#Steven isn’t there but his items are

[soba-riri]

Nesting + crybaby Jake

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⸻ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 5.2k

chapter summary: unlike what you thought, the rumor hasn't been dying out and with a new game plan in mind, you go to seek out Joel.

warnings: age gap, fake dating, mostly fluff, drinking, small town gossip, people talking about the age difference, another heated kiss

**dividers by @saradika

You’re a fucking idiot. 

A moron. 

A fool. 

Fucking small towns. Of course, rumors would spread. Of course, everyone would start talking about seasoned survivor Joel Miller and his new young lover. You shudder at the thought, unable to identify if it’s a bad shudder or the kind that makes your stomach flutter. You hate the idea of Joel being right. He’d said people would talk. And newsflash, unlike what you had thought, the gossip hasn’t died out. 

There are two fundamental reasons why neither you nor Joel can just shrug it off, saying it’s not true. The first reason is that both Steven and Marc saw you being shoved up against a wall, passionately locking lips with Joel. The second reason is the fact that no one would think the twins were lying.

Again, this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t have a past to hide. People would start digging if you told them the rumors were only that. Rumors. They would start asking questions like where the two knew each other from. And you knew for a fact that Joel doesn’t want people digging either. People knew what kind of man he was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they will turn a blind eye to him killing the last hope of human survival. 

Snow crunches under your boots, your body sweating despite the cold. Tommy’s place finally comes into view. You pray he hadn’t heard any of the rumors, as impossible as that might be. 

Some part of you believes that if a time ever comes when everyone finds out what Joel had done, you'll stick up for him. You’re the only person who knows the way of the firefly. How easy it was for them to kill when they thought they were the heroes. In the end, he spared you, it was hard to hate a person who allowed you to live. No matter how much he regrets it now. 

On the porch, you stare at the door. It’s weathered for the most part, some parts fixed and polished but not the whole thing. 

You knock loudly two times, it doesn’t take long for Tommy to open the door, his lips curling instantly when he lays his eyes on you. 

“Well well well, look who it is,” he says too cheerfully, you’re already rolling your eyes. “The good old sister-in-law! Can you tell me why I had to hear about you and my brother tying the knot from Wellington?” 

Jesus fucking Christ, Wellington knows? No wonder this bullshit isn’t dying out. 

“We’re not married Tommy.” 

“Yet.”

“Just tell me where he is, matchmaker.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his smile melting, “You don’t know?” 

It takes you everything for you not to take deep heavy breaths. He’s making this exceptionally hard. You had a plan. And that plan meant you and Joel wouldn’t be an item in the near future. For said plan to work, however, no one needs to know it was fake to begin with. 

“I don’t have his schedule, Tommy, and I wanted to surprise him with,” You press your molars together and lift your bag, forcing a smile. “Baked goods.”  

Tommy is full of glee again, “Awwww how fuckin’ sweet. Didn’t know you had it in ya Pecan.” Before you can answer, he points to the bag. “I’ll give you the information for one cinnamon roll.” 

You give him a deadpan look, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’d only gotten two and you were looking forward to it. Instinctively you pull the bag back, hiding it behind you. “No.”  

“Come on, pay up, or else I ain’t tellin’ you.” 

“Fuck, fine. You’re a mean one.” 

“If you say Mr Grinch I’m taking two.” 

“No!” 

He grins widely, perfect straight teeth coming into view. As he leans forward to snatch the bag away, you get a whiff of his scent and witness how perfectly his dark locks fall forward. Fuck, what kind of super genes did the Millers possess? How are they both so effortlessly attractive? It’s sometimes easy to forget that Tommy can be classified as good-looking since the two of you tend to give each other hell most of the time. But during those short moments where you get a good look at him? It’s devastating. 

Tommy holds out the bag and stuffs the cinnamon roll into his mouth, his jaw moving. 

“You really not gonna share it with Maria? It’s a miracle your spine isn’t broken from sleeping on the couch.”

He takes the roll out of his mouth and takes a proper bite, “I’m a fuckin’ delight to be around and she’s not home.” You take the bag and as you do, stick out your tongue. “Brat. Your loverboy is at the tree farm cuttin’ up trees. Tell him I say hi and he should find me later.” 

“I’m not his secretary.” 

“It’s almost like you want me to take all your treats.” 

The smell of pine fills your lungs and you’re grateful. You adore the smell. The freshness and sweetness of it mixing with the crispness of snow. You’re honestly amazed at how organized the tree farm is. Tall, lush pine trees in perfect order as you walk between them. Lights have been strung up temporarily, the wires that tie them together so thin that it almost looks like they’re hanging from the sky. They must look beautiful during the night. 

It takes you a while to find Joel. He’s in the back and you approach him silently. That wasn’t your initial intention, being snuck up on is never fun. But the way he’s chopping wood makes your insides feel all runny and warm. You didn’t know he additionally chopped firewood as well. He lifts the axe and throws it down, sweat beading on his forehead. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, exposing the sinewy muscle of his forearms to your gaze. He cuts down another log, it becomes two in one swift motion. Your mouth dries and tongue rushes out to wet your lips. Your mind cruelly reminds you of the night you kissed him, how good it had felt to have him pressed against you, claiming you—

“Why don’t you bring a damn camera next time, it’ll add to the whole stalker pervert thing you have goin’ on right now.” 

Okay. He’s joking. Joking is good, right? Joking means that he doesn’t think about covering your face with a pillow while you sleep. Your body tenses, the soft hairs scattered across your body rising with attention. 

“Sorry,” you blurt out, the two of you standing only inches apart. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you but we need to talk.” 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d come by. Sucks to be wrong doesn’t it?” 

“How was I supposed to know people had nothing else better to do than talk about our non-existent relationship.” 

Joel suddenly throws the axe down, impaling the sharp end into the wood, you jump, adrenaline humming in your ears. He ignores your very fair reaction and peels off his gloves, turning towards the bench, “Gee, only if someone had told you that people would talk.” 

“Yeah, okay I deserve that.” 

He sighs, “What do you want?” 

“Like I’ve been saying since the day I realized who you are: to talk.” 

“Fine. I was about to take a damn break anyway. Come on, now.” 

You both sit on the ice-cold bench, he leans over and picks up a thermos. You’re surprised when he also pulls out two mugs, placing them on top of a clearly handmade bite-sized picnic table. Without a word, you quickly place your offerings as well, at least the ones Tommy had let you get away with, two cheese-stuffed bagels and one cinnamon roll. You frown when you look at it. You really wanted that roll. 

“What’s this?” Joel asks, filling the mugs. 

“I thought you’d be in better spirits with a full stomach.” 

You almost earn a hint of laughter but the sound is quickly swallowed down. The traces of his smile still linger on the corner of his lips, “Well, at least you’re not dumb enough to come empty-handed.” 

Ignoring him, you place your cold palms around the mug and take a sip. The fresh taste of lavender and honey coats your tongue. Your favorite. “Huh, weird,” you mutter. 

“What? Does it taste funny?” 

“No no. It’s just. . . Lavender tea is my favorite.” 

“Go figure,” he takes a sip and scowls. “I’d rather have coffee.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were a tea-loving man.” He grunts and picks up one of the bagels, taking a bite. “About the whole dating situation, I have a plan.” 

He doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said so you continue, “The plan is we fake it for a while, act like a couple, make everyone gush over us, then we break up, saying we wanted different things. That way no one digs into our pasts.” 

“This is the weirdest way anyone has ever asked me out.” 

You snort, “I’m not asking you out. The key word here is fake. Because if we just say we weren’t dating at all, people are going to wonder why you had me up against a wall. And unless you want to tell people you were threatening me. . .” you give him a look but he’s staring at the horizon, chewing thoughtfully on his bagel. You think he’s scowling but you’re not sure. “I think this is the best way.” 

He swallows the last bite and glares at his mug before taking another sip of his tea, he wrinkles his nose. “How would we have to be around each other? I haven’t exactly been datin’ around that much.” 

“I was six when the outbreak happened. I’m pretty sure your guess is better than mine.” 

That finally catches his attention, his eyes widen, the furrow between his brows deep, “Six?” he repeats. 

“Yeah.” 

You’re used to people being surprised. Most like you haven’t survived. And your references to the past always made you seem older than you were, you preferred it that way. The less people could guess about you the better. Your mom and dad always paid extra attention to tell you about the world before the cordyceps, reminding you that a life like that could still be your reality once again. 

“Was. . .” Joel swallows, pulling you away from your parents. You reach for the other bagel and start eating, giving him time so he can just spit it out. “Was that your first kiss?” 

There is something in his voice, an emotion very similar to guilt. You swallow your bite. 

“No. It wasn’t.” And that’s all you have to say about that. It seems to be enough because he visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping. You change the subject. Quickly. “I’m thinking we hold hands a bit, kiss each other on the cheek, and stuff like that. We can come up with rules if you want but I think it’s pretty straightforward.” 

He nods. An oddly comfortable silence stretches out. You finish your bagel and drain the rest of your tea. 

“We should probably split this,” he says and pulls out a knife from his belt. 

“Oh. . . you can have it.” 

Joel chuckles, it isn’t quite a laugh but you still take it as a win. “I saw how you were oglin’ it. I ain’t gonna risk you biting my head off,” he cuts it into two and offers you the bigger half. A smile brushes against your lips. “Why didn’t you just get two?” 

“I did!” you gasp, forgetting that the two of you aren’t lovers, not even friends. “Tommy took one as compensation for telling me where you were. By the way, he wanted me to tell you hi and that the two of you should meet up later.” 

“Why ain’t he lettin’ me know his damn self. I know he ain’t doin’ shit today. You’re not my secretary.” 

“That’s what I said!” 

Another chuckle. You’re acing this. 

“I’ll get him to pay you back, don’t worry.” 

“You don’t have to,” you laugh. “It’s just a roll.” 

“Well, you’re my girl now, aren’t you? It would be unboyfriend-like of me not to avenge my girl. If we’re gonna fake it, might as well do it right.” 

My girl. Your cheeks grow warm. You know it’s not real, and that deep down he most likely despises your existence that threatens his peace but still, it’s good to belong. Even if it’s not real. Even if it’s a lie. Your brain tricks your body into feeling whole for a brief moment, that internal coldness you’ve been feeling since the day your parents died melting ever so lightly, the warm water that drips over the icy exterior, warming your stomach. 

“Tell him he owes me two then,” you say, barely above a whisper. “The bakery rarely makes them you know, cinnamon is hard to make.” 

He nods but doesn’t add anything else. The crinkles soften at the corner of his eyes, lips looking soft and pliant. You might’ve even dared enough to say that he looks at peace. 

You stand and leave, taking a mental note to bring him more treats from now on. 

You successfully fool yourself into believing it’s for his sake and not yours. 

Joel enjoys the cold. He always knew he would but was never allowed to say it since he never lived in the cold. He hated that argument. Sure he lived in Austin his entire life but that didn’t mean he didn’t ache for a bit of chill. Even at the end of the world, when he barely had enough to cover his back, he found himself enjoying the little things. The fresh, crisp air, the snow crunching under his boots. 

The silence. 

Sometimes he wonders if he likes it so much because it reminds him of death and considering all the seasons, winter is the one where he is closest to it. Closest to Sarah. He does hope she’s someplace warmer now. He’s not a man of faith, but for her, he’ll believe there’s an afterlife where nothing but good and butterflies exist. 

Joel also feels closest to her when he’s with Tommy. His brother is the only one who knew her, the good in her. He was the one who was there when the world was stripped away from such a kind being, and he was there when she was buried under the world she could always see the best of. 

As Joel walks up to the porch the brothers' eyes meet, it’s true that uncles resemble the kids. Sometimes if the light hits him just right, Joel could see a bit of her in him. 

“You owe her two rolls,” Joel huffs, sitting on the empty chair beside Tommy. 

“I don’t know what she told you but we had a very fair exchange, I don’t owe your little girlfriend shit,” he grins, not noticing the way Joel frowns at the label. “Nice to see the guard dog in you hasn’t died out.” 

“I ain’t a guard dog.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Just bring her two tomorrow and I’ll owe you one favor.” 

Tommy’s grin only widens, “You must really want to impress her.” 

Joel fights the urge to roll his eyes. This whole arrangement is going to be a pain in the ass, he can sense it. 

“Fine, tell pecan I’ll have her goods Friday. I doubt I’ll be able to wake up early enough to get it tomorrow but you owe me one Joel.” 

“Why the hell do you call her Pecan anyway? That ain’t her name, you dumbass.” 

“It’s because she has a hard shell but nice and soft on the inside.” Joel’s shoulders raise and he swallows thickly around the knot forming in his throat. He remembers the way you tasted on his tongue. How soft you were against him, no hard shell in sight. Tommy has no idea just how soft you are and can be. His cock twitches under the denim. He hates himself for it. “You should bring her to the party tonight.” 

“Huh?” 

“That party, Joel,” Tommy playfully smacks his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you forgot already. You promised to come.” 

Oh yeah. Fuck. He really doesn’t want to go and deal with all the eyes he already knows will be on him. And you. 

“Yeah, ‘course I remember. I’ll be there.” 

“Just you?” 

Joel sighs, “And her. We’ll be there.” 

“You know, I’m truly happy for you brother. You deserve to be happy with someone who appreciates you.” 

The words sting but he can’t do anything about it. He looks away, eyes staring at the snow-covered trees. “I don’t like being at the center of attention.” 

“It’ll die out. The lonely bachelors are just jealous. Don’t mind them.” 

Joel doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s talking about. You’re nearly half his age, six when the damn world came to an end. He knows people are wondering how the hell an old man like him got a girl like you, as if your age is the only reason to be with you. Not that he would know. None of this is real after all. You don’t appreciate him like Tommy suggested, maybe grateful for not putting a bullet between your eyes but that’s pretty much it. The same goes for him. He doesn’t know you—other than that you enjoy lavender tea with heaping amounts of honey and cinnamon rolls. 

“I won’t, Tommy. No need to worry.” 

When you hear a loud knock at the door, you’re staring at your reflection in the mirror. Ever since the kissing mishap with Joel, you’ve been a bit more conscious of what you look like. You’ve never had a reason to care much about it before and you’re not sure you like being this aware of every little flaw now. 

Walking to the door, you’re not sure who to expect. You don’t have many friends other than Tommy and Maria, you’re already on alert, grabbing a small knife from the kitchen. Old habits die hard. 

What you weren’t expecting is to see a distressed Joel Miller. 

“Didn’t figure you knew where I lived.” 

“I’m the brother-in-law of the woman in charge, of course I know where you live. I know where everyone lives.” 

You lift an eyebrow and lean against the door frame, his eyes drop to the knife but fear is the furthest thing in his features, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

“There’s a party at Tommy’s and he wanted me to invite you.” 

An involuntary groan escapes your lips, Tommy knew you didn’t want to go. The fucker. 

“And let me guess, I have to go because we’re a couple.” 

“Don’t give me attitude it was your idea, not mine.” 

He’s right, “Fine. Come in and I’ll change so we can leave.” 

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearin’ right now?” 

You try not to hide yourself behind the door as his eyes sweep you from top to bottom. Inherently, there isn’t anything wrong with what you’re wearing. It's just your typical jeans, sweater, and a dark green flannel thrown on top. You’re warm and cozy. 

“Isn’t this a party?” 

“What do you think they’ll be wearin’? Suits and fancy dresses?” 

“I guess you’re right, I’ll get my jacket.” 

Feeling warmer than normal, you lock the door and the two of you head to Tommy’s. “So, should we. . . talk about what we’re gonna do or say?” 

“Say?” 

Joel shrugs, “You know, if they ask us how we met or somethin’.” 

“I think half the town knows how we met, Joel.” 

“A’right, so our story is that I helped you down, had a couple of drinks, and decided we like each other?” 

“Sounds iron proof to me.” 

“This is fuckin’ stupid.” 

“I don’t see you coming up with any plans.” 

“Wouldn’t even be in this mess if not for you.” 

The harsh bite in his tone makes you take a step back without thinking. You’ve seen this man kill with ease. He’d admitted to regret leaving you alive. Fear is an irrational thing. It’s something that lingers and stays even when the initial threat has been evaded. You’re still afraid despite knowing you don’t have to be. You’ve been enjoying your little talks, you’ve been enjoying spending time with him. Internally you’re conflicted and confused. 

Joel slows down along with you, turning and checking just how far you’ve fallen behind. He stops and turns, eyes taking in the furrow of your brows, the running of your nose. You don’t flinch when he touches your cheek, his gloved hand soft against your skin. He’s so gentle. So gentle that it almost hurts. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise,” he lets out a steady breath, fixing you with a leveled gaze. “I might not trust you or even like you, but I won’t hurt you.” 

Your eyes widen, heart thudding loud enough that you’re positive he can hear it. Without a word you nod, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Joel nods back. His hand deserts your cheek and he locks your arms together, tugging you along the snow. 

You believe him when he says he won’t hurt you. As foolish as that might be.

Two hours into the party and still all everyone can talk about is Joel and his new girlfriend. Even goddamn Maria had asked about it. Joel is still recovering from his sister-in-law’s interest in the matter. You were a definite natural in faking it. Unlike him, who was already exhausted from it all. It’d been a long couple of hours of holding hands, standing close, and kissing cheeks. 

He’s holding a glass of the finest whiskey he’s ever had since the world ended, surrounded by familiar faces and his brother. You had scurried off somewhere. To the bathroom, he thinks. Or helping Maria with organizing. He probably should’ve asked, but he’s not used to questioning people unless it’s Ellie. But since the two of you are “dating” he suppose he should’ve. 

“Yo Miller.” Joel fights the urge to groan as Wellington approaches with a raised hand. He slaps him on the shoulder, his cheeks and nose red and warm thanks to the alcohol. “You gotta tell me your secret.” 

Joel sends Tommy a questioning gaze, his bother only shrugs. “‘Bout what Wellington?” he sighs. 

“About catchin’ such a fine piece of ass.” 

Joel’s shoulders raise, nostrils flaring as anger boils in his gut, but before he can get out a word Tommy intervenes, “Wellington.” 

“What?” he slurs, turning to the younger Miller. “We’re all thinkin’ it. How old is she huh? Like half your age?” 

Joel feels sick when the man grins. Wellington ain’t lying, you are half his age. Realistically, someone like you would never go for him. An old man who’s lost so much in his lifetime. But of course, he can’t say that, he can’t say anything that might out them as liars. 

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Joel grunts, pushing Wellington’s hand off his shoulder. “Or I’ll shut it for you.” 

“I’d say money but that don’t exist anymore,” Wellington continues. “So what is it?” 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—

“Joel?” 

Your voice cuts through the tension like a knife. Everyone who’s in-ear shot of the conversation stills, an icy cold wind enveloping all of them, including Tommy. Joel recognizes the look of worry in his brother’s eyes. The older Miller swallows thickly as he rips his glare away from Wellington—he’s surprised that despite the amount of alcohol in his veins he looks ashamed.

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

You shudder in a way only he notices. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Your body subtly going straight and then relaxing. He wonders how much you’ve heard, or rather if you heard. 

“I need some help in the kitchen, could you?” 

“Uh, yeah sure. Of course.” 

He ignores Tommy’s snicker and follows you through the crowd, away from the sight of Wellington and others. You stop at the threshold of the kitchen, not going in. You lean against the door frame and look away. “Sorry, I don’t actually need help. It just looked like you needed saving.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“If looks could kill, Wellington would be dead thrice.” You say it so nonchalantly that he smiles, Joel mimics your stance and leans against the other side of the doorframe, leaving only little distance between you two. “What did he say?” 

So you didn’t hear. Good. 

“Nothin’ that you need to concern yourself with. He’s just buggin’ me, that’s all.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Didn’t really look like it was just buggin’.” 

The subtle accent change at the end of your sentence makes him laugh, you shake your head but he sees the way your lips quirk into a smile. 

“You makin’ fun of me sweetheart?” 

“. . . Maybe.” 

“That’s the type of talk that’ll get you in trouble you know.” 

Your smile widens into a grin, “With whom?” 

“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” 

It’s been a long time since he felt like this. The enjoyment of the tug and pull. Heat spreads from the small of his back and reaches all the way to his groin. You must’ve had a couple of drinks before asking for him. You lean closer, your lips deliciously curled as mischief glimmers in your eyes. He wonders if you thought about the kiss. How close your bodies were that night. 

“Be careful Miller,” you say, rolling your tongue over each syllable. “Almost sounds like you want me to keep it up.” 

God, that he does. He’s starting to get hard. Without even thinking he leans a bit closer as well, tilting his head as if he’s about to kiss you. Your eyes flash with something expectant—

“KISS!” 

The delicate moment shatters with reality. You’re not flirting, you can’t, because technically you’re already dating. Joel hates the way you flinch at the sudden crowd shouting. His head whips towards them, only to see Tommy taking charge, he points to something above and both of your heads snap up like a cartoon. 

“Mistletoe,” he says. Lowering his gaze, he gives you a quick smile. “You know what that means, right sweetheart?” 

You roll your eyes, “I do, jerk.” 

“Brat.” 

He almost laughs at the way your lips quickly wound shut. The crowd is getting restless. 

“Don’t y’all have anythin’ better to do?” Joel quips. 

“Nope!” 

The echoes of kiss kiss kiss only get louder from there. Joel sighs, “I don’t think we can escape them.” 

“If I had a penny every time we had to kiss to appease a crowd. . .” you whisper. He expects you to continue but you don’t, instead you place your hands on his cheeks, holding him gently. You come closer and as does he, his hands slide to your hips, tugging you flush against him. 

You’re so soft. Softer than he deserves. 

Unlike the first time, he takes the lead. He pushes you until your back is pressed against the doorframe, he claims your lips with a need he fearfully admits he doesn’t have to fake. He squeezes your hips, the sound of the crowd awing them fading into the background. It’s just his lips that move, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to feel your tongue against his. To feel the quiver of your naked body as he fills you to the brim, kissing you and telling you just how much he enjoys being inside you. 

He swallows your tiny moans and whimpers, and as he breaks away, he pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth. You’re breathless when you meet his gaze, sharp eyes glazed over with a fog of arousal. 

Then, as the crowd claps, he presses the side of his face against your ear, “Just a taste,” he whispers and feels your tremble underneath his palms. “Of what’ll happen if you keep it up.” 

“That was one hell of a party,” you muse. You’re staring at the dark horizon, snow gently falling from the sky. Joel pushes a warm mug of tea between your hands. 

“It’s still goin’ on,” he says. 

“You’d die if you just let me live in my blissful bubble wouldn’t you?” 

“Sure would.” 

You let out a snort as he settles near you, your shoulders brushing against one another. You have to admit, it’s been a fun night—and not only because of the kiss. That was just a bonus. A very hot and steamy bonus. 

It felt too real to be fake. Too real to be nothing. Years you had been alone and now you were sampling what it meant to have someone care for you, to tease you. He doesn’t even know you yet you two fit together like a glove and a hand. Makes you wonder how different this could all have been if he hadn’t been Ellie’s father, and you hadn’t been a part of the Fireflies. 

“Oh good you’re still here.” The two of you turn to see Tommy, his cheeks a little flushed and his breath a little uneven. “I need to ask you two somethin’.” 

“What now?” Joel groans, prompting a smile from you. 

“You heard of the new family in town? The one with two kids?” You have no idea but Joel seems to know who they are. He nods. “We don’t have a house ready for them yet so I was thinkin’. . .” his eyes flicker between yours and Joel’s, your stomach going tight with worry. “You two can live together till we’re finished with the construction.” 

“What?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can properly register. You turn to Joel but much to your surprise, he seems unfazed. 

“Just for a while,” Tommy says. “I just figured since you two are already datin’. . .” 

Joel ignores his brother completely to fave you, “Your call sweetheart.” 

Seeing him so calm makes you ashamed of your initial reaction. You’re not even sure why you reacted so brashly. It was a simple request. A logical one. 

“Yeah sure, that’s okay,” forcing a smile, you turn to Tommy. Joel’s touch is soothing behind you, hand rubbing small circles at the base of your spine. A welcome comfort. “Just let me grab my things and you can set them up tomorrow.” 

“You’re the best, pecan,” Tommy glows, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll give Maria the good news.” 

Joel’s hand deserts you almost immediately when his brother is out of sight. It makes your heartstrings tug. “You sure about this?” he asks. “It would be fine if I lived alone but Ellie is a curious one and she’ll figure it out if we ain’t convincin’ enough.” 

“In all honesty, I had completely forgotten about Ellie,” you let out a deep exhale. “But I guess that’s fine. I’m sure we can pull it off. It’s not like I could say no.” 

His gaze softens, “You could’ve asked to stay somewhere else.” 

“No. . . It’s fine, Joel. Really,” you crack a smile. “I feel like I should be asking if you’re alright with it. You’re the one with the problem with me being around Ellie.” 

“I’ll have my eye on you two,” he says a bit too quickly for comfort. 

Your tongue sours, “I’m not going to tell her anything.” 

Joel doesn’t say anything. Or even acknowledges that he’s heard you. He leaves you on the porch, following his brother’s footsteps, you’re left with nothing but a lukewarm mug of tea. 

Then you notice it’s lavender. 

[juneknight]

Hand Covers Mouth

Kink: sex pollen/aphrodisiac

About this: Takes place during canon events, Steven/fem!reader, Marc/fem!reader.

*

Let’s split up, Layla had said. She tacked on a hurried, ‘You with Steven? Be careful!’ before nearly sprinting off down a tunnel, leaving you (her scowling friend) and Steven (a mesmerized puppy) alone in a sandy tomb.

Look, you understood it was complex. Steven shared a body with her (soon to be? Possibly?) ex-husband, after all; but in your mind, that gave her even more of a reason to be the one responsible for him. Absently, your hand reaches down to lay your palm on the holster where your gun rests. You have no doubt that Harrow’s minions would kill without qualm. While you would not find it so easy to digest, you would do whatever you had to, to keep yourself safe.

To keep Steven safe. No matter what—

“What are you doing?” you ask at a frantic whisper. Steven is barely visible in the darkness where he is brushing sand and dust, centuries of time away from the hieroglyphics on the wall.

He glances back over his shoulder at you, giving you his typical expression of an adorable animal who fears they are about to be on the receiving end of a harsh kick in the rump, but who is so thrilled by their own discovery that they hardly care. He points to the wall.

“Reading these hieroglyphics,” says Steven. “Think they might be important.”

You glance toward the wall. You are not like Steven or Layla, able to read the symbols. You did not have the same practical and personal education which they had so tediously earned for themselves over the years. At the base of the wall sits a gilded table, the bottom of each leg morphing into the paw of some great cat. Some of the items around it are unrecognizable, turned to rubble, after so many years. But resting on top of it, there are a set of neat little figurines inlaid with moldavite, glittering black in the darkness.

“You don’t think—the ushabti?”

“Not likely,” Steven admits with a frown. “But some of the wall has crumbled here, can’t make out the rest, can I? It does say that this is powerful. Maybe we should take these to Layla and have her look at them.”

You fight the urge to scowl again. Layla. Steven was always trailing after Layla…

Alright, perhaps you had another reason for being so sour at Steven’s mention of your closest friend. How could you help being enamored with him, with his big brown eyes, with his undying enthusiasm, with his gentle heart and scathing wit? But Steven didn’t look at you like that. He was always too busy looking at Layla.

When you look at him, the expression of hope on his face is painful. You do your best to bite back any sarcastic or caustic replies. He truly doesn’t deserve them. It isn’t his fault he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“We don’t have time to hunt down Layla with every artifact we find,” you remind him gently. “And we don’t have time to search every little artifact for significance, either.”

He leans against the wall, like some suave Don Juan from a movie.

“Life’s about stopping to smell the roses, love, or stopping to find the roses if no roses immediately present—oh—oh bugger.” Steven slips, more of the wall crumbling away beneath the weight of his elbow. He stumbles into the little golden table—and off go all three of the little figurines, smashing into brittle pieces on the stone floor, the sound deafening in the silence around you.

“Oh my gods,” Steven says, both hands coming up to clutch at his curls. “Oh no, I deserve prison. Oh look what I’ve done—these were thousands of years old and I just destroyed them—”

“Steven—” Your words die in your throat. Your heart begins to race, breathing becoming fast and shallow. He looks up at you from where he has knelt on the floor in anxious guilt over the figurines, and you see something in his eyes which you can’t identify. Something sharp. Something hungry.

Then he blinks.

In the distance, you hear the sound of voices calling, none of them the familiar timber of Layla. He reaches out with the reflexes of a snake and grabs you around the waist, dragging you down to his position. One hand—warm, tasting faintly of sweat and sand—clamps over your mouth as he drags you back against his body, making both of your positions smaller as you hide behind a pillar.

Against your back, he is hard.

“Quit it,” he hisses lowly in your ear, and that’s when you realize that it isn’t Steven at all. That posh British accent has dissolved into something relaxed and loose, a Chicagoan accent that you’ve never heard before but would recognize anywhere. Marc. His words register secondarily, and you realize that you are writhing against him, literally arching your back to try to rub your aching cunt against the hard line of his cock.

A whine slips past his hand, and he lets out an angry, shaking breath against the crook of your neck. His free hand reaches around and slips right down the front of your pants. By the time he is cupping your sex with his broad palm, you are soaking wet, aching, already working towards that blissful crest even with the only stimulation being in your own mind.

“It must have been an aphrodisiac,” Marc whispers, barely audible over the raging pulse in your ears. “If I give you some fingers, can you be quiet until they’re gone?”

You nod, exaggeratedly. Truthfully, you aren’t sure. You just know that you would say anything, agree to anything to have any one of his fingers inside you.

He gives you two. You cum straight away, eyes rolling back, pussy clenching around his digits tightly. Marc gives a choked breath at the sensation of your walls squeezing and squeezing his fingers. His hips work once, twice, three times against the curve of your ass and then he stiffens himself, a breathless, nearly inaudible sound of pleasure passing through his lips.

The sweetest fucking sound you’ve ever heard.

The voices in the distance begin to fade away—the sweetest silence.

Then you have a mouthful of sand, Marc’s hand between your shoulder blades pinning you into the ground. You hear the clinking of his belt as he frantically tries to loosen it, and you wiggle your hands beneath you looking for the fasten of your own pants.

“Didn’t want it to go like this,” he says through clenched teeth. You can’t even imagine his expression: something hard and desperate. You wonder if he took over for Steven forcefully or if Steven retreated, anxious at the potent desire that the aphrodisiac evoked in him. “Didn’t want our first time to be like this—”

“Is he okay?” you whisper, working your pants and underwear down at once, arching your back for him. He still has on his boxers, but he’s grown desperate: hands gripping your hips, thighs snapping against the back of your own as he simulates sex with you. Marc makes a perplexed sound. Fuck, his cock feels good, even covered by soft cotton that you’re drenching with your own slick. You struggle for a moment to remember your question. “Steven—is he okay?”

“Steven is—fucking great,” Marc says, laughing a little derisively. “Trust me. Steven’s been wanting to fuck you since the moment he saw you. There’s a little place in my head where’s he’s beating off furiously, I’m sure—”

“You’re such a dick,” you gasp.

“I’ll show you dick, gonna give you mine,” he mutters through his teeth, finally working down his boxers. “Gonna fuck that girlish expression you give Steven all the time right off your face, gonna make it so every time you look at him, you’re thinking about how good my cock fills you.”

“His cock,” you breathe, arching your back more, fingers curling in the sand and scratching the stone beneath. “His cock too.”

“Yeah yeah,” says Marc testily, finally resting the head of his cock at your entrance. He slips in with one devastating, life-changing thrust. “We’ll test that theory when I let him out for his turn.”

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 2)

TW: Emotional/Verbal *b*se, Queerph*bia

(Next chapter will be light-hearted enough to make up for how sad/relatable this chapter turned out)

NOTE: Pim is transmasc in this fanfic but the misgendering he gets isn’t intentional, not that his boorish family would be supportive anyway. When Pim arrived back, he thanked Neptune that the concert only started…30 minutes ago, and yet it already descended into chaos all because of him but better late than never! He hastily dolled himself up with traditional Meeplantica garb consisting of a crown of flowers, a necklace of pearls and orient clams clipped on one’s tail-fins (Pim hated that part because of the pinching) prior to announcing his belated presence on stage and calming down the commotion. “Sorry I’m late everyone I had trouble fitting into my costume!” Alan certainly felt conflicted. On one hand he knew Pim was up to more than just having a wardrobe malfunction and the irritated lobster wanted to read him the riot act for almost ruining his big break, on the other hand he knew Pim on a day-to-day basis already got yelled at enough for far more trivial things and began to count his blessings once that headstrong mercritter finally arrived. “From the top, Mistro!” chirped Pim giving Alan the signal, thus finally began the concert after that awkward disruption.

…

While the concert was well received overall, the aftermath on the other hand…wasn’t pretty to say the least. Within two hours Pim went from happily singing in front of an impressed crowd to being sheepishly backed into a corner, trying to look away from the glaring faces chewing him out for somehow forgetting the day of the concert and how he made them all look like “a gang of incompetent buffoons” and at worst, Amy was just rolling with the degrading insults, ranging from insulting his body to his intelligence while screaming in his face. Pim tried to explain but kept getting cut off, as the already unreasonable relatives kept getting angrier. Pim failing to hold back his tears only aggravated them even more. Glep, who was hiding in Pim’s iconic satchel couldn’t take all the negativity targeted at his friend and plucked up the courage to defend him even if it would be fruitless and potentially get him fried by King Steven’s trident. Glep swam out and immediately jumped to Pim’s defense, explaining best he could without bringing up the shipwreck or the surface-related stuff. “An abyss demon was chasing my baby?!” Queen Bertha shrieked with an initial gasp, with Glep responding with the ol’ rolling of the eyes how the flibbertyjibbit would go from verbally assaulting her youngest to immediately acting as if he was still her dainty little infant who she couldn’t possibly bare seeing hurt. A skeptical King Steven cut her off, “Hold your damn seahorses, an abyss demon? In MY domain? I harshly trained my palace guards to be on the look out for abyss demons!” As King Steven was going on one of his tangents, Amy swam up to Pim from behind and yanked his satchel away from him, making Pim indignantly grab it in an attempt to take it back. “Amy what are you doing?!” “I wanna see what else is inside! You been hiding more weird creatures in that bag?” Pim’s heart raced as he yanked it harder with an indignant cry of: “Leave me alone!!” Amy pulled her crocodile tears routine, knowing very well her parents would side with the golden child of the family. Damien rolled his eyes and swam to another room to get away from the noise. “Ugh, Pimberly is being mean to me and won’t let me see what’s inside of her bag!” King Steven was too busy with his unrelated gloating of his glory days as a volunteer soldier for the royal army as Queen Bertha barked at Pim: “PIMBERLY! YOU’RE TOO OLD TO ACT LIKE THAT! QUIT BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD AND GIVE HER THE BAG!” Pim didn’t even have a chance to give the bag to Amy because she ripped it out of his arms and tore a hole into it, revealing Pim’s haul of surfaced items he collected today. “Oh, fudge…” Pim uttered to himself as his family witnessed in disgust at what they discovered before returning their vicious glares to Pim. While this family was no stranger to shooting Pim some seriously dirty looks, this was the first time they looked as if they saw him as a sick twisted crook who had no place under their roof and where all ready to disown him all together. King Pimling clenched both of his fists and swam up to Pim’s face, demanding the smaller mercritter to: “Look at me square in the eye.” Pim nervously looked up at the unbridled rage of his father’s face for about 2 seconds until he finally broke the silence with: “I raised you to never indulge in the culture of those filthy fishmongers…”, grabbing Pim’s hair with the fist that wasn’t holding his trident. “…I don’t even know which has me more repulsed by you: carrying that shit around or the fact that you knew better.” He let go of Pim’s hair and backed away, turning his attention to the assorted items that spilled from the satchel as Pim stayed in place, completely frozen with dread. King Steven pointed his trident at the pile and right before zapping it to oblivion, he gave Pim a stern warning: “This is what happens to any of my subjects whom I see ever engaging in collecting this surface filth, be thankful you’re not one of them.”

KER-POW!!!

All was left was a pile of ash, and Pim could feel tears leaking out of his eyes and into the water surrounding him. Amy, still holding the satchel, threw it on the ground and spat out: “While you’re at it, burn this too! That oughta teach this disgusting little monster a lesson!” Pim finally couldn’t take it anymore. “I WOULD RATHER BE A COMMONER THAN LIVE WITH ANY OF YOU!!” cried out Pim, his heartbroken words echoing throughout the palace before grabbing the satchel and escaping in tears; While the rest of the family kept their disgusted expressions, Queen Bertha visibly went from feeling contempt and outrage to guilt and remorse watching Pim rapidly swim his way out of the palace with Glep following him out of sight, even attempting to reach out to him before it was too late. Amy passive-aggressively comforted her mother: “Oh, she’ll be back after she’s done clutching her pearls! Pimberly does this all the time, last time she shit herself like this it was because I told King Steven she wanted to kiss another girl! Like, eww…what a weirdo.” with a snooty laugh. Queen Bertha didn’t respond with continuing with going back-and-forth about her “odd” youngest child like she loved to do, rather she couldn’t stop thinking about the way her youngest was so visibly distraught rather than irreverently ignoring his uptight Father’s rage with a sassy “What would you know?” attitude. “…Maybe you’re right, she is the most overly sensitive of them all!” Queen Bertha giddily replied with a girlish giggle, igniting Amy’s own amused laughter.

…

It was two hours after dinner time and there was zero sign of either Pim or Glep whatsoever. King Steven and Queen Bertha were on their thrones, silently reflecting on what happened earlier. Of course King Steven was proudly reliving how he destroyed the “surface filth” and laid down the law on his “impossible” child, Queen Bertha failed to further repress her guilt as her restless conscience kept on nagging at her to make it right.

“Steven, darling…don’t you think you were a little too hard on her?” asked Queen Bertha in a voice much softer than usual. King Steven gave his wife a befuddled look, only to smirk with the boastful reply: “Don’t make me laugh, you complain that I don’t discipline hard enough and when I do you still bitch and moan, typical Bertha.” He went from cocky to stoic mode when gloating: “It’ll do the shrimp some good to scare her straight! Whenever I get the trident, she never makes the same screw-up twice.” His stone-cold stiff upper lip twisting into a sadistic grin. Queen Bertha rolled her eyes, humbly announcing: “I’m ready for bed, you coming dear?” to which he gruffly replied: “Yeah I guess.”

Just minutes after the couple retired to their bedroom chamber, a cloaked Pim slipped into his room for what would be the last time. He grabbed some belongings of his while his siblings were asleep, placing them in his now patched-up satchel. Pim knew deep in his heart that this choice was for the best in regards to his mental health…but even if most of his family were mean to him, he still loved them dearly and he couldn’t help at feeling his heart shatter over the idea of making the right choice. He swam back outside and picked four flowers to put each one near his family members. He kissed two of the flowers before placing them by his siblings’ respective bedsides, and he quietly swam into the empty throne room but not before peeking to see if his parents were still there. He thanked Neptune they went to bed already. He kissed the last two flowers and placed them on the seats. With a heavy heart and memories being brought back to him both bad and good, the little mercritter swam back out of the palace knowing even if there where nice times he had with his family, it was for the best he left them for the good of his own mental health. Once Pim was far away enough from the palace, he didn’t bother holding back the fat tears from escaping his eyes.

~

Charlie couldn’t sleep on nights like this when the moon was big and bright, something about it made him want to stand outside by the ocean, drink from his flask and play his ocarina. As he played his beloved instrument, he fondly recalled a childhood memory of his own when he was about 6 or 7, wearing a cape and an old hat Mr. Boss wore while armed with a little wooden sword, gallivanting around the beach while loudly-and-proudly proclaiming he was King of the Pirates. Little Charlie didn’t have much friends at that time but what he would do was based on one of Mr. Boss’ bedtime stories: writing mercritter runes in the sand and coming back later to see the response. Charlie did exactly that and eagerly waited for the response while distracting himself best he could fighting imaginary monsters and bad guys. Lo and behold Charlie always got a response, while in hindsight a Charlie figured it could have been possible that someone, perhaps even Mr. Boss was playing along writing the responses in runes, he couldn’t shake off the magical sensation he got from the afternoon ritual. If it really was a mercritter responding to him this whole time he’d be over the moon.

~

The next morning, King Steven and Queen Bertha made an important announcement to the guards, the servants, Alan (who was sheepishly perched on King Steven’s shoulder) and all of the kingdom: “Princess Pimberly” was missing in action, and all of Meeplantica was given an order to search far and wide for their youngest child. As contentious as Pim was to his own family, the public adored Pim for putting his heart on his sleeve (or lack thereof) through his irreverence, tender heart and adorably awkward clumsiness as he felt more relatable and authentic to the common merfolk than the rest of the haughty and “perfect” Royals…and having the most beautiful voice in the entire ocean was just the icing on the cake! After the commoners split up and swam away, King Steven turned to the residents of the castle, looking ever-so-businesslike while trying to silently hide away whatever he deemed as weakness to appear more so unshakable. “If we can overcome what happened to my father, the king before me, then this so-called crisis is just plankton on algae as far as I’m concerned, for all we know the shrimp’s pulling a fast one on us.” Damien, as much as he tried to put on a brave face for his peers, was deeply worried about Pim, regretting how complicit he was in the toxicity of the family’s dynamic. Amy on the other hand whined: “Do we HAVE to look for her?” King Steven sighed: “Well I can’t blame you for being burnt out on her antics, I swear she takes after her mother.” Queen Bertha gave her husband an icy glare for that comment, but he didn’t really give a barnacle. He pointed towards the other palace residents, demanding: “The rest of you better look high and low for my youngest and if she ain’t in one piece, It’ll be on YOU! Now MOVE IT ALONG YOU BLOKES.” Everyone scattered as King Pimling darted his eyes at the nervous Alan, and spoke in a less-furious yet still very serious tone: “You swear to Neptune you’ll fetch her home?” Alan solemnly nodded, “Yes your Majesty, I have yet to let you down.” King Steven picked Alan up and placed him on the ground to scurry away in search of Pim.

…

Of course Alan felt super conflicted about this search party! On one claw he’s been studying in the palace as a chosen prodigy since Pim was just a little tadpole, serving as the older brother Pim never really had. Unlike his actual-biological brother Damien, Pim felt more comfortable confiding to him about personal things his family would refuse to understand to save their own lives such as who he crushed on and his strained relationship with his own identity. Alan was one of the few Meeplanticans who knew Pim’s authentic self and it would boil his blood whenever Amy would stir up drama between Pim and the rest of the family. Whenever Alan was there to witness the conflict, he tried to speak up on Pim’s behalf but his pleas of defense where drown out by the ear-piercing chorus of screaming and crying, so the best he could do was console Pim and reassure him one day he’d somehow get out of this mess. On the other claw, why the hell would anyone want to knowingly bring Pim back to THAT home?! If the public had any idea what went on behind closed curtains, everyone would whole-heartedly agree that Pim would be much happier and safer inside the depths of Davey Jones’ locker than within the company of that toxic cesspool of a Royal Family. Still, Alan wanted to make sure Pim was alright so even if he wasn’t ordered to join the search party, he willingly set out to look for his friend.

[estrellami-1]

(Push Away the) Lonely Times

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Thanks to @artiststarme for the title inspiration!! ❤️

It’s at the tail end of a fourteen-hour shift, because retail is one of the circles of hell, that Jim sees him.

He’s seen him around before, with friends, jumping around and playing pretend and buying a candy bar with a stray few coins.

Now, though, he’s alone. Pushing a cart that’s almost taller than he is through the aisles. He seems ages away from where he was, even just last summer, with his friends.

Jim watches, because despite his exterior, he has a heart. He watches as the kid—because that’s what he is, at ten years old—does the chores Jim thinks the mother should be doing.

Not that women should be the only ones doing grocery shopping. His mother would scalp him for the thought. But because honest-to-God kids shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing.

He watches as the kid consults a list, looks between two or three different items, counts on his fingers, then finally shrugs and picks one of them.

He finally comes up to the register, cart about halfway full, and Jim knows this kid, knows his parents, knows there’s something wrong.

“Yer ma didn’ wanna come in?”

“Ah, no, sir,” Steven Harrington says, then hesitates strangely. “She’s busy.”

Busy is one word for it, Jim privately thinks, but nods. “Put yer thin’s on the belt, kid, I gotta scan ‘em.”

Steven does so, scarily efficiently, knows to keep the eggs and bread separate from everything else. Jim thinks about the scarce ingredients he sees in the cart, the myriad frozen dinners. Is privately thankful that the kid isn’t going to be cooking every night.

Jim scans the items, limiting himself to three glances at Steven as he does so. Nods to the shelf by the register. “Go ‘head ‘n pick a candy bar.”

“Oh,” Steven says, eyes wide. “I- I don’t have the money for that-”

Jim winks at him. Is pleased to see a small answering smile. “I won’t tell,” he says, and Steven shows more energy in his little hop over to the shelf than he had all day so far.

He grabs a Snickers, and Jim thinks back to last summer, thinks he remembers Steven grabbing the same one back then. Nods to himself.

“Right,” he says, and tells Steven the total.

Steven pulls out some bills, counts them out, and part of Jim wants to tell him to keep all his money.

He doesn’t. But he does distract Steven, convince him he’d overpaid by twenty dollars. Slips his own bill into the till when the kid walks out.

Jim watches as he loads his groceries onto his bike and pedals away.

He takes his break, goes into the back room, and calls Jim Hopper.

“Jim,” he says, because he thinks he’s hilarious, even though he knows he goes by Hopper.

Hopper grunts. “Jim.”

“Do me a favor? The Harrington kid, Steven. Think he’s alone.”

Hopper’s smart. He knows how to read between the lines. He sighs, long and drawn-out. “Guess I’m taking my uniform off.”

Jim laughs, but says, “Thanks, Hop. R’min’ me t’buy you a coffee.”

“You know I will,” Hopper says, which they both know is a lie. Jim owes Hopper at least two full pots by now.

He gets off the phone, looks at the clock, and sighs. Back to work.

He thinks about Steven the entire time.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

[foreverrandomwritings]

happy pride cutie💗💜💙

i was curious if you could write, someone being mean to reader for being bi, saying they’re faking it, them just being biphobic.

and from a character of your choice, have them be all protective, and comforting the reader while they’re upset. i’m a sucker for hurt/comfort 🥴

Summary: The moon boys are amazing boyfriends to their bisexual girlfriend.

Pairings: Steven Grant x afab!Reader Marc Spector x afab!Reader Jake Lockley x afab!Reader

Warnings: harassment, blood, insecurity. Thats it?

Word count: 1397

Masterlist M's PMC Masterlist

~I love me some bi pride. Also really want someone to protect and comfort me. 

~I’m gonna do MoonKnight mostly because I want an excuse to write for all the boys.

~We’ll start with Steven first. I know he’s not very confrontational but I think that after everything happened that completely changed. 

~He’s the one to use words to protect you. Even though he’s shy and pretty reserved anytime someone comes after you he becomes bold and confident. This had been shown on many occasions. 

~You had come in to visit him at work one day. He was on lunch so you guys walked through the exhibits with you asking him occasional questions about them. Which he did gleefully. 

~You had just asked him the name of one of the statutes when you felt a tug in your backpack. You turned around and saw one of your pins in a middle aged woman’s hand. 

~She had a scowl on her face and gave you a disgusted look as she looked over you, head to toe. 

~You squirmed a little under her gaze, quickly growing uncomfortable with the way she was glaring at you.

~ “Can we help you?” Your boyfriend pipped up, looking at the pin he had gifted you clutched inside the woman’s fist. You were glad he spoke up because your voice was gone as you looked at the women.

~ “I don’t think it’s appropriate to show something like this in public. Let alone somewhere that has so many children present.” She spat out. 

~ “Well, I don't think that’s any of your business and I think you need to return the item before I go and get security.” His hand extended towards her expectantly. You knew that Marc and Jake had to have been fighting to front as Steven shook his head glancing at his reflection in a shiny statue momentarily. 

~ “Being a part of that community isn’t something that needs to be displayed.” Her voice had venom in it. 

~ “Don’t worry lady, I'm definitely not interested in you.” You told her, finally finding your voice.

~ “I was not worried about that.” And for some reason she sounded offended at the fact you weren’t attracted to her.

~ “This is your last chance to give her back her pin before I get security.” He said more sternly, his accent thick as his glare darkened. She handed him the pin with a huff before turning around and running away. 

~ “Thank you, Steven.” You told him as he pinned the object back in place. 

~ “It’s alright love. No one deserves to be treated like that. I really don’t understand why people are twisted up by people in the lgbtq+ community.” He was standing in front of you now. Looking at the ground sheepishly. You kissed his cheek in a thank you causing a blush to bloom along his cheeks. Then you both continued on your walk.

~Now for Marc. 

~He is the one that comforts you. Reassures you constantly that you are valid, loved and supported. 

~You had told him of your desire to go to pride. He had reluctantly(not that reluctantly because he was actually super excited to share this experience with you) joined you in your time there. 

~He had even bought you matching shirts. Yours said I’m the bisexual girlfriend. His said I’m here with my bisexual girlfriend. The words were written in the bi pride colors. 

~You were so excited the day of, you showed up to watch the parade that morning with a beaming smile on your face. A large group of people passed you by and you could see a few of them reading your shirts. 

~You had always been a bit shy when around other people in the LGBTQ community. There had been many different instances that they had shamed you in the past. This time wasn’t any different. When one of the women started talking to someone else in the group. 

~ “How can she even say she’s bi when she’s in a relationship with a guy.” She snickered as she passed you. 

~ It didn’t seem Marc had heard, however, to focused on the parade going on in the street in front of you. No one here posed a threat to either of you in his mind so he had let loose a little. 

~ He had however noticed the way your hand slipped out of his. He looked at you quickly and saw you fiddling with the ends of your shirt. 

~ “What’s wrong?” He asked as he scanned the crowd to see if he could spot what happened.

~ “It’s nothing Marc. You can go back to watching the parade.” Your hands wrung together as you spoke. 

~ “Tell me what happened honey. Did someone hurt you?” His eyes scanned your body looking for injuries. Though he didn’t know they could’ve laid a hand on you with him standing right there. 

~ “Just someone invalidating me again. Nothing new.” He knew that you had insecurities surrounding your sexuality. Having been told many times you were faking it, that it didn’t exist or that you weren’t actually bisexual since you were with Marc. 

~He had always done what he could to reassure you that you were validated and that you shouldn’t listen to what everyone said. This time was no different as he brought you into his chest squeezing you to him. Your arms came around his middle as you hugged him back. 

~ “You are such an amazing and wonderful girlfriend babe. Your sexuality is valid. No matter what anyone else says you and I both know you’re bisexual. Steven and Jake know you are bisexual and we love you so much. We are comfortable with you exploring both sides of your sexuality as well. You just have to sit us down and talk about it with us.” He kissed the top of your head as you squeezed him tighter. 

~It was always comforting to be in his arms. He smelled like a combination of the three of them. The three that would love and care and protect you until their last breath. 

~Now onto Jakeeeeeeee. 

~This man will let fists fly with no hesitation. Very very very protective. 

~This one will be more violent than the other ones of course. 

~It was routine for one of the boys to be standing outside of your workplace waiting for you when Jake didn’t have a mission for Konshu. 

~So as you exited the building you weren’t surprised to see a familiar hat placed atop a familiar set of curls. 

~ “How was work today mi amor.” Jake had asked you as he usually did. Taking your hand in his. 

~ “Fine.” Was your simple answer, even though work had been super annoying due to one specific co worker. 

~ “What happened?” He asked you as he scanned your face with his eyes. 

~ “Why do you think something happened?” You asked him surprised.

~ “You normally won’t shut up about your work day. But today was just fine. So what happened?” His demeanor changed as he finished his sentence, now in complete protective mode. 

~ “Chad from accounting was going on again about me being bi. Told me that it was a sin. That I would feel the wrath of hell. Told me I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him. Just the normal gist and what not.” You shrugged simply as though the words didn’t sting you. As if you didn’t feel a deep hole within your chest as though he had stabbed you repeatedly with every word he spoke. 

~ “Where is Chad now?” Jake was seathing as you spoke. The boys were all talking loudly within his head wanting to find the guy and put and end to him. 

~ “He’s probably out back. He takes a shortcut through the alley to get home.” You knew he was going to find him anyway so you figured you’d save him some time. 

~ “Go Home. We’ll be there shortly.” You nodded your head, giving his hand a squeeze. 

~ “Just don’t kill him okay?” You gave him a peck on the lips before you were slipping away. 

~It was almost an hour later that Jake slipped through the doors. Hands and shirt bloodied and you knew his point had been made to Chad. You cleaned him up and thanked him for helping you. 

~ “I will always protect you amor.” Was his response. 

A/N:I love the moon boys with all my heart. Oscar Isaac puts me in a chokehold with every role he plays. Happy Birthday Bestie❤️

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell

[madlittlecriminal]

Sweet Tooth ☾ Steven Grant × Female!Reader

Request: yes! from @bubblegumfanfics - Totally require a Steven Grant fix where the reader is a hella good baker and Steven loves her little treats. She tries confessing to him by making him chocolates and all of the things he loves but he isn’t getting a picture. One day the reader turns up at his place with chocolates and freshly baked snacks for a movie night and as they’re doing that Steven just goes like “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Warnings: if you have a sugar craving or crave something as soon as you read it, i apologize. trust me, im craving sweets now & i don’t have much of a sweet tooth. also, if you don’t like Peacock, im sorry :,) I’ve been watching a lot of stuff on there recently & it’s free unless you don’t want ads so naturally, my broke self loves it & im tired of Netflix rn 💀

Another day, another batch of left overs from the treats you made for your bakery. Usually, you would save them for the next day, but since it was Friday, you decided you’d take them home to try new recipes you found in cookbooks and on YouTube. Fridays were also one of the days in the week where you get to see Steven Grant; your favorite customer and the man you had a crush on. He’s always been so nice to you and, although sometimes shy and awkward, made decent conversation with you. You probably wouldn’t admit it to his face, but you absolutely loved it when he rambled about Egypt and different historic items as well as their Gods and Goddesses.

Not only did you know of his love for all things Egyptian, you also knew of his love for sweets, especially when it comes to chocolate, so each time he came in, you’d always add some form of romance to his goodies, but he never noticed. Today was different though as you both had a tradition to go to his house to watch a movie every other Friday.

You finished cleaning your bakery before packing some brownies, some homemade chocolate bars, chocolate chip cookies, some macarons and a few slices of cakes of different flavors. You locked up the bakery before making your way to Steven’s apartment, debating whether or not you would tell him before or after the movie since you wanted to get it over with.

When you got to his, he invited you in and helped you put the goods in the fridge as well as stealing a brownie from the container you brought them in. “So, what are we watching? A comedy? A documentary? Sci-fi?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “A romance actually.” You raised an eyebrow at his words. “Steven Grant watching a romance? That’s something I never thought I would witness.”

“Well, I do hope you don’t mind.” You shook your head before grabbing a chocolate bar from the fridge and sat on his couch. “No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised is all.” He sat next to you before scrolling through the romance section on Peacock. The silence was a bit awkward as the only sounds sound you heard was the occasional crunch of the chocolate bar as well as the the sips of water Steven took.

Suddenly the scrolling stopped and you looked over at Steven who was looking at you. “Do I have chocolate on my face?” You grabbed a napkin before wiping your mouth and he chuckled. “No, it’s nothing of the sort. I just feel like I have to tell you something, but I have no idea how you’ll take it.” You nibble on your chocolate bar, waiting patiently for him to continue. “How long have we known each other (Y/N)?” You took a sip of your water before saying, “I think it’s been almost two years now…?”

“Well, I think I’ll take this risk,” you looked into his dark brown eyes, searching for any hint of what he was going to do or say, but he hid it well, it was scary. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” At his confession, you choked on your own saliva, causing him to panic and quickly give you your water. After you downed it, he began apologizing. “I didn’t know you would react this way. I’m so sorry!” You shook your head and rested your hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Steven. I didn’t know though because every time I’ve tried to tell you, you never noticed.” He became shocked at your words.

“Since when?!” You laughed before pointing out all the little things you did for him that had hints of you liking him. “Since you never noticed, I didn’t think you felt the same way.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, causing them to warm up. “Now you know that I do and I’m sorry for being oblivious to your attempts, love.” You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled. “That’s okay, Steven. I love you too.”

~~~~~

requests are open! feel free to look through my masterlists in case you want to request someone that isn’t the moon boys! :)

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part ii- the scarab

“the moon taught me there is beauty in darkness too” - marine ashnalikyan

summary: you meet marc spector, and he meets the real you

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: language, violence

a/n: yuhhh so excited for this. part three coming very soon hope y’all enjoy!!! also tfw your professors let you take finals early so you can go to the taylor concert. if any of y’all fellow swifties will be in nashville on may 7, i’ll see y’all there! feel free to leave feedback, i love it and love u all 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc

sorry it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all 😭

previous part | series masterlist | next part

For all accounts, you think you’re handling the situation pretty well.

Your sort-of-friend sort-of-target that you thought was innocent and also British turns out to be not-innocent and American? Shocking.

He’s also covered in blood and tried to knife you when you broke into his apartment because he doesn’t know you’re secretly an ex-Russian agent turned Avenger that could kill him easily? Arguably less shocking. Reasonable, even.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” you say, holding a hand up. Steven- no, Marc, sighs exasperatedly, waiting. “You are a mercenary?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Just answer the damn question!”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Yes.” You sigh, leaning against a bookshelf full of volumes on Egyptian history, mythology, and archaeology.

“So what? Was ‘Steven Grant’ just an alibi?” you ask.

You really hope not. One, because he’s sweet and kind and an absolute nerd. And two, because if he isn’t, then that means that Marc’s dedication to a cover is better than yours. And that simply will not stand.

“No, it’s more complicated than that. He’s, like, a facet of me. Another personality. We share the same body, but when the other is in control, it’s like the other is asleep. You’re stuck.” You perk up, visibly relieved.

“Oh, so he’s an alter? Like, you have DID?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“Do you… Do you not know the name of your own personality disorder?” His silence speaks volumes.

You chuckle under your breath, watching him stammer to try and recover from his fumble. Taking out the gun from your waistband, you go to set it on the table. In an instant, Marc has your wrist in a death grip, attempting to jostle the gun from you.

“Again, seriously? This went so well for you literally a minute ago,” you snark.

With a dramatic eye roll, you effortlessly twist under his arms, kicking out his legs. He rolls over and stands back up, kicking the gun from your hands.

You take a moment to watch his fighting style, scanning him as he circles you. He’s good, yes, but his form is sloppy. Basic US military training, most likely nothing specialized.

Deciding to take one out of Nat’s book, you leap up, wrap your thighs around Marc’s head, and flip him over, holding him in place as he thrashes on the floor.

“Заткнись, ты такой чертовски громкий, Иисус, черт возьми, Христос [Shut up, holy fuck you are so damn loud Jesus fucking Christ],” you hiss. Eventually, he taps your leg, wheezing.

“Truce,” he sighs. You roll off of him, nodding.

“Sure, truce.”

He’s huffing as you stand, checking your gun and finally setting it down.

“So, why are you here?” Marc asks.

You shrug. “Heard there was a vigilante, so I was sent to check it out.”

“By who?”

“None of your business.”

“Why are you Russian?”

“Also none of your business.”

Marc rolls his eyes, but accepts that that is as far as he’s gonna get for the moment.

You frown, glancing around the room. All of the items in here seem very Steven-ish. Mostly Egyptian decor and books. You have a hunch, though you hope it isn’t true.

“Steven doesn’t know about you, does he?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Marc shakes his head. “I was the… original, I guess? I set him up with a safe place here, but vigilantism is part of my job. Can’t stop, even if you want me to.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Observing the fish tank, you watch the one-finned goldfish happily swim around. You’ll have to tell a certain one-armed assassin about him. “I just need to make sure you’re hurting the right people.”

“That seems subjective,” he jokes. You chuckle, but shrug. He gets oddly contemplative before speaking again. “Do me a favor?”

You haven’t known this man for ten minutes, but you nod. “Sure.”

“Don’t tell Steven about me.”

———————————————————————

It’s not even a week later when trouble comes calling.

You get a text from Steven, who has been oddly silent this week. It’s asking for you to come to some storage lockers, promising to explain everything. He’s worried, and a part of you wonders if he’s more worried about the whole vigilant thing or about his alter.

Hopping on your motorcycle with no sense to put on your helmet, you speed through traffic in record time. Eyes flickering to signs as you zoom past, you finally spot him sprinting frantically out of the building.

He trips and falls as you skid to a halt.

“Shit! Steven, you can’t be running into traffic like that,” you curse, hopping off the back and grabbing your helmet from the seat compartment to give to him. “Hop on. We’ve got to get you back to your apartment.”

He awkwardly climbs on, holding your shoulders.

You raise a brow and drive off. “Why’re you grabbing my shoulder like that? I get you’re British, but come on, you’re not the queen.”

“Why’re you Russian, all of the sudden?” he asks.

You don’t respond.

Unsure about what to do, he wraps an arm around your waist as you speed up further, nimbly wearing between cars. Your breath doesn’t hitch and you don’t blush, but your heart rate quickens a bit anyways.

When you arrive back at the apartments, you head in together. Steven locks the door, catching a glimpse of Marc in the fish tank.

‘She shouldn’t be here.’ He can’t really tell Steven that you’re not a civilian yet. He can’t freak him out more. And honestly, Marc himself doesn’t even know what you are. A special agent? A military operative?

��You need to get her out of here. You’re way out of your depth.’

“I just want my life back,” Steven replies aloud.

You stand up from where you’re feeding Gus. “What?”

“No, sorry.” He waves a hand. “I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself. Sort of.”

“Marc?” you ask.

He nods. “So… you met him?”

“…Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you; he didn’t want you to know yet.“

Steven doesn’t have it in him to be mad. Especially not when you pick up one of his books.

“Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?”

“Yep,” Steven mumbles. He begins reciting a poem, which you join in on. “She’s my favorite poet.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him you only learned her work for a mission in France, and every time you hear them you can see the gun you used to shoot down a politician that happened to be a literary buff. You’d gained his trust with poetry, convinced him to take you back to his home, and killed him.

You eventually smile and set the book down. “I’m more partial to Mahmoud Darwish. ‘ربما القمر جميل ‘فقط لأنه بعيد [‘Maybe the moon is beautiful only because it is far’]?”

Wandering over to his desk, you gesture at a paper.

“Why do you have Egyptian funeral rites here?”

“You speak French, Arabic, and read hieroglyphics, but have a Russian accent?” Steven seems almost in awe of you. No one looks at an assassin like that. “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Before he can respond to your smirk, there’s a demanding knock on the door. You’re gone by the time Steven opens it.

You hear him greet the officers, followed by them forcing their way into the apartment and searching the place. All the while, you’re climbing onto the roof and ducking from view with a bag of contraband clutched close to you.

It takes all of your strength to not just kill them when they arrest him, despite how easy it would be.

———————————————————————

You track the car easily. It leads you to a sort of community, almost cultish. You’re in a black tank top and cargo pants now, weapons concealed all over.

A man lets him out of the car and frees him from the handcuffs as you jump from roof to roof, watching and waiting. He guides him around, pointing out a goat and speaking butchered Mandarin.

You watch as strange things begin to happen. A stack of trays shakes and falls, trash goes up in a whirlwind. A shadow flickers just beyond your vision.

Down at the table, Harrow’s pushing for the scarab.

“Maybe you know someone who has it?” he suggests.

In a bowl, Marc shakes his head.

‘No, don’t give her up. She’s a civilian, she’ll get hurt. Just give me the body.’

People begin surrounding the table as you ready your gun. Slinging the bag of money, weapons, and a small scarab over your shoulder, you drop into the shadows.

“Sorry, is that… Is that what… You’re all into that, like, killing children and that?” you hear Steven say. “Maybe that’s just me, but that’s- I kinda draw a line there at child murder.”

The man stands, raising his staff that glows purple with power and demanding the scarab. Steven begins backing away as the man gets confrontational, and you decide enough is enough.

“Hey, dipshit. I’ve got your bug right here.” You hold it up, gun raised in the other hand.

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding,” the man says. “Let me have it, I’ll keep it safe.”

You stand next to Steven, training the barrel of a polished gold gun on the head of this cult leader.

“Do you have a suit or something? That’d be really helpful right now,” you grumble.

“‘Do I have a soup’? What are you saying?” he whispers.

With an exasperated sigh, you hand him the scarab and start running. A man grabs your arm and you slam him into the wall, shooting him with little regard to Steven’s shriek.

You tuck the gun into your holster as you race up some stairs, attacking another man before throwing him off the high platform.

“That was awesome,” Steven gapes as you drag him along.

“Here, bolt the door,” you yell, backing away as you survey the room. A few windows are backup exits, but there’s not much here. Well, some dead bodies.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave.”

There’s a pounding on the door as you start trying to calm Steven down. Admittedly, you’re a bit lacking in the social skills department.

“Ok, hey, we’re gonna be fine okay?” His breathing quickens. “Um, not to say that I don’t appreciate you, but is there a chance Marc could come out? He seems to be familiar with guns, yes?”

“No, no I can’t! Stop, please, both of you,” he begs, growing more panicked. Shit. You guide him to the ground as he rambles. “Please stop, leave me alone, both of you!”

You let him take a moment as the door starts splintering. It bursts open, but you don’t see anything?

“Jackal, jackal. Jackal!” Steven yells. Even though you don’t see any such dog, he gets tackled out of the window.

You run to the ledge, embedding a grappling hook in the ground and muttering curses in Russian under your breath.

The fall is familiar, and you land crouched as the hook retracts. Hurrying around, you finally see him, now in a white suit that covers his face, fighting the air.

He’s literally punching the air. His eyes are also glowing.

“Ok… what the fuck what the fuck,” you hiss. Firing off a few rounds, they embed in the air as something yelps.

A force grabs you by the throat before you stab at it with a shattered bottle on the ground, rolling away as heavy footsteps beat the rain-soaked pavement.

It drags you back as you cuss, firing off shots into air that occasionally connect. Letting you go, it targets Steven instead, knocking him against a car.

The man seems to have a conversation with his alter before rising.

“Get away from her, you.” He’s bouncing on his toes like a boxer. “Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote.”

This was about to end horribly. This random Brit was about to get absolutely murdered trying to keep whatever it was away from you.

“You’re in the wrong ends, mate. You’re in my yard now.” He throws his rather nice jacket on the ground as he continues taunting the beast.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V,” he says at the same time you hiss, “Отлично [Perfect], he’s gonna die before I even recruit him.”

He throws a punch that seems to knock him off balance, cheering and whooping before, if unsurprisingly, getting kicked across the street.

Then it happens. Steven turns around, something about him changing. The suit morphs, becoming almost like mummy wrappings. Marc.

“Get it away from the civilians, I’ll follow,” you call.

He dashes away, with you following behind on the ground.

———————————————————————

Marc lands on the ground once the creature is dead, staring into the mirror.

He doesn’t trust this situation. Harrow, Khonshu, you. He doesn’t know who’s lying, who’s honest, and who’s halfway in-between.

Steven appears in the mirror, disrupting Marc’s train of thought. They go back and forth, bickering as the wind grows stronger.

“You told (Y/N) to keep you a secret from me, and then we left her behind,” Steven accuses, growing more frustrated in the glass.

“Oh, please, what do you even know about her? What do either of us know about her?” Marc yells. “We can’t trust her.”

Steven shakes his head, pacing. “She’s my friend. She needs to stay out of this, you don’t need to drag an innocent civilian in.”

“She’s not a civilian!”

“…What?”

“The night she found out about me, she disarmed me like it was nothing. She had a gun.”

“That doesn’t matter, I trust her, she’s helped me and saved me from muggers, and-“

Steven’s argument doesn’t provide much solace for Marc, who groans and runs a hand over his face.

The arguing continues, growing louder and louder as they start talking over one another.

By the time you’re there, Marc’s glaring at the ground. The chairs are scattered around (the work of Khonshu, but you don’t know that) and he’s ready to start his third fight with you that he knows he’ll lose.

“Who are you?” he asks again, eyeing the weapons covering your person. The Black Widow buckle on your belt should give it away, but you suppose the public isn’t quite aware of you, yet. “Why are you following me?”

You tap the buckle and watch him instantly tense up. “I’m with the Avengers. And you are my mission.”

[toracainz]

High Rollers

Masterlist

Summary: Steven Grant, financial savant, gets played

Warnings: Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show/comic and some light research). Alcohol. Comic Book version of the character,

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Thanks goes out to @missdictatorme for requesting this little fic!

Defending New York from bad guys, supervillains, thugs, vampires, and whoever else chooses the night as the backdrop for their crimes isn’t cheap. Not even a little. And with the way Marc fights, it’s not going to get any cheaper any time soon.

That’s where I come in.

My name is Steven Grant. Though I’m not one to brag, I’m the one that makes sure our little crime-fighting gig stay open for business. We’ve had some setbacks, but I always manage to turn things around and make a quick buck. It helps to have friends in high places after all.

That’s how I found myself at another charity gala, after explaining (again) to the boys why attending these “boring rich folk circle jerks”, as Jake so colorfully commented, was important. They knew why I had to attend, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t moan and complain as I got dressed for it. Sharp suit, tame, clean-cut hair, and deep pockets. Deep pockets that were definitely dipped into when you began to battle me for one of the items at the auction.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

This particular gala was benefitting several charities, plenty of people to rub elbows with, plenty of connections for Steven to get in contact with. He arrived, not-so fashionably late, and began doing the usual song and dance, making small talk and talking business. Some aquaintences of his introduced him to other well-to-do types, more names to add to the contact list if he needs them.

The hourdourves were passable, the scotch was the only saving grace.

After a bit of mingling, the people were funneled into the auction hall for the real reason everyone was there. There were some items that other rich people had donated for auction to be sold with the proceeds benefitting the different charities.

“Alright, Steven. Don’t get too carried away.” Marc chimed in for the first time since Steven had left The Mission.

Steven raised his glass to his lips, attempting to conceal his side of the conversation. “Don’t think you’re quite qualified to give advice on the handling of our money. Gotta keep up appearances don’t we, don’t want to snub the wrong people by being stingy.” Taking a sip of his scotch, Steven takes his seat, setting the glass on the small table next to the bid-paddle. As everyone began to settle in, Steven’s eyes landed on you. He hadn’t met you yet even after all the schmoozing from earlier. Had you slipped in at the last minute? Judging by your outfit and your appearance, he thought art like that couldn’t be rushed.

Almost as if you could feel his gaze on you, you turned, your eyes falling on him. Steven flashed you a rather charming smirk, slightly raising his scotch glass as a sort of wordless greeting. When you smiled back to him, Steven knew he had to find you after the auction.

The auctioneer stepped to the podium and gave the usual introduction and forced jokes before beginning. Item after item, plenty of high rollers were throwing their money around snatching up whatever eccentric items someone else had donated. Events like this weren’t really for the charities so much as it was a time for those in high society to do a bit of dick swinging. Steven played along, bidding occasionally to show he was interested, even purchasing a couple things. The next item up was slotted to benefit the city animal shelters and other humane societies. The profits would be split among a few facilities. Steven thought it was a great cause and one of the facilities was in the neighborhood of The Midnight Mission, so he figured Marc couldn’t argue since it would be in service of “our people”.

Steven raised his bid-paddle to kick things off since hardly anyone else was jumping in. A couple other people placed their bids, all of whom Steven outbid. It became clear to the room who was gunning for the item. Before the auctioneer could give the final call…another paddle was raised…your paddle. Steven was a little surprised, partly because he thought he had the bid in the bag and the other part was how strategic your bid was. This could get interesting.

One after another you and Steven were practically battling for the bid, exchanging glances and smirks, the two of you knowing this game you were both playing, or at least the “game” you might play later. For some rich folks, this kind of tension might be considered flirting or even foreplay, and with the way the corners of your lips curled after each bid, Steven was looking forward to the after-party.

Eventually, once the price had risen quite a bit outside the budget that Steven had set for the night, you finally conceded. Though Steven wasn’t sure you would give up, but as the auctioneer made the final call, naming Steven as the victor, it was clear. He looked around, giving a small wave and nod to the people as they gave a soft applause. The claps died down as his gaze fell on you again.

Steven’s brows raised, a silent question, “Give up?”

You chuckled softly, though you were too far away for him to hear you, shrugging slightly. A silent answer, “Guess so.”

Taking another sip of his scotch, Steven let out his own breathy chuckle.

“Havin’ a good time there, Grant?” Steven could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice.

“So much for not getting carried away.” Marc always had a way of making Steven roll his eyes.

“All part of playing the game, gentlemen. All part of the game.” Steven took another sip, finishing his glass and motioning to a waiter for another as the auction continued. Steven decided that he’d done enough damage tonight, doing the mental math of their collective finances.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

The after-party was nothing but the first part of the event, but with more boasting and more drinks. This was a little more casual now that everyone had loosened up by lightening the load their money had weighing on them. Steven took to what he was good at — more talking, more networking — all the while looking for you in the crowd while feigning interest in what his conversation partner had to say.

It was longer than he would have liked before he caught a glimpse of you and when he saw you talking to someone he already knew, one of the charity gala hosts, Steven took the opportunity to politely excuse himself and make his way over to a potentially much more enjoyable conversation.

As he approached he caught the eye of the older woman.

“Mr. Grant! I was wondering when I’d get to see you! You made quite the stir at the auction, you know.” Her smile was huge and her energy radiating, either from her natural demeanor or one too many cocktails.

“That so? Don’t think I could have done it without our friend here…you are?” Steven deftly maneuvered the conversation into an introduction to which the gala hostess quickly obliged, telling Steven your name, one that Steven won’t soon be forgetting.

You nodded with a playful smirk as you offered Steve your hand, which he took and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Grant.”

“Please, call me Steven. No sense in formalities. I’d say we know each other quite well after our encounter earlier.” Wanting to be a gentleman, and not press his luck too soon, Steven let go of your hand, but he’d be damned if he took his eyes off you, which you seemed inclined to do the same to him.

“Aren’t you two just hitting it off! I should have known you two would mesh, especially after that generous donation to their animal shelter.”

“Their animal shelter”? Steven wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“Beg pardon?” Steven looked at her, a bit stunned.

“Oh HO! They played you good, Grant. Gotta give ‘em props for sure.” Jake didn’t waste time expressing his amusement. Marc on the other hand…Steven could mostly hear grumbling.

“Yes, the animal shelter your bid went to…our lovely friend here is the chair and executive director for that animal shelter and a number of others in the surrounding neighborhoods.” She placed her hand on your shoulder, doing a little pose as if presenting some item from the auction. You couldn’t help but chuckle. Try as you might, it was difficult to hide your smirk. The jig was up, it would appear that your secret was out. You half expected Steven to either blow up for being played or make some snide passive aggressive comment…either way his money would be going to your organization. But you were rather pleasantly surprised when he laughed as well.

“Well played, well done. Takes a lot to pull one over on me and you did it in no time flat. Perhaps, now that I know who you really are, we could take this discussion elsewhere and maybe you could tell me a bit about your organization that I’ll be benefitting. I’d like to get to know the people I’m working with on a more…personal basis.” He winks before offering his arm to you, the gala hostess giddily bowing out to allow you two to find your own way through this event. The corner of your lips quirking up as you take his arm.

“Sounds delightful…lead the way…Steven.” Pressing your body a little closer to his, he begins to lead you over to the more private rooms. He had already reserved one should he need to more openly discuss finances with Marc and Jake, if he needed to make a call, or just have a moment to himself…after all mingling can be exhausting especially with the wrong people, but there was no mistaking it…you were absolutely the right people.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

Hope you enjoyed!!! Please reblog to help share the fic with others!!!

taglist: @roseqzpd @rosecentaur1916​ @ahookedheroespureheart@sleepyamaya @parkeepingparker @lockleysgrl @marc-spectorr @vermillionsails @harrys-titties @n0ripeaches @missdictatorme @bitchyglitterfox @spacecowboyhotch @randomchick546 @teacupcollector @local-mr-frog @stevenknightmarc @ahookedheroespureheart @mccn-bcys @juneknight @moonz33 @autismsupermusicalassassin @spicydonut25

[steven1123x]

A Half-Gem Boy’s Adventures In The Creek: Chapter one

Steven and Greg relocate from Delaware to Maryland in order to help Steven transition away from gem-related activities and towards a more typical life with peers his own age.

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A mid-1970s Dodge Tradesman drove down a road in. The van was a white, two-door, open pickup truck with a unique design. The van has a large logo on the side that says “Mr. Universe." It appears to be a customized vehicle, as it is painted in bright colors and has a distinctive look.

Inside the van were two people, a man who had long brown hair, and a brown beard. The man wore a black T-shirt. He also had blue eyes.

Next to the man was a boy, who had curly hair, he wore a red star t-shirt, cuffed jeans, and salmon pink flip-flops.

But what was unique about the boy was that he was half alien — Half Gem to be specific from his mother’s side.

“Dad! why did we have to move?” the boy asked. His father looked at him, a concerned look on his face. He didn’t want them to move. But to keep his son safe he had to. The man spoke;

“Because, Schu-Ball. Pearl and the others wanted you safe and not involved in this stuff. I… I thought I lost you when Jasper kidnapped and held you prisoner. I was so scared that day. Maybe this new life isn’t going to be so bad. You're going to make a lot of new friends in Herkleton.”

Steven just sighed and looked out the window, the radio was playing rock music, and the boy put his palm to his cheek and stared out the window.

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Twenty minutes later, they were in Maryland, Steven looked at the city. Greg turned to a neighborhood, it’s For Sale sign was still up on the front lawn with a little wooden board that said 'SOLD' on it in big red letters, Greg stopped his van

Steven sees a two-story home with a modern design, situated on a quiet suburban street. The house is painted in a light gray color and features a large front porch with a porch swing. The front of the home is covered with a roofline that provides an expansive outdoor living space for relaxation and entertainment.

The house is surrounded by lush greenery, including trees and bushes, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The presence of a car parked near the front of the house suggests that the owners have a driveway, providing convenient access to the home. The overall design of the house and its surroundings reflect the harmonious blend of nature and modern architecture, making it a desirable place to live.

Steven looked at the home in question…. It was nothing like the beach house/Crystal Temple, but. It was a house….

Greg grabbed the keys from the key box that was by the door, he stuck it in and opened the lock, the house was already fully furnished. Steven stands there at the front entrance. His dad put all of their things inside.

“Why won’t you help me, Sthu-Ball?” he asked.

Can’t he see that I’m hurting? that my friends are gone now because of THIS! CAN’T HE SEE THAT?

Steven wiped some tears that were coming out of his eyes. Greg saw him and put a box down, he was about to walk up towards him, but Steven backed away.

“I want to be alone,” he muttered

“Steven—“

“I SAID I WANT TO BE ALONE!” he screamed. Without thinking, Steven ran out the door. he ran into the woods and kept on running, he wanted to go back home! he missed everyone, Pearl, Amethyst, Garnet, Sadie, Lars, Buck, Sour Cream, Jenny, Kiki.

And Connie.

Steven ran and ran until he was out of breath as he put his hands on his knees, the boy heard something. The Half-Gem looked up and gasped, he saw a bunch of kids, He was looking at a lush green forest with trees and bushes, giving it a natural and serene atmosphere. There was a large cooler in the middle of the creek, surrounded by kids who were going to trade in stuff for snacks and supplies. A few other items can be seen scattered around the scene, such as a backpack on the ground and a bottle near the cooler.

In addition to the cooler, there are two smaller objects placed on the ground, one closer to the left side of the frame and another one on the right side. These objects could be anything from rocks or fallen leaves to small animals or other natural elements that have been gathered in the creek.

Steven walks to the cooler and reads the sign. ‘The Trading Tree.’ Steven saw a girl standing there.

“You have anything to trade?” A girl said, Steven looked at her. She has brown skin, dark brown braided pigtails with a widow's peak, and wears glasses. She wears a light blue shirt. She also wears a keychain around her neck with five different keys on it.

“Um…I’m new here. What is this place?”

“This is the Creek! I’m Kit, what’s your name?”

“Steven Universe.”

“Like the show?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Is your middle name really after Rose Quartz?”

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly.

Kit knew that she’d seen him from somewhere before, and his name did sound familiar to her, she smiled “Oh, since your new. here is something for free.” she said pulling out a choco roll that came with two choco rolls in the rapping, Steven smiled.

“Make sure that you have something to trade for tomorrow, alright?” Steven smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. He walked away from The Trading Tree and found a log to sit down at to eat his snack.

Steven opened the wrapper and began to eat the sweet chocolatey roll. As a girl walks up towards him. Steven looked at the girl, she was about nine. the girl was fairly short She had peach skin, ankle-length strawberry-blonde hair tied into a large bun at the back of her head, she also had brown eyes. “Hello! I’m Steven.” the boy said, sounding much happier than he did before.

“Hi, I’m, Kelsey,” she said, extending a hand. Steven took her hand and shook it. The boy smiled at her. “Hey, you wanna meet my friends?”

Steven nodded and stood up. They both walked to an area with a tree stump, her friends were there.

“Hey Craig, JP! I’m back, and I met this boy!” she said. Steven still stood next to her Craig walked up.

“Hi, I’m Crag Williams!”

“And I’m JP.” the taller boy said.

Steven looks at both of them; JP is tall compared to most kids in the creek. He has light skin, a large head with proportionally smaller cheeks, black eyes, and eyebrows, and red hair.

He also wears a long-sleeve orange and white striped V-neck hockey jersey, black shoes, and tan pants with a tear on his right knee.

Then he looks at Craig;

Craig is of normal stature for a ten-year-old boy and is rather slim. He has dark skin, large eyes, similarly sized ears, a prominent flat nose, and black hair. His head is also large in proportion to his body, he is the same height as Steven.

“Hi!” Steven said.

“Hi!” Craig and JP both waved at the boy.

“Um, what do you do here?”

“You get to play all day until it’s time for dinner, or on weekdays until six, but we can play all day long since it’s summer vacation,” Craig said. Steven was confused by this until six, how come?

“Um, I have a question. Why until six?” Steven asked the three kids.

“We have school. So we get to the creek at three and play for three hours.”

“School?”

“Oh, right! you're a gem. It’s a building that you have to go to and learn a bunch of stuff.” Craig said. Steven nods. He thinks it sounds miserable, being in a building for eight hours a day, sitting down in a classroom, and being told what to do by a teacher. He got that enough already from Pearl.

But, on the other hand… He could be a normal kid and go to school with them. Steven looks at them, he’d just met these kids a few minutes ago. “Hey, me Kelsey and JP are going to the Candy Bar, you wanna come?”

Steven smiled at that, Finally. No responsibilities of being a Crystal Gem, he can be a kid for once in his life! He looked up. “Alright! let’s do it!” he said.

They walked to the other side of the creek, which wasn’t being controlled by the king of the creek anymore, King Xaver. Kids can play freely without the king telling them what to do.

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Steven was walking with them when they saw a large tree, and he took a second to look at it. He saw a hole that was made up of leaves, Craig, Kelsey, and JP all walked inside, and Steven did too.

He heard a piano playing, two boys were playing as kids of all ages were getting candy and soda from the bartender.

“Four sodas, please,” Craig said.

“Craig!” a boy said, walking behind the counter. Steven observed the boy; He had dark brown, chocolate hair, and burnt-sienna skin. His face flaunts a near-constant blush and he is thinner, as well as a little taller than Steven.

He also wore a tucked-in hoodie with gray shorts and white shoes.

“Hey, Shawn!” JP said.

“Hey, guys. How can I help you?”

“Can we get gummy worms and gummy fish with soda please?” Craig asked.

“Sure.” He said, pulling out four plastic mugs placing soda in each of them, and filling them up with the gummy candies.

“Thanks, Shawn!” he said carrying the two in his hands, then going back and getting the other two.

“Here, Steven,” he said, placing the pink plastic cup in front of him. Steven looked at it.

“Um… Is this even edible?”

“I drink it all the time!” JP said, putting his mug down, two gummy worms hung from his mouth. Steven picked it up and took a sip. He bit into the gummy candy and smiled.

“Hey!” he said, clewing it. “This is pretty good!” he said, continuing to eat/drink it. Craig, Kelsey, and JP all smiled.

Steven heard a tuba playing a single note and someone yelling ‘Dinner’

“What was that?”

“Oh, that’s the dinner tuba. It signals everyone to go inside and have dinner.”

“But… I have dinner whenever I want to.” Steven said, walking with Craig.

“Oh, but you want to go home right?

Steven nodded. they both went in the same direction to their houses. Craig opened the door to his house.

“Hey! It looks like we're neighbors!” Steven said, about to open his door.

“Yeah! well, see you tomorrow, Steven!” he said, going inside. Steven went inside the house as well. Then a familiar ringtone rang out, Steven smiled as it said ‘Connie’ on his phone’s screen, it was a picture of him and her in Beach City. Steven was holding up two fingers to make a peace sign. Connie was smiling and making a funny face. Her glasses were tucked in her shirt. Steven smiled and answered the phone.

“Hey, Connie!” Steven said happily, he was glad that he was able to talk to her on the phone, Maybe she could come over to spend a day in the Creek with him and his new friends.

“Hey! How’s Maryland?” that was her first question.

“It’s so fun! I met new friends and went to this place called the creek. it’s a vast place where kids can play!”

“That sounds so cool! Oh, can’t talk now, I'm going to have dinner soon, I’ll talk to you later!” Connie said, hanging up.

Steven went deeper into the house. He looked at some boxes on the floor that were unpacked yet. Steven texted his dad, wondering where he was. When he got a text back that he was getting sushi for dinner. Steven felt relieved that he wasn’t hurt.

The boy walked upstairs and went into his room, his room was fully furnished also with a bed and a desk. He sighed and started unpacking the box that said ‘STEVEN’S ROOM’ in a black Sharpie and a bunch of star stickers.

Steven opened the box and saw that all his stuff was inside. He picked up a purple controller that was tied up.

Probably Pearl did that. he thought to himself

He unpacked his posters. Then he found his GameCube that was at the bottom of the box. Steven set the purple Nintendo console on his desk with the controller that came with it, then he unpacked more stuff.

Greg reached the door with two boxes of sushi, one salmon for himself and one cucumber and avocado for Steven.

“Steven?” he called out, setting the boxes and his keys down on the kitchen counter.

Steven walked downstairs, hearing the sound of his father’s voice. The boy walked towards him, Greg smiled and knelt to his level. “Hey… You alright? you kinda got a little emotional a few hours ago.” Steven nodded in silence. Greg smiled once more.

“Come on, I brought us some dinner.” Steven sighed, grabbed his trey of sushi, then left. “I’m gonna go eat in my room.” Greg watched sadly as Steven walked upstairs to his room to continue unpacking. He walked out back and opened the sliding glass door and saw a man. He wore a blue polo shirt with white jeans and green shoes. He has curly black hair with a slither of gray in the middle and a black beard.

Greg waves at the man.

“Hey!” the man said.

“Hi! I’m Greg Universe!” he said.

“I’m Duane Williams.”

“Hi Duane,” he said.

“Duane! come and help me!” his wife called out from the kitchen.

“Coming, Nichole!” he said, walking back inside the house. Greg looked at his sushi for a few minutes, He put his sushi in the fridge and sat in the living room.

Pulling out his phone, he decided to text Pearl.

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Steven’s phone played Your the Anchor That Keeps My Feet on The Ground by Mayday Parade. He was lying on his bed. He was halfway done packing. He decided to take a break, his tray of sushi was left on his desk, Steven sighed and turned his body, the boy sighed, he missed his home and his friends.

He can’t run away…. Maybe he can call Pearl to come pick him up. He paused his music and sat up. He scrolled down to Pearl’s contact and his finger hovered over the blue number.

He wanted to call her so bad. But he can’t do it.

Steven Quartz Universe, what are you waiting for, do it!

Steven sighed and put his phone down, he closed his eyes and went to bed. Another day awaited for him at the creek.

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Steven opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched. He took his empty tray down to the kitchen. Steven went back upstairs, went into his bathroom, and turned on the faucet to brush his teeth.

Once he was done, he went to his closet and picked out a shirt, he picked out his red star t-shirt and slipped it over his head. Steven grabbed a pair of jeans and put them on, then socks with a pair of black Nike low tops and put them on. Steven looked around his room, he could unpack the rest of his things later.

He opened the door and walked down the hall. His dad was still asleep probably. it was eight in the morning, and he still hadn’t found a job yet, granted, they did move in yesterday.

Steven walked downstairs, his shoes touching the white tile flooring of the house, he went to the kitchen, but he remembered that they hadn’t bought any food yet for the house, so Steven decided to go next door.

Opening the door, the boy walked to the Williams house and knocked on the door. A woman opened the door. The woman initially was wearing a blue shirt with gray jeans and black shoes. She switched to wearing a black shirt with beige pants. She wears gold earrings. She has black braided hair.

“Hello, and what is your name?”

“Steven.” he said. The woman smiled. Craig had told her about this boy yesterday, and he’d also told her that he was half-alien.

“Of course. I heard from Craig you and your father moved in yesterday,” she said, Steven nodded. Steven walked into the house and went to the kitchen, Craig was eating cereal.

“Hi, Craig!” he said cheerfully.

“Hi, Steven! do you want to have breakfast with us?” Steven nodded and sat down.

Nichole handed him a bowl, Steven poured the cereal and milk. Then a boy walked downstairs in a work uniform. Steven looked at him;

He seems to be an average-height male who wears glasses with the whole top of his glasses black and he has tall black hair with shaved sides. He wore a green polo shirt, khaki pants with an apron with pockets on the front, he’s wearing red and white sneakers. The boy also wears a brown watch on his right wrist.

“Do you want some breakfast before you go to work, Bernard?” Nichole asked. Bernard shook his head.

“No,” he said, putting his backpack on his back, and grabbing his phone.

Steven turned to look at Craig. “Hey, Craig. where is your dad?”

“Oh, he’s probably looking for work. He hasn't found a job yet,” he said, putting his bowl on the counter, Steven stood up and did the same.

“Bye, mom! we're going to the creek now!” he said, running out with Steven following behind him.

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Craig and Steven walked to the creek together. They saw Kelsey and JP waiting for them at the stump.

"Hey, guys!” Steven said.

“Hey!” Kelsey and JP both said. Steven waved. “Alright, what are we going to do today guys?” Craig said.

“We can be warriors and fight in the heat of battle!” Kelsey said, pulling out a PVC pipe taped with a piece of cardboard and a toilet paper roll.

“Yeah! And I will be your defense!” Steven said, summoning his shield from his gem.

“And we can be the bad guys who’ll try to destroy you!” Craig said, JP smiled and picked up a stick, Craig did the same and they played.

“Steven, cover me!” Kelsey said, Steven protected her as Craig and JP ‘struck’ them with their swords. Steven blocked the attacks.

‘Hey, Steven! you have anything to trade?” Kit asked.

Steven took out a few items from his pocket.

“I found this plastic ring in my room,” he said, putting it on the cooler, Kit smiled and nodded.

“Alright, Steven. What would ya like?” she asked, Steven thought about it for a few seconds.

“Do you have any chips?” he asked, Kit smiled and nodded, she pulled a lever that was attached to a filing cabinet, the cabinet pulled up and he saw slots for nine types of chips, Lays, Ruffles, Doritos, Cheetos, Pringles and popcorn. Steven looked at the section and thought for a few minutes.

“I want the ruffles, please,” he said, Kit grabbed the bag and handed it to him.

“Thank you, Kit,” he said, smiling at her and walking away from The Trading Tree.

Steven walked over to the stump. He then saw another boy he had his dreads in a ponytail with a single hair strand hanging on the right side and he was wearing a green shirt, that had light and dark green lines in a pattern, gray pants, and dark gray shoes.

“Hey, Steven! this is Omar.” Craig said, introducing the two boys to each other.

“Hi, Omar!” he said waving.

“So, Omar. how was that trip to California?” Craig asked, Omar popped the lollipop out his mouth and spoke;

“It was good, it was a lot of fun, I wanted to see the Walk Of Fame. That was cool!” he said. pulling up pictures from his phone, Steven looked at a gold star with a little TV set in the middle, and above it, it said 'STEVEN UNIVERSE’ on it.

“Woooah! Cool!” Steven said, stars in his eyes as he looked at the picture. Omar smiled and nodded.

“Hey, wanna go to the other side and go to The Creek’s Kitchen?” Steven was confused. These were some new places that he had never been to before. At the same time, he did move yesterday. So, he couldn’t complain much.

“Let’s go,” Omar said, walking ahead of them, Steven walked behind them, looking at the kids and the creek happily playing. Thankfully it was June, so he could play in the creek with Craig and his new friends.

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“So, Steven. What was Deleware like?” Craig asked.

“It’s nice, I live on the beach, and my dad used to work at a car wash. And before that, he was a rock star.”

Craig remembered seeing an episode once where his father showed him a VHS tape about how his parents met each other. They both fell in love and eventually had Steven. But it came at a price. Rose and Steven couldn’t both exist, so Rose had to give up her physical form to birth to her son.

“That I know, and your mom gave up her body to have you,” Kelsey said, Steven nodded and put a hand up to his arm and rubbed it.

“You alright?” Kelsey asked.

Steven nods and they keep walking, they walk through the overpass to get to the other side.

The other side of the creek was a lot nicer than the other part of the creek, he’d been here yesterday to go to the Candy Bar, but it got more and more impressive to look at. Steven saw kids playing freely in the creek.

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They walked to The Creek’s Kitchen — now called The Creek's Restaurant, he saw that the restaurant had tables and chairs set up. Steven remembers one time that he brought the Pizza restaurant and the Fry shop together in Beach City.

They all sat down, Steven saw a boy handing them menus. He saw the boy who was about his and Craig’s height. He has dark hair, dark blue-rimmed glasses which have one of the lenses knocked out, as well as a cast in a sling on his arm, due to his gathering mishaps.

“Hi, Craig.” the boy said.

“Hey, Tien,” he said waving, Steven looked over his menu.

MAIN DISHES

Grilled Cheese,

Sliders

Chicken tenders. (Buffalo, garlic, regular)

cookie selection (Oreo, chocolate chip, or frosted sugar cookies)

DRINKS:

Coke Zero

Water

Fanta

Root Beer

Lemonade

Kool-Aid

Regular Milk

Chocolate Milk

Strawberry Milk

Steven read the items. They all looked good,

“How many pieces of chicken are there?” Steven asked. seeing no description of the item. Tien walked over to the boy.

“There are five tenders. And you have some choices of sauces like ranch, barbecue, buffalo sauce, and honey mustard.”

“I love ranch!” the boy smiles.

“And what would you like to drink?” the boy smiles.

“A Coke Zero, please,” Steven said, Tien smiled again and wrote it down on his notepad.

“What would you guys like?” Tien asked

“I will have the Sliders with a lemonade,” Craig said.

“Kelsey and I will both share the cookie selection and two glasses of Chocolate milk,” JP said, Kelsey nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take the grilled cheese with Kool-Aid,” Omar told him, handing him the menu.

“Alright, I will be back with your drinks shortly,” he said.

Steven pulls out his phone and gets a missed call.

Connie

Missed Call.

Steven swiped his finger to the right and put the phone on his ear. His fingers drumming on the table as it was ringing.

Craig looks at him, and Steven’s eyes keep darting from left to right.

“Hello?”

“Connie!”

“Hey, Steven. How are you?”

“I’m good, what are you doing?”

“I’m about to go train with Pearl.”

“Oh, are you at your house?”

Connie was packing up some stuff such as a tank top: shorts and his mother’s soward. “Yeah, I’m going to do some training with her,” she said, picking up her duffel bag and walking downstairs. Steven nodded.

“Okay, Connie. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, hanging up. Steven set the phone down and looked at the table.

Craig, who sat next to him, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Steven, you okay?” he asked his new friend, Steven nodded and waited for his snack.

Tien came back With their snacks and drinks.

“Here you go guys, your snacks,” he said handing them out, Steven smiled as he put his napkin used for his fork and knife on his shirt.

“Thank you,” he said, as he took his fork and took a chicken tender and cut it with his knife. Craig didn’t want to judge him too much, so he ignored it and ate his snack.

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Craig, Kelsey, JP, Omar, and Steven all went back to Stevn’s house, they wanted to have a sleepover at Steven’s probably this week. Greg will have to talk to their parents on the phone first, Steven couldn’t wait! he can be a normal kid after all. He was so excited for this! He took a selfie with them and sent it to Pearl.

Steven’s phone buzzed and he looked at the notification

Pearl

‘You guys look so adorable!’ then she sent an emoji holding back tears and smiling.

Steven chuckles to himself and puts his phone back into his pocket. They'd made it into their neighborhood, Steven pulled the key out of his pocket put it in the lock, and opened the door.

“Is your dad home?” Craig asked. Steven shook his head.

“His van is gone. He’s probably picking some stuff up at the store,” he said, walking farther in. They went to the living room. Steven saw something hanging on the wall, so he called someone.

“Excuse me for a second guys.” Opening the sliding glass door that led to the back, he tapped Pearl’s contact and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Garnet’s voice was heard on the other end.

Steven looked back to the picture hanging above the living room’s couch, the picture was hanging in the temple after he was born in 2000.

He was trying not to throw up or pass out. His hands were shaking, Craig stepped outside and saw Steven holding his phone up to his ear and standing still. He stood there for a while. Crag walked up towards him, Steven stood frozen, not talking.

“Steven?! Are you alright, are you hurt?” Garnet asked Steven wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He stared at the phone,

He stared at his cell phone with various icons and buttons displayed on its screen. In the center of the phone, there is a white caller ID labeled ‘Garnet’ with a phone icon next to it. The screen also has other icons, including a clock, a car icon, a letter icon, a heart icon, and a microphone icon.

The phone also features a speaker, a camera, and a mail icon. There are several buttons on the screen as well, such as a back button, a home button, a recent apps button, and a share button. Additionally, there is an arrow icon at the bottom left corner of the screen.

Steven put it on speaker, and then he spoke.

“Y-Yeah…. I’m here. And no I’m not hurt.” Garnet didn’t believe that for a minute, she could sense that something was wrong.

“Steven…” She said. Steven clenched the phone in her hand as she continued. “I can tell that something is wrong. Are you homesick?”

“I was,” he said, looking at Craig. Then he smiled, he had friends in Deleware and Maryland. And he loved going to the creek. “But after a day being in the Creek and playing with my new friends. I’m not anymore.”

“That’s excellent to hear, Steven! But why did you call exactly?”

“Um…” Steven said, as he walked up to the open sliding glass door and looked in the living room, and saw his mother’s picture up on the wall. She looked so peaceful and beautiful, yes. It was a picture but he could feel her watching them from heaven — or within him.

Steven was eating dinner with his father. The smell of shrimp pasta hung in the air. “So, how was your day, Dad?” the boy asked.

“It was good, Schu-Ball. You had fun at the Creek?”

“Yeah! hey Dad, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Did the gems give you the picture of mom?” Greg nods.

“Yes, they did. Why?”

“No reason, I thought we didn’t have that in the house yesterday.”

Greg twirled his fork full of pasta and put it in his mouth. “Well. I asked Pearl and she said that I could take the painting, they miss her too as much as I do.”

“But you have me, Dad.”

Greg smiled, he stood up and ruffled his black curly hair, Steven smiled and stood up, putting his plate in the sink. Greg looks at him. “Why won’t you watch cartoons?”

“Aw, yeah!” Steven ran into the living room and jumped on the couch.

Picking up the remote and turning on the flatscreen TV, changed it to Nickelodeon SpongeBob Squarepants playing, Steven crossed his legs and watched the cartoon.

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Steven was getting ready for bed, he took a shower and put his PJs on, and now he was in bed. he went to sleep, and a new day was upon him tomorrow.

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A\N: Hey guys! This is a new story I’ve been working on! tell me how you like it, and I’ll see you later!

[maxbytes]

Jasper's Gift

please take this ficlet of how i would have written steven's goodbye to jasper *cries*

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Steven made his way slowly through the streets of Little Homeworld, wiping a stray tear away. He smiled at the fresh memory of Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot giving him a tight group hug in a tearful goodbye, telling him they loved him and they would miss him. Before all their contagious sobbing, he had given them gifts he thought they’d appreciate best, and predictably, they had loved them. He mentally checked the trio off the list, meaning all his gifts had been doled out, except one. 

Once he made it back to his car, Steven opened the trunk and pulled out a large, heavy gift box. If the boy wasn’t half gem, the trek he planned through the forest with this box would have been a chore. But its weight was almost nothing in Steven’s arms. He hefted it up on one shoulder and closed the trunk, turning to the nearby treeline bordering the woods.

BOOM!

The sound of an explosion of heavy concrete just behind him made Steven jump, the large box nearly sliding off his shoulder. He turned around as the dust cloud dissipated and saw a silhouette-shaped hole in the wall of the nearest building. Beside the hole was the gem who made it. She leaned against the cracked wall with her arms crossed, glaring in a different direction. Steven could hardly believe her good timing.

“Heard you’re leaving,” she said. Then she leaned off the wall and finally met his eyes, and declared, “I’m coming with you!”

Steven couldn’t help his slight smile of disbelief. “Jasper, I’m going alone.”

Eyes wide and teeth clenched, Jasper brought up her fists. “Then who will protect you?” she demanded.

Steven put his free hand on his chest and assured her, “I can protect myself.”

Jasper deflated and groaned, dropping her eyes. “I know.”

They remained silent for a long moment.

“Um, Jasper?” Steven grew nervous, unsure what she’d think. “Before I go, I wanted to give you something.”

The box slid heavily down his shoulder and into his hands, and Jasper looked up again with a questioning look. She stared at the gift box as Steven held it out to her, and she reluctantly took it in both hands, holding it like one would hold a precious artifact. 

“What’s this?” Jasper slid her fingers along the edge of the lid.

“Just a goodbye present. Go ahead and open it,” Steven urged her patiently.

At Steven’s okay, Jasper ripped off the lid and let it hit the ground, and the item inside bulged outward in the open air. It was a bulky, cream-colored fabric, folded up into a square to fit snugly in its gift box. Jasper raised a curious eyebrow and took a handful of the fabric to lift it effortlessly out of its confinement.

“And this is…?”

“It’s a weighted blanket. It used to be mine, but I never really used it.” Steven’s words tumbled out in a rush to explain. “I saw you rip your old blanket, even though you seemed to like wearing it around your cave, so I thought maybe… you’d appreciate a higher-quality replacement.”

Jasper eyed him silently. She pulled out the blanket all the way, and it unfurled from its neat folded-up square to reach heavily to the ground. She bounced it a little, feeling its weight. A deep hum came from her.

“Also, Jasper?” Steven rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his chest squeeze in sudden emotion. “I just want to say again… how deeply sorry I am. I’m so, so sorry for what I did.” Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, threatening to fall, but he wiped them away before they could make trails down his face.

Jasper brought the blanket close, but glared at him over it. “Don’t apologize,” she growled, but her voice had gone soft.

“But I want to. And I–” Steven took a deep breath to calm himself, “I know a present and an apology could never make up for what I did to you. But I genuinely hope, once I’m gone, you will have the chance to find yourself. And find what makes you happy. Something you could live for that isn’t a Diamond you have to avenge or protect.”

Jasper’s upper lip twitched upward, and her intense yellow eyes grew fiery. Gripping the bulky blanket to her, she hissed, “Stop this. You only did what you were meant to do. I-I had it coming for challenging your power, and now I know you’re my Diamond. You showed me.”

Anger built up in Steven’s chest, but with a practiced moment of pause, he let it out in a slow exhale. A quick glance at his fists told him he wasn’t turning pink. He spoke slowly and clearly, traces of his anger at Jasper, and for her, could be heard in his voice, “You didn’t deserve it, Jasper.”

She stared him down.

Steven took a step forward and hissed at her, “Do you hear me? You didn’t! Deserve it!”

Her eyes squinted in challenge, but then Jasper dropped her gaze to the ground. A boot scuffed at the dirt.

After a long and tense moment of silence, Jasper gathered the blanket into a messy bundle and held it to her chest in one arm, having discarded the box. She cleared her throat and whispered with a level voice, “Thank you for the gift.” Then she turned and headbutted the wall to make a second hole next to the first with a loud BOOM! echoing out in the distance. She shot back over her shoulder, not looking at him, “Farewell, my Diamond.”

-

Once Steven made it back into his Dondai after giving the gems a proper goodbye full of hugging and excessive tears, he finally began to drive. Speeding off the loose sand of the beach, he found road, and drove on through Beach City. Lining the streets all around him, he spotted the townspeople cheering and seeing him off, and he waved back at them with a smile. It didn’t take long to make it to the city’s edge, and he soon passed the welcome sign, leaving it behind him.

Suddenly a movement in the treeline off the side of the road caught his attention, and Steven slowed to see what it was. A large figure cloaked in a white-ish covering poked out of the trees and stood tall on the hill. He gasped when he recognized it. It was Jasper, wearing her huge weighted blanket about her shoulders like a cloak. In the couple seconds they had to stare at each other, Jasper gave him a slight wave, and Steven waved back. Then she was gone, far behind him, and Steven looked on at the open road. Into the future.

(art by Rebecca Sugar)

[nerdieforpedro]

Day Thirteen- Smell

Word Count: 444

Warnings: Domestic fluff & Steven being a sweet man

Notes: One of the Moon Boys has popped up. 🤭 I pictured him doing something relaxing like this for someone he loves. I know @megamindsecretlair and @soft-girl-musings would like it

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenges

Steven had been biding his time. Keeping his Donna off his back at the museum for at least the last few months. It was now Spring so there were going to be new shipments of items to sell and he'd be able to stock up on what he needed.

Grant is an honest man, so he’s no one to steal. Instead, he buys one set twice a week for a month straight so he had eight of them. The text he sends you isn’t clear on exactly what he wants to do when he comes over to see you in the evening. Mainly that he wanted to take care of you because you’d been complaining that your muscles were sore most of the time. He cooked dinner, the curry of the chicken paired perfectly with the Parmesan couscous and red wine he’d picked out. Steven enjoyed cooking for you, saying that it was because he felt lucky to have you.

Often, you reminded him it wasn’t luck, you’d bought him tea at the small drink cart outside of the museum where he’d poked fun at your coffee order. He jokingly said that if he could pick a tea you’d drink instead of coffee, then you might go on a date with him. He picked hibiscus tea for you and it did taste good but couldn’t quite replace your coffee. You haven’t told him after six months of dating that he was wrong. You do drink the tea more often now that he makes it for you.

He even asked that you wear the turquoise dress that he’d bought you because he called you his source of joy. Sometimes you think Steve is exaggerating about how much he grown to care you down to making sure he had shirts that were large enough for you to wear but had his scent in it for when he’d need to do overnight inventory and he wouldn’t be able to stop by.

He watched as you walked into the bathroom and you dropped the dress to the floor at his encouragement. Steven had run you a bath and added frankincense to the water, having you soak your tired muscles. He starts explaining that the scent was used for embalming but it was also for healing and anti-inflammatory properties. While Steven lifted your legs and arms to massage you in the water he continued to explain, you dosed off to the comforting timbre of his voice. The citrus notes of the oil with the faint scent of of mint from his own tea he’d had after dinner lull you further into relaxation, the scents of his love for you.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Experimentation

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: the taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Solitude

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

The rest of the day was awkward for Belle.  She couldn’t avoid Tony, but she kept her interaction with him short. She was fuming; he had no right, no say in her life.  He wasn’t her father. At 3PM, Maria Hill called in all of the exiting interns for a glass of champagne and a toast.  After, she had an exit interview with Pepper.  At 355, she packed up her small personal items. “Belle?” 

She looked up to see Tony standing there. “Anything else before I go Mr. Stark?” 

“No, I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean that Steve isn’t a good guy just that I wanted you to be smart and safe.”  

Tony was feeling the guilt more today.  But Belle didn’t need to know that.  She didn’t need to know that he had known her father.  Not really friends, but close.  He thought back to day… 

“Phil!” Pepper stood up to greet the SHIELD agent.   

“Uh, his first name is Agent.”   

Tony couldn’t believe the man had breached his security and tried to deflect him. Pepper had convinced him to read over the incident with the tesseract. He would be meeting with others including Captain Steven Rogers, the man who worked with his father on Project Rebirth.  As Pepper made her way out with Agent Coulson, he overheard their conversations.  

“I want to hear all about that cellist.”   

“She moved back to Portland.  Belle is pretty upset about it…” 

* 

Fast forward to Tony arriving to the helicarrier and Tony’s offer to fly him to Portland.  “Just pick a day, keep love alive.”  

“I can’t, have to get back to my daughter.” 

“Daughter?” 

“Yeah, Belle.”  He showed a photo of a sweet looking girl with dark hair and blue eyes.  “She’s off radar so if you…” 

“Yeah, sure no problem.” Tony had arrived to the conference room… 

* 

Captain Rogers and Tony stood in the cell area, looking at the blood-stained wall where Phil Coulson had died.  

“Was he married?” 

“No, there was…” Tony hesitated. She’s off radar… “there was a cellist.” Tony kept his secret until he could talk to Fury.  

* 

It was a couple of days after New York.  “What is going to happen to her?” 

Fury looked at him.  “A couple of agents picked her up when Loki became a problem and took her to New Jersey.  She’s being placed there for her safety.”  

“I’d like to sponsor her until she’s done with school.  The least I could do for Coulson.”   

“I’ll make arrangements for her to receive it as a scholarship if you’d like.”  

“Thanks. Let’s just keep that between us for now. The rest of the team doesn’t have to know.”  

“Tony, there is something you need to know before we move forward…” 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.  I do have to go.” She picked up her bag.  

“I’ll walk you out.”  They made their way to the elevators in silence.  Tony cleared his throat.  “So, training in a month?” 

“Yeah, this will be weird.  Teaching.”  

“You’ll be great.  Your graduation is next Friday?” 

“Yeah at 6 PM.”  

They reached the bottom floor and Tony guided her out, hand on her back.  Outside, Bucky was waiting next to the SUV.  When he saw Belle, he opened the door and took her bag.  “Afternoon Belle, Stark.”  

“Hi Bucky.  Thank you.”  She turned to Tony and stuck out her hand.  “Thank you for everything Mr. Stark.”  

“The pleasure was mine Belle.  Good luck… with everything.” He let go. “Barnes, take care of her.”  

Bucky merely nodded and closed Belle’s door. He climbed in and started to make his way to Jersey.  “So last day?  Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine Bucky.  Just tired.”  

“What was Stark’s problem?  You looked really uncomfortable around him.”  

“It’s nothing.”  

“Belle, sweetheart, you know you can talk to me. I can be a friend in the world of supers.” Bucky gave her a look in the mirror. 

“Can I sit up front with you?” 

Bucky pulled over and Belle climbed up to the front.  “So, talk.” 

“Tony decided to comment on my life.”  

“How do you mean?”  

“He figured out that Steve and I are dating.  Well, I told him that Steve was my boyfriend and he flipped.  Said that Steve wasn’t good enough for me.”  

“What the… ok Belle, listen. Tony was out of line.”   

“Would Steve really hurt me?” 

“Sweetheart, no.  Steve would do anything to protect you. Stark is just talking out of his ass.”  

“I assume you know about Steve’s… ah preferences?” 

Bucky looked straight ahead.  “I do.”  

“As my friend,” Belle chewed her lip. “Should I be worried?” 

“Belle you can always say no.  Steve wouldn’t ignore you if something makes you uncomfortable.  Truly, he cares about you sweetheart.  I’ve never seen him like this before.  I mean…” he stops.  “No one else ever came close.”  

“Does Tony know about his lifestyle?” 

‘No,” Bucky looked at her. “I make sure no one does. Just like no one will know about you if you decide to leave.   But I want you to stay.  If only for the French toast.” He smirked at her and she blushed.  

Making it to Jersey was quick and Bucky spoke with Lila while Belle got her stuff together.  She got ready for dinner and made her way out.  She stopped when she saw Bucky kissing Lila.  She cleared her throat and turned around, not wanting embarrass them more.  “I’m ready Bucky.”  

“I’ll see you later Li?” He kissed her softly and Belle looked away. 

Lila giggled and nodded.   She hugged Belle.   “Are you going to be ok?” 

“Yeah.  Just the weekend with Steve.  I’ll be back on Sunday night.  Big week ahead.”  

“I know Miss Valedictorian. You have speech to write.”  

Belle flushed.  She hadn’t mentioned to anyone else of the honor she received. “Bye Li.”  She and Bucky exited the apartment.  

“So…” 

“Please don’t.  No one knows.”  

“Why?  That’s a huge honor.”  

“Everyone expects my family to be there for the stuff before.  The luncheon and stuff. I don’t have one so what’s the point.”  

“Belle, c’mon.   You have us, Steve, Lila, me.  We can be your family.”  

Belle fell silent and just looked out the window.  They made it back into Manhattan with 20 minutes to spare. Bucky drove around, trying to coax her back out.  “Belle, please.  Steve is going to kill me if I am sending you to him upset.” 

“I’m fine Bucky.  Just ready for graduation to be over.”  

Bucky pulled up to the restaurant and opened her door. “Tell Steve.  I promise he’ll be proud and supportive. And mention anything else you’re worried about.”   He alluded to her concerns about being hurt. 

“Thank you, Buck.”  Belle walked into the restaurant and the maitre’d looked at her.  “Miss Davis?” 

“Yes.” 

“Follow me.”  He guided her to a private room where Steve was waiting.  

“Isabella, you look beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and helped her into her chair.  

“Thank you, Steve.”  

“I took the liberty of having the chef give us a tasting menu.  I hope that’s ok.”  

“It’s fine.  Best way to taste everything,” she said with a forced smile.  

Steve studied her.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.  It was a long day.”  

“Don’t lie to me. Please baby, don’t.”  

Belle waited as the waiter poured the selected wine for them.  Once he was out of the room, she took a deep breath. “I’m nervous for this weekend.  Steve, are you going to hurt me?  I don’t want you to hurt me.”  Her mind comes up with the images she had searched.  Of her being bound and gagged while a whip would crack over the back.  She hitched her breath in remembrance.  

“Why would you assume that I want to hurt you?” 

“I did my research.”  

Steve chuckled.  She was such a good girl for him.  “Belle, will it hurt?   A little.  But only to provide you pleasure.  I want you to enjoy it.  The moment its not enjoyable, we stop. That’s why we decided on this weekend.  To gage what you do and do not like.”  

“I don’t want to be whipped.  I don’t want you to mark me when you hit me.”  

“Ok, that’s good.  This is what I want us to do.  You tell me what the limits are. Communications is the only way this will work.”  He stopped at the first course was brought out.  

“I did see something intriguing.  It’s like a whip but soft.”  

“A flogger?  We can try it.  It may bite but not as hard as you think.” Steve smiled at her. “I have an idea if you trust me.” 

“I trust you.” She didn’t hesitate in her response.  

They made it through dinner and Belle took a moment.  “Steve?” 

“Yes, sweet pea?” 

“Sweet pea?” 

“You like sweets, you’re sweet.   You are my sweet pea.  What did you need?” 

“I have an event to go to on Wednesday and I was wondering if you would go with me.”  

“Sure, what is it?”  

“It’s a luncheon with the alumni association.  For the valedictorian.”  

“Valedictorian? Isabella are you…” 

Belle lowered her eyes, a blush forming. Steve used his fingers to lift her face. “That is an honor. Congratulations.  Yes, of course.  I’ll clear my schedule.” He leaned and kissed her gently.  “I am so proud of you sweet pea.” 

She blushed and kissed him back.  

They finished up and Bucky picked them up and took them back to the apartment.  He dropped them off and said, “I’m headed to Lila’s.  See you in the morning for breakfast.”  He winked at Belle.  

“Goodnight, Buck,” Steve said.  He took Belle up to the apartment.  They went straight to the playroom. Steve could feel Belle’s heart pounding.  “Breathe princess. I promise, you tell me to stop, and I will.”  

“Yes.”  

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, sir.”  

“Good girl. Turn and face the bed.”  She turned and Steve grasped the zipper and pulled it down slowly, running a finger down her spine.  Belle’s breath hitched with the sensation. The dress dropped and pooled around her heels.  “Turn back around,” he ordered.  She spun again.  “You are beautiful princess.” He cupped her face and kissed her.  She moaned into it and Steve smiled.  He lowered his hands and reached to remove her bra.  He stepped back and took her in, just panties and heels.  

He licked his lips and led her to the bed.  He kneeled in front of her and pulled down her panties, sliding them slowly down her legs. Belle’s breath was ragged, every touch setting her aflame. “Step, princess.” She complied immediately. “Lay down on the bed.”  Each order sent a wave of arousal to her core.  She climbed to the center of the bed, still in her heels.  The sheets were silky smooth but stark white.  

“Raise your arms above your head.” Belle moved her arms. She looked to see where Steve was.  He came into view with a royal blue silk rope.  He took the length and wrapped her wrist gently.  “Don’t pull,” he said as he tied it to the bed. He checked for the tightness. “What is your safe word?” 

“Red sir.”  

“And your go signal?” 

“Blue sir.”  

“Good girl.   Spread your legs.”  She hesitated.  “Princess,” he warned.  She moved her legs.  He took additional rope and tied an ankle to each post. He took in, spread out and waiting.  He could see she was wet and needy.  “I don’t think I want you to see anymore.”  He took off his tie and wrapped it to cover her eyes.  He placed a kiss on her and leaned up to keep it going.  

“My greedy girl. Patience.”  Steve took off the rest of his clothes and placed a condom onto the bedside table.  He went to his toy wall and took out the red flogger and an egg vibrator.  He made his way back to Belle.  She was squirming, needing him. He got in-between her legs and ran a finger through her folds. She mewled at the sudden touch and tried to close her legs. “So wet for me princess. Do you like being at my mercy?” 

“Yes.”  He slapped her clit and she cried out.  “I’m sorry.  Yes, sir,” she corrected.  

“Good girl.  My princess is a good girl,” Steve coo’d at her.  He kissed her clit in comfort and then licked to taste the nectar coming from her.  “You taste so good princess.” He reached up and put the vibrator on her mouth.  “Suck,” he ordered.  She opened her mouth and felt the heavy object on her tongue. He pulled it out of her mouth and went back to her pussy.  He fingered her slightly and then pushed the vibrator in.   She gasped. “Its ok Belle, it’s a vibrator.”  

“Steve…” 

“No.”  

“I’m sorry sir.”  She trembled.  

“I promise, you will enjoy it.”  Steve reached up to kiss her.  “If its too much just let me know.”  He got off the bed and reached for the flogger.  He set the vibrator to low, watching as Belle squirmed at the sensation.  He smiled and took a stance and flicked his wrist, letting the flogger fly and slap Belle’s skin on her belly. She jumped and moaned.  “Are you ok? Color?” 

“Blue sir.   I’m ok.”  

“Did that hurt?” 

“No sir.”  

“Good.  See, it’s in your mind,” he reassured her. “I’m going to go a little harder. Tell me to stop if it hurts, ok?” 

“Yes sir.”   

“Good girl.”   He flicked his wrist harder, allowing the flogger to strike her breasts.   She pulled on the restraints and cried out. “Don’t pull princess, I don’t want you to hurt.”  He tried again over her legs, and she continued to moan in response.   He let go harder and harder, increasing the vibrator with each strike until she cried on the eighth strike over her abdomen.  

“No, stop!” She cried.  

“Ok, ok,” he dropped the flogger.  He took some lotion and rubbed her belly.  She moaned at his gentleness, and he increased the vibrator, causing her to scream.  

“Steve, please!”  She could feel herself close to the edge.  He reached and pulled the vibrator out, listening her to groan and he climbed between her legs.  He rolled onto the condom and thrusted inside.  She screamed again, feeling her clench around him.  He thrusted quickly in and out.  

“C’mon princess.  You know you want to.”  

“Please,” she pleaded.  He wrapped his mouth around her nipple and sucked hard. She wanted to have him close but her legs were still tied. She had to just take what he gave her. Steve reached up to release her hands and she brought them down on his back and gripped.  

“Let go Isabella,” Steve pleaded, feeling himself reaching his peak. He thrusted harder and she detonated, pulsing and sucking him in.  He pushed in and released, filling the condom, moaning her name.  He slowed his pace, kissing Belle gently as he did.  He pulled out slowly, not wanting to hurt her.  He released the ropes and went to the bathroom to get a warm towel.  She pulled her legs close, flexing them to get feeling back into them. He came back and cleaned her gently.  Then he rubbed her ankles and arms.  

Steve went and grabbed two robes.  He placed the blue one on himself and sat Belle up.  He wrapped the white robe around her and carried her to his room.  He grabbed a shirt and put it on her and lifted her to bed.  He wanted her close tonight, not feeling comfortable leaving her alone after her first experience in his playroom. He cleaned himself up and put on pajama bottoms.  He climbed into the bed and pulled Isabella close.  

He felt her settle and he smiled.  And he stopped.  Because he knew what he was doing was dangerous. 

* 

* 

* 

Because falling in love with her would put her in danger.  

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

[locution-youngster-enjoyer]

Weird AU I just thought up of:

Wordgirl x Roblox Doors.

Ok, so it’s not exactly a doors AU, it’s just heavily inspired by doors.

You play as Two Brains, a doctor who was given his strange name due to a bad lab accident, fusing his brain with a mouses. A close friend of yours, a young but unusual girl named Becky, suddenly went missing, and was last reported being seen at an abandoned location. Two Brains, while concerned, wasn’t particularly interested in personally going to try and find Becky, until he got a letter inviting him to the location Becky was last seen in.

Curious, and desperate, Two Brains goes to the location, which turns out to be a mansion. When walking in, he’s greeted on a secret intercom by a mysterious man who calls himself ‘Mr Big.’

“I know what you’re really hear for, Doctor. However, I’d like to welcome you to my little freak show! While I think you’d fit right in, I must advise my friends aren’t *nearly* as friendly when it comes to new faces. I’d get used to this place, you’ll be here for a while.”

So boom, he’s stuck in what seems to be a looping mansion, struggling to find Becky. The last bit of his conscience that is still Steven acts sort of like guiding light, and will make comments as hints. The other villains are all entities. Here’s some ideas I have so far:

Amazing Rope Guy (aka “Snake?”)

He’s one of those entities that can’t actually kill and hardly cause any harm (think Timothy from doors). If you open a closet, there’s a chance you get hit in the face with a piece of rope

Little backstory quote: “Oh him? He’s just trying to fit in. He’s scared”

Chuck + Brent (aka “The ‘Catch-up’ Brothers”)

Basically this AU’s equivalent of Rush. Riding around the halls of the mansion in a sandwich themed car, they’ll run you down if you aren’t quick enough to get out of the way. If you are able to catch a glimpse of them before you’re run over, you’ll notice they look like two people being fused together.

Backstory quote: “Have you ever had a favorite food? Once there were two brothers who both shared a love of sandwiches, but couldn’t decide on how to create the best sandwich. One brother had the talent of engineering, and tried to fuse his and his brothers favorite sandwich. Guess what happens when you stand too damn close to a untested machine? Now they ride around the halls to try and get rid of their permanent adrenaline rush, plus it’s hard to walk around when your existence is a constant three legged race… you know, I think I’ll just stick with fries as my favorite food.”

Eileen (aka “The Tantrum”)

The equivalent of dupe. Whenever you see a door that has a door number that looks like it was drawn on with a black crayon and you try to open it, you’ll get pushed back by either a green hand, foot, or a giant eyeball. If you have an item on you, not only will you take damage, your item will also get stolen.

Quote: “Ever met a spoiled kid? How do you deal with one who’s oh so green with envy? Don’t throw a hissy fit if she steals your things, she thinks its a birthday present. The little ass isn’t allowed to draw on the doors, and refuses to except time out. Her getting herself stuck is the best alternative I guess.”

Invisibill (Aka “Hide’n’Seek”)

The equivalent of screech. Sometimes, you’ll hear the sound of someone trying to muffle themselves laugh. The way to find Invisibill is by looking at any floating object near you, because it’s Invisibill holding it. If you aren’t quick enough, Invisibill will throw whatever object he’s holding at you, and you’ll take damage.

“Have you ever played hide and seek before? Imagine becoming so good at it you barely need to hide. Just keep him entertained, he *really* doesn’t appreciate being ignored.”

Leslie (aka “The Hound”)

Leslie’s role is interesting. She’s still Mr Big’s assistant, but similar to how she is in the show, she’s actually pretty neutral. When it comes to appearance, she looks like what happens if you try to combine a human’s anatomy with either a dog, cat, or reptile. Functionally, she’s a combo of the Figure and either Guiding or Curious light.

Whenever you die, you have a small cutscene where you wake up in an elevator going back to the first floor. The first time you die to specific entity, Mr Big will give you their name and a mocking comment. He’ll also speak over the intercom about any non deadly entities you may encounter (like ARG). However, the second time you die to the energy, Leslie will talk over the intercom and tell you the little backstory quotes, which vaguely hints at what the entity does.

Quote: “I apologize. I’m still trying to do my job. I just have multiple.”

Ms Question (aka “Vertigo”)

Ms Question is the equivalent of Halt. The lights will shut off, and you’ll start to be followed by a blinding light that vaguely looks like a woman. If you don’t turn around and run away when she approaches, she’ll hit you with an amnesia beam, disorienting you so it’s easier for her to hit you again.

Quote: “What are the two things philosophers do? Question and discuss. Now imagine only getting half of that down, and making that your entire personality. To many questions can get overwhelming, so it’s better to just avoid them all together. Don’t blame her though, she’s just very curious about everything, including you.”

Seymour (aka “The Ad-vert”)

Seymour is the equivalent of eyes. In some rooms, there will be a tv, and there’s a chance that an ad will start playing on the tv. If you stare at the ad to long, it starts becoming distorted with Seymour looking less human, and your vision will fill up with the ad and you’ll take damage.

Quote: “Once upon a time there was an rather attractive man. He knew he was destined for tv stardom, but needed a way to consistently be seen by all. Poor guy bit off more than he could chew. Now no one can stand to look at him at all, and he rather be forgotten then hated. To bad he’s stuck with the job he’s got. It’d do you good to ignore him”

Nocan (I could not think of a nickname for this lol)

This guy isn’t really based on any doors entities, and can’t do any damage. There’s a chance that when you enter a room, everything in the room will suddenly reverse (ex: you’re walking on the ceiling now). Hypothetically, if this was a real game, the controls would reverse as well.

Quote: “I always tell him to not do that, it makes a mess!”

The Butcher (uhhhh, I couldn’t think of a nickname for him either. Might just keep calling him the Butcher lol)

Ok, I know I said Leslie was like the figure, but to be honest, both she and the Butcher are like a combo of Seek and the Figure. Design wise, the Butcher looks the same, except more unhinged looking, and with butcher knives for arms (if you want an example of what this looks like, it’s basically the Razor from Slay The Princess but with butcher knives instead)

Quote: “Have you ever had a job you loved? What if you had no choice but to love the job because it’s what you are? It’s physically what you are, and you can’t change it. He’s just doing his job, really, he’s a sweetheart”

The Coach (aka ‘the Dealer’)

The Coach and most of the villain schoolers act as the equivalent of Jerry, El Goblino, and Bob as a safe space to buy items. The Coach is mostly the same, except for a noticeable extra amount of eyes and arms, and is the one selling the items. Chilling with him is Big Left Hand Guy (who’s the same), Captain Tangent (who’s comically accidentally attracting anything metal to him with his hook that’s permanently stuck to his hand), Maria the energy monster (who’s in a jar), and Royal Dandy (stuck in painting form). There are three extra chairs, one of which Invisibill will be sitting in depending on when you encountered him last. The second one is bent and cracked, and has “Property of the Whammer” written on it. The third one has a printer on it.

The Whammer (aka ‘The Earthquake’)

There’s a chance that a sonic boom will travel down the halls, acting as a less deadly version of Rush. The sonic boom itself deals unavoidable damage, but it also knocks down any tables and cabinets around it, which can crush and kill you.

Quote: “Some people really just can’t control their volume. When their mad, when their excited, when they’re scared. I doubt he means real harm”

Lady Redundant Woman (aka “The Redundancy”)

Beatrice is the equivalent of Ambush. She and her clones absolutely zoom down the halls, and will jump you if your in their way.

Quote: “Imagine being your own best friend. You never act the same way twice, so they’ll always be slightly different. She’s just trying to have fun with her best friends, so it’s in your best interest that you get out the way. It ruins their game”

Tobey (aka “The Inventor”)

Tobey rarely appears, but his presence is everywhere. On every piece of machinery in the building (Seymour’s tvs, Beatrice’s printer, etc) there’s the label ‘McCallister’. When you do see him, which you’re not meant to, you see how he seems to have fused himself with a machine. If you stay with him for to long in the same room, he’ll act like Haste (from the Backdoors) and immediately run you down and kill you with the machinery attached to him. If you try hiding under a bed or in a closet, he acts like Hide and kicks you from the hiding place, because there are secret machines in the hiding spots.

Quote: “Smart kid. He’s very helpful. Give him his space, he’s trying to work…. You.. you know him, don’t you?”

Yeah, that’s all I’ve got so far. There is some lore, and I’ll take ideas for any other villain entities, so feel free to ask me about it >:]

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Alpha, Beta (& Omega)

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3619

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the story's masterlist

9. A Fever

This Chapter: "Every triad needs their omega. Every alpha does.” “And you think I’ll just go ahead and pick someone?” “It’s your right as Headship.”

Bucky wakes the next morning to find Steve still asleep.

He spends a moment appreciating his face. Steve looks younger in his sleep—perhaps because the aging set of responsibility is gone from his features, his face absent the stern countenance expected of a Senator and Headship.

For the first time, it occurs to Bucky that Steve may have been through quite a lot already in his life. He is older than Bucky, after all. And on top of being thrust into the Senate at a young age, he’s also been in the military, A captain. And during wartime, too, Bucky realizes belatedly. It’s been over for a couple of years now, but maybe Steve had seen battle, or even horrible things. Bucky swallows and thinks that he actually knows very little about his husband, in the grand scheme of things.

It’s bizarre to be in bed with a near-stranger, to know that he’s married to, and has now been intimate with, a person he doesn’t know. Bucky takes a deep breath and carefully untangles himself from under the alpha’s heavy arm. Steve doesn’t stir, and Bucky goes into the tiny bathroom of their suite. He removes the only item he’s wearing: the marital wristbands that Steve had told him to keep on last night during their … their lovemaking. 

He fills the tub and washes himself, blushing as he thinks about what they’d done, and feeling unsure about how vulnerable he’d let himself be. Steve seems like an okay man so far, but that could still turn out to be a facade, and Bucky doesn’t like being at anyone’s mercy. By the very nature of him being Steve’s Beta, he’s exactly that. Steve has absolute authority over him in their marriage, and it rankles Bucky’s nerve every time he thinks of it. Just because Steve hasn’t humiliated him yet doesn’t mean he can’t, or won’t.

A soft knock comes from the door. “Bucky?”

Steve’s voice, of course. “What?” Bucky says.

“Are you alright?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Steve. I’m fine.”

There’s a long pause, and then Steve opens the door the tiniest bit. He peeks in at Bucky. 

Bucky scowls. “Hey!” 

“Sorry,” Steve says. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“I’m just bathing.” The response isn’t as nice as it could be, but Bucky pushes his guilt away. “I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?”

“... Yeah.” Steve’s eyes flick up and down his body in the tub, taking him in. “Are you … are you alright? This morning?”

Bucky grunts and nods, unable to help the heat collecting in his face. He knows that Steve is asking about last night, about whether Bucky is physically okay after their lovemaking. “I’m fine,” he says, wishing that Steve would close the door and leave him alone. “Just … I’ll be out in a few, okay?”

Steve looks at him for another minute, then nods. “Okay. Then we’ll get dressed for breakfast.”

“Sure.”

He shuts the door, and Bucky sighs and dunks his head under the water, feeling at odds with … everything.

As they get dressed, Steve reminds him that he should wear his wristbands. Bucky freezes where he’s doing the cufflinks of his shirt. “I—oh.” He hadn’t thought of it. He glances to the bedside table where he’d laid them after his bath. “I forgot,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to wear them, is the thing. Pressing his lips together, he goes back to fumbling with his second cufflink. It’s the right one, so he’s been struggling to get it on, the damage to his left hand making the task difficult.

Steve notices and comes over to help, deft fingers closing it with little trouble. Bucky peeks upwards at him as he finishes and smoothes out the sleeve’s cuff. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“You’re welcome.” Steve goes and gets the wristbands, brings them back and slides them on, one and then the other. He clicks them shut in the back, the tiny ‘snick’ of the clasps somehow intimate between them. Bucky stares at them.

They’re simple: matte black, metal, about an inch wide. When Steve had first put them on him at their wedding, Bucky had been surprised that someone as rich and as prominent in Society as Steve would choose bands so simple. Bucky licks his lips and says, “Gold is more in fashion.” It comes out sounding like a question rather than a statement, and Steve chuckles quietly.

“Yes, it is. But I didn’t peg you as a gold sort of guy, or a trend-follower.” He raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “You don’t like them?”

“No, it’s not that. I … I do like them,” Bucky hedges. It’s not that he doesn’t like the way they look. He does. They’re simple and sleek, attractive, even something that Bucky might have chosen for himself one day. But it’s the “one day” part that matters. The bands feel heavier than they really are, weighing his wrists down with the ownership they represent. He knows he has to wear them. Being seen in public with bare wrists would be a huge impropriety on Bucky’s part—and shameful on Steve’s. “They’re fine,” he mutters, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

Steve seems to sense this, as he gives Bucky’s hands a squeeze and lets him go. “Come on,” he says, “Let’s get to breakfast. I’m famished.”

The ship serves first class passengers their breakfast in a different dining room than dinner. It’s on a higher deck, in a room that has lots of windows to let in the light. Bucky likes the room, but he’s felt mildly queasy ever since he got out of the hot bathwater that morning. He’s hopeful that a good meal will fix it. This time, when the server comes to take their order, Bucky doesn’t bother speaking up for himself. Steve orders for the both of them, as is expected.

Henry and Senator Mills are seated at a table not too far away. Bucky nods when Henry smiles at him in greeting. The server arrives and sets food out on the table, and Bucky reaches for the toast rack. It’s as he’s spreading butter and jam that he looks up and catches Steve looking across the room. He follows his gaze and frowns: Steve is looking at a young man who’s seated several tables away.

Bucky deduces the fellow must be an unmarried omega, if his size and attire are anything to go by. There is no collar around his throat, the neckline of his shirt high and modest instead. He’s sitting with a triad who are most likely his parents. Bucky bites his lip, glancing back to Steve, then back to the omega. The young man is … very attractive. He’s delicate, fine boned and sweet-cheeked, blond with blue eyes. Bucky himself would have noticed him in any ballroom, likely asked for space on his card, even.

But something about catching Steve looking at the omega has his stomach tying into knots. Steve’s looked at Bucky with obvious interest like that before. It’s disquieting to see him regard another in the same way. Bucky huffs and goes back to buttering his toast. He can’t keep himself from glancing over to Henry Mills and his husband again, watching the obvious love between the two. An alpha and his happy, pregnant omega.

He averts his eyes. “So, when do you think you’ll start looking for our Third?” he asks, completely aware of how this makes Steve’s attention shoot back to their table and to him.

“What?” He looks surprised. “Our … our Third?”

“Yeah.” Bucky chews a bite of toast, trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach as he swallows. “That fellow over there is pretty.”

Steve follows his gaze back over to the omega sitting with his parents. He sighs and turns back to Bucky. “I suppose,” he says.

“Well? Are we going to socialize with that in mind while we’re on our trip?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. We just got married.”

Bucky shrugs. “So? Every triad needs their omega. Every alpha does.”

“And you think I’ll just go ahead and pick someone?”

“It’s your right as Headship.”

Steve groans. “Bucky, stop. I’ve got no intention of marrying anyone else any time soon, least of all a European, and certainly not without your consent.” He reaches across the table and takes Bucky’s hand—his lame one. Bucky’s eyes flick up. Steve is smiling wryly at him. “We’ll complete our marriage later,” he drawls. “You’re about all I can handle for right now.”

Bucky scowls and pulls his hand back. “If you say so.”

Steve’s smile slips away, his eyes losing their playfulness. “I do say so,” he says sternly, then sets into eating his breakfast. Bucky forces himself not to say anything else and instead focuses on choking down some fruit and eggs.

Choking down anything turns out to be a mistake. Bucky upchucks all across the breakfast spread not thirty minutes later, and a mortified Steve has to make apologies to the waitstaff before helping Bucky back to their stateroom. Bucky collapses on the drawing room’s settee once they’re alone, feeling cold sweat beading on his brow. “Shit,” he curses. “Do you think it was the smoked salmon? I think it was the salmon.” He’s never eating cold fish for breakfast again.

Steve is coming over from the door and seating himself on a chair near Bucky. He looks concerned. “You barely ate, so no, I don’t. I think you’re seasick, Sweetheart.” He looks him up and down. “You need to rest. I’ll have the servants bring Dramamine.”

“I thought this sort of thing happened on the first day,” Bucky complains. “Shouldn’t I have my sea legs by now?”

Steve laughs. He gets up and walks over to the room’s sideboard and pours a glass of water, bringing it back over for Bucky. “As someone who’s spent more than his fair share of time on naval ships, I can tell you that that is absolutely not true. I think I spent half of my first commission throwing up.”

“Never mind that this is a luxury liner and not some pirate ship.”

The edges of Steve’s mouth twitch up. “I’ve never been called a pirate before.” Bucky scowls and looks away, focusing on drinking the water Steve’s given him. He hadn’t been trying to make him laugh. “Don’t drink it too fast,” Steve warns. Bucky rolls his eyes. He does drink the water more slowly, though.

The fact that it’s a luxury liner they’re traveling on obviously doesn’t make any difference. Despite the fact that Bucky can’t actually feel any waves or motion of the ship, he still spends the next two days being sick as a dog. Hardly anything sounds appealing to eat, and he certainly can’t bring himself to leave the cabin.

It’s as he’s flushing the toilet from his latest bout of sickness that Steve returns to their quarters. He knocks on the doorframe and peeks into the bathroom. Bucky catches his gaze in the mirror where he’s turning on the faucet to splash water on his face. “M’fine,” he mumbles, knowing from the tight, pinched look on Steve’s face that he’s worried. “I’ll be right out.”

When he comes back out into the bedroom, he smells the sour tinge of Steve’s concern filling the room. Bucky wrinkles his nose. “I said I’m fine,” he repeats, though he doesn’t fight it as Steve takes him by the shoulders and leads him back to bed. “Ugh,” he huffs, feeling tired and pathetic. “Some trip this is turning out to be.”

“Sit,” Steve says. He helps him get propped up with some pillows before going to retrieve a steaming bowl of broth that he’s brought into the room.

Bucky eyes it warily. “M’not hungry.”

“The ship’s cook said this should be very easy to keep down. You need to eat something.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. Steve is bringing the bowl over anyway. “I just need to lie down,” he says. The next thing he knows, the bed is dipping and a spoon touches his lips. Bucky inhales and opens his eyes.

Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, the bowl in his hands and an expectant look aimed at Bucky. “You need to eat,” he says firmly. It’s not his Voice, but it could be. God, it could be. “Buck,” he says, looking plaintively at him. “You’re weak. Just take a few sips for me, alright? Just a bit. I need you to.” Bucky clenches his jaw in obstinance, but then Steve adds quietly, “Please don’t make me make it an order.” Bucky’s eyes must widen, because Steve nods. “Yeah, I know you don’t want that. So do it on your own, okay?” He nudges the spoon forward again. “Just a few sips at a time, c’mon.”

Slowly, Bucky parts his lips. Steve’s shoulders sink in relief and he smiles gratefully as he delivers the spoon to his mouth. “There you go. Good boy.” Bucky flushes, but parts his lips again for the next spoonful, and the next, eyes locked on Steve’s as he feeds him. “How is it?” Steve checks.

“Fine.” Meekly, Bucky asks, “Would you really order me to?”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yes. I would have.”

“You’d use your Voice? Threaten to punish me?”

“Yes.” Steve cants his head. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course it does!” Bucky scoffs. “So, what? Are you just gonna order me around for our whole married life?”

Steve frowns. “Well I hadn’t planned on it, but you know as well as I do that it’s my right as Headship. I have authority in this marriage.” He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully, then adds, “I’ll only ever use it over you if I feel like your well-being is in danger, if you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else, or if you get sick, if I feel that you’re being disrespectful to our union in public, or that you’re making poor decisions for yourself."

"Oh is that all?"

"But I’ll always try to give you leeway. I know you’re coming into your majority, and I know you want independence for yourself.”

Bucky huffs, though he can’t argue against anything Steve’s said. Most Headships would be much stricter, would feel free to structure their spouses’ entire lives. Bucky’s lucky Steve isn’t like that, but he still hates the authority the alpha has over him. “I guess I don’t have any choice,” he mutters. 

Steve just looks sad that that’s his response. “It’s my responsibility, Bucky. Don’t hold that against me.” Bucky grunts and says nothing. He meets Steve’s eyes again, opening his mouth for more soup. Steve sighs, and delivers it.

After the second day of his illness, Bucky spikes a fever and Steve sends for a physician. Bucky isn’t quite delirious, but he’s definitely not in his right mind when the doctor arrives and examines him. He informs them that Bucky isn’t merely seasick, but actually sick, and he prescribes a tonic and strict bed rest until they reach England. 

“Nothing worse than sickness spreading on a ship,” he tells Steve seriously. He’s spoken only to Steve since arriving in their staterooms, dismissing Bucky as subordinate, an invalid, or both. “No exertions for him. If he needs anything, get it yourself or have it delivered. You have servants?”

Steve nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” The physician nods politely at Bucky where he’s lying in the bed. “Get some rest, your Lordship.”

Bucky hums a response at him, his feverish state making him much less annoyed by the doctor’s dismissive attitude than he otherwise would be. “Kay,” he says. He watches as Steve bids the man goodbye, then returns to the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and lays a hand atop Bucky’s.

“I’m sure it’s just a bug,” he says. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll do just as the doctor says. I’ll take care of you.”

Bucky smiles, thinking muzzily that Steve is so sweet. He’s so handsome, and yet he’s kind and cares about Bucky, as if he has no idea that Bucky’s socially inferior and so badly damaged. “Thanks,” Bucky whispers, body shivering in another bout of feverishness. “S’cold,” he complains, trying to sink further into the bed.

Steve snaps to attention and is immediately pulling the blankets up higher to better cover him. He puts a hand to his forehead, frowning as he feels his temperature. “You’re burning up,” he says. “What you really need is ice water.”

Bucky moans pitifully at that idea. “No, Steve. Oh please don’ do that. M’so cold.”

Steve pets his face. “I know, Honey, I know. But we’ve got to get your body temperature down.” When Bucky whimpers, Steve hushes him, promising him treats for his good behavior. “I’ll have Sharon bring you up a piece of cake, after,” he says. “Would you like that?”

Bucky shakes his head, still worried about the prospect of ice water, but he says, “I guess,” after a long minute. “… Chocolate?” he adds hopefully.

Steve smiles. “Of course. Here, let me go ring for what we need.” He leaves the bedroom to ring the little bell that will summon one of their servants. Sharon arrives only moments later. Bucky can hear their conversation through the open doorway.

“Sir?”

“James’ fever has worsened.”

“How can I help?”

“Fetch a basin of cold water and cloths. Fresh sheets as well. And Sharon?”

“Yes?”

“See if you can find a piece of chocolate cake? … It’s important.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Their conversation stops, and Bucky hears the door of the suite snick open and shut as Sharon leaves. The next thing he knows, Steve is returning to the bedside. “Alright,” he says. “Sharon's getting what we need.” He looks Bucky over, frowning at how out of it he seems. “Bucky?”

“Hey,” Bucky slurs, thinking about the conversation he just heard and how Steve had said the cake was ‘important’. The thought makes him smile muzzily. “You’re nice,” he says. “Takin care a’ me.”

Steve smiles down at him, pinched, and reaches to swipe the sweaty hair away from his face. “That’s how I know you’re out of it,” he murmurs. “If you’re saying sweet things like that.”

Bucky whines and presses his cheek into Steve’s palm. “Nn. You’re a’good Alpha,” he slurs, eyes slipping closed. He feels so fuzzy. Having his eyes closed is better. “Hm. You get cake, too.”

Steve chuckles, and the sound is very nice, making Bucky smile with his eyes closed. “Okay,” Steve says tenderly. “Okay Buck, we’ll both have cake. Keep your eyes closed now, okay? Get some rest until Sharon comes back.” His hand is stroking Bucky’s face. It feels nice.

Bucky hums tiredly. “M’kay.” He drifts off, feeling shivery, and sick … and safe.

Steve cares for him for the rest of the trip, and by the time they’re one day from arriving in port, Bucky is feeling much better.

He also feels strange around Steve. His fevered memories aren’t the clearest, but he knows that he was open with Steve in a way he normally wouldn’t have been, when he was in the midst of it. And he remembers how tender Steve had been, taking care of him, bathing him and feeding him and fetching him everything he needed. He feels torn. He’d liked how close they’d been, is the thing. And now that he’s almost back to normal, he doesn’t know how to express his gratitude to Steve, especially since the last coherent thing he'd done to the poor guy was be nasty to him over breakfast. He doesn’t know what to do, now.

“Thank you,” he winds up saying, on their last night on the ship, when he’s lying in the bed and Steve is changing into his night clothes.

His hands pause on the buttons of his shirt and he turns. He looks surprised that Bucky is thanking him. They haven’t spoken much since Bucky’s fever waned and he regained lucidity. “You’re welcome,” he says, smiling a little. “It was hardly a burden to care for you.”

The way that he says it makes Bucky feel warm inside. He lets his eyes draw up and down Steve’s form, admiring the way his body looks in the fine clothes that he’s taking off, the bowtie that’s loose about his collar and the glimpse of his chest that’s already bared from where he’s gotten his shirt half-undone. Bucky licks his lips, feeling another type of heat start to stir in him. “You’re a, um, a very good nursemaid.”

Steve chuckles. “I’m glad you approve. And I’m glad you’re feeling better. … You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very.”

“Good, that’s good.” He’s still undressing, undoing the last of his buttons and pushing his suspenders off his shoulders. They hang from his waist as he slides off his shirt, all of the muscles in his back moving enticingly as he twists to drape the shirt on the valet stand. “I was worried there for a moment,” he’s still saying lightheartedly. “Knew it might be serious when you started complimenting me and offering me cake.” 

Bucky’s eyes are glued to him when he turns back around, and the alpha pauses, noticing his flushed cheeks and parted lips. He stills with his hands on his trousers. “Bucky?” His mouth curls knowingly. “What are you thinking?”

“Just …” Bucky licks his lips, eyes dragging over Steve’s chest. “That you look good.”

“Oh you think so?”

“Yes.”

“Hm." Steve takes a step closer to the bed. “Still giving compliments," he murmurs, amused. "Might have to check to make sure that fever’s really gone.”

"Yeah," Bucky breathes. "Yeah maybe you should."

Holding his gaze, Steve undoes his pants and steps out of them, pulling his underwear off as well. He straightens and stands there naked, his eyes going heavy-lidded with interest. “How much better are you feeling?”

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[chibivesicle]

Daniel Law thoughts and observations.  Why is his last name so bloody difficult to figure out?

This is a quick and frivolous post as opposed to my normally long form ones.  I’ve got it hard for Daniel at the moment; I’m wade through the vast expanse that is the internet looking for merch for him.  Steven merch is like shooting fish in a barrel with how popular he is.  K.K. merch is also easy and super cheap second hand.  But Daniel merch.  Hoooo boy, it takes some time and effort to find.

The first issue around him is his bloody last name.  Which Japanese isn’t equipped to deal with.  This shows in my merch quest as I’ve scrolled through pages and pages of items.  But first:

The Darkhorse translation calls him Daniel Low.

The Funimation translation settles on Daniel Law.

When you listen to the sub and the dub, both the Japanese VA and English VA both clearly say “Law”.  I’d like to also note that the Japanese VA for Steven, Mitsuru Miyamoto, has really good pronunciation for all of the English terms/names he says specifically which makes me really think “Law” is the intended spelling.   The credits also reflect this.

Both versions also settle on the title of Lieutenant.  While the literal translation is Assistant Inspector (keibuho - 警部補).  I’m not sure why they didn’t go with Detective which sounds like the most American term and Inspector being British.  I guess Detective is a role while, Daniel would still have a police rank associated with him. But I know squat about American policing terms and job titles.  Maybe, I should go back and watch some Law and Order and cringe?

Where is this total weirdness around Daniel’s name coming from?  Especially if we get a season three and Marcus also shows up for the Calamity Auction arc.

Now, we all know that having an equal transfer of Law into Japanese can’t happen since there is no way to make say a “La-wa” etc.  The best you can get is to drop down in the r-line to the “ro” combo.  But then you’ve got that pesky “w” you need to do something with.

If you wanted “Low” this would be the easiest way to get it.  Go with “ro” and add the long vowel dash making it “ro-oh”

But we can see this reading of “ro” with a long “o” can be [sighs] Rho, Lau; Low, Loo, Rau, Raux, Roe or Roh.

Okay, this isn’t what happens in the credits.  The Japanese credits write his name out this way.  “ro” with the “u”.  Now, the first hit is “Law”.  Yay!

But then we get also; Loew, Low, Lowe or even Rowe!  Argh! 

So, how does this tie into merch?  Well, how his name is spelled on KKSS merch of course and how to search for it!

For Back 2 Back full color acrylics that were Jump (Festa Specials I’d guess), we get him and Marcus being referred to as Lowe.  ‘Cause they are twin brothers and Daniel is the older one! Another issue with Japanese language mechanics versus English but that’s for another time.  I’d read Daniel to be several years older since he’s referred to as “older brother” in B2B but since you have to place your sibling in age relative to you - Marcus has to say older brother in the original Japanese.    

There is also a small special badge set with Steven and Daniel here, where he is also referred to as “Lowe”.  Did I impulsively buy this?  Yes, yes I did of course!

Yet when we look at other items music/band themed (acoustic guitar) , the American heroes (fighter pilot? why?), ice skating, saloon barkeep/western. he’s got a last name of “Low”.

You might begin to think - okay, it is clear that 1.) there is no official spelling of his name down on paper.  2.) merch designers see ロウ and make an educated guess 3.) his name can’t be “Law”.

Buuutttt let’s go to the actual search function of a Japanese site like Goods Republic.  And what do we find in the character list on the left hand side?  Daniel Law.

Additionally,  you go on Zen Market and access JP Mercari directly, searching with the terms of ダニエル and 血界戦線.  You will get merch that not only pulls up Daniel but all the translated descriptions will always refer to him as Daniel Law.

What have I learned from this?  That until we get season three and Daniel gets a floating info box like below, we will never truly know how his name is spelled.  However, with the sense of humor that Nightow has and his wordplay in English, I really still think the original intent is “Law” because he’s a fucking cop.  Come on, easiest cheese joke ever.

And if he doesn’t get a floating info box in a season three, it means they aren’t giving him full justice due to his increasing role in the series.