#you thought only jake and marc were a threat?

[lulila-safu]

[ivystoryweaver]

3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life

Part 4 of 5: Saved or Kidnapped?

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Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary: He's bad for you. But you want him so bad.

Word Count: 8.2k

Content: nsfw, mdni, more below the cut, buckle up!

REALLY explicit ok, f. and m. masturbation, creampie, sexual fantasies, nipple play, major glove kink, sex toys, violence, gun, gun fire, threats, demeaning language in the not-sexy way, assault (there is no rape or sexual violence and it's not Jake perpetrating, but be aware that the threat could be triggering), blood/wounds in the regular/violent way, blood/wounds in the sexy way too (a little masochism), hurt/comfort, dry humping, fingering, choking, brief/mild impact play, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, murder, not beta'd

This was supposed to be 4 parts but I'm sick of fighting with this really long ending, so...it's not the ending, yet.

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Jake. The name of the man driving you out of your mind.

He stabbed you (which fucking hurt), abducted you (conveniently, you wanted to see him again?) held you at gunpoint (scary but it made you wet), choked you (you loved it. Dammit.), groped you (honestly it was just dirty dancing) and…

left you abandoned.

Your bodies pressed and pulled, grinding together to the music’s thumping bass when you slotted your mouth against his and finally kissed him. 

Then instructed you to use your firearm and fucking left you there?

Anxious to see him again, you were left scrounging for clues as to whether he was even alive.

You used his glove, more than once. Slipped your hand inside it - ran it all over the shape of your body. Pushed gloved fingers into your wet heat, wishing it was him defiling you. The memory of his voice rumbling against your ear - his breath falling on your neck...the scent of his cologne took you right over the edge again, and again.

You sent the glove back to him, marked with your scent, just like you sent the knife, hoping it would lure him back to you.

But you heard nothing. One week passed, then two.

You supposed you should be thankful. He was, after all, hired to eliminate you. Why were you so obsessed with him? This was obsession, right? What else could it be?

And somehow, even though he stabbed you and threatened your life multiple times, something about him felt...safe.

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Jake's shoulders sagged in relief when he opened the package with his ruined glove. So Marc hadn't hurt you after all, nor had his employer's long arm reached you.

The shape of your beautiful body pressed temptingly against his, the memory of the slide of your tongue over his - the wet, heated core of you soaking through the flimsy lace of your panties as you used his covered bulge to pleasure yourself...

He was a damn fool to stop you in the club before you came. What he wouldn't give to watch you fall apart for him - to hear your sweet moans and whimpers as you rubbed yourself over his cock or rode his thick thigh, chasing your release, panting his name...

Memories of you had him slipping his hand inside his soiled glove, undoing his pants with one hand, and spitting on the glove a few times to get it nice and wet.

The taste of your mouth, tinged with alcohol - the heat of your skin, barely covered by the delicious little dress wrapped around your curves...

The essence of you had him hard and leaking already.

Wrapping his gloved hand around his stiff cock, he murmured your name, stroking up and down, twisting the way he liked - the way he'd done a thousand times, only this time, as he sat in his car, in a darkened parking garage, he possessed this extra aphrodisiac.

This glove had been stuffed deep in your wet cunt. You thought of him and touched yourself, and came on it, just like you had with his knife.

God, he wondered what your pussy would feel like wrapped around his dick, squeezing him. 

He could imagine your sexy thighs spread across his lap right now, in his car - your dress yanked down so your nipples could spring free. He would take you in his mouth and suck until you moaned his name while he pushed his fat tip into your dripping hole.

Thrusting up into the grip of his gloved hand, he imagined your hips rocking into his - you riding him right here in the garage of your father's building, milking his cock - your desire dripping down around his balls, soaking his thighs and the seat below him.

He was sure you had the hottest little wet cunt, if the stains on his pants from your grinding at the club were any indication.

"Jake...Jake...right there, yes...oh fuck..." You would pant, asking him to come inside you, squeezing his dick with your slick heat until he did just that, groaning out your name as he spilled every last drop deep within your walls.

"...f-fuck," Jake ground out, working his length faster and faster, his hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum erupted, coating his glove.

His head dropped back against the headrest as he gasped for air, feeling a small measure of relief, but wishing you were really here, allowing his touch - needing him to suck marks into your neck as he fucked his cum back inside you, slowly, strumming on your clit until you fell apart for him again, tears stinging your eyes as your body liquified under his touch, over and over, until you slumped against him, overstimulated, spent and completely his.

There was only one thing to do.

He sent the ruined glove back to you. Then he watched, and waited.

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Life wasn't getting any safer for you, no thanks to Jake. But, truthfully, you would already be dead if Jake's employer had hired anyone besides him to get the job done.

So now, not only were you in grave danger, but Jake was too. So he had to solve the problem before his employer did...or before Marc did.

Saving your life was Jake's new mission and despite the storm of conflict inside his head - this wasn't about getting his dick wet.

No, in the short amount of time Jake had become acquainted with you, he had come to realize - or, maybe he simply decided that you deserved to live more than your father deserved to suffer, and far more than his employer desired revenge for whatever slight he was seeking to rectify.

Okay and yes, he wanted to fuck you. Obviously. But it's not like he was expecting anything from you - not after stabbing you anyway. People like the two of you didn't get happy endings. Not that you'd want one with him.

But you deserved to live, so Jake made it his mission to somehow call off the hounds before disappearing from Chicago forever.

And besides, now that he'd shown you how to use your gun, he could teach you more: how to use a knife, how to really shoot, how to defend yourself. Your asshole father made it necessary.

He didn't allow that train of thought to venture too much further...but it wouldn't hurt if you learned the tools to overthrow your father someday.

So he watched and waited.

And fucked his fist every night while looking at your surveillance picture on his phone.

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Your sexual frustration soared to new heights. After Jake's glove found its way back to you, completely ruined, you waited, expecting to see him again.

And nothing seemed to grant you even an ounce of patience or relief in the meantime.

Not the memory of him - not even the thick dildo stuffed in your pussy every night. Not your vibrator, nothing. Oh you came, dozens of times, panting his name with every orgasm, but it wasn't him.

Perhaps you had an unhealthy taste in men? Who were you kidding, of course you did. Your father was a cold blooded murderer after all.

Fuck this. You decided to send him a message.

As if you hadn't made enough mistakes, this one might prove to be fatal.

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Your newest bodyguard greeted you normally the next morning, as you busied yourself, finishing your morning tea, nearly ready to run some errands. You almost didn't notice your other two bodyguards missing. Almost.

It was tempting to ask, "Where are Dumb and Dumber?" since Jake had let you know he referred to your sometimes inept bodyguards this way. But you asked for them by name.

"Not here yet," the third (Dumbest) replied. His name, you could not remember. Because you didn't care, honestly.

If only you would've noticed sooner. If only you had a way to contact Jake, or time to scramble across the bed to your phone, so you could call your father.

"I've been dying for a moment alone with you," the third bodyguard voiced, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"That's nice," you deflected, with a fake smile, rushing toward the door. "Just gotta get going, you know?"

"Not so fast," he ordered, menacing eyes falling on your mouth, then your cleavage. He blocked the doorway with one arm, while reaching for your shoulder with his free hand.

"I need some information from you, sweetheart." He licked his lips as you shivered.

"Okay, first of all," you huffed, attempting to shrug him off, "I'm not your sweetheart. Secondly, I don't answer to you. You work for me. And third, and I mean this respectfully - get the fuck out of my way."

"Ohhh, you dirty slut," he spat, gripping both of your shoulders and driving you back into the foyer of your penthouse. "Don't talk to me that way, you spoiled bitch."

You whimpered as his fingers dug into your flesh. "Stop - let go of me. That hurts!" You tried to jerk away but he was too strong. He continued shoving you backward until your legs buckled and you stumbled, hitting the hard floor with an "oomph" as shockwaves of pain spiked up your spine.

"Where are my bodyguards?" You demanded, climbing up as quickly as you could manage. "Where are Ray and Diego?" You frantically scrambled backward, searching for anything you could use for a weapon - when you remembered your gun.

"Uh, uh, uh, where are you going, slut?" Dumbest bodyguard number three scolded, grabbing your hair and yanking you back down.

You screamed in pain, but then went completely still as the barrel of your gun met your temple. "Looking for this?"

Your lips trembled as you whimpered in fear. "What do you want?"

An evil, growling chuckle rumbled out of him as he leaned down and breathed on your cheek, crowding in around you. His foul-smelling, sweaty body made your stomach roil...or perhaps it was the dread of what he might want to do to you.

"I've been watching you, dirty bitch." He laughed again. "Does Daddy know all the filthy things you do to yourself? How much you need a man to satisfy a nasty whore like you?"

"Fuck you," you managed before he shoved the gun's barrel into your mouth. Your body shook with sobs, but you tried desperately to hold yourself still.

"Such a filthy mouth," he hissed, yanking on your hair again. "But I'll put it to good use before I finish what Lockley started."

Lockley. That must be Jake's last name.

"You're gonna give me what I want - then you're gonna tell me where your pussy boyfriend is."

You would wonder to yourself later, how something could be so sexy with Jake, dampening your panties instantly, but be so terrifying and revolting with this asshole. The answer was as clear as day: after the first encounter with Jake, when he stabbed you - you were never in any real danger with him.

You wanted each other. It was all a bit of elaborate foreplay. What you wouldn't give to see Jake right now. Even if he only wanted to fuck you and forget you, at least he wasn't this disgusting asshole. And he wouldn't let this monster hurt you.

Your standards were definitely way too low.

"I'm gonna take this gun out of your mouth, honey, but you better be quiet or I'll have to use it. Understand?"

You quickly nodded, fresh tears leaking out of your eyes as he slowly removed the gun.

"There you go. That's a good slut. Now get on the bed."

Your shoulders shook with sobs as he used his grip on your hair to hasten you toward the bedroom. In his overzealousness, he shoved you too fast, too far, and you tripped, crying out at the rough yank, jarring your neck.

This gave you just enough time to turn around to face him, only to find your weapon pressed roughly against your forehead.

"Get...the fuck...on the bed," he growled, sweat streaming down his face as his eyes flashed with fury.

"Okay, okay," you conceded, "I won't fight you. I just fell, that's all."

Your voice seemed to exasperate him to the extreme. "Stop fucking talking," he ground out.

Mutely nodding, you sat on the edge of the bed, your stomach churning as a wave of nausea made your body physically sway.

"That's better," he condescendingly praised, running the gun along your cheek, down over the smooth column of your throat.

You allowed him to get closer because you would rather die than have him touch you, and, apparently, you were about to die anyway. If your life were an outdated film, this would be the part where the strong man would swoop in and save the day. But this was reality and no one was going to save you.

So the next instant, you simultaneously punched him as hard as you could in the crotch while biting into the wrist holding your gun, with all your might.

He screamed in pain, jerking away from you, but a mangled hole in his wrist gushed blood, causing him to drop the gun.

You sprang into action, scooping up the weapon and running for your life with the bleeding madman not ten paces behind you, screaming obscenities.

No way you would make it all the way down to the safety of the lobby. You had to wait for your private elevator first. Frantically pressing the button which responded to only a few specific fingerprints, you were relieved that the doors opened immediately. You ran inside, pushing the 'close door' button seconds ahead of your attacker, positioning your weapon in your two-handed grip, just like Jake showed you, after checking that the safety was off.

If the doors didn't close in time, you would fire.

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Your staff was well-trained to pay no mind to the odd things you did, and, although it was tempting to stumble into the lobby screaming for help, you decided to try to make it outside the building first.

Because the terrifying thought overcame you - which of your staff could you truly trust if one of your own bodyguards worked for the enemy?

"Jake," you whispered to yourself. "I need Jake." Ridiculous, since he was hired to kill you. You whimpered, feeling truly alone.

Realizing your mouth was covered in blood, you yanked off your sweater and used it to clean yourself up a little bit. When the bell dinged and the elevator doors opened, you left the sweater behind, but kept your loaded weapon ready in your hand.

You darted out a side door, into the street. If anyone fucked with you, they were getting a bullet and your father's lawyers could sort it out.

You scurried down about a block before ducking into an alley, trying to get to a good vantage point to see if that asshole had followed you. And you needed a second to think and to breathe.

As the tiniest bit of shock began to ease off, the taste of blood in your mouth, along with the thought of that disgusting man made your stomach flip and roil until you were sure you were about to spill your breakfast all over the pavement.

You felt too sick for a moment to mind your surroundings - what choice did you have? But before you ever got sick, strong hands gripped your arms. You screamed, flinching, but while attempting to bring your weapon up with both hands, someone stopped you.

"Hey, hey it's me. It's me - it's okay."

Jake.

Your traumatized body took a few extra seconds to catch up to your brain as you struggled against his grasp.

"Shhh, cariño, it's okay," he soothed, running his fingers along your wrist to carefully remove the gun from your grip. "I've got you."

"Jake," you sobbed, sagging against him as your legs gave out. "H-he's trying to kill me."

Jake mistakenly thought you meant him.

"No, I'm not gonna hurt you, it's okay."

But your body stiffened and struggled in terror. "He's coming! He's gonna kill me, Jake, please..."

That's when he saw the blood staining your lips, chin and throat. That, in addition to you running wildly down an alley, with a weapon, no less, and dropping to your knees...

Feeling sick at the thought of what might've happened to you, he thought it best to get you off the street.

"Come with me," he gently directed, guiding you by the arms toward his car, while making sure to stay alert and ready for whoever was surely following you.

"No, he's coming," you whimpered. "He's right behind me."

"Shh, baby, I got you, come on. I'm gonna get you out of here."

Thankfully his car was parked right at the end of the alley. Jake had been watching your building - that's how he saw you exiting and got to you so quickly.

Pulling you into the front seat, right up against him, he drove away as fast as he could without raising suspicion.

He took the streets, following all green lights, so he wouldn't have to stop until the two of you were dozens of blocks away from your hotel. You leaned heavily against him, sniffling softly, your body still rigid with terror.

At the next red light, Jake tugged his jacket off and wrapped it around you before buckling you in securely. You said nothing, but, after a few more minutes, your eyes drifted closed.

Jake drove around, purposely, in circles, doubling back to make sure you weren't followed. He finally decided to take you to the warehouse he often hid out in to lay low.

The warehouse was old, and freezing cold even in the summer, so he kept you in the car, which was now parked inside the building.

Switching off the engine, he shifted in his seat so he could get a good look at you, cupping your cheek and lifting your gaze up to meet his.

"Are you hurt?"

Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head.

"Are you sure? Whose blood is this?" Reaching into his jacket, he produced a handkerchief, using it to clean the dried blood from your lips. He offered you a drink of his water bottle, allowing you to rinse your mouth out, before you asked for a mint to settle your stomach. Anything to eradicate the disgusting taste and memory of that vile creature. Jake rummaged around and found some old ones from when he used to smoke that worked well enough.

"I-I bit him," you choked out, the memory almost making you gag again. "He was trying to kill me."

Jake's dark eyes shifted, softening with concern. "Who's trying to kill you?"

"My new bodyguard," you whimpered. "He-he attacked me. He shoved a gun in my mouth." A sob interrupted your explanation, and Jake shuddered, realizing he'd done the same - threatened you, stabbed you, shoved a gun in your mouth.

"I'm sorry," he mournfully offered, swiping a tear from the apple of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You don't deserve this."

"Jake," you whispered, gripping his arms desperately, as if trying to drag him closer to you, "I think he works for your boss. He said he was going to finish what Lockley started. I-is that your name? Lockley?"

He nodded, aching to comfort you, while knowing he was the source of your pain. "I am Jake Lockley," he breathed on your temple, a gloved hand running up and down your arm. "I'm so sorry. I promise you I'll fucking kill him."

"Where have you been?" You sniffled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he tucked you flush against his side, with one of your thighs slung across his lap. "I sent you that glove, but once I got it back, I didn't know if I would see you again."

Touching his forehead to yours, Jake sighed, regretfully. "I was watching...trying to protect you. I was right outside your building today. That's how I got to you so fast."

Easing back, you blinked at him so sweetly, you almost looked innocent. "You were?"

"Yeah," he breathed, with the faintest smile. "I know you probably hate me. I can't blame you for that, but I think about you all the time."

"I think about you too...all the time," you uttered as his lips covered yours. Melting against him, you shifted closer, the core of you pressed firmly against the meat of his thick, muscular thigh. His tongue slid possessively over yours as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you down, encouraging your movements back and forth.

The friction against your clit made your breath stutter - the notion that he wanted you to do this, soaking your panties instantly. Rocking back and forth eagerly, your mind drifted back to how close you were to unraveling in his arms in the club, in front of everyone. Now you were finally alone - he was really here and he felt so perfect.

"That's it, baby...take what you need." He shared your breath, the heat of your panting going straight to his cock. Needing to feel more of you on him, he used your hungry grip on him to move you across his lap, guiding your luscious thighs over his, caging him in.

Shifting in his lap, you noticed the bulge forming in his pants. "Were you thinking about me when you used that glove?"

Jake's eyes shifted from wide, pleading - sorrowful...to dilated with intrigue. "Not these gloves," he lowly replied, squeezing the swell of your hips before easing them down over the curve of your ass. "But the one I sent you...yeah."

Squirming against him, you sought out that perfect spot - where his fully erect cock could press against your core. Probably stupid to be fooling around at a time like this, but anything was better than the terror you'd felt this morning.

"How did you imagine me, Jake?" You murmured, your breath fanning over his parted lips, temptingly rolling your hips forward and back one time.

"Just like this," he admitted, grabbing two handfuls of your delicious ass and pushing you down on his erection. "In my car, on my lap, the way you are right now."

"Like this?" You repeated, rocking your hips in a slow, steady rhythm, pulling his cap off his head and tossing it aside. Then you sank your fingers into his thick curls and licked into his open mouth.

Jake eagerly responded, matching your hungry kiss, his lips so pliant, but with a demand of their own. Your bodies rolled together, craving the most intimate contact - the thrusting of your tongues a mere taste of what your bodies might feel like fully connected.

Jake's breath stuttered in surprise as you worked open his pants before trailing your fingers underneath his shirt to touch his surprisingly soft abdomen.

Thrilled that you really seemed to want to go further, he helped you work the shirt over his head, watching as you licked your lips at the sight of him bare chested.

"You don't look like a killer," you surprisingly observed, tracing his defined pectorals with your fingertips.

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shot up challengingly. "How do I look?"

Slipping your hand into his pants, you traced the shape of his cock, breathing right on his lips. "Like someone I want to eat alive."

Something like a growl rumbled out of his chest as you released your grip on him, your hips rolling over his deliciously, with renewed urgency.

Slipping his hand between your rocking bodies, his fingers pushed aside your flimsy panties. He found the sopping core of you, exhaling in a rush at your slippery wetness, strumming and caressing until he found the swollen bud craving his attention.

As soon as you felt his gloved fingertips on your clit, you could think of nothing else but how much you needed to come. All the fantasies, all the depraved weapon play, moaning his name in your bed, night after night - this was finally him - or as close as you could get at the moment.

His body, his fingers rolling expertly over your clit, his cock rubbing your cunt, his breath in your mouth, your name on his lips...

"Come for me like this," he coaxed, rubbing you furiously.

You bucked against him, moaning at the extra stimulation.

"Come on, baby. Say my name."

His voice, rumbling on your ear took you right over the edge, your body seizing in a surge of pleasure completely new.

"Jake," you moaned, your back arching, thrusting your chest against his bare skin.

"Knew you would sound so good when you came for me, corazón. Been waiting for this."

That's as far as your escapade went before a gunshot resounded in the parking garage, shattering the passenger's side window, narrowly missing your head.

In fact, if you had not leaned into Jake's mouth at that precise moment to kiss him, you would be dead, with a bullet in your brain.

Jake moved so fast, you could barely register what was happening. You were shoved face down into the floorboard with an order to stay down - shots were fired while you covered your head. Only a minute later, Jake was yanking you up, using his gloved hand to rake the shattered glass off the seat. He laid his jacket down for you to sit on and pulled his discarded t-shirt back over his head.

He didn't speak again until you peeled out of the parking garage.

"We have to get out of the city. Unless you want me to take you to your father." he roughly informed, glancing over to see if you were okay. "You hurt, baby?"

You drew a trembling breath, pretty much at your limit of life-or-death scares for the day. "No. Are you?"

He was. But what did it matter when he was going to get you killed?

"I'll go with you. Please just get me out of here." is all you said for a long while.

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About an hour later, Jake pulled into a different warehouse and ushered you out of the car, grabbing his jacket and hat, along with a bag from the trunk. Then he guided you to a different, more run down old sedan.

“Nothing fancy but at least there’s not glass on the seat,” he explained. 

You were asleep by the time you arrived at Jake's safe house, somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was a spot over halfway between his least favorite city, Chicago, and the city he could disappear in, New York.

He would regroup, make a plan, and then leave for London by way of New York. If you wanted to go back to your father, fine. But part of him was starting to hope you would stay with him. Although he could not give you one single compelling reason to do so, except for maybe how good he would fuck you if he ever truly got his hands on you.

"We're here, cariño," he whispered, gently brushing his gloved hand over your cheek to ease you awake. "Let's get you inside." Pulling his cap over his curls, he shook out his jacket and eased it back on, hissing at the wound on his arm, not wishing to bother you with his pain.

You drearily nodded, allowing him to usher you into the house - his heart swelling at the trust you seemed to place in him.

"Where are we?" You questioned, wrapping your arms around yourself as he turned on a small lamp away from the entryway. He poked around for a few minutes, making sure the shades were drawn and the house was secure before answering you.

As he drew his weapon, you flinched. "Was that him shooting at us? My bodyguard?"

Jake explained to you that it was, but he was dead now.

Sinking down on the old couch in the safe house living room, you sighed, burying your face in your hands.

"You honestly tried to do the same thing to me, Jake. Everyone wants me dead, I mean - what is even the point of running?"

He withdrew, as if you'd slapped him across the face. But you deserved answers.

"I know I did the same and worse," Jake finally responded, pulling his flat cap off his head to rake his gloved hand through his curls, while setting his weapon on the end table. "You have no reason to trust me, but, today, you did. Why?"

His eyes sought yours out. He needed answers too.

Shaking your head slowly, you shrugged your shoulders. "I don't know. I feel safe with you. I know it doesn't make sense - I'm clearly a horrible judge of character, but...I do."

Nodding, he eased toward you, kneeling in front of where you sat. Spreading his hands over your thighs, he peered up into your eyes. "I agree - it doesn't make sense for you to trust me, but...maybe you're a better judge of character than you think. You feel safe with me because you are safe with me. And you were smart enough to get away from that asshole trying to hurt you today. I'm only sorry I got to you too late."

You didn't answer, your head dropping down in defeat.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek in his hand. "You are safe here."

"Okay," you weakly agreed, hoping he was right.

Sizing you up for a moment, Jake reached for the gun - his weapon that he'd set on the end table. He also produced your gun he'd collected earlier, stashed in his jacket.

"Here, take these," he encouraged, presenting the weapons to you, before gesturing down at his chest. "You can search me. Search the whole house. I don't have any other weapons." His eyes cut to the side thoughtfully. "Actually, I do have two more in my trunk, plus ammunition, but - "

You weakly chuckled, taking the guns and setting them back down on the end table beside you. "I'm not going to sleep with four guns just to keep you away from me."

It almost seemed as if he didn't hear you for a minute as he chewed on his lip. "Shit. Five. There's one under the sink. I'll get it."

"Jake, stop," you laughed out, pulling his arm to keep him with you - the motion causing him to hiss in pain.

"Yes ma'am," he shot back, a bit playfully. He smirked, putting on a brave face, but it was too late. You were already inspecting the previously unnoticed blood tinged stain on his brown jacket sleeve.

"Oh my god, did you get shot? Take this off." You demandingly grasped at his jacket, which hurt even worse. He cursed under his breath, but complied, revealing a gunshot wound in his bicep. Thankfully, the bullet grazed his arm, but it was still a bloody mess, quite literally.

"Shit, Jake...do you have a first aid kit? This looks awful."

"Uh yeah, somewhere," he mumbled, shrugging away from your triage. "It's nothing."

You huffed, ordering him to the bathroom, to sit on the closed toilet lid, and remove his shirt. Once you were ready with first aid supplies, you dabbed the wound to clean it, only slightly unnerved by the way he gazed up at you. There was something earnest in his eyes that made you swallow thickly.

Still, he hissed as the antiseptic stung his flesh.

“Don’t be a pussy.” Your mouth ran away with you before you could think to stop it.

The corner of his lips curled, but he spared you a reply. You went on this way for a few minutes, gazes flickering, locking and drifting away, with him pretending not to flinch in pain.

As if seeking a distraction, his fingers inched underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing your soft skin temptingly, drifting upward until they caught on the rough flesh of the scar. His scar.

A sharp intake of breath gave him pause. “Does it hurt?” He roughly whispered, boldly dragging up the fabric so he could see with his own eyes. The angry flesh should summon feelings of guilt, but he wet his lips, relishing the fact that he’d marked you.

"Just sensitive," you fibbed, shivering as his gloved hand cupped the underside of your breast.

"Do you think of me when you see it, corazón - when you touch it? About the first time I pushed my way inside you?"

Your hand slipped, your fingernail raking over his gunshot wound.

A deep moan rumbled in the expanse of his chest as he shifted to accommodate his growing bulge.

“Does it hurt?” You teased back, pressing down a little harder. His cock twitched.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, cupping your breasts in both hands, working them in his gloved palms, tweaking your nipples roughly.

"Fuck, Jake," you panted as he dragged his hands back down - one of them pausing at your scar while the other slid inside your pants. Licking his lips, he cupped your mound possessively, glaring hard into your eyes before pulling your panties aside to find your warm, wet core.

"You like it too," he almost choked, plunging a finger deep inside you while his other hand pressed down on your scar.

You moaned as he fucked a second gloved finger into you with no warning - the sting of the intrusion of not being quite ready for him combined with the burning of your still-healing scar making you feral.

Jake laughed, darkly, so you raked your own finger across his wound, making him curse you in Spanish and snarl, dark eyes flashing.

You'd never wanted him so badly.

"Good girl, that's it," he praised, as if he hadn't just said 'fuck you' one sentence earlier.

His gloved fingers pumped in and out of you now in a steady rhythm and your hips started to roll to meet his grip, your mouth dropping open as your heavy panting devolved into a long moan...

...a sound which seemed to draw Jake to his feet, grabbing you by the throat and using his grip on your neck and his fingers deep in your pussy to shove you up against the door - the force of which slammed it closed.

The wild hunger in his eyes almost made you come instantly as your body liquified under his demanding and powerful touch.

The gloves typically did it for you, but something was different now - the craving to feel him, closer than in the club, or in the car.

You tried to bat his hand away from your throat but he squeezed tighter. But unlike in the club, you didn't feel scared. Or maybe you did but it was another deranged aphrodisiac.

Unable to get his hand to budge, you ran your mouth instead. "Do you ever take off those damn gloves?" You wheezed.

And he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he studied you carefully. Then he eased his gloved hand up over your chin to rest on your lips, pulling down just a little on your bottom lip.

You assumed he wanted you to suck his fingers - that's what you had dreamed about him anyway.

"Take it off for me," he said instead.

Eyes locked, you slightly nodded, gently biting the ends of his fingertips and loosening the glove, working it free until he could pull his hand out and you could drop the glove from your mouth.

Then, so casually, as if his fingers weren't doing wonders inside your cunt, he yanked them out and showed you the other glove.

"This one's for me," he told you, licking your juices off one finger before pulling the glove free, just like the first one.

This left you half undressed, soaked and panting with Jake shirtless, hatless and finally, gloveless - the two of you suspended only a moment longer before he gripped the sides of your face - your mouths and bodies colliding.

The breadth of his hips pinned you in place against the wall as he kissed you wildly. The heat of his breath consumed you, almost taking the fight out of you as you liquified in his arms. Almost.

Tired of all the teasing and dry humping, you yanked hard at his pants, working him free until your fingers could feel his cock. Taking his length in your hand, you twisted and tugged, your fingers dampening with drops of precum.

The two of you yanked and pulled at your remaining clothes until you were bare at last.

God, your fantasies weren't wrong. He was gorgeous - sculpted yet soft, smooth and hairy in all the right places - tan skin waiting to be marked by your mouth, by your fingernails. Various scars and scrapes littered his near perfect skin, telling the story of his violent life. You wanted to touch and kiss each one, to claim them - to know them.

And his fucking cock - no wonder he was so self-assured. Thick and perfect - not ridiculously huge but enough that it was going to stretch you so good.

Your mind processed this all in about two seconds before Jake turned you around and pushed you up against the counter, crowding in behind you, with both of you facing the mirror.

"Watch me fuck you," he lowly growled on your ear, gripping your hips in his (finally) bare hands and lifting you up slightly. You felt the length of him rubbing between your folds, soaking his cock with your juices.

"Dripping and I'm not even inside you yet." Releasing your hips, he gripped his straining length with one hand, lining himself up and pushing his fat tip into your tight hole.

You moaned like a whore, your back arching at the intrusion, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of him thrusting all the way inside, filling you so full and so right. "Oh fuck, Jake..."

His arms wound around your abdomen, pressing you possessively back against him just like in the club. Only now you were alone, and naked and his cock was buried deep inside you.

Fucking finally.

He felt your pussy quivering and clenching him already, convinced your body was made to fit his.

"This what you wanted? When you came on my knife? Fucked yourself with my gun?"

"My gun," you gasped, the air punched out of your lungs as he used his grip on your torso to push and pull you down over his length faster.

His hands eased up to cup your bouncing tits, your bodies moving together perfectly - the reflection turning you on beyond belief. This was better than porn - watching him fondle and fuck and handle you without treating you like an object or like a porcelain princess like every man before him.

"Jake," you panted, your head falling back on his shoulder. "Faster."

This man was a fucking genius with his hands. Releasing your breasts, he pushed two fingers down to strum at your swollen clit, while the other hand wrapped around your throat. Again.

“Taking this cock so good,” he groaned, squeezing your throat, his hips slamming against you as he speared you over his cock so hard - the image of your bouncing bodies really doing it for you.

"That's it, muñeca," he purred, your body going limp as curled himself around you, using his dirty grip on you to move you however he pleased. "You're mine now."

A burning, clenching flame pulsed in the center of you and you gave yourself over to it, reveling in the dark parts of yourself - the hungry animal inside that hurdled toward orgasm at the thought of the pressure on your throat...or the slight sting of him brutally fucking you.

Reaching behind you, you grasped haphazardly for his gunshot wound, shoving your finger inside it forcefully.

"Fucking hell," Jake hissed, pulling his fingers off your clit to smack you there - as a warning or as an agreement, you weren't sure, and didn't care.

"Pussy," you mocked, sliding that bloodied hand into his curls on the back of his head and yanking hard.

"Princesa," he fired back, remembering how much you hated it.

"Don't call me that," you growled, pulling his hair harder this time, toward you, turning your head to meet his waiting mouth, your lips crashing together like a force of nature.

Jake had never fucked anyone like you. Hell, he'd never met anyone like you. And he was about to come inside you - your tight, wet walls gripping his cock so good. So he rubbed your clit fast and hard, licking into your mouth, just to feel you clench around his dick before he lost it.

The pressure inside you finally snapped - your walls gripping him as your body shuddered with the hardest orgasm of your life, pleasure rolling through every nerve ending - all the fantasies and toys and weapons nothing compared to this man, wrapped around you, inside you.

Jake couldn't last a second longer, roughly pulling himself out just in time to come all over your bare ass, coating you with his spend - a strangled groan rumbling from deep inside his heaving chest.

You glanced back into the mirror in time to see his face contorted in pleasure as a string of Spanish obscenities flew out of his perfect mouth.

You started to turn around but he stopped you, gripping your shoulders and keeping you facing the mirror.

In the reflection you could see him licking his lips. You realized he was staring at your backside - at the sight of his cum all over your skin. “Good girl,” he purred on your ear, spreading his palm over the round curve of your ass to mark you further with his cum.

Your knees were about ready to give out, even more so from his praise, so you braced yourself on the countertop with your arms, panting heavily. He destroyed you and you loved it.

The next moment, you felt the loss of his body heat as he turned on the shower before catching your eye in the mirror. “Come here.”

You nodded, stepping in the warm spray, happy to hold onto Jake’s arms for support.

“That good huh?” His eyebrows shot up almost playfully.

You hummed out an affirmative.

“What, no smartass reply?” He could hardly believe it.

By now you noticed Jake was purposely keeping his wounded arm from getting wet.

"Hey," you said, resting your hand on his elbow. "We have to clean this up. For real this time. Okay?"

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, allowing you to guide his arm underneath the spray.

"Fuck," he hissed, and for once...you shut your mouth. No mocking. Not after he got shot for you.

Instead you carefully washed him, making sure the wound was clean before using the soap to continue cleaning up and down his arm, then up over the breadth of his shoulder. You moved on to his chest, your eyes flickering up to his momentarily before continuing over his other shoulder and down his opposite arm.

"Can I wash your hair?" You asked him, almost sweetly.

He wistfully smiled, his gaze fixed intently on yours as you lathered up your hands and threaded your fingers through his curls, scraping his scalp with your fingernails. He hummed and then sighed, the tenseness in his ever-ready-to-fight form relaxing for once.

"When was the last time somebody took care of you?" You whispered, working your fingers deeper into his locks.

Your question was rhetorical, but he cleared his throat. "Long time," he returned, his eyes drifting downward.

Just then, you yelped, jerking your hand away from his head, your finger pulsing with fresh blood.

"Jesus," he gasped. "What happened?"

"I'm okay," you assured him, running your finger under the water. "There's glass in your hair."

"Fuck...I'm sorry," he lamented, stepping into the stream to finish washing his own hair.

You said nothing for a moment, your gaze flickering between your finger, the gunshot wound on his arm and his hair. “No. I'm sorry," you finally uttered. "This is because of me," you went on, placing your palms on the expanse of his chest. "Jake...you saved my life."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The safe house had a few supplies - some t-shirts and sweatpants, some non-perishable food, a supply of water, a gun and some ammunition and a go bag - with yet another weapon (Jake was wrong - there were six total guns), an extra outfit, cash and other necessities.

“Sorry this is all I have,” he spoke softly, watching you pull old sweatpants over your bare hips. “I’m gonna make a supply run.”

You stopped short, glaring at him. “When? Now?”

He nodded, easing a white undershirt over his head, careful to avoid his bandaged wound. “Yeah, you’re gonna need some more clothes - we need more food, updated map, burner phones, stuff like that. But I’ll only get some of that here. We have to move on before we buy it all at once. Too suspicious.”

You weren’t sure what to address first - the fact that the burner phone in his go bag wasn’t enough? The fact that he used paper maps? Or the fact that he wanted to go for a milk run at a time like this.

“Okay, let me find my shoes,” you finally responded.

“No, cariño,” he refuted, holding out his arm to stop you. “You stay here.”

Your chest tightened as you shook your head rapidly. “No. You can’t leave me here. Please don’t leave me here. Th-they’ll find me.”

Grasping your shoulders, Jake peered deeply into your eyes. “No one is going to find you. You’re safe here.” He nodded toward the door. “If I take you out there, I put you in danger. Someone could see us together, there are cameras everywhere. You have to stay here.”

“Jake,” your lip trembled as you grasped at his shirt. “I don’t want to stay here by myself. I don’t want to be alone, please…”

“No, baby,” he firmly answered, realizing as you jerked away from him and cursed, that you weren’t accustomed to being told no very often. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I promise.”

He was fucking serious - this, you realized as he started toward the door.

“I hate you!” You spat, tears burning your eyes, possessing nothing to fight with but your words. It’s all you’d ever been able to wield for yourself that didn’t belong to your father - your father’s power, his money…

Jake stopped, his shoulders sagging. He didn’t even spare you a glance. “You have every reason to.” Pulling that damn cap onto his head, he reached for his car keys. “I know you’re afraid, but you’re strong. You’ll be okay.”

No one had ever asked this of you - to be on your own - to take care of yourself. The notion that you could be responsible yourself was completely foreign to you, and certainly to your father and your staff. And something inside you wanted to prove yourself to Jake so badly. 

Still, you somehow felt like that helpless, spoiled girl all of the sudden, ready to demand your way. But it wouldn’t work. Not with Jake.

“Wait…please, just - I have one more question,” you meekly voiced, holding your hands up in a supplicating fashion. 

Jake looked at you then, his eyes softening at your torment.

Shit. You had almost been killed today. Twice. And then you ran out of town with him - with another man who stabbed you and attempted to kill you. And then that whole interlude in the bathroom just now... Jake wondered, for a moment, if he was too rough with you.

“What is it, corazón?” He softly answered.

You dug deep and tried with everything inside you not to lash out or make demands. “W-what should I do if someone comes?”

He immediately shook his head. “No one will find you here - “

“Please - just tell me,” you begged. “If someone comes, what do I do?”

Seeing how serious you were, Jake eased toward you, offering an explanation. “If you hear someone, go to the bathroom. Lock the door, but don’t hide there. Go to the bedroom at the end of the hall and hide in the closet. Take your weapon, be as fast and as quiet as you can. ¿Entiendes?”

You nodded, blinking at him so earnestly it almost made him change his mind.

He reached for your cheek, brushing gloved fingers gently over your skin. “Stay hidden. Quiet. If someone finds you, hold your weapon like I showed you - two hands, strong. Safety off…” He trailed off, shuddering at the thought of you needing to use your gun.

“And fire?” You questioned. 

“Fire,” he confirmed. “If you empty your magazine, fight like hell.” Touching his forehead to yours, he softly added, “You’re a fighter. Don’t ever stop.”

“Okay,” you whispered against his mouth. “Hurry.”

He kissed you fiercely before tearing himself away and heading for the door once more. Pausing one last time, he glanced back over his shoulder. “I promise I wouldn’t leave you unless I had to. Unless I was sure you’re safer here. I won’t be long.”

With that, he was gone, leaving you to fret and your mind to question if this was salvation…or an elaborate kidnapping. 

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[xmalereader]

Moonknight x Shifter! Male Reader

☆— MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: can i request a fic that's more of a headcannons post than a fic? i really love the way you write the moon knight boys and was wondering how'd they react to a protective shifter!reader who's usually quite calm and reserved(maybe a wolf just for the irony of wolves being sorta synonymous with the moon)? maybe in a world where shifters are starting to be accepted but some people are still jerks. kind of a "three times reader protected the boys and the time they returned the favor" sorta thing. if all three is too much though i totally understand, im okay with just one, your pick. whatever your schedule allows for ❤️ sorry if this is hard to understand it's a fever at 4am kinda night but i couldn't pass up the chance to make a request lul love your writing! hope you're doing well! i wish you good writing thoughts and dexterous typing times 🫡

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Fluff, slight angst, request, Steven is a sweetheart and Jake is scary while Marc is trying, short, headcannons, reader is a shifter, werewolves, society differences.

WC: 1.5k

TAGS: @luci-the-brat-boy

NOTES: I apologize for the long wait on making this request I’ve been busy on my end but I’ve finally got the time to get these completed! Thank you for enjoying my moonknight shots, writing these characters can be a bit tricky since they all have different personalities but I was able to make it work! I did make a few changes so hopefully it’s still good!

Shifters were still new to society and not many have grown used to them due to the fear of getting hurt one day if they were to shift in front of them and perhaps hurt them or kill them. Each shifter was different and due to their existence, laws were established in order to keep a balance between shifters and none shifters, but the laws didn’t really stop the hate that some people carried for them.

Steven Grant:

Steven didn’t think he’d end up dating a shifter, let alone one who shifts into a wolf the size of a car. He was shy at first since he was new to the whole shifting when it came towards his partner.

After a few dates Y/n grew comfortable in showing Steven his new form, taking things slow with the man since he was always so nervous around him until months of dating he’s grown used to him. Steven had also told Y/n about his DID and about Marc and Jake, giving him very little information about them expecting his partner to pry for more information only to reassure him that he doesn’t have to force himself.

After their confession they continued on with their dating life like normal. Until Y/n started to notice the way that Steven is treated at the museum, each time he paid him a visit he noticed how rude his manager was being to him, making him growl in anger by how to orders Steven around and makes him do the extra work while she sits back and does nothing.

Y/n knew how much Steven loved his job, but there were times that he couldn’t help but interfere with the situation.

It didn’t take long for him to track down Steven's mangers and corner them in an empty hallway, whispering them threats on treating their employees with respect and to not treat them as slaves, frightening the poor women.

“Treat them like slaves again and I’ll hunt you down on the next full moon.”

Lets just say that Steven stopped receiving bad treatment after that which only left him a bit confused and oblivious to the matter.

Y/n was always protective of Steven due to his innocence and oblivious state at times. Every time someone looked at him wrong or stopped his ancient Egypt mid rant he’d slowly turn to the person to give them the stink eyes as if saying, “how dare you stop him from talking about what he loves?!”

He had scary dog privileges…literally.

The first time that Steven actually lost it was when one of their neighbors caught Y/n coming back home from a full moon with Steven next to him. His wolf form looking a little smaller as he padded next to him quietly and tried to regain his thoughts after last nights events only for their snotty neighbor to step out into the hall and scold Steven for keeping a “mutt” around.

Y/n was close to turning around and snapping his jaws at the neighbor in order to scare them only for Steven to step in between them while glaring at the man angrily. Steven was already tired from chasing after his partner through the streets and making sure he wasn’t causing any trouble all night and his neighbors comment was his last straw.

The shifter had never seen Steven so upset, using every cuss word he knows to call the neighbor out, pointing a finger at him and jabbing them in the chest. It caught both shifter and neighbor by surprise until Steven finally cooled down and opens their door to allow them inside.

Once inside Steven slams the door behind him and leans his back against it with his face buried in his hands. Y/n had approached Steven slowly, still a small wolf and whining softly to get the man’s attention only for Steven to drop his hands and look at his partner in horror.

“Did I just do that? Oh god I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Steven had never blown up like that before that even he was surprised by his outburst that night.

Marc Spector:

Marc wanted to scold Leon for picking a shifter as a boyfriend. Marc didn’t hate shifters he just didn’t know much about them to actually trust them yet, so when he finds out that Steven got himself a shifter of a boyfriend he couldn’t help but be a bit cautious around him.

Y/n didn’t spend much time around Marc since the man refused to be around him when it was his turn to take over the body. The shifter wanted to ignore him and let him do as he wanted, only to end up following Marc secretly whenever he went out.

The two didn’t get along quiet yet, but Y/n is still overprotective of the two of them. Yes, they share the same body but he can’t help but feel like he needs to be there to protect them both.

Only Marc doesn’t need protection he knows how to take care of himself and stick up for others, so the first few times he caught Marc being defensive or fighting back he couldn’t help but find the man quiet attractive.

Marc was perhaps the one who could actually make him blush whenever they spent time together back in Steven’s flat. Even when Marc returned back home stressed and upset, Y/n already knew how to help the man distress by shifting into his wolf form and lying on his back across Marc’s lap and letting the man scratch his belly or bury his face into his warm fur while groaning in frustration as if someone would do to a pillow. Y/n enjoyed cuddling with Marc during his full moons when he’s stuck in his wolf form for long hours of the night.

Y/n was in the cities office when he was first called out for being a shifter while renewing his passport due to Marc wanting to take them on a trip. A few strangers were waiting around for their turn and due to Y/n being a shifter he was first priority since he went through a longer process in getting a renewal which pissed off a lot of people.

Only for Marc to shout at them to shut up and reminding them the laws between humans and shifters and how not everything is fair between them, giving them a deadly glare that made them back off.

Y/n can’t help but crack a small smile when hearing Marc’s words as he focused on his passport renewal.

Jake Lockely:

It was harder for Y/n to get along with Jake since he acted like the silent but deadly brother between the three. He found Jake intimidating that he was perhaps the first person to actually make him tuck his tail between his legs.

Jake didn’t need protection and Y/n knew that since he’s seen the man beat another human to near death until he stopped him from going to far. Y/n didn’t know about Jake until one night when he noticed a change of smell in Steven and Marc’s scent, realizing that they weren’t the only ones.

Jake was suppose to be a secret, hiding in the shadows as he watched over Marc and Steven. Only the cab driver didn’t really need to protect them since they had a shifter by their side, but that didn’t mean Jake couldn’t keep an eye on him too.

Their first night together was awkward for them since Jake rarely spoke and Y/n was too afraid to ask him questions without getting the man angry. It didn’t take long for Jake to notice this that he finally decides to speak up, asking questions that’ll get him closer to the shifter.

They only spent time together during late nights when Steven and Marc are sleeping and Jake is able to take full control. Giving Y/n a chance to join him on his nightly trips and sitting next to him on the passenger seat while talking.

It didn’t take long for Jake to warm up to the shifter, not realizing that Jake had added him to his list of people to protect. Even though Y/n can shift into a large wolf, big enough to kill anyone on sight, Jake still decided to take the roll of taking care of the shifter too.

Y/n first witnessed Jake defending him when he was helping a man into the cab from a club, drunk off his ass while the shifter gets him inside the back seat. What he didn’t realize was the group of men lurking around the club, clearly drunk as they whistled at him, trying to get his attention which he ignored.

That was until one of them had the balls to slap his ass filling him with shock and ready to strike the man down, but when turning around Jake was already doing that for him.

Jake was filled with rage as he slams his fist into the man’s face over and over again. The others tried to pry Jake off, but he was faster than them, kicking their asses and forcing them on their knees and apologizing to the shifter.

Y/n could only stare at Jake with wide eyes as the men whimpered out their apologizes to him.

[milkypompon]

Chapter 3 | Pick Up

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

this chapter: you finally receive a phone call...?

content: Mentions of Marc's past, plotty plot plot

wc: 2k+

a/n: I'm exploring the dynamic between the moon boys! Specifically on Steven and Jake's understanding of the system.

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

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–

Take it out of that pile of shit, Stevie. 

“I won’t.”

Ay, do it before I sit your ass to the back. 

Steven stares into the rubbish, listening to Jake’s half-hearted threats. 

It didn’t matter if he tossed it into a trash compactor and cast it into the open sea, they both memorized the number on the cup. 

How else could they have survived as Khonshu’s avatar? 

The god spouted astronomical coordinate systems during missions, instead of cardinal directions. It was disrespectful of his domain to merely water down the night sky into four words or their combinations, according to the squawking bird. 

Regardless, no point of direction from his alter or the moon god could shift his moral compass. 

“I dare you, mate.” 

Jake grumbles under his breath. 

Neither of them liked to tug on the string that forced control over the body. They wouldn’t be any better than Khonshu rattling his wrapped talons over their lifeforce — a puppet at the hands of its master. 

We’re allowed to live our own lives. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“This isn’t just about me anymore. Or just you for that matter.”

Once, Steven wanted nothing more than to free himself of the sleep-deprived nights and taste a drip of normalcy. He thought the only way to do that was to overcome whatever was going on in his head.

Egypt.

Khonshu.

The happenings in the Duat with Marc and Jake.

But now, his life, their life was more than that.

Steven was more than elated to discover support from a place he couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

Finding a way for each of them to front was a balancing act through understanding. It isn’t created by compartmentalizing the week into color-coded days or agreeing to a first come first serve basis. Their system was far from perfect, but it was their’s. 

Restraint was the seed of their problems, among other things, but the anxiousness of being confined (like they were in the sarcophagus) was something they couldn’t stomach. 

An attempt to claw himself out would forego the delicate trust built on an unsteady foundation.

No more lies.

No more secrets. 

And definitely, no more double duties.

“Besides, you said it yourself. We should live our own life. If either of us rings up the barista, despite all her loveliness, you’d be pretending to be Marc.”

Jake knew what was coming next. Don’t tell that story again–

Steven turns up his nose toward the reflection on the toaster. “Need I remind you, the last time you filled in my shoes, I ended up at a steakhouse for a date?”

You’re never gonna let me live that down, eh? At least it got you outta the stuffy museum for the night. 

“Hmph, I’m never take dating advice from you, no matter how desperate I get.”

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

How about you take those pretty little fingers and pick up that damn cup! And use your other set of five to press the numbers into your phone. 

Jake tended to spear-head ways to bring the out of their shell, it stemmed from years of hiding away. His actions came from good intentions, though the sentiments among the three weren’t always shared. 

“Not gonna be late for my first day, you twat.”

Steven tugs the handles of the trash bag into a neat bow, double-knotting it to emphasize the point. 

He chews the inside of his cheek. It’s been a day, but he still couldn’t feel Marc’s presence after retreating into the recesses of their mind. He’d be lying to himself if he said that things were a little easier this time around.

Despite going through hell and back (almost quite literally), maybe there would be a shared bonding experience that would lead them on the right track. But it always seemed like something veered them a little bit off-center. This time it wasn't a life-threatening mission...

Steven shrugs on his jacket and tinkers with the doorknob.

–

Since the last time Steven worked at the gift shop, he swears the British Museum didn’t sell the stone statues of the Ennead. (He wonders what else popped up during his absence). At least nine deities are behind the display case, instead of the misprinted eight on the poster.

How the toymakers laid their hands on strangely accurate models of the ushabtis is beyond him. It isn’t his problem anymore, the days of working inventory are over.

Whoever is responsible for the new figurines must be the same person who sorted out his new job. After the loo and jackal incident, he swore up and down that he blew the opportunity to become a tour guide.

He shoulders his bag and heads to the information desk, where a familiar blond sifts through papers.

Steven clears his throat. “Morning, Donna!”

“Stevie.” She peers up, a strained smile splitting her face, and hands him his nametag. 

It doesn’t matter if she calls him the wrong name, nothing could take away the bubbling joy in his heart. He holds it in his two hands as if cradling a duckling. 

Steven marvels at it briefly and smiles, noticing the engraved designs. He runs his thumb over it.

A scarab and a moon. 

Layla must’ve put a good word in for him before she left for Egypt.

He clips it onto his breast pocket.

Steven Grant Tour Guide

Donna pipes up, “After you’re done ogling, group A is waiting up front. Speak up a bit for that bunch. Mostly grandparents looking for a day out.”

Steven weaves between visitors meandering through the halls before standing in front of about ten people. A few wandering eyes behind a pair of thick glasses are already looking past him and at the exhibit. Others are fidgeting with their canes. 

“Hiya, there everyone! I’m Steven with V and’ll be your tour guide for the day.” He claps his hands with a bright smile. 

Steven walks backward to face the group while explaining each artifact with animated hand gestures and fluctuating voice impressions. There are tidbits of information he sprinkles in pulled from personal encounters with the gods. But, he skirts around how the unfriendly croc wanted to consume the souls of the living. 

The tour ends in a little under an hour, leaving enough wiggle room for a q and a portion. He rounds them up in front of a sectioned-off hall where they are free to discuss the pieces without the usual prattling of sugar-infested children. 

“Anything you’d like to know more about off the top of your noggin?” 

A shaky hand raises, a paper bracelet decorating the granny’s wrist. 

People rarely asked questions, so Steven beams at the prospect of going off into another tangent with someone as captivated as he is in Egyptology. 

“Yes, please! Go ahead.”

She smiles curiously and points to the unopened area of the museum. “What’s in there?”

“Ah, your guess is as good as mine. It’s my first day here so the curators haven’t filled me in on what’s going.”

“Could we take a peek?”

The hall isn’t open to the public for various reasons – there are fragile steles, brittle canopic jars, and parchment that resemble closer to dust than paper. Still, it tickled his fancy to be one of the first few people to check out the unearthed pieces.  

He scratches the back of his neck. “The guided tour has ended, but feel free to stick around with me and the missus here if you’d like to look in.”

The group is seemingly uninterested, except for her. They disperse with an appreciative nod and head toward the exit. 

“Well, aren’t you a sponge for knowledge!” Steven unclips the rope from the pole and ushers her inside. “Watch your step, might be bits and pieces of packing stuffs.”

Wooden crates line the walls along the respective categories of tools, ceremonial weapons, and non-utilitarian objects. The last are Steven’s particular favorite.

His eyes land on a slab of stone with carefully carved hieroglyphs. “This poem is dedicated to Hathor, the Goddess of Love. How lovely!”

It’s set inside a glass case, Marc stares back at him on the reflection with a slight frown, but it isn’t directed toward him. 

Her hand sidles up to the barrier, Steven glances at the strip of paper around her wrist… it’s a hospital bracelet. 

“Can the other two read this like you can?” 

Steven’s mouth gapes open and before he can reply she recites the hieroglyphs to his (and Marc’s) surprise. 

One plus one Equals two One for me And one for you 

Frantic footsteps near them, J.B. sets the rope back in place and tuts. “Oy! That’s where you went off to. I couldn’t find you on the cams. Off you go, you two.”

Steven tucks his chin down, voice going into a low whisper. “Think the missus here got lost.” 

“What’re you going on about–” J.B.’s gaze flits over to her. 

He rolls his wrist to emphasize his point.

“Gotcha, I’ll call security. Can’t believe she’s back.”

“Back?” He whispers to himself, just barely catching J.B.’s last sentence. 

Steven adds, “Heya, no need for a big fiasco. She’s a nice one.”

–

The chime of the entrance bell hasn’t rung all morning at Coffee for Two.

You gnaw at the end of your pencil in deep contemplation. Your decision darts between opening the shop to kill the boredom or listening to Nan about joining her for a break after she was given strict doctor’s orders for bed rest. Years of baking sweets and brewing coffee weren’t easy on her knees or head for that matter. 

Either way, you were supposed to be on vacation, yet here you were working on a new bread recipe. 

You worked around the clock before she practically forced you to hit the pause button. Even with the help of your part-timer, she couldn’t hold a candle to Nan’s experience with folding dough, piping frosting, and roasting beans. 

Though sitting behind the counter were moments few and far between, you missed the daily hustle and bustle of serving the regulars who were often in pairs.

The gray hairs of a Mister and Missus would peek from the velvet couch as they dipped a biscotti into a dark roast. Or a budding romance between a young couple would lead to sharing an affogato by the wooden stools. You’d smile to yourself and throw in extra cookies for them, claiming that you miscalculated the measurements and made more than usual.

You aren’t a stranger to the coffee shop meet-cute. It happens often enough to warrant the thought of writing a collection of romance novels. 

Between work… and work, there wasn’t much time to do anything else.

The tangents meet when Marc showed up. 

At the right moment and time.

You flinch when your phone plays a jingle, fumbling to grab it and pressing the green button.

“Hello?”

– 

When you prayed to any god listening about receiving a call out of sheer boredom, you didn’t expect a call from the Royal London Hospital. You gripped your phone waiting for the nurse’s message.

“This is the number we had on file in case of emergencies.”

“Yeah, yes. That’s me, I’m her granddaughter.”

“We’d like to inform you that she’s left the premises… again”

“Left the– Bloody hell! You could’ve started with that! You would think after the first time, you’d keep a closer eye on her, eh?” You accidentally bite your tongue after hurtling word after word at the nurse. 

“We’re not responsible for the patient who’s left the area. But, we–” 

“Tried?” You make your way out of the coffee shop, nudging the door close with your hip. “Yeah, like the first two times? Third time’s a fucking charm. You better hope she’s at the same place as last time.”

A call from another line intercepts your current one.

“Uh, hello, Miss!” A light voice chirps from the other side. “We’ve got a bit of a situation at the British Museum.”

You groan inwardly, she was there again. No wonder why the incoming number was familiar. (Not that you were expecting an unknown one from a particular curly-haired regular...)

“Did you find Nan?”

“If you mean the nice granny with the dangly bracelet, then it’s safe to say, yes.” 

“Did she– Is she okay?”

He chirps, “Oh yes, mhm! No need to worry, we’re sat down together.”

“Good, okay. Thank you, by the way, uh…”

“Oh bollocks, forgot to introduce myself. It’s Steven. Steven Grant.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

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@rachelsnows @basicalyrandom @cleothegoldfish @batsycline69 @lonelyisamyw-0love @thhriller @navs-bhat @darknessandbooks @abeatrizcv

Tags for fun! (let me know if you'd like to be added on the official taglist or removed, no worries!!)

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[melodygatesauthor]

The Fractured Moon - Part 4

Yandere! Moon Boys X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Not Beta Read - Series Masterlist

Summary:

After Steven's ruthless beating, you need time to recover, and the boys are going to show you how nice they can treat you, if only you'll let them, and as long as you behave.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

Disclaimer: I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character. NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 3.4k

Marc was still afraid to take any unnecessary risks, so he kept your wrists tied to the dining room chair just in case. Marc fantasized about a time that you would be in complete submission to them. He dreamt of how nice it would be to wake with you in their bed, curled up into his chest while you slept soundly. He thought about what a wonder it would be to have you kissing him and begging him to make you feel good. He wanted you to want them.

Steven was delusional and Marc knew that. Maybe he was too, he thought. He wondered if it was delusional to think that one day he could have all those things. Every time he looked at you he felt a stab of guilt in his gut. When did things get so fucked up? This wasn’t the kind of person they were, and whenever Marc’s sanity broke through the barrier of his fantasy, he thought about letting you go. But then he thought about you out there where anyone could look at you, talk to you, touch you.

No.

“Your wounds are healing nicely honey,” he said, breaking the otherwise deafening silence in the dining room.

You nodded, still feeling a bit defeated from the beating Steven had dealt you over a week ago. Was it a week ago? You couldn’t remember how long it had been. It was hard to keep track of time there. When Marc mentioned the bruises you could still feel the sting left behind from Steven’s lashing. Your eyes darted to the floor quickly, not wanting to think about it.

“Hey,” Marc’s hand went out, finger tucking under your chin and turning your gaze back to meet his. “Jake and I told you we’d keep you safe, right? Remember? We told you we’d handle Steven? And he’s been much better to you, hasn’t he?”

You nodded slowly, bottom lip trembling while you thought about what his brother had done to you. Even with his and Jake’s reassurance that no further - serious - harm would come to you by Steven’s hands, you still didn’t dare to even touch yourself when the urge arose. If Steven’s goal was to frighten you into obedience, it had worked.

Every night, sometimes multiple times a night, Steven would fill you so full you were stuffed and dripping his cum for the rest of the evening. He was often the first person you’d see in the mornings too, taking your body and bending it to suit his needs. You were exhausted most days, and he showed no signs of stopping.

You couldn’t deny the sweetness that came with his insatiable sex drive though.

“Oh darling, you’re so pretty,” he’d say with his forehead against you, the tip of his nose touching yours. “I…I know you’re so sore and I’m so sorry but, mm-fuh–”

And then he’d come, spilling his hot white spend into your aptly stretched hole. His hips would stutter, and he’d look at you as though no one else in the world existed. Once in a while you even forgot yourself and felt tempted to reach out and touch his face, like you might want to lean forward and kiss those hooded, sex drunk eyelids of his.

But you resisted. 

The part of you that still wanted to fight for survival was stronger than that, and it was screaming inside of you to stay resilient. Sometimes Steven made you feel good though. When you were particularly achy, and full of so much cum you couldn’t hold anymore, he would kneel at the foot of the bed, drape your legs over his broad shoulders, and start cleaning and slurping his spend right out of you. He was better at that than the other two, and when he looked up at you from between your thighs with glossy lips and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, you had to shake yourself from that small sense of adoration you falsely felt for him. 

He kidnapped you, he raped you, he beat you, you would remind yourself like a mantra over and over again until you were sick of it. You still needed to fight to survive this. You couldn’t accept that this was the end of the line for you. 

“M-Marc?” you whispered.

His entire face lit up to hear you speak his name in such a soft tone. Marc’s hand cupped your cheek gently, as though a firmer grip might break you. His thumb brushed over your skin softly, such a gentle touch for someone so monstrous.

“Yeah honey?”

You gulped, looking around to make sure that neither Steven nor Jake were going to show up before making your inquiry. If Steven, especially, heard you, you’d be in for another harsh reminder of your position and you knew it.

“Can I have those pills again?” You thought about how much they eased your pain before, and how sleepy they made you. If you were going to continue to survive, you would need something to help you get through for now until you came up with a plan.

“Oh, baby, last time I gave you those, Jake and I agreed with Steven that it wasn’t fair to him. I’m sorry I can’t–”

“Please,” you looked at him with such desperation it almost made him flinch.

Your eyes welled until they were nearly spilling over. If you were being honest, you were laying on the theatrics a bit, but another part of you was genuinely in need of something to ease the ache you felt when Steven made you a glorified sex doll. Marc finally nodded slowly and gave you a sympathetic half-smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll give you half a pill to hide in your bedside table. That should relax you enough without knocking you out. You can take it when you know Steven’s coming just…don’t let him see it, alright?” Marc raised his brow in emphasis. “I’m not worried for my sake but you…you know how he can get.”

You nodded eagerly, “yes,” a sigh of relief left your entire body, “yes, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll get you one after you’re finished eating.”

Dinner was one of Marc’s favorite times of the day because it was one of the few times he got you all to himself. They each had a role to play in your day: waking up with Steven, the greedy little shit wanting you both before sleep and after. Marc took care of your bathing and meals, making sure each time he had you was nicer for you than the time before. Then there was Jake, giving you a firm hand in the early afternoon to make sure you learned to mind, and then making you play dress up and sit on his lap in his study shortly after dinner.

Marc liked to think he was different from the other two. He liked to think you needed him, like he was taking care of you and you wouldn’t be able to survive in this house without him. He was protecting you - as much as he could for being one of the three who did this to you - . But Marc felt justified in that he wasn’t hurting you, not really. He never struck you, and he wouldn’t. When you were afraid of the other two and looking for someone to comfort you, he would be your safe space.

Marc took a strawberry and lifted it to your mouth, watching intently as your precious lips parted to bite into the ripe fruit. He chuckled watching some of the juice drip down your chin.

“My messy little girl,” he cooed, wiping the juice from your chin and popping his thumb into your mouth.

His brow furrowed, feeling your tongue roll over his thumb. Marc’s dick sprang to life almost instantly while you teased him. No…he was starting to think like Steven. You weren’t teasing, you were just cleaning him off, but still…what if you knew exactly what you were doing to him? It was always possible that you wanted him but were just playing coy…right?

“That’s very good honey,” Marc pulled his hand back, “do you want some more?”

You nodded, feeding into his delusion that you did want this.

Marc moaned this time when you bit into the strawberry, more juice dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. He leaned in toward your face, his tongue darting out to lap up the mess and bring it to your lips. You let him in, and he wondered if you actually wanted to kiss him, or if you were just behaving because you were afraid of what may happen if you didn’t.

He didn’t really care at the moment, because you kissed like you wanted it. Your tongue melted with his, and he swore he heard a breathy whine roll up through your throat only to be muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths moving together.

“Fuck, baby,” Marc breathed as he pulled back, breaking the kiss plopping into his chair across from yours. “You’re so…” He couldn’t think of a word sufficient enough to describe the way you made him feel.

Despite yourself, the arousal was building between your legs after that kiss. Something about Marc did make things feel a little less horrible, even if you knew you shouldn’t feel that way. You were feeling yourself giving in, and you hated it.

You realized now how thirsty you were, like your mouth was dry and filled with cotton.

“P-please,” your voice was still a soft croak in the otherwise silent room. 

You looked at the glass full of red wine next to the rest of your meal. You gulped, looking back over at Marc and nodding. He smiled, bringing the glass to your lips and pouring it into your mouth. He started tipping the cup just a little before you drank faster and faster until it was gone. You breathed like you’d run a mile, licking the remnants of the sweet drink from your lips.

“Jeez honey, do you want some more?” He chuckled.

You nodded, watching him as he filled the glass once more and you chugged all of it down quickly. Marc having his way with you was inevitable, and since you knew that, you were going to make yourself at least a little numb to it. Perhaps you could even enjoy yourself without feeling completely guilty. If you were a bit buzzed then maybe you could forgive yourself later when you enjoyed the way he touched you.

Marc shouldn’t like you drunk, but he did. Something about how much happier you seemed to be made him feel at peace. It didn’t take you long to get there either, he could see your eyes start to droop a bit while you looked at him after a few more moments passed.

“Baby, I’m going to take these off your wrists and ankles,” he said, referring to the straps holding you against the chair. “I don’t think you’d be able to go anywhere even if you wanted to.”

He let out a lighthearted chuckle as he finished freeing your limbs. You stood up immediately, stretching your arms and legs to get the blood flow back through your body. You stumbled forward, and Marc stood fast to catch you. God you were so tiny. Sometimes he forgot just how small you were compared to them.

“Easy, easy,” he said, laughing while you leaned against his chest. “Let’s go sit you down in the living room.”

He helped you - basically carried you - to the living room, setting you down on the couch and sitting himself beside you. It didn’t take much, just a little nudge with his hand to get you to lay down on his lap. Marc rubbed your cheek softly with his thumb, looking down at your eyes and the way the fire from the crackling fireplace reflected in your pupils so prettily.

“There you go, just rest honey. If you get tired I’m sure Jake would understand.”

“Speak for yourself, pendejo.”

Marc didn’t reply, still certain he wanted to keep that insanity from you for now. Maybe once you were better adjusted he would feel more comfortable sharing more about his personal life, but until then, he would only subject you to one crazy thing at a time.

You shifted your face against his lap, your cheek brushing against the obvious tent he’d pitched from when he kissed you earlier. He didn’t think it would go away any time soon, but he could take care of himself later, or maybe even ignore and let Steven deal with it when he was fronting. It was a shock to him though, when you picked your head up and placed a small peck on the clothed shaft of his dick through his jeans.

You did that all on your own.

“Baby, what the hell are you…oh shit…”

You brushed your lips over it, feeling enticed by the scent of his musk. Obviously the wine was making you feel something, maybe something you wanted subconsciously, or maybe it was purely a physical need induced by the arousal building in your core. You felt hot, like your body was made up of pure lust and nothing else. You hated yourself and wished that you hadn’t drank the wine, even if it would make your night easier.

None of it mattered now, because you did drink the wine, and you were feeling yourself grow hotter by the second at the thought of giving Marc pleasure. You fucking wanted him, and you couldn’t loathe yourself more over it. You slipped off the couch to your knees, looking up at him from between his legs and feeling nothing but pure desire for him when you did.

Who the fuck am I? You thought to yourself.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes. You were on your knees between his legs, a sight he was certain he wouldn’t ever see, not this early on in your life of captivity anyway. Your little hands fumbled with his belt, managing to slowly pull the leather strap from the buckle before you started to unbutton his pants. His mouth hung open while he watched you tug his jeans and briefs to his thighs, letting his cock spring free. 

You looked at it like never before, leaning forward and giving the length of him a small kitten lick all the way from the base to the tip. Marc couldn’t breathe while he watched you. He knew that you could fit it in your mouth, you’d done it with Jake the night they took you, but this time was different. This time, you were acting like you wanted it.

“Take your time honey, I know your little mouth can hardly handle us,” he cooed, reminding you that you didn’t need to rush.

You gulped, lips parting slowly as you stared at his leaking tip. Once more you flicked your tongue out and licked the bead of precum off of him. He wondered if you even realized that you hummed as if you liked the taste. He reached a hand behind your head, not to pressure you, but instead to guide you. Marc wanted to make this as comfortable for you as possible, especially considering it wasn’t very often that you showed eagerness or compliance to satisfy their needs.

You opened your lips wide, leaning up over his cock before lowering your head down around it. The second Marc felt the warmth of your mouth surround him it was like the breath punched out from his lungs.

“Oh…god honey,” he growled through clenched teeth. “F-fuck.”

You didn’t take it all, and he hadn’t expected you to. He was impressed that you even made it to the halfway mark before the head of his cock was probing against your throat. Maybe one of the other two would stretch your mouth out more and teach you how to use it, but it wasn’t going to be Marc, not today.

Maybe it was the fact that you were drunk, or maybe it was that you liked the way Marc was breathing and whining, but you couldn't ignore the feeling of your aching clit any longer. You put your finger between your legs, still using your other hand to hold onto Marc’s thigh for stability, and you started touching yourself. It was embarrassing how wet you were over someone who had done such horrible things to you.

“Does it feel that good honey? You like sucking my cock that much?”

Marc was mesmerized by your eyes and the way you furrowed your brow while you sucked him off. That was the same expression he recognized from before when he’d made you come around his cock. You moaned around his dick, an acceptable answer to his question.

You know you look so pretty like that,” he nodded, breath blowing out through his pursed lips while he tried to hold back from fucking your throat wide open. “Sit back for me, honey.”

With a loud ‘pop’ you let his cock fall out of your mouth and you sat back on your heels. Your eyes were stuck on his throbbing length, mind still fuzzy with arousal and intoxication, feeling yourself wanting nothing more than to have it back in your mouth. You hadn’t stopped circling around your clit with your fingers, your wet slick making it easy to move around just right. Another bead of precum trickled teasingly down Marc’s shaft, dripping onto the floor and leaving you salivating.

“You really want more, hm?” He asked, grabbing the thick base of himself firmly and slowly starting to jerk himself off in front of you.

Yes, you thought to yourself. You didn’t know why, and you were still a little mad at yourself for appearing so eager, but yes, you fucking wanted it.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes when you nodded, your gaze still trained on his swollen dick while he held onto it. He gave it another firm stroke, slowly, up to the tip. When he squeezed around the top some slick, clear precum dripped down onto his fingers. With his free hand he beckoned you back over, holding the back of your head and positioning his tip at your lips.

“Open, please, quick-fuck-fuck-fuhhh!"

All it took was the brush of your little tongue against the backside of his leaking head before he lost it. He moaned loudly, surprising even himself as he squeezed his cock, aiming the shots of spend over your tongue, coating your mouth in a layer of white. Marc couldn’t imagine a better view than you looking up at him with your mouth wide open as he fed you every last drop he had. 

You came the very second you tasted his cum on your tongue. The delicious hot ropes ran down your throat while you took what he gave you, and you rubbed your clit faster, feeling yourself go weak over his taste. A series of choking gasps were lost in the living room while you felt your cunt contracting around nothing, your hot arousal gushing and dripping down your thighs.

In your mind-numbed state you couldn’t hold your body up anymore and so you fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily and letting the soothing warmth of your intoxication wash over you. 

“Someone had too much to drink,” Marc commented with a soft chuckle, tucking his dick back in his pants before lifting you into his arms with a contented sigh.

His heart leapt with a sense of joy and love for you when you held onto him, tucking your face into his broad chest and nuzzling against him. You murmured something nonsensical and unintelligible, inspiring another laugh out of Marc. He wished with all his heart that this was the first of many nights that you would start to warm up to them; that you were finally accepting your place and finding peace with your fate.

He hoped so deeply that it was true. He needed it to be true.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

Moon Knight Masterlist

[variety-fangirl]

Can I request Marc Spector having a marking/spit kink? I feel like it totally captures his tough exterior but also his need for intimacy and closeness

Forever and Always Yours / Marc Spector x fem!reader

Summary: people abandoned him his whole life until he met you, you loved him endlessly despite his flaws. So any threat to that would cause Marc and the boys to become a little... jealous.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS SHOO mentions of Jake and Steven. Porn with some plot. Smut obvs 😏 (rough yet vulnerable sex, marking and spit kink, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, hand job, mild choking, multiple orgasms, vulnerable and intimate behaviour,) lmk if I missed anything!

Author's note: of course my lovely, thank you so much for requesting 😁! I completely agree with you, our baby boy Marc has a very dominating side and yet craves/needs intimacy like his life depends on it. I'm so sorry it took me so long to do, I'm currently moving, finishing college, and trying to listen to my mental health in what I need so writing kind of got put on the back burner for a bit. Hope you love it tho! Thank you for reading, it really does mean the world. Liking, commenting, and reblogging really helps me out.

Word count: 2.8k

Your boys had always been a little... Jealous to say the least. Not that you had minded and it often ended up in my mind-blowing sex so you weren't really complaining but you sometimes wished they knew that they had nothing to worry about. That you were theirs through and through. You never had an issue with reminding any of them of that, which you knew they always appreciated, without even having to say anything. They would always be extremely vulnerable and intimate afterwards, keeping and holding you close with lots of affection on both parts. It was something you had grown to love honestly.

What you hadn't expected though, was for all three to become jealous of your new colleague at work, Justin. He was a super sweet guy, younger than you and on the slightly nerdier side. You had formed a wonderful friendship with him in only a few weeks, helping him to blossom and encouraging him to come out of his shell more. As a thank you, Justin would often buy you coffee and something sweet for breakfast every so often and offer to walk you home on the occasion. You had grown fond of the younger sweet boy, seeing him as a brother you wanted to protect. And you knew he didn't see you as anything more than a friend.

But that didn't stop your boyfriends from freaking out and acting jealous all the same. No matter how many times you had tried to ease their worries or assure them of the only innocent friendship between you and your colleague, they didn't seem to feel any less stressed about the situation. And you weren't exactly sure why. You knew the underlying feelings and traumas hiding beneath that they often refused to talk about, even Steven had been reluctant with information in the three years you'd been with them. You never pushed for further details though, only what they were willing to divulge on their own.

When you finished work this afternoon, it was like any other day. Justin offered to walk you home, his being on the way also, and left together with coffee in hand. The weather was beginning to get colder now, coats and scarves beginning to appear in people's attire. The leaves had begun to turn different colours, with peaks of orange, yellow, and brown forming. You hadn't thought it would be so cold so early, so you'd forgotten to bring a thicker coat or a scarf with you. You begin to shiver, wrapping your coat as tightly around your body and neck as possible but it didn't seem to quench the cold breeze that seemed to blow straight through you. You could feel goosebumps form on your skin. You were almost home luckily.

"You look freezing, come here." Justin fussed, pulling you into his side with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You smile up at him, "Thank you." He nods with a smile, continuing to chat mindlessly about how his latest date had gone, a friend you had set him up with. You smiled fondly, happy that the pair were getting on great, they seemed well-matched. Ten minutes later and you'd finally reached home, the cold had begun to worsen. "Thank you, Justin, I'll see you Monday yeah? Enjoy your date Saturday!" you call with a smile, waving goodbye as he walked to his own home. "See you Monday, thank you!" he called happily. You watched for a moment to ensure he was okay before making your way inside.

You couldn't wait to eat, you hadn't eaten anything in four hours and had been busy so you were starving. It was Marc's turn to cook tonight, he always had something new up his sleeve, he enjoyed cooking. He and Jake were much alike in that sense, not that poor Steven didn't try love him. Once you finally reached your floor, you unlock the door and unload your belongings in their rightful places, grateful to get your shoes off after being stood on them all day. It was 6 PM on the dot when you looked at the clock and your boyfriend was standing by the window of the living room, looking down at the scenery beneath you.

You smile and walk over, wrapping your arms around his surprisingly tense back after setting your coffee down on the living room table. You frown, wondering if something had happened, "hey baby." You whisper loud enough for him to hear, stroking the clothed skin of his back and sides. "That Justin that walked you?" Marc wondered, not making any move to reciprocate affection or turn to face you. You frown into his back, "Yes it was, why?" you question, sensing something wasn't right in his behaviour. Marc ignored your question as he turned around to finally face you, a look of something unreadable on his face.

His reply came with more annoyance and hostility than when he usually mentioned Justin, "I saw him with his arm wrapped around you, all smiles and holding you close." You sigh, pulling him closer with a small smile as you shake your head, "I was cold and didn't dress for the weather, that's all it was, nothing more baby." Grabbing the back of Marc's neck, you pull him down to connect your lips, tangling your fingers in his dark locks. You squeal into Marc's lips as he pushes you against the wall closest to you both, his hand going around your neck but not constricting your breathing. "You're mine, only mine," Marc growls with intent, tightening his grip on your neck just slightly.

You knew you shouldn't find this such a turn-on, this raw jealous possessiveness over you but damn you just couldn't help it when you felt your desire pool in your underwear, an involuntary moan escaping. Marc grabs your legs and lifts you, your body immediately tangling with his, wanting to be as close as possible. With tongues still exploring one another's mouths and hands pulling to remove each other's clothes, Marc carries you to the bedroom. Your back hits the soft mattress, and your boyfriend immediately climbs on top of you, not wanting to be away from you.

Marc pulls his shirt off, gracing your eyes with his beautifully scarred chest and back, you bite your lip as you touch his skin. You wanted him to know just how much you loved him and wanted no other, "god how did I get so lucky?" you whisper, pulling him down to kiss you once more. You often wondered what you did to deserve three amazing men in your life, gifting you with each of their amazing personalities and qualities that you adored. Your hands explore his skin with freedom as you grind against his crotch, feeling how hard he already was. Marc groaned into your mouth, his hips moving as needily as yours.

Marc pulls back enough to remove your shirt, throwing it on the floor with his. He groans as he sees you hadn't worn a bra today, his hands groping your breasts. You gasp as his fingers brush and play with your nipples, his eyes staring in wonder as they harden at the exposure of multiple sensations at once. Marc's lips attach to your left nipple, licking a stripe up the little nub before sucking gently. You throw your head back with an open mouth as electric jolts of pleasure pulse down to your core, ruining your underwear further. Marc's lips travel up your nipple to the soft flesh of your breast where he bites and sucks, the mix of pleasure from his fingers playing with your right nipple and the pain of his assault on your left breast was delicious. After a few moments, he works his way over to the other breast to repeat the process to mark the other.

As his lips kiss their way down your body to your waist, his fingers make quick work of removing your jeans and underwear. He pulls your remaining clothing down your legs, moving backwards down the bed at the same time to get off. You watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he discards his remaining clothing on the floor with yours. You smile as he returns on top of you, his face moving to connect with your core. Marc's tongue licked a stripe up your lips before working its way between to give your clit some attention. You cry out, finally feeling some relief of your swollen clit. Marc licked in upwards motions and sucked gently at the little nub, luckily not teasing you any further. His tongue stimulated your clit just the way you liked, each jolt of intense pleasure building the growing knot in your stomach.

"You like that baby?" Marc questions without moving his mouth away from your vagina. You nod frantically, "So good Marc." you knew each of your boys enjoyed hearing their name during sex, it made them individually feel acknowledged and special. Marc groans into your core at the mention of your nap, kitten licking you in between praises. "Look at me, who's making you feel this good?" he demanded softly, looking up at you, but not letting up on the stimulation of your clit. You lift your head to look down at him, almost coming at the sight of his dishevelled hair and swollen pink lips between your legs. You knew Marc and your other boys were possibly feeling a little insecure and jealous about the Justin thing so you wanted to squash any qualms they may have had about it. You moan, "You Marc. Only you, Steven, and Jake can ever make me feel this good and more. No one else."

He seems satisfied with your answer, his eyes flicking to the mirror in the corner of the room behind you, before turning to look back at you. "That's our girl." He dives back in but adds a finger into the mix, making you cry out instantly. The sounds of your juices filled the room obscenely, you were so wet that Marc could add a second finger quickly. It wasn't long before you could feel your orgasm approaching, the intense pleasure building at a rapid pace. "That's it, baby. Come for me." Marc groaned, pumping his fingers inside of you a little faster. You couldn't breathe properly as you approached your high, your body squirming to feel release. You scream loudly as you finally come crashing down, Marc working you through your high. He laps up everything you give him, not leaving one drop to go to waste before crawling up to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongue invades your mouth, making you moan. You allow your hand to wander down Marc's body, working between his clothing and skin and grabbing his cock. He groans into your mouth as your hand wraps around his cock and slowly begin pumping him, quickly working him into a breathless mess above you. "I love you so much, Marc. You're my everything." You whisper breathily, knowing he needed to hear those words from you to feel reassured. But not just for him, for Steven and Jake also, because you knew they were watching and listening intently right now. Marc presses his forehead against yours at your words, a smile forming on his face and a feral lust-filled look peering back at you.

Marc crashes his lips against yours feverishly, his hands exploring your body wildly but with intent. You rush to remove his remaining clothing, needing to feel his bare body on yours, skin on skin. You hear the soft thump of Marc's clothes hitting the floor alongside your own, allowing you to touch him fully now. Marc wastes no time removing your hand from his cock and lining himself up with your dripping awaiting hole, entering you with no issue, pain, or resistance. Having already prepped you beforehand perfectly. You both gasp as Marc enters you completely, his hips flush with your own. "Fuck baby, you're so tight and wet. Feel so good. Can I move?" He asks breathlessly as he stares directly into your eyes with the most amazing lustful yet loving look you had ever seen.

While biting your lip and staring back, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than for him to claim you in all ways he wanted to. He sets a slow pace to begin with, just to help you get used to it before he wrecked you, the ever-considerate boyfriend. It was passionate and mind-numbing, the way his cock slowly yet roughly dragged against your walls, his pelvic area rubbing directly on your clit and stimulating you perfectly. The feeling of Marc's hand gripping your face has you bringing your head back so you can look at him properly, that familiarly dark yet seductive look staring back at you. "Open up for me sweetheart," Marc instructed huskily, already knowing you understood and recognised what he was asking of you.

You open your mouth wide with your tongue sticking out, trying your best not to close your eyes as he continues to slowly fuck you. "Such a good girl for me, that's it, baby." Marc slowly and gently spits into your mouth, savouring the moment that does not happen often, only when he feels particularly possessive over you. "Swallow." You do as you are told, swallowing his saliva and sticking your tongue back out to show you had. The hand on your face moves up to your mouth and inserts two fingers into your mouth, "suck." He instructs, staring intensely as you wrap your lips around his fingers and begin sucking and licking. You moan loudly as Marc removes his fingers and replaces them on your clit instead, stimulating you as he fucked you.

"Oh fuck Marc!" You gasp, feeling the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach. The constant stimulation from his skin on your clit had already had you pushing to the limit, but his fingers were getting you off faster. "Come for me, baby." He groaned as he sped up both his movements, increasing your breathing tremendously. As quickly as it built, it released, your high hitting you like a train for the second time tonight. You scream in delight as Marc worked you through your high once again, now you were exhausted. Marc gives you a few minutes to recover, spending the time showering you with affection.

Marc takes this time to kiss your lips until they are red and swollen, and even then he did not let up. He littered your neck and shoulders with more marks, claiming your skin once more as his own. As if he were an artist painting his blank canvas with signature markings that told it was his work. Painting your skin in purple, red, and black bruises. When Marc asked if it was okay for him to continue and you agreed, he fucked you into a moaning mess. Each thrust was meticulous and targetted, aiming to provide you with as much pleasure as possible.

Marc's groaning sweaty figure above you was something to be marvelled at, he was truly insatiable and the definition of beauty. You felt utterly grateful and lucky that you were the one that got to call him, Steven, and Jake yours. With each thrust, yours and Marc's moans got louder, both becoming more and more needy for the other. As Marc tucked his head into the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging into his beautifully scarred skin, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close. You could feel that Marc was close by the way his thrusts got sloppy and slightly stiff.

Marc feels your walls tighten around his cock, "with me." Marc groans, placing his forehead against your own, breathing one another's air. You scream as the knot releases, exploding into multiple surges of pleasured fireworks that runs through your whole body. Marc groans loudly as he also finishes, his come painting the inside of your walls as he fucks you both through your highs. Marc collapses on top of you once you're both done, panting loudly. You lay with your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as your nails gently scratch Marc's bare back. His own fingers playing and tracing patterns on your own skin, often digging in a little now and again. You knew in times like this he just needed to be held and loved until he was ready to move or say something.

"I'm yours, forever and always. Nothing can change that." You whisper into his hair, one hand tangling gently into his damp curly locks and your lips placing a soft prolonged kiss onto the side of his forehead. Marc's arms tightened ever so slightly around your body and digs his head further into your neck, "thank you." He whispers into your sweaty skin, lips attaching to your neck regardless.

[redeyerhaenyra]

It's not warm when she's away

Summary: A part 2 continuation to this fic, what is life like with your three kidnapper exes?

Warnings: Angst, yandere dynamics, unhealthy relationship, threat of physical harm, threat of harm to animals (no actual harm tho), yeah this one is heavy, Steven dislocates readers shoulder, forced imprisonment, let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Suggested by @ominoose ty bb (she made me do this she is keeping me in her basement tied up as I write this sos)

Marc Spector

Arguably the best of the bunch here

And by best I mean most sympathetic to your circumstance, but that still doesn't mean Marc is going to let you go free

No, he lost you once. They all did. He won't be making that mistake again.

He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, knowing that Steven and Jake can be.. pushy, with you.

Watches movies with you, cuddles you in bed, kisses you and whispers sweet nothings into your hair like this was a normal situation.

Does his best to make you as comfort as possible, to make it seem like you never even left them in the first place.

Marc is the one that gives you thr most freedom- he lets you walk around the flat for a start.

You're still trapped, though. Still a prisoner. And as much as you beg and plead, and as much as he wants to make you happy.. you aren't leaving anytime soon.

Jake Lockley

Ah the kidnapper himself.

At first he was the one part of the system you were most afraid of, having been the one to kidnap you, after all.

But now.. he's only second worst. We'll get back to that later, don't worry ;)

Jake has never acted angry with you, ever. Even now.

When he scolds you for running away like you did, his voice is quiet, his tone is of harsh disappointment, and cuts you deeper than anything raising his voice could do.

On the face of it he's the most restrictive

He'd have you hogtied, blindfolded, and gagged 24/7 if not for Marc's protest

He's not happy about it but he settles for having you tied to the bed with Steven's ankle restraint.

Funnily enough he's also the one you see the least of. You would have thought Jake would force himself to front incase the other two let you free. You hadn't realised they were all in on it.

Jake is the type of person to apologise with actions, not words.

He does sympathise with your situation. He loves you, they all do, and he isn't as upset as you would have thought to find you aren't too happy with your predicament

He buys you things- new clothes, toys for Franklin, he makes you tasty food, anything you could ask for.

Another of the reasons he's sympathetic is that he knows he isn't the worst you have to deal with.

Steven Grant

Oh boy

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

Steven is such a two faced bitch

In the beginning he cared the most, was the one fronting more often, getting you anything you could've asked for, and showering you in affection.

But then you managed to break free from the ankle restraint one night.

You had only made it a few feet across the room before you were bodyslammed into the floor, arms twisted roughly behind your back.

Steven had taken this so personally, like a catty, high-school mean girl.

His words were vitriolic, and he shouted them at you with an anger you thought poor Steven simply incapable of.

He even threatened to hurt Franklin if you tried anything like that again, describing it as "only fair", as the way you "hurt" him would be nothing compared to what he'd do to your poor innocent cat.

Remember how I mentioned Marc was the only one who opposed you being hogtied 24/7? Yeah no Steven agreed with Jake.

He isn't above restraining you like that.

Oh and he's so manipulative

It was like a switch had been turned on in his head. He would never had used his tears to hurt you before you left.

But now he knew how to use his big, round eyes glittering with tears to have you yield to the system's whims

Steven scares you now.

Each time he comes home from work, smiling and so happy to see you and Franklin, sends a cold chill down your spin, as you'll never know when he might snap.

Jake and Marc had been the ones to understand that you don't really want to share the same bed as them anymore, and had taken to sleeping on the sofa

Not Steven. He smothers you in affection whether you want it or not, and even has the gall to ask why you're so rigid when he forces you into the once safe haven of his arms

He wasn't stupid, he understood full well why you were scared of him. The body all three men shared was strong, it had dislocated your arm when you'd tried to run away the first time.

The threat of physical harm was not something Steven was above using.

He'd changed so much, was he always like this? Was he always capable of doing this to you?

You'd never know. But at least, if you kept your head down.. things were.. somewhat stable.

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Another Place, Another Time (Pt. 2)

JakeXFem!Reader, StevenXFem!Reader (Marc in headspace)

Summary: So your best friend is back in your life, and is also not one, not two but three people. Reconnecting with Steven isn’t as easy as you thought, and you gain a new perspective on your childhood.

CW: mentions of the boy’s childhood/abuse/ neglect, wendy is her own warning, swearing, threats of violence, swearing, bad Chicagoan accents, almost definitely railroad sentences, poor job at explaining DID  Beta’d by @saturn-rings-writes 💖 A/N: It’s weird trying to explain DID without getting into the weeds about it. Weird downside of being a clinician. Anyways, Here’s part 2 I hope you like it!  Steven is Orange  Marc is green  Jake is Red

Word Count: ~3k

The only movement in your apartment is the steady rise and fall of Jake’s chest. Your eyes search over his face, reviewing your attempts at first aid and internally patting yourself on the back. The bandages stuck on, and they don’t seem as red and angry in the daylight. How he manages to look like he’s aware of everything even while sleeping is beyond you. His body looks so stiff, is that from whatever happened last night or is this normal for him? Maybe you shouldn’t be watching him sleep on your couch, you muse, but isn’t it good bedside manner to check on a patient? His brows are still furrowed slightly, the bruise on his cheek casts a shadow over his profile, and his lip is still swollen; but hey, at least he isn’t bleeding anymore. Does this man ever relax? He even sleeps tense, arms crossed over his chest protecting himself like a coiled spring. When is he going to wake up? You have questions, and you’re hungry. You let out a groan louder than you intend startling jake awake. ¡puta madre!” He swears, sitting bolt upright, he grabs your shirt in a vice like grip. The suddenness of his movements, startles you as well, causing you to scream, “Shit! Jake it’s me!” You throw your hands up, palms facing him to try and show him you mean no harm. He glares at you a moment, chest heaving before recognition flashes in his eyes and he lets go. “Y/N…lo siento, I thought, I forgot where we were.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “why are you sitting on the floor?” “oh! I was watching you…sleep. To see if you were okay! Not like in a weird way. You were injured and anyways…breakfast? Breakfast sounds good!” You get to your feet and hurry to your kitchen leaving behind a groggy and confused Jake.

Steven? You need new friends hm? What’s wrong with Y/N? She was watching me sleep She does that. Erm well she used to do that Que lo…what do you mean she does that?? She did that when were were young too, if I slept over, I’d wake up and she’d be there. Said she wanted to make sure I was okay while I slept or somethin’ like that

Huffing softly, Jake slowly makes his way off the couch to see you cooking the breakfast burrito he usually orders at the diner while coffee brews. “I um…sorry, about grabbing you earlier. I’m not used to people watching me sleep, not nice ones anyways.” He jokes “y’know, I want to ask what kind of people are watching you sleep at all, but I don’t think I want to know the answer, and Im sorry for staring at you for an hour” “An hour? Y/N what do you mean an hour?!” You wave your spatula dismissively, “Water under the bridge. Anyways, can we talk more about you being this bogo sale of 3 people, one body?" Jake can’t believe what’s more bizarre, him sleeping over at your house after you found him behind a dumpster and waking to you cooking his order that you apparently memorized, the fact that you are so nonchalant about their disorder, or, that you two were actually childhood friends. You hand him his burrito and coffee, “cream is in the fridge, sugar in the bowl and I don’t have your cotija cheese. Sorry” “We aren’t…Im not.”, Jake rolls his eyes deciding there is no point in arguing semantics with you. “Sure fine, we’re a bargain deal. What questions do you have.” He asks as he makes his coffee before following you back to the living room. “Just start from the top, I guess. Explain more of what dissociating disorder is.”

“Dissociative Identity disorder Y/N and it’s…when someone deals with…less than ideal events, sometimes their brains separate it from themselves. It makes “alters” or, like other people to deal with it.” Jake attempts to cobble together an explanation without reliving their past. You nod, trying to follow along, “So something bad happened and now you, Steven and Marc all live like in the same body but aren’t the same person…yes? “Yea, that’s…yea pretty much” “So who gets to do what? Why do you always come to the diner and never either one of them? Can they hear me?” Jake chokes on the coffee he’s been sipping, “woah, Slow down Y/N.” “Sorry, sorry. To be fair I did tell you last night that I had a lot of questions” you laugh “So when you’re, out or talking or…whatever. Are Steven and Marc around?” “The word you’re looking for is ‘fronting’ and only sometimes. We used to keep our lives separate from one another but are trying to work together more like a-like a family.” “So who is who in the family?” Jake chuckles, “to me? Steven is mi hermanito, like a little brother. He can hold his own, but I still worry about him. Marc is the stubborn middle brother who thinks he is right but isn’t. I'm the oldest, the level headed one, the planner. I make sure we’re safe”

Don’t talk about me like that to Y/N! oh now you care what Y/N thinks about you? Shut it Steven, and Jake? The level headed one? Fat chance Mr. Answers-his-problems-with-fists

You look over Jake’s face, mustering up the courage to ask the question that woke up you in the early hours of the morning. “So is Steven is ‘around’ or ‘present’ since your fronting? Is that right? I don’t know how to ask about any of this without sounding like a dick.” Jake chuckles softly, “Si, Steven is here, you can ask if any of us are ‘around’ if that’s easier. Besides, he’s been bothering me since yesterday to speak with you”. “Really?” Jake nods, finishing his coffee “yes really, I can get him for you, if you like.” “I would love that! Could you really get him for me?” You exclaim. However that excitement is diminished as you realize that you asked jake to connect you with Steven like a phone operator. “Wait, that was rude Jake, I don’t want you to think I’m getting rid of you I just-“ “It’s fine Y/N, besides I’ll always be around, you just have to ask” he quips before closing his eyes. You sit and wait for something, anything to happen. “I wish he would’ve told me how this works” you mumble to yourself as Jake’s (Steven’s?) eyes snap open. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat. You know that accent, that small upwards lilt at the end of your name having heard it for years in your youth. You study his features, it’s the same face but it’s not. The lifted brows, the light in his eyes, the barely contained energy emanating from him. “S-Steven? Holy…shit is that really you?” You notice, his eyes frantically searching your face as well, as if in disbelief, “Y/N, gods it is you”. He goes to reach out for you which temporarily breaks you from your reverie. “Hold on…Okay if you are StevenI’m going to ask you some questions and we’ll say the answer at the same time? I want to make sure you are who you say you are.” Steven blinks at you a few times before agreeing, “right, yea course Y/N, but it’s been years”, he chuckles nervously, “l-loads of things have happened since we last saw each other”.

What the hell is she doin’? Hush hermano, Steven is being interrogated by Y/N What do you mean interro- Mira

“You’re right, you’re right” you nod in agreement with Steven, who sighs in relief. “Thank you Y/N, I ju-“

“What their secret password was when they were kids?” You fire off, “W-What? Our secret password?” “What did I want to be when I grew up?” “You changed that almost every time I saw you Y/N I don’t-“

“What did my mom always make us for dinner when you came over?” “Y/N I can’t remember those things!“ his voice pinches as his anxiety spikes

Guilt grips you like a vice. If this is Steven, you’ve spent the first 2 minutes grilling him. Sighing, you relent, “I’m sorry, look I just…I need to make sure you’re you y’know? Last question, I swear” You look at him earnestly, “what was the stuffed animal I gave you?” Steven looks up at you, shoulder dropping as his anxiety melts away. Smiling proudly, he answers “Sir Rosser, he was a purple patchwork bunny”

 ¿qué carajo?  that’s …no ..she gave us…

You squint your eyes, “and who knighted Sir Rosser?”  “You did, because you were the ‘lady of the land’. Knighted him with a ruler if I remember right.” Steven replies before he is summarily smashed into the couch from you tackling him “it is you! Steven I’ve missed you! I-I can’t believe it.” Steven hugs back tightly. Ignoring the ache in the body, he grabs fistfuls of your shirt as though you were a lifeline. “Y/N! Oh I’ve missed you so much”

“Steven, what the hell happened to you? We…you said we’d keep in touch after high school, and you just…disappeared. I couldn’t ever get in touch with you. No one knew where you were and your phone was always dead.” you ramble, the sting of losing Steven bubbling back to the surface.

“I-I know. I promised a lot of things and feel like a right twit for all of it Y/N, truly. I want to tell you what has happened and where we went, yea. But I think that’s more Marc’s story to tell. S’not that I don’t want to share, just doesn’t feel right”.

“Fine…you’re right. I mean I guess that’s fair. Still feels like bullshit that I thought you were gone this whole time and you were literally under my nose for the last year.  Steven chuckles softly, “always was good at hiding, Y/N”. “I won’t ask about details but I gotta know. When we were kids, what the hell was going on? Sometimes I would see you every day for a week and then you’d be gone with no explanation. School sucked without you there and, your dad was always vague about what was going on and then you’d be back at my house like nothing happened.” “I uh…its…Marc’s mum she struggled when we were younger. You have to understand love, she had okay days and bad days…and some really bad days. She kicked Marc out of the house once, left him on the front stoop. Poor lad, had a proper fit and I fronted. I wandered to your house and the rest is history”.

You shake your head, “No, Wendy definitely dropped you off at my house that day Steven. That’s what mom said when she called me downstairs.” Steven shakes his head, “Y/N, I may not remember a lot, but I remember that day. Marc’s mum was having a really bad day. I don’t know what happened, but when I fronted, I was outside and alone. You were the only kid I remember even noticing me, so I went and knocked on your door. We needed somewhere safe to go.” he replies quietly.

Your heart begins to hammer in your chest, sickening gears setting into motion as you realize what your friend experienced “Steven? You…weren’t a clumsy child were you? The forgotten meals and disappearing. Oh god, Steven the yelling. Mom always said your family liked the TV loud but…fuck was that Wendy?” Steven casts his eyes down “I think you already know the answer love”. You sit there, trying to quash the bile rising in your throat, the simmering anger at what he experienced and the profound sadness for your friend. Utterly shell-shocked you speak up, “Steven Im so so sorry. I…can you give me a moment please. To sit with that?” “Course love, it’s a lot I suppose” Steven replies, fidgeting with the end of their shirt. You nod getting off the couch and heading to your room, “yea it’s just…hold that thought and ignore the screams.” Steven looks at you bewildered, “screams? why would you-.” Your bedroom door cuts him off before he hears you shout “FUCK! What the FUCK!” stunning him into silence. He stares at the door hearing a string of angry mumbles, sniffles and swears coming from inside your room.

uh lads…d’you think… you never told me (Y/N) gave us that rabbit! Woah ¡cálmese! That’s what your worried about right now? And it’s because Sir Rosser was MY rabbit first! Oye! Los dos- That rabbit…that rabbit was the only thing that felt safe in that house. I thought that she gave me that rabbit on one of her good days oh Marc..mate. I thought you knew.

The door to your room creaks open, as you emerge red faced. “Im sorry about that. I needed to get that out of my system. What she did to you…to all of youse it…I don’t have the words”. You flop unceremoniously onto the couch and look at your friend who seems deep in thought. “Steven? Steven I really am sorry if what I did was insensitive but to know that you...that that was happening next door just…it infuriates me” Steven looks up and offers you a small smile, “s’alright Y/N, it is a lot innit? Nice being able to spend time with you and your mum though.” After a brief pause, Steven smiles at you. “Oh, when you went to your room to uhh” “I had a tantrum Steven, it’s okay. You can say it” You chuckle softly. “Right. While you had your moment I had a chat with Marc, and I think it would do him some good to pop in and talk with you at some point.

Steven, no. whatever you’re trying to do: no. Hermano, best just let Steven have this. He’s trying y’know? Whatever. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.

A few moments pass, and Steven raises his eyebrows at you. Smiling a bit wider, you catch on, “I would love to meet the mysterious man himself. Only when he is good and ready though”. Steven mouths the words ‘Thank You’ to you before addressing you directly. “Great that’s that settled, now! Can we chat bout something else? Its been bloody ages! Hows things?”

“I wish I had something interesting to tell ya Steven, but in all honesty things are pretty boring. I got a degree and graduated second in my class but, then I couldn’t find a career that I could see myself in long term. I can keep a job sure, but it sucks clocking in to somewhere that feels like its stealin’ your friggin’ soul.” You lean your head back on the couch. “So I quit corporate, started working at Hungry Hub while I figure out next move. I’ve been there about 2 years now. Pay is inconsistent and the owner, Bryce sucks but I like it, feels like a little family. Besides, it brought me back to you. I picked up a few hobbies over the years, but nothing’s ever stuck except baking.”

Steven stares at you, happily nodding along as you update him on your life. “You still bake? After all this time?”

You laugh, a warmth settling into your chest being able to share time with Steven again, “Yea, kept it going since we used to bake with mom, but now I bake when I’m anxious or stressed out.”

“I remember baking with you and your mum! We made chocolate chip cookies one evenin’. She got us matching aprons and played this soft music. She was so patient even when I-I …dropped the whole bag of chocolate chips in the bowl”

You interject, “Yea, you panicked so bad I thought you were gunna pass out which…makes sense now all things considered”. Steven smiles sadly, “but your mum was so kind. She said there’s no such thing as too much chocolate and we..just kept baking. It was like it never even happened.” He trails off, seemingly lost in thought. You watch his features drop, tears brimming as he recalls his childhood. You tentatively place your hand on Steven’s knee, “For what it’s worth, mom was right. There is no such thing as too much chocolate and no what has happened or what will happen, Im happy to have you back Steven.”

Your words pull Steven from his thoughts. Blinking back tears, he leans over and hugs you again. Returning the gesture firmly, you rub your hand up and down his back a bit before you chuckle to yourself. Steven leans back, “what…what’s so funny?”. Covering your mouth to stifle a laugh you gesture vaguely to him “I am over the moon to have you back but you reek, er Jake reeks. This…the body…it stinks.” Steven leans further back, sniffing his own armpit “oh bollocks, we haven’t showered or anything. Still in Jakes clothes from last night even”

“I can drive youse guys back to your place to shower, change and do whatever needs to get done y’know. As long as everyone is okay with it.” Steven smiles at your consideration of them. “Im ready to go, I think Jake would be fine with it as well…Not sure about Marc.” “I don’t know how but why don’t you just ask ‘em. Like…how you talked to them before?”           She’s quick hermanito           I know mate, but you heard her. How’s it sound?           Si claro, works for me           marc?...Marc c’mon.           You can’t avoid her forever hermano           Shut it. I know I can’t I’m just…let me adjust will ya? She can take us back to the apartment. I just need time.            S’all you had to say           Steven’s right. Clear communication           Clear communication. I…I’ll talk to her at some point. Just give me some time.

“Steven, everything okay? You’ve been quiet for a long time.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “Hello?”  He blinks a few times, turning towards you, “Oh sorry, I was just checking in with Marc and Jake, everything is aces (Y/N) Just…be patient with Marc yea? He needs some time”. You smile warmly as you stand to grab your keys “Well youse guys are stuck with me now, so I’ve got all the time in the world.”

[lockleysfav]

Home

part 2 to seering

Summary: After getting comfortable, You, Marc and Layla go out shopping. Unfortunately one of your dads friends decides to ‘catch up’ with you after you wonder off from Marc and Layla.

Warnings: panic attacks, flashbacks, Marc being the biggest softie for you, threats and violence, slightly ddlg themes??

A few weeks had passed since the accident and the bond you had with Layla and the boys was practically un-breakable. The only problem was that the closer you guys got, the more possessive they came. Not that it bothered you entirely but whenever you wanted to go to the store they had to go with you no matter what, if you wanted to simply collect mail, one of them needed to be by you.

Yes, you felt incredibly safe and you could never ever be more thankful that you finally found people who truly care for you, but sometimes the possessiveness reminded you of your father’s aggressiveness.

One time you left the house without permission to pick some flowers at a nearby field as you never got to do so before. Once you got home, Jake grabbed you with tears in his eyes “Dont!” he pauses and kneels down to look into your eyes “don’t leave like that, i thought you were hurt little one” he sees your teary eyes and quickly pulls you into a comforting hug, rubbing your back and pulling away to plant a kiss on your cheek.

Steven fronted a little later and told you that Jake didn’t mean to grab you, he was just so scared and it didn’t help that he had no clues as to where you were. He told you that Jake even broke down and that is not like Jake at all. They’ve never seen him shed a single tear.

++

Your legs were propped up on Marc’s lap as Layla persuaded you into letting her give you a facial. You hesitantly agreed with a giggle, now she was smiling down at you, every few minutes leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You’re using too much of that soapy stuff!” you squirmed and she nudged your shoulder “Stop being such a baby” she laughed and wiped away the soap from your eyelashes. You scoffed “I wouldn’t be such a baby if you didn’t like…drown me in soap” she cackled at your dramatic response while Marc shook his head with a smile. His hand rested on your knees, squeezing them often as to soothe you when he noticed you slight flinches when Layla brought her hand down a tiny bit too fast.

Layla started to trim your eyebrows using some string and lord did it really yank out your hairs.

“stop” layla tries holding you down “stop squirming woman!” she laughs and you grunt when she manages to trim more of your hair except this time she makes a dramatic gasp, causing both you and Marc to sit up. You looked at her panicked “What?! what is it” you plead and she shakes her head “i’ve cut your whole eyebrow off” she gasps again and you rush to the mirror only to scowl when your eyebrow is perfectly fine. “Marc” you whine and he tuts at Layla “Leave her alone” he says playfully as you crawl onto his lap and hug him while Layla is clutching her stomach howling with laughter.

Marc slid his hand up the back of your shirt to massage you and you nuzzle into his neck “i love you” you whisper and he groans lightly “i love you too babygirl” he pulls away and looks up at you with a sweet smile. Layla whistles lightly and you scoff “Yeah okay” you laugh and Marc looks between you and Layla, loving how you and her are so inseparable.

“Hey, how about we go shopping?” Marc suddenly suggests and you tilt your head in confusion. Your expression made Marc furrow his eyebrows so you told him you didn’t know what shopping was entirely. This made Marc sigh and lay his head on your chest “I’m sorry sweetheart.” he tells you with a sad expression but you just smile and jump off his lap.

“Can we go?”

Layla gets up and so does Marc, getting you changed into some clothes before heading to the car and driving off.

++

The three of you decided to go into a nike store, Marcs favourite place to just stare at things, tell Layla how good they’d look on him only to not buy them. Layla always laughed about it but this time he seemed to be putting alot of shirts in a basket.

You were holding his hand when he walked into the trainer’s aisle. Your eyes lit up and you let go of his hand when you ran down the aisle to a pair of white shoes.

“c-can i get them?” you turn and ask him with a smile, he was just staring at you with almost a proud look on his face but of course it wasn’t something you were used to, you assumed it was a sarcastic look. “i-i’m sorry i’ll put them ba-” you were cut off when Marc asked for assistance.

“Whats your shoe size honey?” he asks with a smile and you panic as you cant get out the words because you’re so surprised. When Marc saw you fiddling and your cheeks heating up he quickly put down his basket and walked over to you, cupping your cheeks “Hey hey, it’s okay do you know your shoe size?” he asks with his thumb stroking your cheek.

You shook your head and he nodded, assuring you it’s okay before asking if he could check. Layla found the two of you and when you gave him permission to do so, he gently took off your shoe and read the size out loud to the assistant who immediately gave a thumbs up and rushes to grab a pair of the shoes in your size.

Marc pulled you into a hug when you let out your tears. “There honey it’s okay” his hand soothingly stroking up and down your back. You felt so pathetic. You can’t even check your own shoe size because you were worried if you did, Marc would get angry at you for taking so long. You knew he wouldn’t, it was just paranoia from your father.

+++

It was 5pm when you left the last clothing store. Layla told Marc they needed to go grocery shopping and you smiled “Grocery shopping?! like..like food shopping?” you ask and Layla nods “Exactly that honey” she confirms, petting your hair and placing a kiss to your hairline. Marc was holding your hand the whole walk to the store, they didn’t bother getting back into the car because you would only be parking in a different space, the store was just a 3 minute walk from the clothing store anyway.

The store was huge, people coming in and out with shopping carts full of food and you turned to Marc and Layla with a shocked but happy face “How do they afford all this food!” you beamed and Marc huffed a laugh “You want to get a cart? we can fill it right up with all the food you want how about that?” he nudges your shoulder playfully and you look at him, jaw slack “Really?!” “Yeah really” he smirked and you wasted no time to rush to the line of carts, yanking one out and running to the front of the store, Marc and Layla jogging to catch up to you.

The first area you went to was of course, the aisle full of snacks.

Marc smiled at you while you scanned the aisle with wide eyes, seeing so much to choose from. You had this idea in your head that again, you were only allowed one thing but Marc noticed your hesitation after picking up a kinder chocolate egg. “Honey, take as much candy as you want” he shouts from the end of the aisle, his arms spread out as if to grab armfuls. You got giddy and turned back to the candy.

“Hey, we’re just gonna be in the freezer aisle, we’ll be right back sweetie” you hear Layla tell you before kissing the side of your head and walking away with Marc.

You spent 5 minutes with a finger on your lip in thought of which candy/chocolate to get. You had only still put that kinder egg in the cart. The sight of a bunch of rainbow strips bunched into a bag caught your attention, you giggled and went to grab it until a voice you recognise spoke behind you.

“Y/n? Hey!”

You dropped the bag of candy and slowly stood up straight, turning around with a nervous smile. Your hand waved out slightly while your other clutched tightly to your sweater “H-hello” you replied to him, ever so slightly moving away but the man took another step forward “How’s your dad? had any temper tantrums yet?” he laughed at his own sarcasm but you stood frozen, sudden memories of your dad losing his temper and throwing things at you.

The moment he placed a hand on your shoulder to shake you, asking whats wrong with you, one of the children dropped a vase from a different aisle and your heart immediately sunk, you pushed yourself away from the man you saw as your father in your rush of panic. You whimper and covered your ears to block out the screaming and shouting coming from your father.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” A deep voice yelled, arms shoving away the man in front of you.

“Sweetie? hey hey look at me” Layla stroked your hair out of your face and cupped your cheeks “It’s okay baby it’s okay” you were pulled into her chest, your sobs loud but your hands still instinctively reached for her shirt, gripping it tightly and burying your face into it while she rubbed your back.

“Are you him?! huh?”

“i’ll gut you in this fucking store i don’t care who-”

“Marc!” Layla yells, making him stop. Marc let go of the man and rushed over to the pair of you, kneeling down to take in the sight of you desperately clinging to Layla for some sort of relief but it wasn’t working, Marc was oblivious but Layla was not.

“She needs you” she spoke softly, Marc shook his head “no she- why would she need me? she needs you” he rambled, he was confused, but Layla gently moved you into Marc arms where you went straight back to clinging onto his shirt and burying your face into it. Marc was shaky, he didn’t know what to do because he was scared of hurting you. But when he finally wrapped his arms around you, the feeling of a man finally being gentle and caring with you, you relaxed into him, your breathing evening out.

Layla kissed Marcs forehead and stood up to gather all the different types of candy to put into the trolley. They had gotten what they needed, but as soon as they heard your distress they had dropped it all in a heartbeat to see what was wrong, so layla had to go back and collect it with the trolley.

Marc held you protectively, picking you up when he saw Layla coming back. He gave Layla a quick kiss before carrying you all the way back to the car. He laid you down in the back seats as you were falling asleep, he wasnt sure why you were falling asleep but all you knew was that you were safe, you were loved and you were cared about deeply, and that was enough reassurance to let your inner child peacefully sleep.

——

🌙

thank you for reading!

[trickster-jpeg]

I Haven't Slept In Days, But Who's Counting.

This is a sequel to another oneshot, so it'll make more sense context-wise if you read that first -> Here

Summary: Steven's tries to carry on hiding his nightmares from Marc and Jake, but after a particularly rough night Marc finds out and tells Jake. The pair confront him and have to comfort him after he breaks down.

Warnings: Nothing major. Brief descriptions of child abuse when Steven talks about one of the nightmares.

Word Count: 8524 It's On AO3 -> Here

A/N: 'Ricitos' is a petname that means 'curly hair', and 'Manitos' means something akin to 'little brother'.

“Steven- I just really think you should tell them. They would want to know, they would want to help you. If anyone can understand what you’re going through, it’s them.”

A few days had passed since ‘the incident’ as Steven was choosing to call it and, despite the continuing insomnia, things were going as well as they could be. Layla had offered to stay a few more days to keep him company, but he knew that there were things she needed to do and being on nightmare watch wasn’t one of them, so he declined. She’d been amazing the past few days, more amazing than she usually was, and as per usual she was like a rock for him to lean on for support which he was extremely grateful for. Regardless of how stupid he thought it might’ve been, she’d listened to whatever he had to say, and when he’d wanted to stay quiet she’d sit with him through that as well. The pair had gone out to spend their last few full days together just wandering around, visiting little cafes and book shops, taking walks for the fresh air. Just spending a moment to simply exist without the threat of the world collapsing around them, real or imagined.

Marc had been out at times as well, just to do his own thing and spend his own time with Layla. It was tricky for the pair at times, given their history, especially at the start once everything had been put on the table. When they'd had a moment to talk about the disorder honestly. But the pair were working or rebuilding things better than they had been, and made new room for Jake and Steven to be included as well if they wanted. Jake still wasn’t fully used to fronting the same way the others were, or for the same lengths of time, so he didn’t appear much. Especially when there wasn’t really anything to do. But after some encouragement from the three, he’d found a new motivation to spend time out and trying to relax after he’d started to realise he wasn’t being subjected to his typical nightmares. Steven had made Layla promise not to tell his headmates.

Which led him back to his predicament.

Telling the other two about his nightmares. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it was just… Maybe that’s exactly what it was in all honesty. How was he supposed to bring it up anyway? “Marc! Jake! Just the people I've been trying to subtly avoid, but you’ve probably noticed that by now. It’s aces that your nightmares have suddenly started to dip in frequency, genuinely so glad that you’re able to have a peaceful nights rest, but that’s actually because they’ve just passed over to me! Surprise!” He’d rather be shot in a pyramid and stuffed into a bloody sarcophagus. Again. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they found out somehow. Which is why he wanted to be the one to tell them.

They’d been trying to work on their communication. Trying to lower the daily amnesia barriers, get more fluid with switching and have more control over it, being able to sit down and talk as a trio. Steven had been doing more research on DID whenever he had the chance. Found it really quite interesting if he was honest, despite not being the biggest psychology buff, but he also had a tendency to fixate and overload himself with the information and that tended to trigger some doubt in him about the whole thing. Something he read was completely normal for people like him- them- but it was still frustrating to have to stagger his questions just so he could safely process basic information.

One thing in particular caught his eye during the deep dives though. Innerworlds. He read about how they were this visualisation thing, like the mind palace in Sherlock. That they could help to provide a space for communication, like properly interacting with each other in a way that wasn’t just staring into a mirror and hoping someone responded with the reflection. It had taken a while to work on actually putting the concept into practice, to actually try and visualise it in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were just daydreaming, but they’d done it. Slowly but surely, they’d started to make it work. Their innerworld was nothing fancy, at least not for now. In a way, they found it somewhat easier to simply have a replica of their flat as a hub of safety, or a meeting place to be used when needed. And Steven had reluctantly deduced that this was one of the times it was necessary to use it as a meeting place.

It would take him a while to gather up the nerve to start the conversation. Overthinking was a special talent of Steven’s and he could spend years trying to plan every single possibility. To sit down and focus, the build up to opening up to the people he always told shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk about their troubles. It really was easier said than done when none of them had really been properly taught how they were supposed to do that, but Steven tried to think of it as a learning experience. He could lead by example. Maybe. Hopefully.

However, like many things in their life, the choice was ultimately made for Steven and left him a complete lack of control over the circumstances that led up to the others finding out.

It had been a week since Layla had left their flat. A week of being alone in the empty darkness of his room. A week of looping audiobooks and fidgeting with rubik's cubes and leaning over books under a lamp only to pass out on the desk after succumbing to sleep’s cruel lullaby. He’d been coping as well as he could. Sometimes staying on the phone with Layla until he felt safe enough to sleep again. Or at least until he pretended to because he didn’t want to keep her up anymore than he’d already been doing. Eventually it had to come to a close. It always did. And this time it really was Steven’s fault.

As a rule, Steven tended to avoid drinking. Never really saw much of an appeal apart from some of the ones that tasted nice. He didn’t like the loss of control. Something about it just made him extremely uncomfortable, not that he understood why until he’d found out about their mum’s drinking habits. But he knew Marc drank, albeit sometimes unhealthily, and so eventually he concluded that they’d have the same type of tolerance given the fact that it was the same body. He was still getting used to it, finding it easier to just continue avoiding the substance without any qualms, but occasionally he’d partake.

This was one of those nights. He knew it wasn’t exactly the healthiest of ideas to start drinking with the intent of using it to get him to sleep, but it would just be a one time thing. Honestly. He just wanted to see if it would do anything. If it would help ease him into the action without hours of anxiety spirals to keep him awake. So, he picked up the bottle of hard liquor that he knew Marc had stashed in the back of one of the cupboards in the kitchen and took a large mouthful of it.

His immediate reaction was repulsion, the instant impulse to try and spit out the liquid that felt like it was numbing his tongue, but he powered through it and swallowed hard. The burning sensation that scraped down his throat was strong enough to cause his eyes to water almost immediately afterwards and he jolted forward to grab a half empty glass of water that had been left out on the kitchen top. He felt the alcohol settle heavily in his stomach, an empty feeling that made him realise he had forgotten to eat anything that wasn’t a small snack or two throughout the day.

Overall, it was an unpleasant experience that he would rather not repeat or continue doing. But the distraction of the alcohol scratching at his throat would probably be enough to draw his focus away from the anxiety his nightmares caused, which is why he made the great decision to take another few large mouthfuls from the bottle before setting it down and flopping into bed. Enough to make a small, yet notable difference in the contents of the bottle. He grimaced and coughed as the liquid burned down his throat again, pulling a slightly disgusted face as he realised he could smell it quite intensely on his breath.

After about ten to fifteen minutes of lying in bed, waiting for the pain to dull down slightly, he started to feel somewhat dizzy. Like a mild vertigo, almost like dissociating in a way. In an attempt to settle the feeling slightly, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, counting the beats between each inhale and exhale like sheep. His mind started to drift as he focused on the waviness of it all, the floating sensation creeping into his brain as he felt himself lean deeper into the mattress. Gradually, he stopped being aware of his behaviour, his thoughts, the waking world. Apparently a mixture of sleep deprivation, alcohol, and lack of food made a great recipe for sleep.

From Marc’s detailed experiences of drinking and sleeping, alcohol made dreams more vivid. It also made them way more memorable when he woke up from them. And usually, it was more likely to be nightmares than dreams when alcohol had a part to play in the events leading up to sleep. Sometimes it would be more trauma-centric nightmares, but usually 3.5 out of 5 times it was some random bullshit nightmare that most of the general population gets. Something mundane like accidentally yanking his teeth out and swallowing them or something. The point was, it was fairly easy to tell when a dream was influenced by alcohol or if it was just a typical, regular dream. Which is why he was so disoriented when he woke up with sweat soaking their bedsheets and his chest heaving painfully as he tried to draw in the breaths he didn’t even know he was lacking.

He tasted the liquor he’d bought himself, coating his mouth and mixing with the flood of saliva as he jolted to grab the bin they kept beside their bed to heave into, watching as the majority of his stomach contents turned out to be the alcohol. A sight not quite shocking to him, borderline familiar with the amount of times it happened to him in the past, but still confusing. Confusing because he could’ve sworn he hadn’t had anything to drink. That he hadn’t fronted for pretty much the entire day so unless he’d had a full blackout of his own memories, he hadn’t touched the bottle. And he knew that Jake hadn’t been the one to drink it either, simply because he knew that the man hated his choice of liquor and wouldn’t voluntarily drink it unless he was forced to, and even then he’d have tried to buy some before falling back on Marc’s stash. Which just left one other person to blame. Steven.

Why the hell would Steven be drinking? He hates drinking. Or at least hates drinking this stuff.

As Marc continued to retch into the bin, a worry started to overshadow the initial confusion he was feeling. It didn’t make any sense. The man never went out of his way to buy or drink, and when he did he always went for the softest stuff. The stuff that barely tasted like alcohol, just fruit or sugar. He’d made it clear time and time again that he’d hated the feeling of it, hated the taste, hated the aftermath. Hated everything about it. Which is why Marc just couldn’t understand why Steven would feel the need to drink so much of this stuff. Surely the Brit would’ve tried to speak to Marc or Jake if there was something going on, right?

Suddenly feeling unsure about his headmate’s transparency, he started to try and remember any signs in the past few weeks that something was wrong with Steven. Briefly, he got glimpses of the man falling back into his old habits of trying to avoid sleep. Of not eating as much as he usually would, or leaving the house as often as he did. Of watching their phone and waiting silently for it to stop ringing and for the familiar contact of Layla to disappear from the screen. Then he thought about last week. Something recent came to mind. Something hazy. They were sitting on the floor. Reading something- No. Being read to. Marc didn’t understand the words but he knew the voice speaking them. Felt the panic dying down as Steven realised who it was as well.

He needed to call Layla.

Without looking, he reached over to the side table to grab at the phone he knew would be there with one hand as he placed the bin in the other hand now that he was confident there was nothing left for him to throw up. The bright light from the screen blinded him for a moment as he scrambled to turn down the brightness, cursing the Brit quietly for his adamance at having the setting so high all the time. After a moment of letting his eyes readjust to the sight of it, he opened his contacts and hit the dial button over his wife’s name. A moment of regret and remorse flickered in his chest as he looked up at the time on the top of his screen reading ‘02:38’. Maybe he should’ve waited until the morning to figure this out rather than disturbing her sleep and waking her up at this time for such a petty reason-

“Hello? Steven? Marc?... Jake?”

A wave of familiarity washed over him as he heard her tiredly croak out a response over the line, clearly having just been woken up by the phone. He hesitated for a moment before realising he should probably start speaking.

“Hey, it’s me- Marc-”

“I may have just woken up but I can still tell that it’s your voice, Marc. You don’t have to tell me. We’ve been married for about ten years.”

He pauses awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for his stupid attempt at trying to help her as though she hadn’t spent a decade waking up to hearing his voice. Clearing his throat, still raw from the alcohol going in and then out of his system, he swallows before continuing.

“I know it's late, didn’t realise until i’d already hit the call button. I wouldn’t have phoned if it wasn’t important, or at least I’m pretty sure it’s important-”

“Marc, I love you and I'm listening but I'm still incredibly tired. Could you maybe skip to the reason you’re calling me at… two in the morning?”

He stays silent for a moment or two, apologetic that he woke Layla up at this hour, but also more apprehensive to speak the words out loud. As if the reality of the situation, of the things he’s thinking, will settle in and manifest. That it’ll be real once he says it. Taking another deep breath, his throat feeling slightly strangled as he forces the words out of his mouth.

“Steven was drinking. I don’t know why, I just know that I woke up in a pile of sweat, having one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while, promptly followed up by me puking my insides out and seeing he’s barely eaten anything all day. And a nightmare that I know was about our childhood that I can’t even remember to top it all off. I just- I thought if he’s spoken to anyone about any of this… it would be you.”

The line was silent for a while, the only clue that Layla was still there and that it hadn’t hung up or frozen was her muttered swears that the microphone just barely managed to pick up. He heard a brief shuffling, almost as though she was moving around to sit up in bed or something. Another few moments of silence passed before she spoke hesitantly, her tone reluctant but much more awake than it had been. Much more alert.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything… He said he’d- Never mind. I don’t really know how to say this, it’s not my thing to say but if he’s getting to this point instead of talking I-”

The confusion and worry in Marc’s mind only stood to grow even more at the vague words. What was Steven not telling them? What could be so bad that he’s made Layla promise not to say anything? All members of the system had the understanding that there was a level of confidentiality between some of their personal conversations with Layla. If they wanted or needed to tell her something, or just didn’t want the other two to know about it, then they wouldn’t ask her. A mutual respect that they wouldn’t pry into things or try to force their partner to talk about things that didn’t concern them unless it was important enough for them all to know. And to Marc, this seemed like it was something pretty fucking important for them to know about.

“What? What do you mean ‘not your thing to say’? ‘Getting to this point’? Layla, what's wrong with Steven? I mean he knows he can talk to us about things, he’s always going on about being open and honest and how things are better when we all work together to try and solve them so what could be so bad that he’s hiding things from us-”

“He’s been having nightmares, Marc. About your childhood. About your trauma. He’s been having nightmares and flashbacks.”

As Layla cuts his ramblings off and tells him the truth, he’s stunned into silent shock. It's almost like the words just don’t process in his mind. At least not for the first minute or so after he’d heard them. Like his brain just refused to acknowledge them as the truth, or even just as a possibility at all. He almost asked her to repeat what she’d said, to give her the opportunity to say something else. Almost hoping that what she’d said was a mistake, or that he’d just misheard her. Until they actually started to settle in his head.

Steven had been having nightmares. Their Steven. He’d been having nightmares. He’d been having their nightmares. Marc and Jake had finally been freed from them, celebrating and joking between themselves that they’d been given a ‘mini restbite’. And Steven had been forced to deal with them instead. The Steven that would take their place and stay up for hours after they’d jolted awake to reassure them they were alright. The Steven that would talk outloud and describe every single item and object in their flat, as well as the layout of the floors, if it meant that they could believe they were safe and in their own home, not stuck in that house with their mother. The Steven that once decided to make a crappy little blanket fort at three in the morning for Jake because the man had been borderline inconsolable after he had screamed himself awake as a result of a particularly brutal nightmare. And now the same man was trying to brave his way through it all on his own, and had been doing so for months, all while Marc and Jake had been none the wiser..

“You need to talk to him about it, Marc. All three of you. He thinks that- He doesn’t want you to see him as a burden. Thinks that if he proves he can handle this on his own then he can prove he’s ‘contributing’ to the system, taking responsibility. That you’ll stop trying to keep things from him or I guess treating him like a child.”

Marc sits in a stunned silence as he listens to Layla speak, thoughts spinning like a tornado in his head. That couldn’t- That couldn’t be right. Steven doesn’t really think that. Doesn’t really believe that. Right? He couldn’t. But it was true in some way, they did keep things from him. They did treat him like a kid. Even if that was never their intention, they did it all the same. Falling into old habits of trying to keep his innocent naivety protected, keep him protected. And it’d backfired and made the man feel like he had to prove something to them. That he had to suffer in silence to be treated the same.

The stark realisation made Marc’s stomach lurch with nausea as he swallowed back the urge to gag, trying to suppress the growing pit in his stomach that had opened up like a sinkhole. His immediate reaction was that of self hatred, of anger, of a need to punish himself for not realising sooner or for making his headmate feel like that. But he knew that was no good, and it was probably the exact reaction that Steven had being trying to avoid by not telling him.

He sat in silence for a moment longer, not being able to think of the words he could use to formulate a response. Layla knew him well enough to understand that, even over the phone. He nodded slightly to himself as he continued to process her words, a small hum escaping his lips. Mumbling a tired but appreciative thanks to his wife, he makes the promise to fill her in on the aftermath before hanging up the phone with a mumbled ‘love you, thank you’. As per usual, she was right. They did need to talk. Sooner rather than later. Now.

Usually he wasn’t the one to initiate the contact in the innerworld, meditation like things having never really worked for him, but drastic times called for drastic measures and what better time to put this into practice than now. He took a few deep breaths, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts and feelings on the situation. Steven needed stability, reassurance that he could talk. Having a major freak out and blaming himself would only make the Brit want to comfort Marc and focus on him rather than the real issue centred around him. He just had to fill Jake in on the situation before. He knew the man would appreciate the forewarning, plus it would give them a better chance at being able to help Steven in a way that didn’t make him feel cornered.

Leaning back in bed, he slowly took some deep breaths and closed his eyes, just like Steven had told him to do when explaining it all, and tried to reach out to Jake. The man hated the use of mirrors most of the time, hating how jarring it was to be perceived, but Marc also just couldn’t be asked to get up out of bed and walk to a reflective surface. It only took a moment or two for Jake to surface, the man always on the wings somewhere in case he needed to jump in at a moment’s notice. He blinked his eyes open as he adjusted to the shift in his surroundings, stood next to the sofa in their innerworld flat instead of laying with closed eyes in bed. Beside him, Jake sat on the chair polishing his boots with a calmed expression, glancing up at Marc once he noted the man’s presence. Awkwardly, Marc just stood there for a moment, looking around the room as he tried to figure out what small talk he should try and make before leading into the main issue.

How the fuck was he supposed to start this conversation?

“So… How’s the weather been lookin-”

“Just spit it out, Manito, I don’t bite.”

Instantly, Marc clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on his legs ever so slightly in an attempt to combat the self-consciousness as he became aware of how he was just standing in the middle of the room. His eyes flickered back and forth between the other man, his boots, and the fish tank bubbling away in the background as Gus and Gus swam calmly as he tried to figure out how to formulate his sentences. They really needed to get better names for the fish. He bit his lip as he stood there in silence, chewing at the slightly cracked skin and trying to bite it off. As he tasted iron, he opened his mouth to respond.

“Steven’s been having the nightmares. Our nightmares. Having our flashbacks too. For months. He was drinking my stash before he went to sleep tonight. Layla’s seen him wake up screaming bloody murder after thinking he was still stuck in a dream.”

Jake’s hands stilled as he wiped the remnants of the boot polish over the material, his reaction perfectly frozen in a way that Marc assumed meant his thoughts had started to spiral immediately like his had when he’d found out. It also meant he was also trying to figure out what to do next. Just like Marc had. After a few moments, the cab driver gently placed the cloth down and started to nod quietly, processing the information he’d just been given. It was clear he was still trying to wrap his head around it, and so Marc spared him from having to try and speak, electing to continue his words.

“Apparently he said he’d talk to us, but I think we need to start the conversation first. She- Layla said that he’s trying to show his contribution to the system or something. That we’ve been treating him like a kid by trying to keep him safe from things. That we’ve been leaving him out. Making him feel like a- like a burden.”

Jake continued to nod, somewhat more forceful as Marc continued to talk. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his body language grew into a more spread out and tense defensive stance, his eyes scanning over the table back and forth as he did. Reaching up to remove his cap, he ran gloved hands through his hair and out of his face roughly, sitting back and looking up at Marc as he held the accessory in his hand like a lifeline. His jaw clenched a few times, his back cracking as he straightened his spine slightly. After a few more moments of silence, Jake took a deep breath and swallowed, staring off at the empty desk that sat tucked next to the stacks of books. A beat or two passed before he stood up, looking to the other side of the room as though staring at someone. As Marc followed his gaze, he had to mask his shock as suddenly sat in the uncomfortable desk chair was the main focus of their conversation: Steven.

The Brit was hunched over a book, reading as though nothing was happening until the confusion hit him and he looked up with a disorientated expression. Spinning around on his chair, his eyes immediately landed on the two men who were looking… worse for wear. That being said, Steven probably wasn’t looking so great either. He looked down at his clothes and realised he was wearing the black sweatshirt and joggers he had been wearing when they were stuck in the asylum. His hands were mostly covered by the sleeves being pulled up over them and as he reached up to brush his curled fringe out of his face. The dark strands felt greasy and knotted in his fingers, and he was suddenly very aware of how awful his face felt. He felt the weight beneath his eyes, dark circles sitting beneath them. His cheeks feeling somewhat sunken, and the rest of his face feeling oily. He felt like shit. He was literally projecting how he felt and he couldn’t get it to stop.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely vulnerable as he looked at the other two men, his legs bouncing nervously. He felt like a bug under a microscope, like he was about to be pinned to a canvas frame. The more he looked at them, the more he realised he’d been brought here on purpose, the way the Americans were glancing at one another and back at him as if they knew something. Like they were trying to silently argue about something. Something to do with him. Why was he here? It’s not like they had anything important to Steven, they never included him with that kind of thing so why-

In an instant, his heart stopped dead, his spine straightening and body tensing as he frantically looked at the pair as if he’d just been struck by lightning. He felt himself rocking back and forward in the chair ever so slightly, counting slowly as he tried to focus on his breathing. Was it even possible to have a panic attack on the innerworld? It felt like he was about to find out. He blinked desperately, hoping that with enough force he could try to escape this situation and take over the body to get out.

They knew. Somehow his headmates had found out about him. About his situation. How? Or- Maybe they didn’t. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe if he tried to play it off and fake ignorance then he could get out of it. Maybe they only realised he was withdrawn and they were none the wiser about his-

“We know about the nightmares, Steven. Layla told us.”

For a brief moment, he felt a pang of betrayal in his chest towards her. He’d made her promise she wouldn’t tell them so why on earth would she-

“I woke up throwing up all the liquor you’d drank on an empty stomach, bedsheet drenched in sweat, on the tail end of the worst panic attack I've felt in months. Of course I was going to call the only person who would have any inkling as to what the fuck was going on with you. What were you thinking? Why would you-”

Marc was cut off by Jake lightly stamping on his foot in a clear signal for him to stop talking and calm down, clearly having realised how the man’s worry was definitely coming off as confrontational instead of reassuring. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to reset his attitude, before looking back at Steven with a stern but slightly apologetic gaze. Clearing his throat stiffly, he walked over to Steven and sat a few feet away from him on the floor to give him space. Jake followed suit behind him and sat on a small table to the side of him, just barely above Steven’s natural sitting eye level. The three men sat in quiet for a few more moments, before Marc spoke up once more and broke the silence.

“We’re… sorry. I’m sorry. We thought we were doing right by you and clearly it did the opposite. You never should’ve been made to feel like you couldn’t talk to us and- Yeah. I’m sorry, Steven. Genuinely.”

Silently, Jake nodded along with the man as he watched Steven’s eyes shift around looking at the floor. A minute of silence passed as the Brit let the words sink in. They were apologising… To him. A part of him wanted to backpedal, immediately try to reassure the two men that it was no harm done and that he knew it wasn’t deliberate. But another part of him was just tired. Tired for the months of struggling silently, albeit because of his own choice to try and hide it, but he still felt like he wasn’t worth the fuss that would be caused if he spoke up. And they were apologising for it. Eventually, after another minute or two, he looked up at the pair with red rimmed eyes slowly filling with tears. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, there was no point trying to hide it anymore because they saw him in the same way he felt. They knew the way he felt because they’d felt it as well at some point.

“How do you do it? How do you both cope with it so well?”

There was a brief moment of shock that crossed their faces at Steven’s question. Marc’s expression leaning towards reluctant realisation at how the man saw the pair at the words, and Jake’s steering more towards a neutral acceptance of his perception. Neither of them looked as though they agreed with the wording of Steven’s inquiry. Marc spoke up once more to answer the man nonetheless, Jake taking over once he stops.

“We can’t cope with it, Steven. We just grit our teeth and push through it. You want to know how we can do it? You. You’re the reason we can survive it.”

“He’s right, ricitos. We don’t know how to look after ourselves in the way that lets us live. Without you we’re just barely existing. You look after us. Love us. Support us. You’re everything to us, and we’re sorry that we’ve made you feel like you’re not.”

As they both watched Steven react to their words, they could’ve sworn they felt their hearts break in that single moment. At the realisation on how the men viewed him, Steven’s disbelief started to melt into something almost sobering. His brows lowered, rising slightly on the inner parts showing the clear frown lines on his forehead. He gently caught the bottom of his lip between his teeth for a moment as the corners of his mouth tilted downwards into a stunted frown. His eyelids drooped slightly as the redness lining the rims were contrasted against the purple bags beneath his eyes, shimmering slightly under the dim light as tears started to delicately stream down his face. They watched as his lip quivered ever so slightly as his eyes downcast to his hands that were clasping one another, wringing together as he let the words wash over him. As he sniffled quietly, he bit his lips together into an even clearer frown, the lines that usually showed from him smiling too much framed them painfully. In a shaky voice, he eventually spoke up.

“I just thought that the alcohol might make it easier to fall asleep. That it would… I don’t know. Distract me from my anxiety or something. Didn’t realise I had forgotten to eat until I’d already started drinking. It was absolutely minging, just for your information. Don’t know how you can drink that stuff. I won’t- I’m not going to do it again though. And thank you. For apologising. I appreciate it a lot.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Marc speaks up, somewhat nervously. Afraid of something. Insecure about himself, about the possibility of messing up this fragile interaction by saying the wrong thing.

“You could’ve asked us to stick around. Just to keep you company getting to sleep- You still can. It might be kind of a shitty downfall of this disorder, but in some cases never really being alone might be a bit of a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Neither would Jake.”

He looks up and over his shoulder from his seat on the floor to see Jake giving the gentlest smile he’s ever seen from the man in a reassuring manner to both Steven and Marc, nodding slowly in agreement to the man’s words. Steven focuses on the gloved man while thankfully flashing a weak smile towards him, replicating it as he looks down to Marc. He wipes his dripping nose on his oversized sleeve before grimacing slightly in brief disgust at his own action before responding.

“I just didn’t want you to worry about me. I… I thought it might make you treat me like a child even more. I didn't want to be babied- Even if you never meant it like that it just- It just really started to piss me off, if i’m being honest. I just want to be treated the same as you treat each other.” He pauses to take a steady inhale before flashing a friendly smile to the pair, almost endearing in his own way. “I’m an adult, lads. A grown man, same as you. I don’t care if you keep me out of… ‘darker’ conversations. If it’s something I shouldn’t know yet, that it would be bad for me to know about just now, I wouldn’t mind. But it feels like it’s all of the- all of the trauma. All of the time. Sure, I didn’t know about it until recently, but that doesn’t mean I’m still clueless. I mean, hell, how can we even be sure that there are pieces of it that I know about but you both don’t. Did you ever think about it like that? What if I’d been the one to trigger something in the both of you because I just assumed it was common knowledge that you both knew? It’s not a one way street, you know.”

There was a slight shift in the air as Steven concluded his words, the Americans glancing at each other in apprehension as they realised that their headmate could be right. They really didn’t know what Steven knew and what he didn’t because they’d tried to keep him out of the conversation. Which meant that there was a genuine possibility that he might know something they weren’t aware of. Something he might’ve experienced on his own in their childhood and just repressed it so none of them knew about it. It was a quiet fear that they’d never known they shared, or even had, until that very moment. Trying not to dwell on it too much, at least not for now, they turned back to the Brit with matching sombre yet genuinely understanding expressions, having begun to listen and acknowledge the crying man’s points.

“What was- You don’t have to answer this- You might not even remember it but- That night with Layla. When you had the nightmare… What was it about? Layla didn’t tell me anything about it, just that it was the worst she’d seen in a while. That she actually thought it was me or Jake for a second before you started speaking.”

The Brit looked towards Marc in surprise at the revelation, the past betrayal he’d briefly felt against Layla being completely washed away at the realisation she’d really only told her husband the bare framework. Just enough to fill him in on the situation and get the ball rolling. It was a feeling quickly squashed by the dread that appeared at the thought of talking about the nightmare. A new found fear that he might be telling them something they didn’t know about. He could suddenly understand why they had been reluctant to include him in these types of conversations. Why both men were still so guarded, even to each other, when it came to the trauma they shared and spoke about if they spoke about it at all.

But he’d always been the one to say they should talk about it. He’d literally just made an entire little speech about how they should include him when talking about this stuff. If anything, this would be an olive branch. To consolidate that Steven shouldn’t be excluded, not that he needed to give a reason to prove his point. He didn’t have to share if he really didn’t want to. The three of them understood that things like this shouldn’t be pushed. Shouldn’t be forced. Enough of their shared lives had been forced and taken out of their control so, as a baseline of respect, they always gave that choice to say no and back out at any time. Which is why Steven felt safe enough to make the choice to tell them.

“It was about mum. I’m assuming they usually are.” He pauses to read the pair’s expression, feeling slightly discouraged as they huffed sad laughs in agreement but also like there was a new found solidarity with even just a small half joke like that. “We were in the car. I don’t remember a lot of it to be fair, It was quite a bit ago. She started shouting things at me, starting screaming. Started to speed up. Started to swerve the car in the road. Started to scream about crashing and getting rid of us both, let go of the wheel and I just remember the fear and the panic and just the realisation that I was about to die. I thought I was going to die right there. Thought that was it. That if the crash didn’t kill me it was going to be my heart exploding right out of my chest because I couldn’t breathe and I was crying too much.” His expression turned to a devastating revulsion as more tears streamed down his face, a brief sob getting trapped in his throat before he continued to talk. “I don’t remember most of it but the one thing I can remember thinking the clearest was how worried I was that she would get in trouble for her driving. I was convinced I was about to die, and I was still worrying about her and what would happen to her if someone saw her driving like that- She tried to kill me- Kill us- And I was thinking about her fucking reputation- What the fuck is wrong with me- Why did I- I couldn’t- I don’t know- How could I-”

By the time Steven started to reach the end of his recount of the nightmare, he was clearly working himself up into a frantic state. The pair watched worriedly as their headmate started to breathe heavier and heavier, spiralling into the start of a panic attack. In an attempt to prevent it before it got any worse, they moved closer to him. Marc started quietly mumbling hushed reassurances, knowing exactly how painful it was to still love the person that had put them through more than any child should have to bear. On the other hand, Jake decided to pass Steven’s plushie to him and drape a blanket over the man’s shoulders to add a comforting bit of pressure in the hopes of grounding him. He didn’t share the connection to Wendy that the other two men did. Saw her as nothing more than the woman that made their lives a living hell. In his eyes she was even less connected to him than a stranger. Maybe when they were younger he might’ve felt something different, but he grew out of that as soon as he could. While Marc tried to reassure the Brit with a unique understanding that they were both extremely familiar with, he moved over to the space that had been designated as their living room and started to move around doing his own thing. As he did so, he picked up on their close but distant conversation.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven. There will never be anything bad about the fact that you are so capable of loving people.”

“The things she- It’s not- It’s sick that I still-”

“She’s our mom. All of the bad outweighs the good by tenfold, but that doesn’t mean that we can just forget about all of the good. It would be easier if it was all bad. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with this. But you are not at fault for being human and still loving the good things about her. The good things that we experienced.”

“It hurts so much- Why did she have to-”

“I don’t know, Steven. I don’t know.”

Jake quickly glanced over as he heard their interaction tamper down in volume to see them holding each other, clinging to one another like a lifeline. He was never one for physical contact, not really. That's what happens when you’re brought into a life that so sorely lacks it. Its hard to miss what you’ve never really had, and that’s why even when given the option in the past he’d never really accepted it. The few times he had had been damn near crushing when it was over. Any other physical contact was never good news, and it was never a choice. But as he looked at the two men, he almost felt a longing to be included. To walk over there and hug the pair. He couldn’t tell if it was fully for their benefit, or if there was an almost selfish ulterior motive for himself as well though. He looked down to the pillows in his hands and started to speed up the process of finishing his idea, placing them in the spot he deemed to be the best and shift one of the blankets to the side.

A few more minutes passed before Steven had started to calm down, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as his tears slowed to a stop. Marc’s arms stayed wrapped firmly around him, sniffling slightly as the Brit realised his counterpart had at some point also started crying alongside him. He squeezed the man tighter for a moment, a brief reassurance to him that Steven was there for him as well. That they weren’t going to suffer with this alone. It was then that he also realised the distinct lack of their third headmate, the man having seemingly disappeared from their close proximity. With a fleeting moment of panic, his head jerked up to cast a look around the visible areas of the flat to find him. Marc pulled back with a confused face before arriving on the same train of thought and joining his short search, their shared worries quickly subsiding as they saw the man looking over at them with an amused but warm smile and motioning for them to go over to him.

Groaning slightly at the strain in his joints, Marc used Steven as a bit of leverage to pull himself upwards from his uncomfortable kneeling position on the floor. He wrapped an arm around the man’s torso lightly without a word, pulling him close as they moved to walk over towards Jake. He softly tried to secure the blanket around the Brit’s shoulders as they made their way towards him to stop it from falling onto the floor. The man had put his plain, dark flat cap back on and was trying to hide the half proud, half nervous look on his face as he stared over to the sofa and back at the two men to watch their reaction closely.

Somehow, in the time that Marc had managed to calm down Steven and simultaneously have his own emotional breakdown after seeing so much of his own inner struggles in Steven, Jake had managed to rearrange the furniture and construct a makeshift fort from blankets and pillows. It was clearly rushed, but still surprisingly well built with a sturdy structure. He’d even used the duvet and pillows from their bed. Small battery powered tea lights were dotted around the outsides, as well as a few on the inside, that somehow gave it a warmer feeling. It was a perfect haven that faced the television that hummed with life, the images on the screen gently shifting with a low volume to accompany them. Connected to the television via an old DVD player they'd recently found was one of Steven’s comfort films: Matilda. The pair faltered in their step at the sight of it all. At the safety that just radiated from the space that Jake had created for them all.

The man in question’s face contorted slightly into a rarely displayed uncertainty, a worry that the other men didn’t like it. It wasn’t often that Jake really doubted himself. There was never really time for that, never a room for error when the majority of his past life experiences had been born out of a final surge of pure instinct to survive. So when he couldn’t read the pair’s expressions, only seeing the tears and exhaustion from moments earlier, as well as the shock on their faces at the sight, he started to shift nervously from one foot to the other. He wasn’t good at physical affection, wasn’t the best at words of reassurance, especially when the subject matter was an incredibly personal and unique feeling that he wasn’t quite aligned with. He’d always heard the expression ‘actions speak louder than words’ and in that moment he was desperately hoping that his actions said the things he wanted to tell the other men. So when he saw the smiles that broke out onto their faces, he couldn’t help but earnestly mirroring it back at them.

Without any words being exchanged, they all moved to situate themselves in the centre of the fort, Steven in the middle being flanked comfortably by his headmates. Jake reached to turn the volume up just ever so slightly, so they wouldn’t be stuck just reading the captions alone. They all shuffled comfortably under the blankets, the Brit almost fully covered while the Americans stuck at least one or two limbs out from beneath the material to avoid feeling too overheated or trapped. The film continued to play as the three situated themselves in a close pile, Marc holding and leaning into Steven while Steven threw an arm over his and leaned into Jake’s side. Expectantly, he looked up at the cab driver before smiling, clearly pleased with himself as Jake threw an arm around him that reached over to Marc as well. It took a few moments for Jake to relax but eventually the tension bled from him as he leaned into Steven’s side as well. He traded a quick glance over the Brit’s head towards Marc and saw the man looking equally content with the situation and how it had played out.

As the film progressed, the three of them gradually started to feel themselves drift off into varying levels of sleep. Steven had been the first to nod off, barely making it more than fifteen minutes before the comfort of the two men either side of him combined with the exhaustion of bearing his soul caught up with him and lulled him into unconsciousness. Marc, having also not escaped the weariness that came as a side effect of heavy crying and emotional fatigue, drifted asleep about five minutes after Steven had. Jake on the other hand had kept awake until the credits to the film started playing, splitting his attention between the plot of the movie and watching over the two men sleeping beside him. Slowly, he reached to grab the remote, desperately trying to avoid waking up the other men as he clicked onto the menu screen and clicked the play button to restart it. He could understand why Steven liked the film.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Blind Reflections Chapter 1 "Willing to die"

So this is basically a Moon Knight x Daredevil fanfic that is also a Moon Knight x Jessica Jones fanfic. You don't need to know shit about Daredevil or Jessica Jones, just know that this fic is very Jake Lockley centered and I will do a deep dive into his character and his past.

(Punisher, Spiderman, Layla along with Marc and Steven will be on the next chapters)

Words: 8.5K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yeap I don't speak Spanish please correct me, very very temporary character death.

You can find it on AO3 here

ENJOY!

Matt Murdoc was… Confused to say the least, weirded out you may say. He’s been in many fights before: gangs, crime lords, ancient ninjas, blood thirsty vigilantes, dead girlfriends, you name it! But this… This was something the wasn’t prepared for. The strangest encounter he had yet to face. And that was only the first step into the maze that is Moon Knight’s reality.

The night started as normal as it could get for someone like him. A few punches here there, a couple of knife cuts and some missed gunshots -you know, the uzhe. Which lead him stalking a complex of ship containers next to the Hadson River, waiting to ambush an arms trade from Egypt. If what “punched-out-criminal-number-four” told him is true, these weapons can’t fall into the wrong hands.

So, he waited for what seemed like hours on a building not too far away from the target. He didn’t need to be that close anyway. Besides he got a clearer image of his surroundings that way, without having to deal too much with the unpleasant odors of the river.

Still, he found himself wondering around with all for his senses. The warm wind made the otherwise cold and humid night more tolerable. He could feel it breaking through his shirt, making him shiver in the sudden change of temperature as the soft fabric hugged his skin.

He took his blindfold off, to let his face breath in the New York night. As he did, the smells he wanted to avoid hit him all too fast. Rotten fish, garbage leaking out into the muddy waters and the industrial revolution making itself present, even to this day. But it wasn’t all that bad after all. He isolated the traces of the afternoon’s rain on the soil mixed with churchy leaves, as they were stepped on by a young couple.

He heard them laughing and do happy little dances around each other. It is beautiful, having someone like that in your life. Someone who stays longer than a month, someone who understands what you must do and won’t try to keep you away from it, or even worse, judge you and leave due to that.

A new presence pulled him out of his thoughts. Someone was running from building-to-building heading towards the river. This can’t be good. He put the blindfold back on and focused on the potential threat.

It was only a man, out of breath, trying to keep up a conversation regardless the circumstances. Matt couldn’t hear the other side of it, or even feel the other person, but it was probably just an earpiece…

Well… he was very wrong. On his defense who could have guested what was actually happening!

Instead of another man he was accompanied by the wind. It was growing stronger and more violent around him, when it reached Matt the comfort of his warm clothes was utterly gone and he could only feel an unearthly chill, making him freeze to the bone.

Suddenly the wind became aggressive, lifting all the trash left on the poor rooftops and dropping them into the ground with force, like a child throwing a tantrum.

“We are not too late!”, said the man. He had an accent that Matt couldn’t really place, he sounded like he lived in New York for a while but there was also something… South American he quested in his pronunciation but also soft and rhythmic like Italian. Besides that, his tone wasn’t soft, he sounded exhausted and slightly pissed but he did his best to refrain himself.

“We don’t know that my son. They have tricked us before.”, answered the wind. But its words were undetectable, even for Matt’s delicate ears.

Fortunately, the only man capable of hearing them, is always surrounded by that wind, to hear all of its demands and pain. That man of course, was no other than Jake Lockley.

Jake Lockley is a strange man. He likes to drink his coffee black, but occasionally he’ll order “a gingerbread-almond-milk-late, with some caramel syrup and whipped cream on top of it” just because “it reminds me of an old friend”, even though he doesn’t seem like the kind of  man who’d let himself get that sentimental. He also always likes to wear his hat. And I mean always. He’ll take of his jacket, if he ever comes to your place, heck, he’ll even take his shoes off, if you want him to. But no, never his hat.

People who know him have their theories. Some say that he’s probably bolding at a young age, emphasizing the later, because even though he looked young, his demeanors made him look at least a decade older. Others say that his grandfather, moments before he died, gifted him the hat, which belonged in the family for many generations, and made him promise to never take it off. That theory sounds dumb, but you can never be too sure about anything when it comes to him. He’s a man surrounded by an aura of mystery and the skill to trick others into thinking that he’s an open book. That’s how dangerous he is.

Only one man is capable of breaking through his many layers of armor. Well… Not actually a “man”, but a bird. A six-thousand-year-old bird, or maybe just what remained of him in his flowing-head skeleton or whatever the fuck is that. But he sounds like a man, or just a stupid pigeon -your choice, his avatars will probably agree with you regardless. He on the other hand… He’ll prefer the name Khonshu. Khonshu, the protector of all who travel by night. Khonshu, the God of the stary sky. Khonshu, the one who seeks vengeance on anyone hurting the travelers under his domain. Khonshu, the owner of the voice that made the air run cold with fear. Khonshu who spoke to his priest in with caution.

“There is another traveler.”

Jake stopped his marathon to spot him.

“¿Cómo?”, he looked around, “¿Dónde mierda está?! Oh…” (What now? Where the fuck is he?) Jake noticed a man dressed head to toe in black, he looked dumb. Dumb, and intimidating -just like him.

“Fucking. Great.” he exhaled with frustration, “…El Diablo.” He lifted his hands in the air and yes, he tended to do that a lot when he spoke “Of course! Hell’s Kitchen!” he rested his palm on his forehead, “why am I even surprised…” he waved his arms again “Ah, I should have seen this coming from miles away!”, he whispered the last part to himself, so the God wouldn’t join in the mockery.

“I think he can hear you…”

He whistled to get his attention, in response Matt flinched, covering his ears.

“Hey Diablo”, Jake greeted without bothering to raise his voice, despite the distance, calm and charming as always. “Would you mind leaving this one on me?” he continued but his calmness carefully unveiled a threat as he spoke more seriously, lowering his eyebrows.

No response.

Maybe some response but he couldn’t hear it, obviously.

“Can you hear me?”

Matt stood up.

“Great, I-”

And then jumped right into action.

“Ah... Shit.”

“This is going to be a pain in the ass” said Khonshu as Jake ran to catch up.

It took a moment to approach the containers, but when he did, he saw about ten men, all armed. Most of whom were looking alarmed, aiming their guns at random spots in the sky with the sliest of sounds, looking around like idiots. Four more were already knocked out by a threat they didn’t see coming.

“There!” One of them yelled, pointing on top of a cargo at pour Jake, who hadn’t even touch them (yet).

“Joder.” (fuck)

The men started to empty their guns at him. He quickly leaned back to escape their range. He wasn’t fast enough though his tie revealed, as it billowed in front of his face framing the enemy around a hole that wasn’t there before.

One bullet too close to him. Then another one as he ducked scratched the flesh underneath his ear. At that moment Marc or Steven would have summoned the suit. Jake on the other hand, wasn’t a big fan of it.

He sticked on summoning it just enough to cover his wound, leaving the bandages loose to fly around in the air as the rest of him remained in his usual clothing.

Khonshu looked down at his avatar “You’re pathetic Lockley.”

“El Diablo… The Devil… ¿Dónde está?” (where is he) Jake asked, taking deep and controlled breaths to cancel out the pain and ignore the insult.

“Taking care of another business. Don’t tell me you thought it would be only them.”

“How- how many more?”

“Can’t tell.”

One of the men sneaked in from a different angle to shout at him as he was distracted. This one managed to hit his shoulder. He did his best not to scream as he was pushed back by the force of the bullet and gritted his teeth making a hissing sound as he crawled back, away from their range, pulling his gun out.

“Don’t waste all your strength at them. Finish them quickly and move on.”

“They are not who we are looking for, solo están- (they are just)”

“Don’t you trust me? …Jake mijo (my son)… Look at you! You’re already holding a gun.”

Jake looked at his ghoulish skeleton. He was right. Turns out he knew him all too well.

“Stand up. Raise and fight them, just how I taught you.”

And just like that Khonshu summoned the suit. White bandages were crafted out of the wind’s swirls, embroider themselves deep around Jake’s wound. And from there, just if they had dived inside his veins, they started to shallow his body, tightly holding him together as they settled in their proper positions. If you were to pay closer attention, you’d see that for a moment those bandages resembled puppet strings, illumined by the moon light, being handled by the sky lifting his body up without his will. It looked painful, but then again, all healing is painful in its own way.

The suit was different than Marc and Steven’s. It wasn’t all that put together, bandages were dirty and loose, like they were flying in the wind but still bright like the moon. The shapes they made weren’t all that unique, if he was a mummy, archeologists would say that it belonged to a worker, or even a slave. His cape also matched the rest of his outfit, looking as old as Khonshu, torn apart like the faith on a forgotten god, trying to fight his way through the human mind. He was an old script, a papyrus of dusty prayers and a place of worship and sacrifice for just before  war. So holly his skin burned, a saint who owned his place though sin.

It took him a moment to get used to the cold grip of the armor on his burning body. It felt exactly how it looked like. A prison, a cell big enough as his body, with only a small window around his eyes, connecting him to the world, bringing the New York breeze on the bridge of his nose.

Gunshots brought him back to reality. He sighed and turned around, so his cape was facing the shooters -it was either that or approaching them like Dracula. He- He wouldn’t do that.  He wasn’t sure if any of this round’s bullets had reached him, if they did, they must have healed faster than adrenaline runs out. Those who definitely didn’t reach him, ricocheted from his cape. From the sound of it, one of the enemies was down. From the following sound, one dropped his gun and run away. And from the next, another one followed him.

Jake carefully turned to face them. One man on the ground and the two deserters making their escape as the other’s brain stopped working trying to figure out how to kill a bulletproof man.

“What are you waiting for?”, said the god, “You don’t have all night.”

But Jake did nothing, he just stood there locking eyes with a shouter who had lowered his gun. He was speechless, probably no one had warned him that he would go up against a superhuman. Was their boss really that ignorant?

“Lockley.” The unearthly voice spoke again, angrier this time. He had barely managed to focus on it when another bullet hit him, right under his stomach. That wasn’t right, he wouldn’t be able to feel it for more than a second, he should have healed, he should have-

A scream escaped his lungs he couldn’t stop it as he kneeled on the ground his left hand trying to keep as much blood inside as possible.

“When will you learn.”

“He can be shot! Avoid the cape!” his shouter yelled.

Even through his gloves and bandages he was too familiar with the weight on his palm, to recognize it immediately: his pistol, still in his hand, ready to be used any second now.

I have to, don’t I?

And there, as he laid one with the cold surface of the cargo trying to keep himself from making another sound, he stretched his right arm towards the men trying to get away, he pulled the trigger and watched in horror as a bullet came out of his gun, hitting the closest one in the head and yet another one piercing through the other’s back.

The god took a long and arrogant breath and Jake felt a shiver running through his body. Not sure whether that was a good sign or not, but soon enough, he began to heal.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“No, padre.” (No, father) he promised, his name poison on his tongue, or maybe just an icky medicine that children hate, even if it’s for their own good.

He jumped from the container, the wound being still fresh, tearing him with every move as he landed on one of the men, kicking him to the ground. He tried to get up, but Jake’s fists got to him first, he then took his gun, disarmed it, and hit him in the face with it.

The other’s circled him, still insisting to use guns. “Ah, not this again”, Jake thought as bullets started flow. One of them was shot by his own fire… Again. “What are they stupid?!”, he continued his inner monologue as he turned around, flipping his cape so hard, that he managed to drop everybody’s guns, hitting their hands in the prosses.

Two people rushed to grab his arms and pushed him backwards. Jake tried to flex his legs and run vertically on the container to escape them, but his attempt was cut short. A fisher’s rope was forced on his neck pulling him even harder as he choked. He could feel his sight getting darker as he gasped for air. He balanced his feet and despite all of his instincts pushed forward just enough to grab a dart from his chest and desperately stab the man behind him. He wasn’t even sure if any of his hits were delivered or even where, he just held on to the dart tightly, moving his arm repeatedly as fast as he could, like a fish in the shore flipping its tail for a change to come back into the waters.

The man let go of his arm, but he wasn’t the one holding the rope. With one move he put all of his weight on his right side and turned slightly to see the man holding his left arm. He threw the dart at him, forcing him to let go.

His arms were free, and he wasted no time. He found the hands holding the rope, grabbed them and flipped the man over his head. He fell with a loud noise on a container. He was the last one.

Jake walked slowly towards him taking deep breaths and kicked him like a rug when he tried to get up.

“Stay down puta!” He yelled, voice rusty and painful from the choking.

He didn’t listen.

“I said: Stay. Down.”

He put his boot on his head and shoved it on the ground, twisting his foot like stepping on a cigarette bud.

“There… there…”

And kneeled over him.

“So… Now is the time where you tell me who your boss is.”

The man didn’t answer so Jake decided to offer him a deal.

“I was in a good mood today, you know that? Real good mood until one of you fuckers ruined my night. But I guess it can still be saved for both of us, no need for any more violence just a simple conversation -you know.”

The man stared at his eyes and asked.

“Who do you work for?”

“I serve no man.”

“Mogart? Hydra? I know a mercenary when I see one.”

He took a deep annoyed breath “The only think there is to know about me, is that I’m holding the gun.”

“He has no name. The man you’re looking for, has no name!”

“That was helpful”, he said ironically stepping harder on his head.

And just as he did that a flying stick hit him on the neck.

“Don’t touch him.” a new voice said.

S-steven? Jake asked himself.

No!

Steven no, listen-

I- I’m-

I’m sorry, I had no choice, trust me that’s not who I am!

that’s not who any of us is, especially you!           

Don’t you ever forget that, not like Marc did

No.

Not like Marc

Not this time

.

You didn’t need to see this- I won’t hurt him I’m bluffing.

Just bluffing I swear!

This is all just an act

an act

.

An act,

.

.

.

Just an act…

…

Steven?

No

No, that-

No, that’s not possible-

“WHO?!” Jake asked out loud.

He didn’t realize but the guy under his shoe had escaped. Was he knocked out or just dissociating? He couldn’t tell but he was present now, conscious, mostly. He turned around and saw a man with a black cloth covering his eyes.

“…Diablo …What did I tell you?” he threatened as he slowly stood up.

“You killed those men. Why?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You got to them first.”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“But I did, what’s the point?”

“You can’t make decisions like that! You’re not-”

Jake laughed and answered after a moment like it was a hilarious fact that felt more personal to him.

“Only “God” can make these decisions, am I right?” His voice cracked at the end just for a moment, a moment that made Matt feel like the man in front of him could break down saying these words, or maybe he has already. But that was just Matt’s senses, no one other than him could see Jake’s true emotions, himself included.

“Don’t tell me you see yourself as a god.” Were the only words that could escape Matt’s mouth that wouldn’t change the subject.

Jake laughed again, softer this time. “God of getting myself in annoying situations...”

“Is that what death is to you? An annoyance?” He continued, trying to read him even though he already understood that all of his questions were heading in the wrong direction.

Jake tried to think fast and his experience of dying made up his answer quickly “Well it is annoying if you think about it enough.”

Matt got confused by his words, he wasn’t talking about killing. No, he knew what dying feels like- but how? He took a step forward, stepping under the moon light to ask Jake the first right question. “Who are you?”

A blue light. It’s illuminating on gold feathers.

So bright that it almost blinded Jake.

A hand toughed his chest like it was gabbing itself from his heartbeat.

Voices.

But- we have each other, right?

I’ll always be here for you.

Don’t leave me!

I won’t leave you!

You lied.

You lied.

You lied.

You can never be whole.

You’re too broken Spector.

But- we are a team ain’t we? We are one!

…Don’t make me laugh!

.

.

.

You lied Lockley…

To all of them you lied…

To yourself you lied…

You are the weak link…

And you were supposed to bring them together,

Instead you teared them apart,

Just because you were afraid.

.

.

.

The hand let go of Jake and in the faded lights he saw three silhouettes. They were young boys, but they suddenly grew older and more violent, running towards Jake. He covered  the eyes of two little boys standing next to him. He didn’t realize when they appeared. Maybe they were there all along. Together.

Together Jake,

.

together.

.

.

.

Together

.

.

“What were you doing with Fisk’s men?”

The light was gone, so were the voices. Now Jake was standing again alone in front of Matt, probably looking like an idiot, trying to figure out… Everything. This had never happened before. No this-

“Why did you do that?”

“I- I didn’t… My boss…” Jake answered trying hard to put together a sentence as his mind drifted away.

Fisk.

“Fisk!” He said, finally holding on one thought, “Is he the no-name guy?”

Matt answered something but Khonshu’s voice covered it.

“Did you sense it?”

“What?” Jake asked hopping that either of them would elaborate further.

“I said you must be new in Manhattan.” Diablo answered.

“Hardly”

“He has it.” Khonshu declared, covering Matt’s voice for once more.

“Has what?”

“What?”

“THE AMULET YOU FOOL!”

For the first time Jake took closer attention to Matt. His clothes were dirty, and his fists covered in blood, a feeling way to familiar for him. Seeing him like this… he wanted to tell him that he knew how hard it was, bringing justice, vengeance while being only a human. To tell him that it’s ok to lose some battles, to take a break, to forgive himself for all the lives he couldn’t save. He wanted to-

He's carrying a bag. Did he had it before? Is the amulet-

“Yes, it’s in the bag! Get it!” Khonshu ordered.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you…”, Jake threatened, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, kiddo… You better return it so I can give it to its rightful owner.”

“Kiddo? How old do you think I am?”

“Well, you’re still playing ninjas in your pajamas...” Jake lifted his eyebrow underneath the mask.

“Lockley, what are you doing?! Get it now!” Khonshu interrupted again with his annoying voice.

“Ugh, look I don’t wanna fight, if you could just hand it over to me, it will all be over.”

Matt stepped back to protect his bag from Jake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing you should be worried about.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You should. You don’t want the danger associated with it.”

“They said there would be weapons.”

“You think you want the danger, don’t you?”

“Is this a key?”

“Dios mío, es estúpido!” (My God he’s stupid) He said frustrated, looking at the sky.

“No soy tan estúpido como para dártelo” (Not stupid enough to hand it to you)

Jake was surprised with the white boy’s accent but felt mostly irritated, he wanted the privacy of expressing himself in a language only he could understand, and his Yiddish wasn’t that good.

“Wow… hablas español… estoy tan impresionado…” (Wow… You speak Spanish… I’m very impressed) Jake pointed out unimpressed.

“Nop, creo que eres.” (Nah, I think you are)

“…Sabelotodo.” (Smartass)

“Stay down!” Sabelotodo yelled at Jake as he ducked a bullet coming from across the river.

“How the fuck did you do that?!”

“I’ll tell you another time.” He answered as he started to run away from the containers.

“Espera!” (Wait!) Jake called as he tried to catch up, but Matt just ignored him, heading for the nearby buildings.

“Diablo!” he yelled again when he saw a van with broken windows following him. It was speeding up, ready to hit him when he jumped and started climbing up a building. Two men fired at him from the windows, but he always knew where the bullets were aimed at and avoided them with ease.

Jake jumped from a container to the top of the van, startling the men. A voice inside of him pleaded to kill them, an easy kill it wouldn’t take more than-

But Jake didn’t listen, he didn’t like that voice. He didn’t know to who it belonged to, it was all too blended, without any sign of getting clearer. Who knew, maybe it was only him showing his true nature …Nah… That’s more of a “Marc guilt trip situation”, he knows better than that.

The men kept trying to shoot Matt and he did well by himself, but for how long? He couldn’t be trusted to get out of this alone! He‘d never heard about the infamous Daredevil being bulletproof or having any powers of that sort. He had to save him.

So he broke the windshield with his elbow and got into the van. He fought for the control of the wheel and after a series of slaps and punches he managed to take hold of it and veered it all the way to the left. Like a train going of the tracks, the vehicle crashed into a dumpster as he made an exit, jumping out of the window and roll all the way on a wall across the street.

“That was… Wow…” Matt thought as he heard the wheels squeaking and two crashes one after another. He stopped for a moment and focused on the man at the bottom of the building. He did all that to save him… Why?

But he couldn’t stay longer, more men were following them, some up ahead, he needed to escape. As soon as he heard the man breathing.

.

.

.

He’s breathing.

.

Ok, time to go.

“Diablo!” Jake groaned again. Matt wanted to stop, he wanted to return the favor even if the man was dangerous to him. But he had to leave him on his own. “He’ll make it... I think”.

Jake stood up, with the power of the suit and begun to climb the fire escape, but Matt had already reached the top. There he sensed more men, running on the roofs of the nearby buildings. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing and slow his heartbeat; there was more to this fight.

“Stop running away!” Jake yelled at him from two floors below.

“Shhh! I We’re surrounded.” Matt whispered.

“What?!” Jake yelled from a floor below and in response Matt shushed him, louder this time.

“Ok, ok, calms!” he finally whispered as he reached Matt.

“They’re after us. Three of them almost here.” Matt informed him in the same volume.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Protect my city?”

“Getting involved in my business.”

“Who even are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You don’t need to run away from these men, they’re after the artifact not you. If you just-” Jake suggested as he slowly moved his arm near the bag. But Matt had enough of it

He yelled “No!” despite insisting on whispering and twisted Jake’s arm. But Jake didn’t act hurt, instead he scolded him with a shush. “We don’t have time for that, lets run away from here with the amulet! Together, ok? Whatever! Just- we need to leave now!” but Matt had already made his mind.

“Get away from here!” he ordered him, and then pushed him down the stairs to get the lead.

He then ran to the rooftop and realized that the men had really circled him from the surrounding buildings. He chose to head away from the river parkouring his way out towards one of them. The man was getting closer to him, and he started to fire, but he avoided the bullets, hiding behind metal doors and walls and just dogging them as well as he could.

It didn’t last long though. He was too focused on the man ahead and got distracted by the rest of them, two rooftops to the left yelling.

“Kill the Devil and don’t let Moon Knight get the thing!”

The other man shot right next to Matt’s ear making all of his senses blank for a moment leading him to fall to the roof below him, damaging his leg in the process.

“I GOT HIM!”

“Run, get the stuff!”

He took a moment to breathe, from what he could tell, his leg wasn’t fractured but it still hurt like hell. Thankfully, he was used to fighting with even more painful injuries, but this time he couldn’t get up fast enough. The men were approaching, and he was still trying to balance himself. They would take the key (or whatever that thing his carrying is)!

When he had first touched it, it echoed a metallic melody, but it didn’t feel cold like most metals do. As soon as he took it in his hands, it adapted to the warmth of his gloves, almost as if it was alive. Still it felt light, like a feather but as soon as he put it in his bag it sunk heavily at the bottom.

For a moment the melody grew stronger, Matt was barely up, and a men were about to jump on the roof from above, throwing him down again. With a loud sound, synced with the artifact’s they instead hit the concrete floor. It took a moment for Matt to comprehend what had just happened as he let himself continue the effort of getting up.

“Diablo.” …Of course it was him. He said unmasking his face.

The men tried to fight back but Jake jumped to the roof, putting them down again and continued; “You’re stepping into my battlefield, playing hide and seek with my enemies, taking my loops and you expect me to treat you nicely?” He threatened, out of character because yes, for the most part he was treating him kinda nice.

“That’s it my son…” Khonshu encouraged him as he slowly walked towards Matt, “Do my will.” And in response Jake strengthened his glare.

“Stop following me!” Matt yelled, unaware of the conversation.

“Can’t do.” He said being only a few feet away from him.

Jake just looked at him softly for a moment, a stare full of regret and pain that unbeknownst to him, wasn’t delivered. The thought that even the sliest of efforts to communicate his true will, didn’t reach anyone would make him more than afraid, it would make him gone, his essence, his true self, all he believes he can hold on to.

Where does Jake Lockley end and Khonshu begin if only one’s thoughts are being acted upon? His brain forever changed by unknown, ancient forces, being turned into a literal fucking-freaking bird house demanding to be feed fucking over and over again with freaking blood!

Where is Jake Lockley? Does he even exist if mindlessly he follows orders to survive?

Not again, not like when he-

Does he even have anything of his own? Something that is just truly his, not Steven’s or Marc’s or even Khonshu’s but something only for him, a love, a passion, anything that’s pure Lockley and nobody else can alter.

A stare, a stare to say, “It’s me, I am me, I… I don’t want to do this”, being forever lost as Jake took a long breath and punched Matt on the ribs. He was surprised, for a moment he though that his new acutance wouldn’t actually get that far. He knew he was way out of character even if he couldn’t see him, even if he just met him.

Jake continued, he was now running like a machine, he put all of his thoughts away and focused on Khonshu’s fight. He tried to punch Diablo on the head, but he deflected it, he wouldn’t be allowed to give up so soon, so he tried again. This time not only Matt deflected it but as he ducked, he punched his kidney, the only part of the body that wasn’t hurting until now… Great.

In response Jake slapped his arm away and then his face. It wasn’t that good of a hit as a punch would have been, but this wasn’t his goal, was it? He then grabbed him by the head to keep him still as he kicked him right under his lungs with his knee until he collapsed again. Now it was his time to take the bag but Matt, managed to kick him of his feet and rushed to get on top of him, punching him in the face with an anxious rhythm.

“You won’t let him get away.” Khonshu ordered. He was standing on the roof above, but his voice still felt like a whisper, boring his ears. At times like this his words gave Jake a headache, like drilling into his skull and pushing his thoughts in him with all of his power. Jake groaned but the deeper the drill went the more it started to sound like a scream. A scream that gave him the strength to punch Diablo on the throat and throw him of him.

…For a moment that was. Until he saw a gun. During their fight one of Fisk’s men sneaked into the roof and was now aiming at Matt. Jake rushed to tackle him to the side, getting him out of his aim ending up on top of him. The bullet landed right next to Matt’s ear and scared them leading Jake to roll them away from the spot, hiding them behind a wall.

He stood up and offered his hand at Matt, who without a second thought took it. If he did have a second thought that would be “What are you doing Mathew, get away from him!”. And he would be correct because as soon as Jake helped him stand up the punched him in the face, throwing him on the wall. This led them to a boxing match that was only interrupted by Jake pulling Matt closer to him when he got near the man’s aim.

Jake turned his back at the shooter, hiding Diablo from his view and pushing him away with his punches as well as he could. He managed to throw him face down on the ground, still hiding both of them behind the cape that kept the bullets from piercing through their skin.

He had to deal with the man, but not before he would get his hands on the amulet. He unzipped the bag, Matt resisted, he kicked him, but he only managed to get him hurt, not stop him. He finally turned around and with both of his feet kicked him in the face, dropping him down and offering a clear shot for the man aiming. Matt could worry about that, but a rolling metallic sound got his full attention.

“No!” he yelled, as the melody of the artifact became more distant.

���Lockley, now!” Khonshu ordered.

It was his chance; run and catch the amulet while Matt was down, leaving him to the mercy of Fisk’s man. Khonshu wanted him dead anyways, at least in that way he wouldn’t have to carry the guilt, right? No. He couldn’t let a good man die, even if it was inevitable, he had done that many, many times in the past he couldn’t bare it anymore …That’s what he says to himself every time. “This time will be deferent.”, “I’ll convince him!”, “I’ll find a way, for once I’ll do what I want.” But he never reaches his goal. Having his own will is well… pointless.

He knew, as always that no matter what he wanted, he was Khonshu’s tool, the will was his, so is the guilt, if he can even have that emotion. The death that he had brought in his name had never made Jake happy, he tried to create lies to tell himself, to reason his actions and for a time he believed them. That time is over. Killing a man who’s saving Manhattan over and over again, whose goal is actually the same as Khonshu’s, this is madness. The madness of a god who’d gone greedy.

“Lockley!”

He made his choice, without even realizing it at first, he stood up, faster than Diablo and kicked him again on the ground.

He left him to catch the artifact, so did the man. It was a rase, he was getting closer but then without even realizing it, Matt grabbed him and pushed him backwards, leaving Fisk’s man to get it.

“What are you doing?!” Jake yelled at Matt but before he could answer the man started shooting again.

“Lockley!” Khonshu yelled again.

And again.

And again.

In his brain everything happened so slowly but at the same time his body moved so much faster than he could control. The man hid the artifact in his pocket, as his other hand holding the gun moved higher. Jake pulled his gun out once again, failing to keep it out of the fight aimed and hit the man on the head.

“We’re on the same team!” he yelled at Matt.

Matt sensing the lack of a heartbeat didn’t hold back to answer.

“I’m nothing like you!” and rushed to get to the corpse but Jake stood in his way to stop him.

“Doesn’t matter! Bad guys have lost, the amulet is safe!”

“You’re mad!” He said trying to get away, but this time Jake was using way more force than before, unusual of a normal human. He took a deep breath and carefully said to Matt,

“Listen close -I know you can. Help me give my boss what he wants.”

Then suddenly he added something more in the sentence with a whisper as silent as a breath.

“To your right!” and punched him on the right side of the head, looking a bit disappointed and surprised like he was expecting something of Matt.

Why would he announce his moves before acting on them, did he learn to be a superhuman from a children’s show?

“Kick!”

“What are you- Ouch!” he was kicked and lost his balance.

“Ssssssh! Silence sinner! You endangered the travelers of the night, for that you should pay!”

Yes, definitely a children’s show.

“Listen. To. Me.” He almost spelled him out before whispering again “Down!”

Matt obeyed this time, with a small delay and almost ducked his punch. That put a smile on Jake’s face.

For the next couple of minutes they danced together to the choreography of Jake’s whispers, putting on a pleasing show for Khonshu.

“Right leg! throat!”

“Stomach!”

“Down! … Down! … Down!”

Of course he didn’t always tell him where he was going to hit. What?! He needed to show Khonshu that he actually did mean to hurt Diablo. He on the other hand would try to complain, not getting whether or not the man in front of him wanted his wellbeing.

He then spoke in his normal voice “Stop just avoiding punches and fight like a man!”

At that point Matt realized that he had stopped trying to hurt the fucked-up-confusing-murderer-vigilante guy who won’t give him a break.

“Fine!” Jake continued “I guess the amulet is mine now!”

And just as he said that Matt fought back throwing him to the ground near the amulet. You could say he was doing the bare minimum of fighting off Matt, he took most of the punches acting out the pain more that feeling it and only defended himself when he was getting closer to the artifact, until he zoned out looking at the sky.

“My Avatar… Is that really what you want? Humiliating yourself, not using my gifts to your advantage? Are you really that ungrateful to me, after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I-” Jake tried to defend himself but failed as Murdock kept punching him.

“Could you give me a break!” he finally yelled at Matt who was unsure if he should stop or not, but at least he slowed down.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Khonshu continued “Playing war with third class vagilities?” He posed and slowly walked towards him, examining the situation. “You are my son, I know you’re having fun”, he leaned down and looked at him in the eyes, covering the sky with the arch that was his body, only letting the moonlight to flow around him, “I know you enjoy your play but at some point, you have to finish it. It has to end Jake Lockley.”

Jake immediately gathered his strength and pushed Matt off him.

“This ends now.” He declared with the calmness of a wild dog wearing a muzzle as he caught Matt’s hand midair and used it to throw him down, without any warning this time, leaving him helpless in his mercy.

Matt’s world spined around, he remembered the sensation of rolling down a hill as a child, his vision turning everything into a blurry circle, only now everything felt like rolling. “What are you-” he almost asked but he was met by a hit in the guts, enhanced by the power of the suit.

“Finaly.” Khonshu encouraged Jake as he straightened his spine with a rocky sound.

His son wanted nothing but to please him, that’s what he counted on; on his devotion. Marc was easy to control, he didn’t care about himself, nor Khonshu, he mostly acted like a blank vessel, it was easier for him. Besides, it’s harder to make a man who believes in himself to turn to God, than a man who doesn’t see his own value. Because deep inside Marc needed guidance, needed something, someone from above to turn his pain holy, only in that he failed, he failed to who he offered his suffering.

Jake on the other hand always believed in themselves, he was the one who had to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have faith in something beyond him. That was probably the only thing he ever had in common with the body’s father. All these times he quietly sat in his desk listening to his stories about God, love, and suffering pretending to be his son, they paid off. A one-sided relationship, Jake hidden behind Marc’s mask and a man he had to call father.

He knew what he had to do to survive, he cared about himself, so much so he took the pain from the other’s hands so the system could function as normal as they could. Jake needed a father who could save them, Jake needed someone who saw him, heard him, protected him, someone to held on to. So he behaved in Khonshu’s words, did everything he had to do to be safe, but in reality, he is held tight in the hands of a vulture, nails piercing through his skin, imprisoning him, not knowing if he will be brought to the nest safely, or be dropped as one final sacrifice.

“You make me sick!” he finally yelled, kicking Diablo’s kidney rhythmically. “Why. Won’t. You. Listen. To. Me. Once!” he continued not sure to whom he was referring and stopped. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, then dragged him near the edge of the roof. He pulled him up and made him sit up straight, like hanging a punching bag “Stay. Up! Por el amor de Dios, stay up…” he added as he tried to catch his breath.

“You…” Matt tried to interrupt him, but he was cut short by almost blacking out. Jake sensed that and gently pulled him up again, giving him a slap to wake him up then grabbed his chicks and yelled his face “Is this what you wanted?!” he let go of him and he caught himself just a second before falling face first on the floor “Me beating the shit out of you until you drop unconscious?”. He still hesitated to say the word dead, that was his plan, that was their plan, isn’t it? But he still wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let himself believe that he is a murderer, not like Marc thinks.

“Stop it! I know what I am doing!” he answered to Khonshu who didn’t even speak yet, but he knew what he was thinking, he wanted death, just as every other night. And death is what he always delivers.

He locked eyes with Matt’s mask and sighed “I can’t keep doing this…”

“Don’t give up Lockley…” Khonshu was by his side.

“I know what I have to do.” He said as he slowly let his eyelids close, like his was about to pray “…No sé si tengo fuerzas para hacerlo (I don’t know if I have the strength to do it)…” he added under his breath.

That caught Matt’s attention, it was like the signals he was sending him, he held into that, into the whispers and waited for more instructions.

“Hazme un favor… por favor, déjame- Ugh (Do me a favor… Please let me- ugh)” he went to say something more but he stumbled into his own words and then exhaled from his nose, like a wild animal, sick of a fight. He picked him up again, bringing him a bit closer to the center.

“Fight me.”

Matt could barely stand up, but he still made his palms into fists and gathered himself. Jake didn’t hold up, he punched him over and over again, just enough so he wouldn’t get down yet.

This wasn’t the rage of a mad man, or the savage brutality deep buried in the human emotion. No- this was still an act, at least part of it was. Matt didn’t always know how he knew, but he knew, he had a sense of seeing someone’s true nature, seeing what’s real and what not and this- this was a play, a play for someone Matt couldn’t really place.

“I think that is enough Lockley.”

Jake didn’t stop.

“Lockley.”

Nothing

“Jake!”

He looked frustrated Matt thought it was him, making him actually mad this time.

“You need to obey me!”

And just as he said these words Jake’s suit disappeared and the wind blew his jacket to the side, making his cold gun visible as he took it and aimed at Matt.

“That’s enough Lockley. Time to put an end to this.”

“Time to put an end to this.” Jake repeated but then added, under his breath “Drop me off!” he then threw the gun and lashed out to Matt.

Matt wasn’t sure if he had heard him right, even though he never heard anyone wrong. His reflexes though stopped Jake from throwing him on the floor long enough from him to ask, whispering “What do you mean?”.

“Let me go, throw me off!” he let himself being pushed.

“What?” Matt answered his voice dizzy

“Off the roof” he pushed him back.

“No, you-” he stopped him

“I have a plan.”

“I won’t- won’t kill you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Wh-”

“I have a plan do you trust me?” he begun to push him again

Matt zooned out of the conversation and ignored Jake, focusing more on the fight but he wouldn’t let him go that easy

“Do you trust me?!”

Matt didn’t answer but he didn’t turn him down either, he gave him a stare that was enough for Jake.

They had reached the finale of the show. Jake had pushed them near the edge again, his strength was starting to run out and Matt had found the power to fight again.

“Lockley, you are making me bord.” The bird complained, staring the fight from above, in his bigger form.

“It won’t last long.”

“I better hope it does not.”

“Who are you talking to?” Matt finally asked but Jake didn’t bother to answer, why did it matter?

Lockley had brought them to the perfect spot. “Now!”

But to his surprise Matt was still unsure. He pushed him a bit and punched him but not enough to be thrown off. Shit, if he doesn’t play his part perfectly Khonshu will realize it is all fake! He must obey, why doesn’t he, it’s just one favor, just one favor.

“Diablo now!” he slapped him.

In response Matt leaned on him pushing him towards the edge.

“I… I can’t.”

“I trust you.”

Matt continued pushing, that was it, just one more- he stopped

“What are you doing!” Jake yelled “You’ll kill us all!” he whispered.

“I can’t do it I’m-”

Jake had have enough of it he pulled Matt from the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face “Do it!”.

“No!”

Then he punched his jaw “Do it!”

“No!” he punched back.

“Now” Jake helped Matt’s hand to punch him harder.

“Now” he repeated being punched in the throat.

“No!” Matt yelled with a punch and again and again and again as his strength worn out.

Jake grabbed the last punch and kicked Matt behind his knee, making him kneel in an uncomfortable way, his spine leaning backwards, feeling the breeze of the edge.

“Is either you, or me.” Jake finally explained.

Matt had figured it out from the beginning, but he didn’t want to believe it, no. In every single one of his fights he always finds a way to keep everyone alive, it never has to end that way and he knows, he knows that if it ever comes to it, he will be the one sacrificed, no matter how awful of a human being is the opponent.

“End it then.” Matt begged.

Jake’s expression softened. He gave him the green light, he chose it, not him, with just one move, a simple one that is, he can go on with his life, the burden of Diablo’s life is not in his hands anymore he could finally breath in and relax the night will be over with just one kill.

“Ok.” Where the only words escaping his mouth. He took a breath and looked away getting ready for one final kick.

As he was looking away a twitching light caught his eye. It was the moon reflecting on Khonshu’s skull, nodding, agreeing with his choice, still guiding him.

Who is Jake Lockley?

Who is Jake Lockley if only Khonshu’s will is being acted upon?

Does he even exist?

Is he his own person?

He missed his kick.

He looked down at Diablo who was holding his breath.

“This is not how it ends.” He said and took a step closer to the edge.

Jake’s heartbeat was steady, he was telling the truth Matt realized, his on the other hand was beating like crazy desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Keep it safe.” Jake balanced at the edge.

“What are you doing?” Jake turned his back outwards.

“Goodbye. For now, Diablo” he took a deep breath lifted his hands wide in the air and fell backwards.

“Wait!” were the only words that could escape Matt’s lungs only to be interrupted by a loud crash and car sirens echoing from the alleyway bellow.

That night Matt Murdock let a man die.

Nights like this have been rare for a while, dealing with such a lost is always hard, especially now that he had pushed in the back of his head all the memories of the pain it costed.

It wasn’t time to morn, the enemy heard the fall, they were coming to get him. He took the artifact and put it back in his bag and run away as fast as his injured self could. As he was getting to safety two men stood in the now empty alley that Jake had fallen, next to a crashed car.

“Tell Bushman he escaped.”

Tags: @moonymelly @nicobico23 @rattymess @pikapuff-316

Comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters

[juneknight]

Thoughts on how it goes the first time reader gives the boys oral sex? IF your okay with nsfw stuff 💘

I’m okay…definitely okay. 😏 some first time stuff here, but also just blow job thoughts in general. Thank you for asking 🥹

mature below the cut 🤍

Steven

Privately, Steven would be in disbelief that you’d want to perform oral sex on him—but man’s used to rolling with the punches and not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Not that you’re a horse, that’s horrifying imagery, but if you were a horse he, well, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all, now would you? Yes, he’s a nervous babbler 100%. I imagine that the first time you sucked him off, the outlandish things he would say (and the mild, unassuming way in which he would say them) had you choking on his cock from laughter. He would groan and throw an arm over his eyes and say, “I’m so terrible at this. Embarrassment of the century.” Tangles his hands in his own hair, pulling at the roots to keep from cumming before he’s ready—then gets insecure and wonders if you aren’t trying to finish him off quickly on purpose. When he spots your own hand between your legs as you masturbate, he gets the hint that you really are enjoying yourself and he allows himself to enjoy you too. Doesn’t say Cheers when you swallow his cum, but it’s a near thing.

Marc

I imagine Marc to be the most intense of the three. That doesn’t necessarily mean rougher. He’s the kind of man whose eyes you can feel when they’re on you. His focus is tangible. If your hair is long at the time, he absolutely gathers it in his hands and draws it back so that he can clearly see you. Marc will press a thumb into the hollow of your cheek so that he can feel his cock in your mouth. When he talks, every time is like the first time: my god, look at you. You take it so well, you’re so good to me. He likes dramatics and he likes feeling wanted, so he’ll hold you back until your lips can just barely brush the head of his cock, and ask if you’ll beg for him. Bonus points if you strain against his hold a little. Nothing turns him on more than when you debase yourself because you want him so badly. Man’s got stamina though; feel free to pull out all the stops, he’ll last as long as HE wants to, and not a moment sooner.

Jake

This is a man who struggles to accept even the most minimal physical or emotional affection. If he wakes up beside you, he’ll move to the couch or leave the flat altogether. It’s definitely not due to a lack of desire, it’s just that he has a complete lack of self(esteem). He believes he has one purpose, and nowhere in that purpose is there any clause that allows for a blowjob. But what he does know is pleasing people and taking care of them; so I imagine that after many, many encounters with you during which he begins to understand that not only are you not a threat to the system but you are good for them…he might allow you to convince him that you really want to suck him off. I guess all the weeks of one-sided intimacy has made you determined to focus on him for a change. You have been his only real sexual encounters, so he isn’t sure at all what he was expecting (besides the basic mechanics of it, of course), but as a guy who is used to wielding violence and having it wielded against him, you knock the breath out of him with your softness. Absolutely no teeth, no nails digging into his thighs, just the wet warmth of your mouth and the way your eyes slip shut every now and again. You really enjoy this. You are really enjoying this. When you notice his hands clenched into fists at his sides, you would carefully coax one open and bring it to your hair to show him that it’s okay, he can guide you if he wants, but all he does is pet at your head softly and let his hand cup the side of your face, stroking the apple of your cheek. He absolutely stares at you like you’re the most startling, rapturous creature he’s ever seen.

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (19) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things become more serious. 

word count: 3,512

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (m receiving), piv, unprotected sex, pet name (dove), not proofread

There was a pit in Marc’s stomach as he watched the cameras being set up. He knew this was something he, Steven, Jake, and you agreed to. He understood that this was, perhaps, the only real way to deal with the issues with the media. But that didn’t negate the feeling of nervous burrowing deep within his bones. He didn’t want to be fronting for this. He wanted to retreat into the headspace, let Jake or Steven take the reins, and only front again when the dust had settled. 

The system and you agreed that the interview should be held at the palace. You thought it would be best because, if the press caught wind of you and them going to a news station, it would only add fuel to the fire. It was, after all, much easier to sneak people into the palace than to sneak people out of it. Besides, Karen didn’t require very much for her interview. Three cameras, a few people to operate everything, other things Marc lacked the technical skill in to identify…Not a lot by any means. Still, though, as he watched, he got more nervous of what was to come. 

Karen could be trusted, sure. Plus, the interview was not going to be live, so there was not as much pressure on the entire thing. And yet, Marc found himself worrying about the worst possible endings. Would you use all of your support from the public? Would you be pressured to hide your relationship from the public? Would it worsen the threats being made against you? He could handle anything that came his way, that came the system’s way, but when it came to you… You had already been through too much to have to feel anymore heartache. 

Marc was pulled from his thoughts as he felt you squeeze his hand once, twice, three times. A small smile curled across his face. He looked at you, seeing the concern brimming in your eyes. 

Your brows were knit together, your voice was soft, as you asked, “Are you alright with this still? I can ask Karen to reschedule or cancel if you no longer feel comfortable with this.”

His heart swelled. He loved how concerned you were for his, and Jake’s and Steven’s, comfort. Marc had never experienced something quite like this before. Layla, his only real relationship before you, had shown concern and love and all that came with it, but he always got the feeling they both knew it was something temporary, that it wasn’t something that was meant to last. With you…He found himself wanting a future with you. “I’m fine. We all are,” he said, lifting your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “Just…anxious, I guess. I never spoke on camera before. The only time we’d done something like this, it had been Jake fronting the entire time.”

“It’s going to be alright. Karen’s really good at making this feel more like a conversation than an interview. I always forget that I’m even on camera when I’m with her,” you said. “And, if the nerves become too much, it’s perfectly okay to ask for a break.”

“I know. Thank you, dove,” he said. 

Marc’s attention was pulled away from you as he heard the click-clack of a pair of heels approaching. He looked over at Karen as she walked up you and him. She wore a smile on her face as she asked, “We’re almost done setting up if you’re ready to get started.”

Marc glanced at you, then looked back to Karen, and said, “We’re ready.”

“Great! Feel free to go ahead and take a seat, and we’ll begin in just a few moments.”

Marc nodded, squeezing your hand as the two of you walked over to the chairs. You had opted to have a loveseat for you and Marc, while Karen sat in a matching armchair across from the two of you. You’d said something about it showing how you and the system were considered a unit. Separate chairs indicate you’re too separated from them, like there’s a wedge between you and them. Marc wasn’t sure how true that was, but figured you knew more about the vultures of the media and the gossiping geese than he did. You sank into the plush seat, and he sat beside you. He hadn’t really intended to, but he sat so close, his leg rubbed against yours, you almost instinctually nestling next to him. 

“You made a good choice with the seats, dove,” Marc whispered to you, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear. 

You smiled so wide you showed off your pretty teeth, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, my love. Can I tell you a secret?”

Marc raised a brow. “Of course.”

“I secretly picked this seating arrangement because I wanted to sit close to you,” you whispered back.

Marc’s face heated up. Fuck. Could he admit that this was all he ever wanted? To feel wanted? To know that someone loved him, cared for him, so much that they would so such sweet things? That they wanted to make him feel good, not hurt him? “I love you, dove. I love you so much.”

“I love you, my love.”

“God, you too are so sweet, it’s going to give me a cavity,” Karen said. She took her seat in the armchair. “We’re ready to begin.”

You nodded and indicated for Karen to continue. 

Her face shifted slightly, taking on the more professional look associated with her journalistic skills. Her voice held the same air of professionalism as she said, “Good morning. I am here today with Her Majesty, Queen Y/N and her fiancés, Marc, Steven, and Jake. Marc is currently the one fronting. How are you all today?”

Marc watched as you smiled and said, “We’re doing well, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, as well,” Karen said. “First, I would like to congratulate you on acceding to the throne. The Crown suits you well, I think.”

You let out a laugh. It sounded almost melodic. “I’m not sure how true that is now. I’m still adjusting to the position. It’s already a steep learning curve, but when you add in everything that’s happened…Well, I’m sure you can imagine the difficulties.”

“She’s being modest,” Marc said, squeezing your hand. “Dove’s being doing better than I ever could have imagined.”

“I’m sure it helps that she has such an amazing support system,” Karen said. “I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that watching the system and her interact…It seems like a fairy tale come true.”

“I’m not too sure you can say you speak for everyone,” you corrected. “As with the case with most things people don’t understand, harsh judgment often follows. But I know my fiancés for who they are, and no matter what the naysayers try to accuse them of, I know it’s not true.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Karen said. “I know I, along with others, have wondered how much truth was spoken in the first interview you gave when announcing your engagement, especially when we learned of how controlling the former King had been. So, how much was fact and how much was fiction?”

“Well, the how-we-met was true, at least as far as Jake and Dove meeting,” Marc said. “Steven had met Dove years earlier, when we were kids. I hadn’t met her formally until that morning.”

“It was an arranged marriage,” you explained. “Benjamin had said he had done it so that my rebellious nature could be reigned in. I know now that he intended to pin them for my death had he been successful. In some ways, I suppose he was successful in making them to be the villain, because I’ve seen far too many so-called journalist demonize something that they had no control over, something that doesn’t make them anymore villainous than you or I.”

“Dove…” Marc said. He appreciated how defensive you were over the system. He loved that you would knock down anyone who tried to hurt them. But he worried that people might still misconstrue your words. 

“In other ways, Benjamin arranging this marriage was his fatal flaw. He might actually have been successful had he not introduced us. Because of them, his plans were thwarted at every turn.” you continued. You looked at Marc. Behind him, Marc could hear one of the camera operators positioning the camera so it got a clear shot of your face as you looked at him with pure adoration in your eyes. “Even though I know never he never meant to, Benjamin provided me with something that had been lacking in my life ever since my mother’s passing: love. And for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Your neck cracked as you rolled your head from shoulder to shoulder, trying in vain to relieve some of the tension as you sat in front of your vanity. You had been doing that a lot lately. Steven understood. A life like this was not something you had thought you would ever had. You never planned to live under the weight of the Crown. Where Kieran was primped and preened to be King, you were never paid the same courtesy. Why would you have been? Benjamin had been planning to keep you out of the way for a long, long time. You went one from stressful situation straight into another straight into another, all without a moment of reprieve. 

Steven walked up behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. Slowly, he started to work out the knots, relishing in the soft moan you let out. He loved your sweet noises. He loved knowing he was responsible for them even more. He loved the way you leaned into his touch, perhaps, most of all. 

“You and Marc did well in the interview, don’t you think? I do,” he said, leaning down, brushing a kiss on the top of your head. “I think it will turn out well.”

“There will still be naysayers,” you said. “But I’m happy that we’ve said our piece.”

Steven hummed, focusing on a particularly tight knot in your shoulders. As he worked it out, he said, “I liked the part where you talked about our future wedding.”

Your skin warmed under his fingers. “You did? I was worried I stepped too far.”

“How could you have? We all talked about having a private ceremony when we’re ready. We’re all in agreement, yeah? Think it’s only fair we share that with the public, make it clear that no matter what they think, we’re by your side.”

You turned around, a smile on your face. “I’m glad you think that, my love.” You stood up, walking around your chair so you stood in front of him, reaching up, cupping his face in your hands. You met him halfway in a kiss, moaning at the contact. “I love you so much.”

Steven’s arms wrapped around your waist. He loved the feeling of your body against his. He loved knowing that you wanted to be as close as possible to him. He felt the same way. “I love you most.”

“Impossible,” you mumbled against his lips. “Lemme show you just how much I love you, yeah?”

Steven’s pants tightened. “Fuck. Please, dove. Please show me.”

He watched as you sank to your knees, a soft gasp escaping his mouth as you freed him from his pants, giving his length a few pumps. He reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pushed you towards his cock, urging you to take him in your mouth. 

Your lips wrapped around his tip, suckling as you looked up at him through your lashes. His grip on your hair tightened. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck. Was there anything better than this? Steven wasn’t sure there was. You let out a small gurgle as you took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he gasped. You let out a moan, the sound slightly muffled. Fuck. “So fucking perfect, dove. God, you make me feel so good.”

Our dove looks so pretty on her knees, doesn’t she?, Jake mused. 

Shh, let Steven have his moment, Marc chided.

Steven felt his balls tighten and, though he wished to see you swallow his cum, that wasn’t how he wished for this to go. He gave a gentle tug on your hair, pulling you away. A trail of spittle connected his cock to your mouth as you looked up at him. “Wanna cum inside you the first time we do this. That okay, dove?”

You smiled, licking your lips. “Of course that’s okay, my love.”

He surged forward, kissing you hard and fast. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Could this be any more perfect? 

Yours and his clothes disappeared in a flurry as the two of you stumbled over to the bed, too attached to even consider parting might make the process easier. Steven lifted you onto the bed, moaning as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you.

“You ready, dove?” Steven asked, reaching between your legs, swirling his finger over your clit, collecting your slick as he did so. “Mm, I think you are!”

“Please fuck me, Steven,” you said, pulling him back down to kiss. “Need to feel you, need you to fill me up.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. Steven guided his cock into you, slowly filling you up. You groaned at the feeling, nails digging into his skin. God. Your pussy was practically choking him. You were so tight he could barely move.

“You feel so good, dove,” Steven mumbled against your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses as he thrusted his hips. You whined at the feeling. Your back arched against him. “Wanna stay like this forever. Wanna stay in your forever.”

You and me both, Marc said.

Hey! How come you can comment but I can’t?!, Jake asked. 

“Shut up,” Steven mumbled. 

“Huh?”

Shit. He didn’t mean to speak out loud. “Not you. The boys are bickering.”

You let out a laugh. You reached for his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls. Guiding his face back to yours, you kissed him as hard as you could. “Jealous boys, aren’t they?” you asked between kisses. “Hm? They wish they were in your position, don’t they?”

Yes!, they said at the same time. 

“They’re not allowed to be in my position,” Steven said. His thrusts grew more erratic. “They’ve had their turns. This one is mine. Mine. I’m not sharing.”

“Mm, maybe you’re the jealous boy. I have been neglecting you, haven’t I? Not treating you as well as I treat the others? C’mon, my love, let me make it up to you. Take what’s yours.”

“Say. Say you’re mine,” Steven nearly growled. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to say it.”

You opened your mouth, but all the escaped was a moan so loud Steven was half convinced the entire palace could hear it. Or, at least, any staff working in the wing. Your pussy spasmed around him as you practically screamed, “I’m yours, Steven! All yours!”

Steven came with a gasp, nearly collapsing on top of you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was damn near addicted to you. He could do this, hear those words, hear those noises, all day every day if you gave him the chance. 

“I love you, dove,” Steven whispered.

You brushed his curls away from his face. “And I love you, my love.”

Steven leaned down, kissed the tip of your nose. “…Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“Would you be up for another round, dove?” Steven asked, an uncharacteristic smirk crossing his face. “Think I recall once saying I wanted you to ride me.”

“Cheeky bastard,” you laughed, swatting at his chest. But you gave no protest as he rolled the two of you over so he was on the bottom and you were on top. 

“Is that a no then?”

“It’s a shut-up-so-I-can-fuck-you-stupid.”

A stack of job applications nearly a mile high sat on your desk. You should’ve anticipated that countless people would be vying for a spot to work closely with the Queen. Worse, you should’ve expected that many of those applicants would be well-qualified enough for their applications to wind up on your desk. As you stared at the leaning tower of files, you found yourself wishing you hadn’t opted for a hands-on approach to hiring your secretary. 

“All of these people are qualified?” you asked, picking a file from the top and flipping it open. Claire Weiss. You set the file to the side, not trusting the look in her eyes. 

“Qualified, sure,” Yelena said. “Not all…good. Layla and I to weed out the applications with obvious complications. You know, the sort of things that HR isn’t going to be able to catch.”

“You mean the sort of things that aren’t ever reported?”

“You catch on well,” Yelena said. “Some of the bad eggs might have slipped through the cracks. You should have seen the stack of files HR gave us.”

You hummed as you picked up another file and flipped it open. Phil Coulson. You glanced through his qualifications. With the amount of military experience under his belt, you thought him better suited for being a member of your security detail than a secretary. Still, with everything that’s happened, it wouldn’t hurt if everyone close to you had some degree of knowledge of self-defense. You set in a new pile. 

“When you get the stack narrowed down, we’ll run a more thorough background check,” Layla said. “You still want to sit for the interviews, right?” When you nodded, she continued, “While that’s not public knowledge, we shouldn’t trust that it won’t get out. Even the most secure palace still has its leaks.”

Another file, another name. Daisy Johnson. More of a track record in hacking, but…Well, that could have its uses. At least it meant that she would know her way around a computer, which was a definite plus. These days, it seemed harder and harder to find someone who could figure out how to bold text in a Word Document, much less do anything slightly more complicated. You added Daisy Johnson to the same pile as Phil Coulson. 

“Is that a suggestion I be mindful of what I say around who?” you asked. 

“Well, I can’t order the Queen.”

You looked up at Layla, taking in her teasing look. “You give yourself too little credit. If you told me to jump, I would do it without a second thought.”

“I thought you were supposed to ask how high?” Yelena said. She looked between you and Layla. “You know…When I say jump, you say how high? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Yes, that’s how it goes,” you confirmed.

“Haha, yes! I was right!” Yelena cheered. 

A hint of a smile crossed your face. You appreciated her enthusiasm over something so simple. It made this job easier. It helped you see the lighter things in life. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, for there was a knock at the door. Layla opened it, revealing Jarvis, the head butler. He held a silver platter, a single envelope resting on it. Layla picked up the envelope, thanking him, before turning to you. 

“Were you expecting a letter?” she asked. 

You shook your head. “Nothing comes to mind, no.” You held your hand out. “Let me see that.”

Layla passed it to you. It was a simple envelope, something that could be picked up at an office supply store. There was no stamp. Someone must have dropped it in the royal mailbox personally. That was the only way it could arrive to you without going through the postal service. There was nothing identifiable on the envelope, only a printed out label that read “Her Majesty, the Queen”.

You glanced at Layla and Yelena as you picked up a letter opener, slicing through the envelope. You pulled out the paper, unfolding it carefully. It was a piece of white, copy paper adorned with, in the most cliché way possible, an assortment of cutout letters from a magazine and a clipping of you with your eyes marked out with a bright red Sharpie. It read:

A whore has no place on the throne. Watch your back. Long live the King.

You swallowed hard as you looked up at Layla and Yelena. “It seems the threats are becoming a lot more real if they’ve actually managed to get this to me.”

Yelena took the letter from your hands. “It’s the same as the ones we’ve intercepted. You’d do well to hire a couple more personal bodyguards.”

“Is it that serious?”

“If they’ve managed to get this into the palace…I’d take any threat made towards you with the utmost care.”

Great. This was exactly what you needed. 

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Being Franks Daughter in Hawkins pt 9

Gif Caption: Top Gif: Frank Castle from Marvel's Punisher Bottom Gif: Billy Hargrove from Netflix's Stranger Things

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Reader: 17-18 | female reader

Characters Mentioned: Frank Castle (MCU), Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake (MCU), Khonshu (MCU), Matt Murdock (MCU, Briefly), Loki Layfeyson (MCU Briefly), Thor Odinson (MCU, Briefly), Steve Harrington (ST) Billy Hargrove (ST), Dustin Henderson (ST), Mike Wheeler (ST), Nancy Wheeler (ST), Eddie Munson (ST), Joyce Byers (ST), Will Byers (ST), Lucas Sinclair (ST), Max Mayfeild (ST), Dart (ST)

A/n: sorry for the gap I've been sewing, also Y/n gets arrested- and we gettin into the real stuff now

Warnings: mentions of how a body decays in water (blisters and skin discoloration, not heavy detail), Y/n smoking le gasp,

✧▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬✧

You woke up the next morning: not in your bed

But in Steves

Que the mini panic attack and then the sighing as you were fully dressed

"Mhm..morin.." steve streched.

"Morin." Y/n spoke softly, "Did I wake you?"

"No..no. what time is it?" He asked looking besides him, "Shit!"

"What?!"

"ITS MONDAY!-"

"FUCK!"

You see it now. The reason why Frank was okay with you staying over

He know you wouldnt get up in time

He tricked you.

Good trick to be honest

You both rushed to get ready he grabbing one of your band tees and you grabbing one of his shirts

But fuck your too late to rechange so you both just go like that and rush off to school

Luckily you made it by the hair of your neck

"Hey Hargrove-"

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

"What?" Y/n asked leaning against the wall the teacher late to class.

"You look like your going to the country club." He argued.

"Yeah." Y/n mummbled leaning in to his ear, " it's Steve's"

"Im gonna beat the shit out of you swear." He sighed, the threat empty but still cut his point across

"Could you really though- Ow-"

He pinched her arm, she pinching him back starting a pinching war as she rushed down the hallway.

"You're dead Castilgonie!" He laughed chasing after her.

She turns around running backwards, "In your dreams Hargrove-"

"Watch out!"

She turned around seeing two janitors carring a long ladder, and with ease she jumped over it. Turning to Billy and flipping him off before the bell rang and running to class.

Nancy sat next to you that class.

Akward

"Ow..."

"Hangover?"

"Yeah..." she complained rubbing her head, "God Im never drinking again. Probally did somethin stupid too- uh- Mike says thanks again."

"Oh yeah no problem."

You have no idea was your only thought as you took notes

You didnt push it though, You were with Steve still instead of Nancy

That had to mean something.

She ended up almost falling asleep that class and you felt bad enough to give her some motrion for her head

She thanked you profoundly especially when it kicked in pretty fast

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go shopping." Nancy recommended, "Together."

"For?"

"Chlothes." Nancy spoke, "Maybe look for dress for the winter formal."

"Winter...Formal?" Y/n questioned.

"Yeah. A dance."

"Oh. Oh no." Y/n responded, "Im not a dancer...or a party goer I've learned."

"Yeah then what are you gonna do?"

Y/n shrugged, "maybe hang out with my old man."

"Ugh." Nancy groaned.

"What? I thought you liked my dad."

"Oh! No! I do." Nancy started, "But I swear. My mom's been obsessed alway asking my dad "hows frank" "hows frank been" "did you see frank at all today invite him for dinner next time."

"Oh. She did steal the seat next to him at dinner." Y/n responded.

You were quiet after that, listening to Nancy talk about dresses for the dance

You were having super mixed feelings on even sitting next to her at the moment.

Like nothing had happened yesterday

Luckily class ended and you were home free

Well almost. So you thought

You had gone to your next class, sitting next to Eddie Munson.

"Castiglione, Castiglione." He laughed walking towards her.

"Whats up freak?" Y/n questioned.

"Ouch! Stabbed in the heart!" He complained as she side eyed him, and went back to her notebook.

"Okay! Okay!" He started pulling his chair out and sitting down, yet it was more of a squat as he hugged his legs for support, "Friday."

"Friday?" Y/n asked.

"Ya know!" He spoke enthuastically as Y/n shrugged.

Eddie groaned and sat down fully, "You know. The-"

He grabbed his face and opened his mouth head on the table facing upward pencil hanging over him by his own hand.

"Im sorry! Im sorry!" He acted out, "You're not loud enough!"

"What about it-"

"Dude you seriously dont know?" He asked Y/n shrugging.

"No?"

"Have you not been to your locker?"

"No." Y/n spoke, "Why?"

He said you had to "see it to believe it"

Okay? Odd

He took you to your locker after class

You already knew where it was

But you let him drag your ass anyhow, and he covered your eyes

"Your still big talk of the school. Surpising how stupid those teachers are." Eddie informed setting her infront of the locker hands still over her eyes.

"Okay. And?-"

Y/n quickly shut up when the light invaded her eyes causing her to squint and block her eyes.

"Looks like you've got a few admirers." He chuckled Y/n looking at her locker covered in ink. Paper hanging out of the grate as if it had been stuffed.

Y/n leaned in, "huh. Seems like Im not the only ones those girls were fucking with."

"That ones mine." He spoke pointing out his, a little devil character scribbled with a "bad ass fuck."in red ink.

"Nice touch Munson." Y/n spoke opening her locker

Notes flying out in thanks and praise.

"You're popular-"

Thats not the voice of Eddie.

Y/n turned her head, "What the fuck are you doing here?" She complained to the man in a hoodie.

"Aw and I thought you were dating prince of hair." Eddie teased y/n glaring at him.

"How about this." Y/n told him handing him a bill, "You go. Buy use some soda."

"This is five dollars."

"Have fun with the change."

"Dont mind if I do."

Y/n sighed as she looked around for Billy and Steve, they no where to be seen.

"Marc. You have to leave- You can not be here-"

"Come on-"

"Hey-"

He pulled you along, all the way out the school almost.

You kept telling him you cant though, you're busy

He laughs at you

But then sees your being Serious

"Look. There's something here in Hawkins." He spoke.

"Okay. No." Y/n argued walked back towards school.

"Y/n!" Marc called going after her she walking through the halls, "Y/n. Listen-"

"Im not listening-" y/n argued seeing Eddie picking up notes from Y/n's open locker two cans of soda stuffed in his pockets.

"Y/n. Listen to me-"

He grabbed her arm before she turn around, "Watch what you do next very carefully." She threatened.

"You have to understand." Marc argued, "something is going on here-"

"What because Khonshu told you?"

"The mortal isnt as stupid as I assumed."

"Shut up." Marc grummbled turning his head slightly.

"He's here. Isnt he?" Y/n argued, "unfuckin believeable."

"Look." Marc took her attention back, "I need you to listen- we need the Midnight Sons again."

"You don't get it." Y/n argued, "Im. Happy here! I have a boyfriend, I have a best friend. I have normal teenage problems. My dad's got a girlfriend, he's happy, and finally mellowing out- im worried about boyfriends and dresses and some shit called the Winter Ball."

"Like a Snowball? It's barely past October. And your worried about making Snowballs-"

"No- Not the point!" Y/n argued, "My point it. We're done."

"We?"

"Im calling the shots on this one Marc. Go home. Go to Llaya. Go. Have a kid. Go be happy."

"Is this what makes you Happy? Living the same god damn day? When you-"

"Yes." Y/n argued, "It is. Makes me very happy."

She pulled her arm away from him, "Say Hi to Steven and Jake for me. Also. Fuck you Khonshu you skinny ass pigeon."

He watched you walk away and back to Eddie who handed you a soda you smiling at him

Oh god Marc is so fucked without help

You try and just go about your day, talking with Billy, trying to not to talk to Nancy

But something just. Bothers you as you sit down at the usual spot.

"Are. Are you okay?"

Y/n looks up seeing Johnathan, "Yeah. Yeah...just. ya know."

"Yeah. I get it." Johnathan spoke, "Can I uh? Sit here?"

"Yeah."

He sits down across from her "anything...werid? Ever happen in Hawkins?"

He shurgged, "missing kid. You know turns out just at a friends house, biggest thing was probally a truck tipping over that was filled with tomatoes. Wasnt that big of a truck."

Y/n nodded, "yeah."

You're quiet the rest of lunch and the rest of the day.

You're even off in PE something you tend to push hard in

But you play it off and just continue on

Steve tries to ask you if your are okay

Even pulls you into the bathroom to talk but you shrug and told him you're just tired

You just end up skipping school grabbing her bag from Steve's car and heading to the middle school.

When you get there you ask around. Some kids looking up to you some kids horrified of you, a Highschool student in front of them

"Dustin Henderson?" The boy asked, the girls trying not to laugh behind him.

"Yeah."

"He has his stupid little Freak club in the janitor closet."

"Hm." Y/n spoke walking off, "Oh! And Kid! Watch who you bully. Or I will be a problem."

His friends ooohed as he pushed them and you walked to find this closet

You were lucky to find it and open the door.

"Hey-"

"GET OUT!-"

"Well damn- calm down its me." Y/n protested the kids sighing as Will and Mike pulled her in Mike closing the door behind them and locking the door.

"Whatever you say! You cant tell anyone about even being here!" Mike probbed her.

"What? Here One of you left-"

"No one!" Mike argued.

"Okay. Okay...jesus. whats wrong with you all." Y/n argued setting the coustume piece on the table.

"She can handle it." Max spoke, "I know she can."

Why did she say that? Because if this freaky thing became a monster, you could handle it

After all you also knew two gods and a huge rock monster if things got so bad.

So with some convincing Dustin shows you

But This unknown species of animal looks up at you and screeches as if your going to kill it

Well 'Dart' hates you

And Dustin kinda agrees with that conclusion, that dart hates you

You could honestly care less

"You have fun with that." Y/n spoke, the bell ringing as they quickly grabbed there things.

"What are you doing her anyway?" Will asked.

"Havin...a day." Y/n responded, "in a sense...how are you?"

Will nodded, "yeah...Im okay."

"anyone bothering you?"

"No." Will spoke, "just...tired."

Y/n nodded, ruffling his hair, "I'll see you around then."

Will nodded one last time before Y/n left.

You went back to the high school, seeing Billy skipping and smoking in his car

You walked over, scaring him in fact as your hand hit the top of his car.

"Fuck!" Billy agrued, "You do that too fuckin much-"

He stopped seeing her expression, "What's wrong with you?"

"Are you skipping for the rest of the day?"

"Yeah- why?"

"Take me to the libary?"

"Im skipping to get away from books. Not to go back to a building with more-"

"Please."

He sighed, "Yeah get in. And don't slam your hands on the top of my car."

He took you to the library as you asked, and gave you a cigarette as you had asked.

He barely got to ask you what you were doing at the library before you run in

You asked for the old newspaper slides as the lady told you the microfilm reader was in the back

You spent your time going through older newspaper slides, anytime before you got to Hawkins

Nothing too important, except Will along with some other girl named Barb Going Missing

And Will turning up dead, and then alive

And no one finding Barb

not to mention a whole lab is mentioned

You go to recent papers and look to see Thor's even been Mentions "Big time hero visits Hawkins"

Not to mention you also pick up physical copies of the recent newspapers.

Oh. Fuck shit is happening in Hawkins

Taking notes taking notes taking fucking hella notes

You get out of the library, just to be carrying hella books

"What the hell." Billy aspirated.

"Look," Y/n defended, "I need to go home."

"What you need is a fucking mental doctor." Billy argued, grabbing one of the books, "History of Hawkins? Hawkins News Papers- And fucking national phenomenon, gardening What's going on with you?"

"Just take me home and I'll explain it."

He sighs and does as you ask, and as you explain it on the car ride back: he could really give less than one fuck.

He doesn't understand why one kid going missing can be linked to dead pumpkins.

"Okay, so some lab dumped chemicals in some water!" Billy argued. "and some shithead kid went missing-"

"No Billy, you don't get it, Hawkins farms is well water! Not Quarry water! Most farms in Hawkins run on aquifers! Matt was right, why would Pumpkins rot in their most popular time of year? How did they accidentally mix up Will Byers with a different Kid, There aren't many kids in Hawkins."

"So the kid's face was fucked up when they found him-"

"Water slows down the decaying process, the skin may blister and turn colors, but he would still be completely intact, easy to recognize."

"And this has to do what with Pumpkins and national phenomenon?"

"Pumpkins dying in such mass around the fall season? Sure you lose ten there twenty here, but multiple farms practically going up in flames because their harvests are gone. There are old families that run these farms. Sure competition is rough, but rotting pumpkins? In such mass? It makes it a National Pheunonom. So I was thinking, Maybe Thor fucked up our atmosphere- He's never done that- Loki poisoned the wells? Still, he's fucked up but not that bad- well I take it back, It's not flashy enough for him. Looking at the gardening book, this can't possibly happen within the time span that it is." Y/n informed.

"And that means..." Billy tried to put some things together, "That the lab that they closed...what? Did something to the air or some shit? In the past they did something to Byers and that Barbara chick and now they're back at it?"

"Not possible, they closed it forced to shut down-"

"Unless they didn't," Billy told, "You've dealt with secret agencies and crap before, is it that hard to believe there in secret?"

Billy had made a good point.

The Hawkin's lab was meant to be closed and left to rot after Will Byers and Barb's disappearance

He helped you with all your books and crap to go inside, Frank luckily not home

You spent the rest of the day scowering through pages, constantly, notes after notes, easier to be pinned to the wall than anything else

Billy had helped here and there looking through a gardening book.

"Here" He started, "Blight fungui can kill up to a large farm within Weeks."

"Too weak." Y/n explained.

"What about. Local dumbass reads to far into everything disease." He questioned.

"Haha very funny."

Still despite how crazy you seem and how confused especially, he still stays to read every news paper clipping and book three times over.

He actually just ends up spending the night, accidently falling asleep leaning against the wall as he sat on your bed and you at your desk.

The next day you both wake up mid afternoon, skipping school once again as he takes you to the library

He rather just wait in the car, you're better at resources and he at helping you just scan over it again

But when push comes to shove, the world just comes to push you off a cliff

You rushed out of the library just to find Hopper arresting Billy

"Damn it! I don't know her!" Billy argued.

"Come on Kid. Lieing to a cop? Gonna put you in jail just like your old man-"

"Hey! Hey!" Y/n shouted, catching Hopper's attention.

"Don't know her huh?" Hopper asked.

"What the fuck are you doing-"

"Im gonna give you an option. I arrest you. Or I arrest him." Hopper threated.

"Fuck you man!" Billy shouted.

"Billy." Y/n stopped him causing the blonde to roll his eyes, "Wanna tell me for what? Before you ruin my track record."

"Breaking and entering to the Hargrove Household and assult of Neil Hargrove-"

"Oh fuck-"

You were pushed onto the car and hands forced behind your back, as he cuffed you, you even complained about his was being unnecessarily rough as he dragged you to his car

Yet he didnt telling you your rights, and your arguing with him about it just for him to contuine to stuff you in the back and get in the driver seat and drive off.

You're silent trying to pick the lock with a pin from your back pocket.

What? Your always ready.

He pulls into the woods

Excuse me?

The middle of the woods? Deep in too as he turns around

"I suggest you choose your next words very carefully." Y/n threatened with a sharp glare.

"What do you know?" He asked.

Y/n's eyebrows knitted, "what?"

"It asked for you. What do you know?"

"What the fuck." Y/n argued, "Let me out!"

"Shut up!" He shouted angered and seemingly in a rush as he sighed, "Listen. You know Will-"

"Will? Will Byers?" Y/n asked, "what Happened to Will."

"Did he say anything to you? Anything important."

"He has bad nightmares?" Y/n asked, "plays dungeons and dragons? Likes Ghost Busters too much for a normal kid?"

"Why did it ask for you!"

"What!?" Y/n argued, "What asked for Me!? Hello!? Did Will ask for me?!"

"Fuck."

And then he drove off as you keep shouting at him asking him what the fuck is going on

He takes you out the car and forces you inside a house.

Just to seen Joyce walking towards her.

"Hi." She smiled papers in her hands.

"What. The fuck." Y/n asked looking at all the walls covered in drawings which linked together looking like a road.

"Hopper? Did you arrest her?!" Joyce argued.

"Had to make it look real." Hopper spoke taking his keys out.

"Don't worry I got it." Y/n defended she taking the cuffs off and handing them back to him, "what the hell is this-"

"Long! Long story!" Joyce spoke, "come. Come here."

Y/n followed her, Joyce swipping away some loose papers

"This!" She spoke slapping a paper down, "This is you!"

Y/n looked at the drawing cartoonish yes, but similar, yet it look, evil? What looked like scratch marks scribbled in long lines down her fsce.

"...yeah..." y/n spoke, "why did you-"

"You have to listen to me. Very Carefully." She spoke, "There's alot to tell you."

You sat there as she explained it all

What happened with Will and the other world

And your gonna die.

Oh god Marc was right, Matt was right

"Mom?"

The two turned there head, Will standing there in Pajamas with a handful of drawings

"Will hey bud." Y/n smiled, "You okay?"

He looked at her, at his expression broke and shook his head, "It wants to hurt you."

"Hey. Bud." Y/n spoke getting up, "Nothings going to happen to me. I promise alright?"

You're more worried for Will than yourself, after all, you've had your fair share, of well,

Let's call them Non-Human Incidents.

he hugs you and you hug him back

he ends up drawing as he sits beside you: Joyce explaining everything to you even more in detail

"I know, I know I sound crazy."

"Joyce, surprisingly you don't, just, I thought being in Hawkins I was going to be able be ya know- calm-"

She laughs, "I know, I. I sound crazy, but thank you."

"Trust me, " Y/n spoke grabbing her hand, "I understand what it feels like going crazy, remember, New Yorker."

She smiles, "Thank you-"

"I. All I ask is you keep my dad out of this." Y/n pleaded, "He's been through enough."

"Of course," She told, grabbing Y/n's hand in response and sighing in relief once more with a cigarette in hand.

The only question is what do you do now? You assume you should go get the kids, make sure they're all right, Joyce had told you how she takes Will out of school to go see the doctor, so the kids were still at school.

"I'll go get the kids," Y/n explained.

"Please, take my car." Joyce offered Y/n nodding ruffling Will's hair on the way out,

Yet on the porch, Hopper stopped you, you looking back as he walked closer.

"How'd you get out the cuffs?" He asked.

"Come on." Y/n laughed, "I'm from New York!"

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Tags!: @raelwrites @miiikkeey @beebslebobs @ah-witch @supernaturallover2002 @pearlstiare @simonsbluee @stilllivindue2spite @lvbred @dancingqueen21 @writerdream22 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @knivqs @xxlaynaxx @3-spurr @eliskakratochvilova @sunshinepower17 @marssssaturn @howlerwolfmax @mxltifxnd0m

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All is Fair~ In Faith & Falsehoods

Chapter 12: All is Fair in Faith & Falsehoods

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Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under pressure?

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! violence and threats. Emotional trauma, Bad language words, torture, mentions of death and extreme violence!

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: approx. 3.3K

A/N: IT'S BACK! …. Don’t come for me. I really hope y'all enjoy it! feedback is always welcome, let me know your favorite part.

Jake watched his target, like he had been for over a month now, he needed to find the flaw in their security, for them to let their guard down, just long enough to grab what he needed. But their security was airtight, not a speck of dust crossed any of them without being vetted first. It was infuriating to say the least.

What would Muerta do?

He scoffed, it was foolish of him, but he missed you, your snarky mouth, your sometimes irrational decision making, your all around ‘don’t give a shit’ attitude…

Mostly… mostly he just missed you, your friendship. He could tell Steven felt the same, it had been so long since he let anyone else be in control, Marc was only useful to a fault, Steven got him closer to you. He learned to understand you, to peel off the masks you wore so easily… 

He shook his head, something isn't adding up, you wanted out, in fact you almost blatantly told him you were going rouge… what changed, what happened in the twenty-four hours after you left him? How the fuck did you get caught in a trap, it just didn’t–

His phone buzzing in his pocket pulled his attention down, the little screen lit-up with Wade’s face, he rolled his eyes, the fuck does he want.

“Speak.”

“Well good morning to you too, Cupcake.”

Jake sighed heavily, “Wade…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to the point… I found Francis.”

“Wade, I don’t care about your little obsession–” he growled.

“You will when I tell you, the assholes that Смерт (smert, death) is after and Francis are one and the same.”

A knowing smile split Jake’s lips, “You broke into the phone.”

Jake could hear the smugness leaking from Wade’s voice, “I broke into the phone.”

—

Steve stared down at you strapped to the chair in his basement, broken, bloody, it took everything in him not to nurture you, to cut your ties and embrace you. But, he had to remember who you were, a vile, lying, backstabbing, traitor.

Pure rage blinded him as he shoved the barrel of his pistol under your chin

'Do it, Rogers. Because if I get out of here. I Will. Kill. You.'

That was it, the sentence that pushed him over the edge as he shoved the barrel of his gun under your chin, he half expected you to crumble, to tell him you didn't mean any of it… But all he saw was the look in your eye, yes there was fear which cut him deeply, he never wanted you to fear him. But on top of that, you wanted him to kill you, with every fiber in your being, he could feel you urging him to pull the trigger.

A knock on his office door pulled him from his thoughts, the last flicker of the memory of your face faded as he picked up his glass and he called to the door. The pit in his stomach yawned open as his eyes met your nameplate still sitting on his desk. He downed the rest of his drink, making his way to the bar for a refill as the door opened slowly, Bucky’s metal hand emerged first, followed by Peter.

“You ready Punk?”

Steve grunts as he lifts the glass to his lips, Peter speaks, “Mr. Stark sent Happy to pick us up…”

“I still think this is a stupid fucking idea. Especially after…”

“After I killed his sister?” his gaze meets Peter first, head downcast, avoiding his gaze, then he meets Bucky’s, there is more emotion there than he would ever admit, what Steve had to do that night, didn’t just affect him. It cut deep into his found family, but it tore out his soul. “It was business Bucky, Tony will understand that.” Steve waved his hand in dismissal, “Tell Happy we will be there soon and won't need his services... I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Both men started to leave, “Not you Queens, I need to speak with you.”

Bucky and Peter shared a look, before Bucky left, closing the door behind him, Peter turned to face Steve, their eyes finally meeting. Steve knew Peter was upset about you being gone, but the look he was pinning him with right now made him proud. If Steve would have been a different person, not his boss, the look would be threatening, but Steve knew better, Peter could be angry all he wanted, but he would never do anything to Steve.

 ‘I don't experiment on children.’

The words you’d spat at him echoed through his bones, he didn’t quite understand why you had said it at the time, but a memory had snagged his attention. He motioned to the wingback chair in front of his desk, “Sit.”

Slowly Peter made his way into the chair, Steve followed, leaning against the front of his desk. Peter wasn’t big by any means, but he wasn’t scrawny, he was built well, lean and strong, no hulking muscle to slow him down, he was quick, deadly, when it was necessary. 

“How are you feeling kid?”

Peter blinked, clearly not expecting the question, “Sir?”

Steve huffed in amusement, one side of his mouth lifting, “It’s been a while since we had a moment to speak, kid. Not too long ago you were beaten half to death, how are you holding up?”

I hadn't been that long ago in all reality, but there weren't many scratches left on the kid, which further aided the point you made in the basement. His stomach churned, fuck.

“I…I’m good sir, thank you for asking?” 

Steve watched as Peter began to fidget, “What were you doing at the lab, Queens.”

His brow furrowed, “Wha-what?”

Steve sighed, “The night Erskine was killed. You were at the lab, why?”

Peter's eyes widened only slightly, “I… I was on patrol.”

Steve pursed his lips, nodding, “Okay.”

Peter stood from his seat, head shaking, words tumbling from his mouth, “Mr. Rogers… I-I would never betray you…I had no idea—”

Steve shook his head, “Queens…” but Peter wasn’t listening, he continued to ramble about you and Erskine, but Steve knew he hadn’t helped you. But he was still lying. He gripped his arms, “Queens.” 

Peter froze under his grip, Steve led him back to his seat, “I know you didn’t help her, kid…” he eased his grip, but his hands remained, Steve knelt in front of him, his eyes met Peter’s, “But I also know you weren't on patrol. I need you to tell me the truth…”

—

Steve had rolled his sleeves, exposing his forearms, along with the tattoos that adorned them, lady justice spattered with fresh blood, the man in front of him stared up at him, wide-eyed, shaking. 

He was a blubbering mess, tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood and drool, Steve had even noticed a wet spot in the crotch of his trousers, fucking weak. He scoffed to himself as he rolled the knife across his knuckles, his now long hair falling into his face, he raked it back as he stalked closer to the bound man, Colonel Akerly, the closest man linked to Stark and the dealings Parker had mentioned, he didn’t know much, but a name was all Steve needed. 

Turns out, Akerly didn't reach the rank of Colonel for his bravery or ability to withstand pain or torture, he sang like a canary. 

According to Akerly, Stark made a big deal with the military and Dr. Erskine after Howard died, and Erskine had been testing on street kids. He would have Bucky look farther into the details later. Steve wasn’t just angry at the situation, he was fucking furious, the fact Erskine had been doing the experiments behind Steve’s back was bad enough, Bucky and Steve had been given the first prototypes, but some of the side-effects had been too extreme for Steve to condone the experiments to conitune. Extreme anger, mood swings, an enhanced appetite (not just for food), and enhanced strength; more so than those on steroids.

Steve and Howard had fought the night Howard died, Howard thought the risks were worth it in the long run, ‘think of all the good it could do Steve’... yeah, ‘good’ he thought, how many people had to endure the pain the treatment put them through, let alone the adverse effects. He was still reeling from Peter’s apology, ‘I’m sorry Steve… I… I just get so tired of being beaten and having…. Having everyone save me all the time.’

Fuck! His blood was boiling, how the hell he hadn’t seen the signs he didn’t know, but thinking about it just pushed his blood past the boiling point–

“Steve, Tony is still waiting on you… the longer you make him wait–”

Steve raised his knife clad hand, silencing Bucky.

He struck hard and fast, he could barely feel the splitting flesh beneath the blade, the gargled screams seemed far away and muffled through the blood roaring in his ears. When he finally stepped away from Akerly, he didn't recognize him, and neither would the police. Carter would have a field day cleaning this mess. He would be sure to give her the tipoff after he was sure his men were off site, and couldn't be tracked down. He wiped his face with his sleeve, the white shirt now stained pink and red, and coated in sweat, he would have to change before meeting Tony now. 

With his anger simmering beneath the surface, he could trust himself not to skin Tony at the table, he had rolled his eyes when he found out they were meeting at an upscale Italian restaurant. A very public place, Steve smiled to himself, he had to admit, after what he had done to you, he didn't blame Tony for the precision, the man wasn’t a total moron. 

—

“Rogers.” Tony’s voice cut through the restaurant, as Steve settled in the booth across from him, “You think you kept me waiting long enough?”

“I think you picked a ridiculous place for a meeting.” he chuckled a bit. To everyone else in the restaurant, they looked like two chummy businessmen having a meeting but the air around them felt electrified; Tony was pissed, Steve could feel it. 

Good, he thought. He was equally as pissed.

Tony gave him a knowing smile, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured around the room,  his voice low, “It’s hard to kill someone and get away with it in a public setting.” he made a show of picking lint off his shoulder allowing the fake lint to ‘fall’ to the ground.  “It’s a shame the rest of my family wasn’t as smart.”

Steve ignored the jab that was clearly about you, and changed the subject, “How’s business Tony? I heard you made a nice deal with the military–”

Tony cleared his throat, “Business is good… good.” He reached for a breadstick in the center of the table, breaking a piece off, “Yeah, the military contacted me for a few pieces of tech, easy stuff.”

Steve’s lips curled knowingly, Akerly had been telling the truth, what else had Stark been up to?                                                                         

Steve remained silent as he watched Tony, dipping his bread in the vinaigrette, but out of the corner of his eyes he scanned the room, Tony may have picked a public place, but there was no telling how many of the employees here or even patrons were in his pocket, he always had to look for what no one else prepared for. And he was a sitting duck in this restaurant, one well placed waiter with a knife, or a suppressed pistol… No. Tony wasn’t that depserate or idiotic, Steve’s men would have this place burnt to the ground before Tony could finish him off. 

Tony cleared his throat “It’s a shame, you know.”

The waiter stopped by, replacing the old drinks with new ones in front of both men, then promptly left to carry on with his work. Steve took a sip, speaking around his glass, “What is?”

“My sister… She is so much like our mother was, caring, always looking to love those she believed needed it most…” his eyes met Steve’s, he was searching for something, what, Steve didn't know, didn’t care. “She loved you…”

Steve stilled, blood running cold, his drink still ghosting his lips, what the fuck… He scoffed, “Didn't think she was capable, I figured the black hole in her chest ran in the family. ”

“I tried to warn her about you, Beast of Brooklyn…” there was a dangerous glint in Tony’s eye as he spoke, “But she wouldn’t listen, no one ever listens when I speak about you.” Tony’s fingers mindlessly traced the hilt of the steak knife on the table.

Sighing, Steve tilted his head, “you brought me here for a reason Tony, out with it, I’m a busy man, with lots of things to do.” 

Tony blew out his breath, the irritation making his features taut, serious, a smirk lifting one corner of his lips, “Listen Steve…” his lips formed a tight line, “I can’t just let you walk away after what you did to my sister–” he made a show with his hands, “if I don't make an example outta you, and hang your head on my wall for everyone to see, they’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

Steve mocked Tony, pouting, “Oh no, we can't have you going soft Tony…”

“Fuck off Rogers.”

Tony’s voice low, full of threat, causing Steve to lean back in his chair, running his tongue over his top teeth, popping one of his brows, “You’re right Tony, it is a shame, people should listen…” he ran a hand over his beard, “I only hope you take your own advice…”

“Watch your back Rogers.”

Steve stood from his seat, “You started this Tony. Sent your sister to me. Her blood is on your hands, not mine.” he snarled, each word laced with venom, watching as his words hit Tony, whose brows furrowed, 

“Sent her to you?” a soft laugh left his lips, “If you think I’d send her anywhere near you Rogers you're crazier than they say…” 

Buttoning his coat, Steve stared him down, “you wanted me dead, so you sent her. Big mistake Tony.”

“She’s helpless Steve, couldn’t even hurt a fly… If I had wanted you dead, I would have found a way to hire one of the Aces.”

Steve schooled his features, that couldn't be right, Tony didn’t know about his sister? He had to have hired the Ace of Spades, Tony had to be playing him. Steve shook his head as he began to walk away, placing his hand on Tony’s shoulder, “Do not start another war you cannot win. Your sister was only the beginning.”

—

Yelena had been on the road for a few weeks, traveling from place to place, tailing a lead. Zemo had told her this recon mission was important, it was off the record. Now she was stuck in a tree doing a stakeout in upstate New York, the cool mountain air whipped around her in her makeshift perch, looking over a cabin not too far off. Some low level goons came and went every so often, but no one of any notability. She had been tailing a high value target with extremely sensitive cargo…

She scowled, she couldn't understand why Zemo had asked her to come out here, there was nothing here. Scoffing she moved to begin packing her bags, when a new nondescript vehicle slowly pulled up to the cabin. Freezing, she trained her sights on the passenger doors, three people stumbled out of the back doors, bound, gagged, and bruised… 

Yelena nearly lost her footing and fell from the tree, no wonder Zemo wanted her here to secure the cargo and sweep these assholes off the face of the earth. They weren’t just any precious cargo… the most precious of all.

Who the fuck and the balls to take them?

His family.

—

Thor walked to his bar, his confident gait grating on Zemo’s nerves, 

“How’s the family Halmut, it's been a while since I’ve seen them. Heard they were on vacation?”

Zemo’s jaw clenched, no one knows the truth about his family. No one knows they were taken, or who the moron that thought it would be a good idea was. Not to worry, he had Yelena taking care of it.

He plastered a fake smile onto his face, “They are good, enjoying the sunshine of the Southern Hemisphere; too cold for them here.”

Thor nods, “I can agree with that, the weather has been so dreary lately, it’s a shame really…”

Zemo’s patience had been worn thin, his Ace of Spades was MIA, deemed dead, he hadn’t heard back from Yelena yet, and he really wasn’t in the mood to entertain Thor, or his other appointments for the evening. He cut to the chase, “What can I do for you and your brother Thor?”

Thor looks up from his drink as he sits leisurely in the chair, giving Zemo a gigawatt smile, “I was actually going to ask about your campaign…”

Zemo lifts a brow, “I thought you three didn’t get involved in… politics.”

“Well, since my father passed,” he tosses a side-eyed glare at Loki behind him, who is perusing the bookshelves, “I want to be the one who takes on the responsibilities of The Don. So I need to start acting like one—”

Scoffing Zemo interrupts him, “Well you can make your first duty stopping whatever the hell is going on between the other two! My city is on fire and a burning city won't win a campaign!”

Thor nodded, “Yes, well it seems to be some kind of misunderstanding, don’t worry, I am already working on a solution, it's not only affecting their territories, but mine–”

“Well until that is resolved, I have no further need to speak to you Odinson–”

A tic forms in Thor’s jaw at his words, that obviously wasn’t the response he was expecting. Zemo’s  phone rings across the desk, it’s the Ace line, he doesn’t immediately answer it. Allowing it to echo in the room,

“I really do enjoy what you are doing to keep New York clean, Halmut… honestly, the mayors before you… they just weren’t cut out for the job.” A lethal smile slithers across Thor's face as he rests the drink on the arm of his chair. Caressing his beard he motions toward the still ringing phone, “Ya gonna get that there boss?” 

Zemo gives a tight lipped smile, “It can wait I’m sure.” Behind Thor, Loki shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flickering to the phone and back to Zemo.

Thor grunts, as he finishes his drink, “Well, your mayorfulness, it’s always a pleasure to do business with you…” he stands, buttoning his jacket and turning to the door. His footsteps loud against the carpet. He turns slightly as he steps out the door, “Perhaps on my next visit, I can give you more of what you desire.”

Loki nods as he follows his brother, throwing one last glance at the still ringing phone, quietly adding as he disappears behind the door,  “You should get that.”

Zemo takes a deep breath as the door shuts, then picks up the phone,

“Identity check- All is fair ”

“Response - In death and resurrections.”

The voice that comes from the other line isn’t the one he thought it would be.

A dangerous smile lifts his lips.

Check mate.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal

[atlasscrumpit]

Yandere Steven places Marc and Jake in the asylum and manipulates them into thinking that the outside world is too dangerous for them and that he’ll protect them by killing those who will do them harm. Surprisingly, it works and now Marc and Jake trust Steven and they promise to never leave the asylum, no matter what. It may not be as dark as you’d like it, but I need more yandere Steven in my life.

Yandere Steven x MarcJake

(Hope you like it!)

Marc awoke, his body feeling heavy and stiff. He could feel the warmth of someone beside him.

Opening his eyes he saw it was Jake and screamed, backing away.

Jake awoke and grumbled in annoyance.

"Deja de gritar." Jake muttered as he looked up to see Marc pacing up and down a random room.

"What are you doing?" Jake muttered as Marc looked at him and didn't say a word.

"You're not going to question why we have seperate bodies, you idiot." Marc grumbled as Jake sat up and groaned.

"I'll admit, it took me a while to realise. The only other time this happened was when we died." Jake said as Marc began to panic.

"Shit, we're fuckin' dead. Fuck! Where's Steven? We have to find him." Marc said as Jake stood up and grabbed Marc by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"Mi amor, you need to calm down. We aren't dead, just breath." Jake said in a calm tone as Marc nodded.

"Okay, I'm alright." Marc said as Jake smiled softly.

"We'll go fine Steven." Jake said as the door opened and Jake shoved Marc behind him protectively.

"Steven?" Marc muttered seeing Steven was the one that had opened the door.

"Did you enjoy your rest?" He said simply as Marc and Jake looked at him with confusion.

"Mi amor, are you alright? What's going on?" Jake said as Steven still smiled at them.

"I'm perfect, loves. Now I can keep you safe. You're not leaving here ever again, I won't let you get hurt." Steven said, his smile faltering as Marc and Jake looked at him in shock.

"Buddy, what do you mean? Where are we?" Marc asked as Steven smiled once again, a slightly insane look within his eyes.

"Come on, I'll show you." Steven said gesturing for them to follow him.

Marc stayed close to Jake as they went out into the all familiar halls.

"The Asylum?" Marc whispered in disbelief.

"It's familiar, it's safe and when you were here you made a lot of progress. Therefore I thought it was the perfect place to keep you both." Steven said as Jake grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.

"Steven, snap out of this! You cannot keep us here." Jake said as Steven reached up and pressed his hand to Jake's forehead.

His knees buckled and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Marc quickly knelt down to him and supported his head.

"Steven, what the fuck did you do?" Marc grumbled looking down at Jake.

"It's okay, love. I knew he would react this way, but you won't. I know you won't, because you love me." Steven said kneeling down to hold Marc's face in his hand.

"Will you stay here, Marc? Let me keep you both safe, I really don't want to hurt you." Steven whispered, a threat present in his words.

"Okay, we'll stay." Marc replied still holding onto Jake.

"Good boys."