if one thing had been different

would everything be different today?

you wonder what it would have been like if you had just confessed to him before... would he still end up disappearing or would you be happy, the same way you two end up being whenever you daydreamed of being in a relationship with steven.

thoughts like that made you happy, got you looking forward to the next time you and he set out on another excursion around london in quiet book shops and music stores. now all it does is put a bittersweet smile on your lips, chest tightening as you sing the bridge of the song, eyes finding its way back to him. and he's still looking at you, his deep pools of amber never leaving your form since you two made eye contact.

steven's afraid that if he looks away, you'll disappear.

"she's all i have."

you pour your heart out to the lyrics of the song as you continue to sing, closing your eyes shut as you press your lips against the mic. can he feel it? can he feel how much you're hurting? you hope he does. because ever since steven's arrival, your heart has split into two.

the song comes to an end, patrons clapping and cheering for more, the small tip jar next to you filled to the brim with plenty of notes and coins. as your fingers stop strumming against the strings of your guitar, you put on your best smile as you address the crowd before you.

"thank you guys for listening, really. i'll be taking a break and let these guys," you point to the band behind you with a breathless grin, "take over again. enjoy your evening folks."

we were something, don't you think so?

rosé flowing with your chosen family

and it would've been sweet

if it could've been me

you pack up your guitar hurriedly before getting off the stage, nearly bolting towards the staff room as you sling the leather case over your shoulders. your hands clasp the doorknob, twisting the copper ball as the frigid autumn air greets you once more.

you don't make it ten steps away when steven's breathless form blocks your path. eyes wide and frantic as he pants, curls falling over his eyes, hands curled into fists beside him. "please wait... give me a chance to explain!"

as it turns out, steven had made a run for it soon as he saw you get off stage, nearly running over bar-goers as he weaved through the crowd and exiting the front door, hoping he wasn't too late. he probably upset marc by leaving layla on her own but he's confident she can handle herself.

he takes notes of your glassy eyes and tense form, making him wish he could reach out and hug you but he can't. he knows better than to make you uncomfortable with him even more. "please." he breathes out almost quietly.

your hands ball into tight fists, nails digging into your palm so harshly you'd break the skin if you applied any more pressure. your lips press into a fine line, refusing to speak in fear that if you do, you'd only break down crying. steven takes your silence as a yes, and he exhales.

taking a step forward, he begins to talk. "i'm sorry. i truly am sorry. for disappearing, for missing out on your birthday, for not letting you know that i was alright, for everything that happened these two months i was gone." when you don't move nor speak, he takes it as a sign to continue.

"i know nothing i say will make this all magically better, i know that but please believe me when i say that i am truly apologetic for going away without prior notice. i know i have a tendency to disappear for a few days, two weeks at most but i've never gone for as long as two months. i can't tell you yet why but please believe me when i say that i did not mean for that to happen."

in my defense, i have none

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. "i don't need you to explain anything steven." his name rolls off your tongue for the first time in a while it almost feels foreign. you sniffle, tears threatening to spill over and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your (his) jacket.

"did you know how worried i was? none of my calls or messages were answered, your flat was empty no matter how many times i visit and gus the second almost died!" you rub your temple with a hand, vision blurring with tears no matter how many times you try to wipe them away.

"i called your work only to find out you were fired, hell i nearly reported you missing to the police after the second week passed and you haven't come back!"

you take a deep breath to calm yourself, brows knitted as you look at anywhere but steven standing just a few feet in front of you. "i stayed in your flat at least three times a week waiting for your return, praying to whatever god was listening that you were alright, breathing and alive."

pausing, you finally gain the courage to face him as he too let the tears fall down his face. "i thought you were kidnapped, or worse dead. alone, somewhere i don't know because you can't send me one fucking message that you're okay!" with every word you say, the tone of your voice raises, finally letting out your frustrations and sadness and hurt the last few months have caused you.

"i know i'm just your friend but i thought you'd at least have some decency in not making the people that care for you sick and worried to the bone!"

for digging up the grave another time

steven whimpers but he knows you're right. it's inexcusable how he had never made time to update you, writing a simple text of 'safe, be home soon' would take him less than two minutes, hell he can do that in even less but he didn't. he didn't. and in return it had caused you to worry and panic.

his head hangs low in shame, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you take it all out on him. marc was protesting in his head to return the body to him, not wanting steven to feel so.... miserable, although he was one of the biggest reasons why his friendship with you was falling apart. "i'm sorry..."

"i didn't realize i meant so little to you."

it was this one sentence from you that had his head snapping up, waving his hands in front of him as he sputtered, trying to convince you that you meant the world to him.

"n-no! no, no, you mean a lot to me okay? you mean so much to me you wouldn't believe me!" he hears you laugh but there's no humor in it, dejection and defeat hanging over you like a dark cloud. "you're right steven... i don't believe you. because that's not how it felt to me these past two months."

but it would've been fun

he makes a noise, the sound was a mix between a whimper and a cry as he tries to block your path once you begin to move away from him. "please, please believe me! you mean everything to me okay? everything! i love you!"

silence fills the air as you stop in your steps. looking back at him, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as you speak with the softest yet broken voice he'd ever hear from you. "and i love you. i loved you. and if you really feel the same, please just let my heart break in peace."

there's a pregnant pause between you as you take a breath with a shudder, shoulders shaking from trying to contain the sobs that wrack your body.

"i hope... i hope you're happy with her. she looked really beautiful tonight." confusion makes his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what you were saying until he hears marc whisper layla's name.

you'd mistaken layla as his partner, his significant other. although you weren't exactly wrong, you weren't right either. he wanted to scream, tell you that she wasn't who you thought she was and that i was you his heart wanted. it's you and it will always be you. but that heartbroken look on your face makes the words die on his tongue before he even had the chance to say it out loud.

it doesn't suit you, the tears, the frown, it doesn't suit you at all, he thinks to himself. he loves it when you smiled, when you laughed fully and he loved hearing you talk. he loves it when you call his name but now, now he might just never get the chance to hear you say it again.

you were right, he should just let your heart break in peace. it was the least he could do for you after all he's put you through, after breaking your heart. he regrets it, he thinks, not telling you that he loved you sooner. perhaps this could have all been easily avoided.

so he lets you go, even though in his heart, greedy as it is, you will forever have a home deep within its crevices, safely nestled and cocooned between his lungs and ribs. you were the one, you were and always will be his only one.

if you would've been the one