#jake lockley x female reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Free Ride [2]

Jake Lockley x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Part 1 Here • Free Ride Masterlist •

Summary: You recognised Steven and Jake had no choice but to play along, and give in to some impulses of his own.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: I have not checked this over very well at all, I am so sorry.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, dubious consent because reader thinks he's Steven, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, lube, mentions of a vibrator, Jake has a big dick, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2841

Jake pushes you back into your flat, his lips on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. 

You stumble a little, but his strong hands keep you stable, pull you closer against him. He trails down to your jaw, your neck, nipping lightly at your skin before sucking hard on your pulse point. 

A shiver runs up your spine, crawls at your throat. You gasp and clutch into him. “Steven, I-”

Jake growls softly, moving quickly and kissing you mercilessly. He nips lightly at your lip, not enough to cause damage but the sudden sensation makes you jump slightly and he smiles. 

You pull back, just enough to see the expression. In that moment it’s so unlike Steven, not his usual beaming grin. His eyes don’t crinkle the same way, his-

Before another thought can form his lips are on yours again as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom, tugging your pyjama top over your head. He pauses once, barely moving his mouth from yours to sweetly ask your permission before continuing. Waiting with soft eyes for your clear confirmation and then kissing you breathless once more. 

His fingers dig into your skin, squeezing every part he can reach. 

As the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed he dips his head down, rolling the flat of his tongue against your left nipple. You bite your lip, trying to keep some semblance of control over yourself but can’t stop the small moan that escapes and fills the air.

Jake groans, latching onto your breast and sucking. Your fingers tangle in his hair, breathing rapidly as he flicks his tongue over the quickly hardening nub. 

You arch into him, your hips bucking of their own accord as he pushes his knee between your legs as he moves to your other breast. 

You whine, letting his warm hands roam your body and press firmly into your back, keeping you balanced as you lean into him. 

He slides his left hand up, cradling the back of your head and then carefully urges you onto your back onto the mattress. 

Should you stop him? You bite your lip. This was going head spinnngly fast. Sure you’d had a not so secret crush on him for ages, but-

He leans over you, pressing his body flush to yours and kisses you senseless, his tongue slipping into your mouth and drinking down every sound that slips past your lips. 

The hard outline of his cock presses into your core through the stiff material of his jeans and any doubt just blinks out of your mind as the spark of pleasure runs up your spine. 

He growls, low and soft in his throat as you move against him, pressing yourself more fully against the bulge in his trousers. 

“Steven,” you moan.

He pulls back instantly, his lips pink and kiss swollen. For a second you think you’ve done something wrong, made the wrong move, but he stands back up quickly. Hooks his fingers under your waist band and drags it down, leaving you completely bare.  You yelp a little at the speed of his movements, the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach drop and fill with anticipation. 

Jake grabs your hips, his warm fingers digging in, just boarding on the possibility of being too hard, and flips you over with a surprising sudden show of strength. 

You let out a small cry of surprise, barely having a moment to react as Jake raises you up by your hips so that you’re on your knees, face down, ass up. 

Heat burns into your skin as he pushes your thighs apart, his thumbs on either side of your entrance and spreading your lips wide. 

The sound of his groan of appreciation alleviates any self consciousness you could feel. Jake palms his cock roughly, squeezing the thick outline with one hand to get a hold of himself before he dives in. 

He swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning again in appreciation as he laps at you. 

The moan that leaves you is sinful. It would make another wave of embarrassment roll through your stomach if you weren’t already too far gone to care. You press your face into the covers, screwing them up in your fists as Jake licks annoyingly slowly, flicking his tongue against your clit before pulling up and just dipping into your entrance. Teasing with the very tip before starting the whole process all over again.

You squirm under his actions, simultaneously trying to escape and push closer to the pleasure of his mouth. He grabs hold of your hip with one firm hand, pulling you firmly against him. 

“Hush bebé,” he mutters against you, barely moving far enough for his words to be heard. “Let me take care of you.” 

You moan again and bury your head into your mattress, drooling on the duvet. 

Pleasure boils along your skin, spiking down from your lower stomach with every warm swipe of his tongue. He groans at the taste of you, the small buzz of sound reverberating through you and vibrating against your already swollen clit. 

A choked, “please,” escapes your lips and Jake chuckles. 

“Begging already?” 

You moan and nod. Your eyes screwed up tight, your hips rocking back and forth in time with him. 

It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, and even longer since that you’d been with someone who seemed so eager to devour every part of you. 

Jake pulls back for a second, biting lightly at the back of your upper thigh, before he sinks two thick fingers into your heat. 

You gasp, whining at the sudden but welcome intrusion. Your legs shake at the stretch, your mind going blank for a second. 

“Fuuuccck.” Jake hisses under his breath, mesmerised as he presses in to the second knuckle before pulling back again, marvelling at your slick in the light. “So tight bebé, hmm?” He groans as he pushes back in, revelling in how your walls clench around him, seem to suck him deeper despite the stretch. “Don’t think I’ll fit in here…” he gasps as he slowly eases out and back in, the ache in his cock maddening. “So tight… When’s the last time you got fucked by anything other than your fingers?” 

A choked sob leaves your lips, your orgasm burning along every nerve ready to explode at any second. “Please,” you moan, “I’m, you’re gonna make me…”

Jake hisses in another breath, unable to resist the urge to push his fingers as deep as they can go and stroke your walls languidly, searching for the spot to make you see stars. His thumb presses against your clit, barely moving except for a steady alternating of pressure. 

You cry out, your back arching, the pleasure so close you can taste it. 

“That’s it,” Jake mutters, “oh, there?” He presses deeply, his strokes sure and firm and oh so slow. “That’s where it’s good?” He whispers, his breath skittering across your skin.

“Please!”

He bites back a groan, his eyebrows pinched together as you squeeze his fingers. “Gonna come? Gonna come just from me tasting you and touching you? And-”

You cry out as your orgasm crests and pulls you down under the wave, washing over every nerve, curling your toes and leaving you boneless. 

Jake moans with you, leaning closer as he continues the torturous pace of his fingers and squeezes his cock through his jeans with his other hand, just about managing not to cum in his boxers. 

You shudder, shiver as you come down and back to yourself. Jake slowly eases his fingers out of you, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth now that it’s over, not that-

Suddenly you turn, smiling at him and raising up onto your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss him softly, sweetly, pressing your chest up against him. 

He stiffens for a moment, the action unexpected before he returns the kiss. 

He swallows as you pull back for a second, “we don’t have to d-” tumbles out of his mouth at the exact same moment as you say, “do you want to…?” You pause, giving him a slightly bashful smile. For some reason the fact that you’re naked while he’s fully clothed makes a little thread of anxiety tighten in your chest. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say in a bit of a rush, “if you want, I could just-”

He silences you with an urgent kiss, already, tugging at the helm of his shirt. “Please, let me fuck you.” 

You shiver at his desperate growl, nodding rapidly as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. 

Jake pulls his shirt over his head as you push his trousers down his thighs. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. 

“What?” 

You bite your lip and shake your head as you laugh. “You weren’t joking.”

He raises an eyebrow in question. 

“I don’t know if you’ll fit.” 

Jake laughs and presses his lips to yours, “only one way to find out.”

You giggle as he litters your neck and chest with kisses, slowly easing you back down onto the bed before he stands again. 

You lean up on your elbows and he tuts, swatting playfully at your arms as he kicks off his jeans and boxers completely. He grabs two pillows, tucking one carefully under your head and the other under your hips. You raise up as best you can to help. 

As he bends down to grab his jeans from the floor you can’t help but admire how he moves, the soft skin of his back and the ripple of muscle underneath. 

He pulls his wallet from his jeans.

“You got lube?” The offhandedness of the question catches you off guard for a second and you flounder before you can answer.

“Erm, yeah, in the drawer.” 

He nods, taking something from his wallet before tossing it back to the floor. He puts the edge of the wrapper between his teeth and pulls with his right hand as he walks around and opens your bedside drawer. 

Which is the exact second your brain decides to remind you what else is in the drawer along with the lube. 

“Wait-”

Too late. He’s already opened it and obviously seen it. 

Jake smiles as he looks up at you, practically a smirk and takes the wrapper out of his mouth. He holds up your vibrator. “Worried about me seeing this?” 

You cover your face with your hands and laugh as you nod. 

He grins. “Don’t worry, it’s size isn’t intimidating.” He looks it over for a second, “no wonder.” 

“No wonder?” 

“It’s barely thicker than one of my fingers, let alone two.” 

You grab the pillow from under your head and pretend to throw it at him. 

He laughs loudly, beaming at you as he places it back in your drawer. “Besides, I knew you had one anyway.”

You frown.

“The sound.”

“Huh?”

He points upwards. “Walls are pretty thin. Or ceilings, I guess.”

Embarrassment rushes along your bones, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he takes out the half full bottle of lube. For a second he scans the label before he walks back in front of you and kneels between your legs, hooking the back of your left knee over his shoulder. 

“What are you-”

“Getting you ready.” He mutters as he gazes at your pussy. There’s a crinkle of foil as he puts the wrapper next to him and then a pop as he opens the lube bottle. 

Jake warms the lube on his fingers for a second before he pushes three inside and flicks his tongue over your clit. 

You suck in a breath, arching up towards him and screwing up your eyes as he continues his tortuous pace from before. 

It’s a maddening tease. Slow and steady as he works you open and presses against your sweet spot before backing off again. Hitching you higher and higher.

He hums as you shake and buck against his touch, groans as you run your fingers through his hair. 

“Please,” you moan. 

“Hmm?” Jake barely moves away from you, too preoccupied in the feel of your skin against his. 

“Please,” you swallow, your words spilling out in a lust filled haze, “please fuck me, please, Steven, I-”

He moves away from you quickly, and you whine, already lamenting the loss and trying to chase his fingers. 

Jake grabs the condom wrapper and tears it open as he stands, hisses as he rolls it over his aching cock. A dark twist of emotion knots itself in his stomach, twists around his intestines and lungs, but he forces it down, down as he pushes your right thigh wide, the action boarding on painful, before quickly lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. 

You almost don’t recognise the sound that leaves your lips as your own, the gasp from deep in your chest as his hips snap against yours filling you completely. You can’t remember a time when you’ve felt so full before, when you’ve been so stretched and spread. 

The sensation almost borders on pain, the thick weight of his cock straining you to your limit. But the thick tip of him brushes so wonderfully inside, his pubic bone rubs against your clit and all you can do is drown in the pleasure as he eases his hip back and forth a few times in long, languid strokes before he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

He pounds into you, rocking you back onto the bed with every thrust and banging your headboard against the wall with enough force to chip the paint. 

You whine low in your throat, barely able to get enough oxygen into your lungs as he pushes you higher and higher, forcing pleasure into your veins as though he was made to please you. 

You grab hold of his arms, his neck, anything you can get a hold of and pull his mouth to yours, sliding your tongue past his lips and moaning as he rolls his hips, forcing all his energy on hitting that perfect spot just right.

Your high pitched gasps leave you with every thrust, your thighs tense and shake as you strive to meet him. That deep ball of pleasure tightening and tightening. 

He groans low, kissing you for all his worth to stop the words that want to spill out from his tongue. 

Jake knows he’s not going to last, not with the way you’re whining and begging and kissing him so desperately. Not with the way you squeeze him and urge him deeper, practically beseeching him to take and take and take and-

You pull your mouth back from his, your hands on his shoulder and in his hair. “S-” you stop yourself from saying his name, from causing that little flutter of a frown to cross his face, “sweetheart, please,” the moan that leaves you is practically pornagraphic as Jake’s hips stunner, his mouth opening in a little blushed gasp as you call him ‘sweetheart’. 

“Fuck,” he groans low unable to stop the pleasure from barreling through his every cell, from lighting up every nerve. He fucks you through it, trying and failing to keep his eyes open to watch you. But he feels you tense, hears you moan as you come undone beneath him. 

You come harder than you can ever remember, stars exploding behind your eyes as pleasure erases every thought for a blissfully moment. 

He leans against you, burying his face into your neck and holding some of his weight off you with his arm. 

You breathe heavily for a moment, both of your chests rising and falling in time with each other as you stroke his damp hair. Sweat cooling on both of your skin. 

For a moment, you think he might have nodded off. His muscles go slack for a second, but he shudders and tenses again.

You smile and kiss his temple. 

“Wait… what?” His voice is barely a whisper and… now that you hear it… very… Steven like. Which made no sense at all, because, well, it was always Steven, wasn’t it? Maybe you’d been too caught up and misheard, maybe when he was horny he put on a bit of a voice. You’d heard about that, when-

Steven tenses as sensations flow back into his body.

He sits up, or at least tries to, panic gripping his heart. What the fucking fuck fuck fuck has he slept walked into now?

Your arms around him stop him from bolting upright, but he still moves his head a handwidth away. 

“Hey, you alright?” You say soothingly, his actions reminding you of someone jumping awake, “did you fall asleep for a second?” 

Steven looks down at you, eyes wide. You, lovely, lovely you. Who he’d been trying to not so subtly flirt with for the past months. And now he was… oh… his softening cock twitches in your heat… very much closer than he’d realised.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[starryevermore]

I have a request! How would y/n react to the moon boys coming in their pants before they can have sex? All I can think about is a flustered Steven and that he’d have tears in his eyes due to embarrassment.

made a right mess ✧ steven grant, marc spector, & jake lockley

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: I have a request! How would y/n react to the moon boys coming in their pants before they can have sex? All I can think about is a flustered Steven and that he’d have tears in his eyes due to embarrassment. - @spider-starry

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader x marc spector x jake lockley 

word count: 1,032

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, implied smut, little bit of bondage, not proofread

Teasing your sweet, sweet Steven was your favorite pastime. It was so easy to get him worked up. Poor fella was so touch-starved that the first time the two of you had sex together, he came the second that you put your hands on him. Though his stamina did improve, if you pushed his buttons just right, he would come undone in the palm of your hands. And, oh, you relished in it. 

His sweet, breathy moans. The way he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. How he’d beg and plead and whine. Fuck, it was enough to make you come undone, if you were being honest. Your favorite, though, was well—

“Oh no,” Steven would mumble, looking at the mess he’d made.

You wouldn’t say anything at first. Too surprised at what happened. You’d intended to tease him, you meant for him make such a beautiful mess. But he hadn’t done something like this before, not even when he was inexperienced. 

“‘m sorry,” he’d say. When you’d look up at him, you’d see the tears in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks. “I-I—”

“Shh,” you’d finally say. You reached up, running your thumb across his cheek, swiping away the tears. “Love it when you make a mess, Steven. Love seeing how worked up you get for me.”

He leaned in, hiding his face, like he was still ashamed of what he did. “Mean it?”

You kissed the top of his head, reaching up and smoothing out his messy curls. “Course I do, Steven. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” You gave his hair a gentle tug, urging him to look back at you. When his head raised, you nuzzled your nose against his. “You’re my sweet, sweet Steven. It’s my job to take care of you, yeah? And if that means you make a right mess, then I’ve done my job well, hm?”

Steven nodded, his eyes fluttered shut. “Can we…Can you do it again?”

You smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips. “Since you asked so sweetly, your wish is my command.”

It was shocking how easy it was to get Marc worked up. Like Steven, he wasn’t touched very often. Granted, Marc chose not to be touched���always keeping folks at arms length. That is, until he met you. It was a slow build up, him getting comfortable around you. He used to shy away from your touches. Regarded you with that guarded look. You were Steven’s girl, after all. He didn’t think you had any love reserved for him. 

But now, as you straddled his lap, grinding down on his clothed cock, his fingers digging into your hips, head thrown back as he moaned loud enough for the entire building to hear, you knew that he knew you loved him fully, wholly, and truthfully. 

“Mine,” you whispered in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? All mine to use?”

“Yours,” he echoed, head dipping forward. His teeth scraped at the exposed skin of your neck. You grinded down harder. “Just want you, baby. Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” you said. You held onto his shoulders to give you a better angle. “You make me the happiest woman in the world—”

“Fuck—” Marc sniffed. He buried his face further in your neck. You paused your movements, pulling back to get a better look at him. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you cooed, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Your neck became wet with his tears. Oh, Marc. Life had been too cruel to him. You lifted a hand, scratching at his scalp. He let out a choked sob, then mumbled, “I didn’t mean to ruin this.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” you said. “You’re safe. No one’s mad at you. Okay? I’m not mad at you. I just want you to be comfortable. If you wanna take a break, if you don’t wanna continue, that’s okay. We can pop in a movie, order some greasy takeout—do anything you want.”

Marc was quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “I think I wanna take a break. Just a couple minutes.”

“You can take as long as you need, baby.”

Jake would be annoyed. He didn’t like being teased. No, no, he was the one who was supposed to be the one doing the teasing. He was the one supposed to be making you fall apart. He was the one who was supposed to be making a mess of you. But when you manage to flip the script? Manage to convince him to let you tie him up? Settle on his lap, teasing him like it’s your goddamn job? Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, he’s annoyed. 

So when he cums in his fucking underwear like some teenage boy about to have sex for the first time? He’s damn near pissed. And worse, you start giggling at him. Giggling! Fucking giggling!

“It’s not that funny,” he grunted, pulling at his restraints, trying to get out. “Wait til I get outta here and show you just how funny it is.”

“Awe, baby, it’s okay,” you coo, leaning down, nuzzling your nose against his. You let out another giggle. “Everybody makes a mess sometimes.”

“I hate you,” he grumbled. 

“Mm, I don’t know about that. Don’t think you’d cum in your pants if you hated me all that much, don’t you?”

Finally, Jake managed to break free from his restraints. Before you could even think to react, he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you onto your back. You let out a gasp. He held your wrists together in one hand, the other slipping down beneath your waistband, teasing at your clit. You moaned, arching your back against him. But, oh, he was not there to see you enjoy yourself. 

“Jake!” you gasped when he pulled away, just as the coil in your stomach began to tighten. 

“Nuh uh, honey. None of that,” he cooed. “I gotta show you what happens when you tease me, yeah? Gotta show you it ain’t very nice of you to do that.”

And, oh, did he keep that promise. 

[here-to-read-and-write]

Moon knight.

Steven x f!reader.

Eventually: Marc x f!reader, Jake x f!reader.

I don't own Moon knight charcaters, or the gif.

Third post in one day, this is amazing.

Wow, either way here you go my friend.

Ep 02:

time :24:17

_Hello (Y/N).

Steven smiled at your flowting form, that was sitting beside him, you were a ghost or that's what you told him you were, Unfortunatly, you can not tell him the whole truth.

In Steven's eyes you were something he possessed only him, his own angel guardien. Not the little American man inside of him, you were his friend that showed him the right path, and you never had been wrong. You always right!

You never lied to him, and you told him everything, well not everything, but enough for him to understand where he stood.

You had helped him when no one wanted to and you never thought of him as weird, you were his guarden angel. You even laughed at his stupid jokes.

You hated the nickname. He thought, you would rather be called a blood thirsty monster than an angel.

_What happened?

You raised an eyebrow, and he couldn't help but let out a small giggle, not from hapiness, but how silly this may be to you.

_Well…Well you see..I know you wouldn't beleive but..but there someone inside of me…He want to take my body..His name is Mark..He was the one that broke the toiletes…He want to take my body and kill people…and I was kidnapped when they thought I was him..You see..

Before he could continue, the door opened and he fallen head first.

_Steven!

You eyes widen as you flowted beside him. You tried to touch him, but when it pass through, you draw them back in disappointment.

_Listen Steven..

He turn you way, ignoring the man in front of him. Steven will always put you first no matter the situation, and he was ready to listen to whatever you say.

_Whatever this man says to you, don't beleive him. Did you hear?

Steven nodded rapiddly, like an obedient child.

_He is a liar, just like the skeleton bird over there.

He was glad the bird couldn't see you, or he would have done something to you, after all the insult you throw his way. Since he appeared in Steven's life one year after you did.

Looking at the bad guy in fornt of him, he thought as he tried to stop his tears "I'm counting on you (Y/N)".

He really is, you were his only chance to get out of this mess.

[late-to-the-party-81]

This evening has been so very nice

AN: Hello folks! After the chaos of Kinktober I’ve been taking a little break, but also working on this for the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server Secret Santa.

I drew @yarnforbrains - I hope you enjoy this, my darling Dani. This is my first time writing for the Moon Knight boys, so I hope I did them justice.

My prompts were Winter Wonderland, Lyrics from 'Baby it's cold outside' and a picture from a German Christmas Market.

NB- I have no experience with people with DID, but did a load of reading from this website

Beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans, Spanish help from @aquariusbarnes

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard by me

Masterlist

Relationships: Steven Grant x plus sized Reader, Marc Spector x plus sized Reader and Jake Lockley x plus sized Reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Fluff, drinking, PDA, explicit sexual content (Oral - F receiving, Rough PinV sex, unprotected sex, cum eating), swearing.

You hurried through the dark streets, your scarf flapping around your neck and your bobble hat pulled down tight on your head. As much as you loved this time of year, sometimes the cold got too much, even for you. However, you could almost feel the Christmas cheer seeping into you as you neared your destination, and therefore your boyfriend. Or was it boyfriends? You’d admit you still had a lot to learn about dating multiple members of a DID system.

The lights ahead of you were bright and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked into the hubbub of the German Christmas themed farmer’s market. Alongside the usual stalls selling honey, vegetables and homemade items there were gaily decorated huts selling mulled wines and ciders, strong german beers, bratwurst and an array of sweet treats. Lights were strung everywhere, carols played over speakers and children squealed as they went round and round on the vintage style carousel. You felt as though you’d stepped into a winter wonderland.

You turned in a circle, taking it all in, but also trying to find your boyfriend in the crowd, a near impossible feat it seemed. Pulling out your phone, you checked your messages, but there wasn’t a new one indicating where you should meet. With a small huff, you decided he could come to you. However, just as you were about to press send on your message for him to meet you in front of the singing moose, a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind.

“Oi-oi, saveloy!”

You spun around with a squeal and threw your arms around his neck.

“Steven!”

You were happy to see the mild mannered alter. He was always so sweet to you. You pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled as a blush made its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He got embarrassed easily with public displays of affection stronger than hand holding. It was cute.

“So you’re my date this evening then?”

“Yes. Well at the moment, anyhow. The lads and I had a chat and divvied up the night, so to speak…” He stopped speaking suddenly, looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly to the side. “ I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

You beamed at him, cupping his face and rubbing your nose against his.

“It sounds great. Now, where are we off to first?” Steven twined your fingers together, kissed your knuckles and with a smile dragged you towards the carousel.The pair of you laughed and squealed just like the children from earlier as you bobbed up and down on your horses as the ride spun round and round.The cheerful organ music reminded you of the Christmas’ of your childhood, but the thing that made you giggle the most was Steven trying to get on and then off his horse, sliding on the smooth surface. He was adorably clumsy sometimes.

After the carousel you walked around the food stalls, your head leaning on Steven’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne. There was more laughter between you as you both chose foot long german sausages that hung out of the bun at each end, setting off immature fits of giggles from you both. It was impractical to eat them as you walked, so you managed to find a space in one of the market shelters, set up with trash cans and perching stools.

You both chatted about your days as you ate, taking it in turns to lean over and wipe mustard and ketchup off each other’s cheeks. When you sucked a bit of sauce off your thumb you saw a flash in his eye, which made you smile even more. While Steven looked quiet and demure from the outside, you knew how he could get if the mood took him. Although, that flash could easily have been either Marc or Jake coming briefly to the surface. 

Napkins and cardboard trays thrown in the trash, you grabbed Steven’s hand.

“Let’s look at the stalls. I saw some cute wooden ornaments, and some snow globes.”

“Whatever you want, babes. Your wish is my command.”  He made a dramatic bow in front of you, like a fairy tale prince, and you giggled once again. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve such a handsome, sweet guy like Steven, but you thanked the universe daily.

After some retail therapy, where you’d managed to pick up a few gifts for family members, Steven steered you towards the sideshows.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun and excel at these, babes, but they’re not really my forte. Hate to love you and leave you.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to yours, in a soft and sweet kiss. 

When the pressure against your mouth hardened slightly, becoming less sweet and more spicy, you knew that Marc had made his appearance.

Stepping back, you looked up into his eyes. Marc was ‘harder’ around the edges than Steven. He stood straighter, with more confidence in both his body and expression. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a baseball cap and set it atop his head, before sliding his arms around your waist and smiling down at you.

“Hey, baby. Have fun with Steven?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m all shopped out and full of hotdog, but if you wanted to win me the giant teddy bear, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Consider it won, Angel.”

He led you over to one of the stalls, a shooting game with battered bb rifles chained to the counter. The targets, bobbing up and down, and moving side to side at the back, were elves peeking out of boxes and reindeer flying across the sky. There were even a pair of black boots moving up and down out of a fake chimney.

Handing over some cash to the stall owner, Marc picked up one of the rifles with cocky assurance, flashing you a grin, before tucking the stock up against his shoulder. He watched the motion of the targets for a few moments, getting a feel for the pattern and speed. With a squeeze of the trigger a spherical piece of metal flew across the space and landed with a ‘thunk’... three inches to the right of the target. You tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle as Marc scowled, looking over the rifle with a huff. Then, without a word, he raised it up again and let of a series of shots across the target area, the chimes of metal hitting metal ringing out one after the other, much to the frustration of the stall holder. You squealed and bounced on your toes as the massive polar bear wearing a santa hat was begrudgingly handed over. Leaning across the huge stuffy, you pressed kisses all over Marc’s cheeks and lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

His arms went around your waist and he spun you around until you were both dizzy and laughing, uncaring about the spectacle you were creating. Eventually Marc slowed you down and pulled you into a short, but deep, kiss that left you both breathless.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s check out the other games.”

The pair of you laughed as you played ‘hook a duck’, then skeeball and then failed abysmally at the ring toss.

“I’m sure it’s rigged,” Marc grumbled. You silently agreed with him. It was unlikely that your highly trained boyfriend couldn’t beat a fair version. “Let’s go sit and get a drink instead. I think there’s a mulled wine and cider shack around the corner.”

“There’s an idea I can get behind. Lead the way, my Prince of sideshows.” 

The temperature had dropped over the last hour and you could feel the cold burning at your nose and cheeks, so when the pair of you made your way into the brightly lit, wooden bar, you let out a sigh of relief. The small space was crowded with other market patrons and you were grateful for Marc’s presence, as you squeezed through the press of bodies, along with your bear and shopping bags, to get to a small table in the corner. 

“Sit tight, sweetheart and I’ll be back.” 

The smile he flashed you made your heart jump and your core pulse. As you watched him walk off to the bar, unashamedly watching his ass inside his slacks, an electronic squeal caught your attention. In the other corner of the bar was a small raised stage, with a couple of microphones, speakers and a large monitor; a karaoke set up. A pair of giggling blonde girls were making their way up onto the dais, talking to the man who appeared to be in charge. What occurred next was what could only be described as two cats screeching along to the backing track of Whitney Houston’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Marc returned to your table part way through the rendition, placing the steaming glass mug in front of you, the red, fragrant liquid with bits of orange peel floating in it, sloshing gently.  You cupped it in your hands, warming them on it and inhaling the heady scent of red wine, spices and citrus.

Marc’s foot toyed with yours under the table, and despite the caterwauling you could feel the romance. You were so lucky that you’d been able form such strong relationships with both of Marc’s main alters. It made all your lives much easier, having those connections, with none of them feeling guilty if they appeared unplanned; you loved them all equally.

The atmosphere, and the second cup of wine, lulled you into relaxation and you knew you had a dopey, slightly buzzed look on your face. You pulled his hand across the table, turning it so it was palm up. With your index finger you started to trace patterns across his skin.

“Marc…” You let out a dramatic, needy whine. A wry smile spread on his face as he looked at you.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Come sing with me. I wanna do karaoke.  We’d be so much better than these guys.”

He rolled his eyes, but you knew he’d say yes. He always indulged you, and you weren’t above taking advantage of that once in a while.

His hand tightened on yours and pulled you to your feet. 

“Come on then - do you know which song you want to do?”

You nodded in reply, your lower lip pulled between your teeth, as you both made your way to the stage. As Marc sorted out the microphones you gave your song request to the DJ. With your performance confirmed you moved to stand next to Marc, taking one of the microphones from him and looping your free arm through his. The short piano intro played and you saw a smile of recognition on your boyfriend’s face, before you breathily sung your first line.

“I really can’t stay…”

Marc didn’t miss a beat before leaning towards you, crooning.

“But, Baby, it’s cold outside…”

“I’ve got to go away…”

“But, Baby it’s cold outside…”

His voice was deep and velvety, a soft caress across your soul. His eyes bored into yours, and you were helpless to look away as you sang to each other. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point during the song the playful lightness decreased and the banked heat between you began to rise. When your voices came together in a final, synchronous crescendo you didn’t know if your racing heartbeat was due to the unaccustomed effort of singing or because your mind was already imagining all the things that Marc would do to you when you got back to your apartment. You didn’t notice the applause and cheers from the audience in the wine shack, because all there was was Marc, the way his arm was around your waist, his eyes locked on yours, his breath warm on your lips…

The world lurched as he dipped you, pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you with unreserved passion. You returned the kiss, forgetting for a moment that you were in public, and not in either of your apartments. However, before you could embarrass yourself any further, Marc pulled back, his dark eyes filled with lust.  Whoops and hollers surrounded you, but you just blinked at him, slightly dazed.

“Let’s get outta here, Angel. I’ll just get your bags.” Marc dashed away to collect your things from the table, and you passed the microphones back to the grinning DJ, your face heated. You were glad for the warmth flooding your body as you stepped back out into the cold air, Marc holding your bags and with his body almost pressed up against your back. You quickly re-wrapped your scarf and jammed your hat on your head, before grabbing one of the bags from Marc so you could slip your hand in his. He grinned, a devilish smile lighting up his face before he practically dragged you out of the market and towards the main road.

With a shrill whistle, which pierced the night air like a stiletto knife, he’d hailed a cab and hustled you inside it. He rattled off your address to the cabby, and then he was kissing you again. The bags and the teddy were jammed against your legs, and your big coat, scarf and hat were getting in the way, but you didn’t care. You didn’t recall much of the ride, nor getting through your door, other than the rush to shed your outer clothes and kick off your shoes. You did register the moment your back bounced off the hallway wall as Marc steered you down it towards your bedroom, as you chuckled into his kiss and he growled back comically.

You both fell to the bed in a tangle, but working together to remove all and any clothes between you. You moaned as Marc’s lips fastened over one of your nipples, sucking the swollen flesh in to his mouth. At the same time one of his hands roamed over your soft body, stroking you and slowly making his way between your thighs.

Those deft fingers found their way without hesitation between your folds, spreading your wetness before teasing your clit into a firm peak. He teased it mercilessly, stroking and caressing it, giving it light pinches that made lightning dart across your vision, as his mouth swapped between your lush breasts, worshipping them.

“Marc!” You cried out his name as a plea, a plea for more. He lifted his head and you looked at him, glassy eyed, taking in the mess of his hair where you’d been gripping it without realising. He grinned once more, travelling down your body.

His lips kissed, sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving small marks in their wake. He saved the strongest bite for when he reached your hip. You’d realised early on in your relationship that it was one of Marc’s particular quirks; he loved the softness of your hips. How when he gripped them your flesh spilt between his fingers. How they held the evidence of his passion for you. He loved to decorate them with bite marks, finger marks, hickeys. When Stephen saw the mottled blemishes he’d stroke them gently and ask if you wanted him to apply ointment. When Jake saw them he’d just snort knowingly and grin. 

When your lover was level with the apex of your plump thighs, the hand that had been teasing you left you so he could push your legs further apart, hooking your knees over his shoulders.  Without preamble he fastened his lips to your core, drinking from it as though you alone could slake his thirst. He pulled moans and cries from your throat as you fisted the sheets, already hurtling towards your orgasm. His fingers joined his mouth and tongue, delving into your wet heat, stroking you, stretching you. Shivers raced over your heated skin, the way you were dragging air into your lungs leaving you dizzy. The force of Marc’s lovemaking never failed to leave you startled.

You came with a scream, open-mouthed and uninhibited, uncaring that Mrs Smith next door would probably shoot you daggers in the morning. Marc’s arm clamped across your abdomen, holding you to him as he continued to feast, drawing out every tremble, every whimper from your body, until you went loose and lax beneath him.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You lay, dazed on the bed as Marc kissed his was back up you. You felt him smile against your skin until he was finally eye level with you again and you gave him a breathy smile before drawing him close and kissing him, deeply.

“I love you, Angel. I could spend all night dragging those noises from you and be satisfied. But a bit like the Ghost of Christmas Present, my time with you for the evening is almost over.”

In your lust addled state, you’d almost forgotten about Jake. You were torn. You didn’t want Marc to go, but it had been a while since you’d spent the night with the most reclusive off the alters, and had to admit the thought of it was exciting. Where Marc made love, Jake fucked. He fucked hard and feral. He left you aching after for days in the most delicious way.

Marc could obviously see the indecision in your expression. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m only a tiny bit jealous. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow at some point, and I wouldn’t have missed out on our evening for anything.”

He kissed you again, his passion almost overwhelming. The hands around you tightened, the firm body rolling to be fully on top of you, leaving you in no doubt who was in charge. Jake had arrived.

You knew he was the most dangerous of your boys, birthed in the darkest moments of Marc’s army career; A way for his mind to cope with horrors he’d not only seen, but had to carry out.

As he raised his head you saw his hard eyes looking at you like a wolf looked at his prey. A shiver of anticipation racked your body.

“Buenas noches, mi cielo”

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades and nipped at his stubbled jaw.

“Hi, Jakey. Long time, no see.”

He shrugged a little, as if to say it was no big deal.

“No, don’t be like that.” You moved your hands to cup his face and force him to look at you. “You ever need me, I’m here. You matter as much as the others. I love you as much as the others. You don’t need to hide from me.”

“No me escondo, mujer.”

“Well then turn up more often for me then. Cos now you’re here…” your lips travelled up to his ear lobe and gave it a sharp tug with your teeth. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me, Jake. Let’s fuck off Mrs Smith like we’ve never fucked her off before.”

His eyes narrowed, but before you had a chance to wonder what he was planning, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach, your hips yanked up, and a strong calloused hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the coverlet.

“¡Mantente abajo!”

“Not like I can go anywhere with you pinning me like… oh god!”  Your snarky retort was cut short as Jake pushed three of his fingers into you without warning.

“Marc got you so wet, mi amor.” 

Fuck, you loved his accent.

He pumped his wrist, and although you couldn’t see his face you could imagine him looking at your stuffed pussy, watching your juices, which you could hear squelching lewdly, spill out around his digits and run down your thighs. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he curled them, the most indelicate sound making its way past your lips.

“That’s it, cariño, be loud for me. Let the whole world know how good I am making you feel.”

He was merciless as he fingered you, seeming to revel in every salacious noise his movements pulled from your throat.

“Si, sing for me, pajarito. You sound beautiful.”

“Jake! Oh god! Fuck!”

Your legs shook as you came, and you were glad that you were mostly lying down, otherwise you would have collapsed. Your orgasm had barely finished when Jake pulled his fingers from you, with a wet, smacking sound. You heard him sucking on them, muttering under his breath, too low for you to really catch, and then he was pushing into you. Your eyes that had fluttered closed during your throws of ecstasy flew open, as he ploughed into you. One hand on your hip, the other still on the back of your neck, this was primal, feral fucking, and it was just what you wanted.

“Fuck, yes! Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me, hard!”

Jake shifted behind you, pressing his whole body against yours, his weight pushing down on your ass. Your legs slid out from under you and he followed you down, still pounding his cock into you, ferociously. 

“You want it hard? Then I’ll give you hard. You will feel me in tu coño for days.” 

He withdrew abruptly, but easily manhandled you over onto your back. He sunk back in, just as hurriedly, before hooking your legs over his muscular forearms and planting his hand on the mattress either side of your chest. Your legs were spread wide and your body folded in half as he rose up on his knees and started up his sweet torture. Each animalistic thrust pushed more noises and curses from you, rambling nonsensical sounds of lust and desire.

His thick cock was rubbing you just right on the inside, and the trimmed hair at the base of it rubbed over your engorged clit. You could feel yourself falling into that delicious spiral - the push and pull of sensation dragging you towards your inevitable, and explosive, end. 

“Mírame, amor.”

You hadn’t even realised your eyes were closed, but at his gruff command, you managed to open them slightly, taking in the fierce look on his face, the sweat peppering his brow, causing his hair to curl more.

“Cum, cariño. Let me feel you coming undone.”

He leant forward, capturing your lips again in an unforgiving kiss, a kiss that felt as though he was trying to pull your soul from you, and as he dragged that part of you from your body, he also dragged your orgasm from you. He let your lips go right at the moment that you screamed out your pleasure, with all the air in your lungs. Your vision went simultaneously black and white, your eyes unable to see anything but static as the waves of ecstasy dashed you on the rocks.

How long you lay there, dazed, you weren’t sure, but you came back to yourself to the feeling of Jake gently mouthing at your core. 

No, not Jake. It didn’t feel like him.

A change in your breathing must have given away your more alert state, because he raised his head, smiling softly. You reached out your hand to weave into his soft hair.

“Steven. When did you get here?”

“You know aftercare is my thing, babes. Now just lay back and let me clean you up, alright?”

You let yourself relax back into your messed up bed, enjoying the soft sensations as Stephen licked and stroked you. Your body juddered with a gentle, final orgasm, lulling you to the edge of sleep. A few dips of the mattress and two strong arms  pulled up the coverlet before wrapping around your body, a few gentle kisses pressed to the corner of your mouth.

“You staying?” you questioned, sleepily.

“Of course, babes. It’s cold outside.”

Taglist: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @talia-rumlow

[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

taglist:

@pcrushinnerd @since-im-already-here @am-3-thyst @aug-ust69 @hangmanslover @suddenlysteven @nxonlights @lwjmoonchild7 @o-zenith-o @amasdaydream @may-tulip @skarrkiie @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @lxne20 @sangwoahsbat @orihimi-19 @purple-amaranthe @autismsupermusicalassassin @mt2sssss @angie2274 @dancing-pinky-flower @y2kbratzqouturr @brekkers-desigirl @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @softdvng0dness87 @venomous-ko @grilled-steak @emily-roberts @airzonaaa @yomoms-stuff @mess-of-fandom @winter-soul @insomniacrobyn

i couldn't tag some of you, just check that your settings allow for mentions :))

[pimosworld]

Bad days

Pairing- Steven grant x f!reader, hints of Marc and Jake x f!reader.

Summary- You help Steven relax and cure his bad day.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, porn with a little plot, angst, fluff, Steven being unsure at first, oral m receiving, cum eating, slight sub Steven,Dom reader, Marc and Jake being teases and helpful because it’s them.

WK-2.4k

A/N- Making Steven feel good is like candy to me so I hope you enjoy this.

Not beta read

[Moon Knight Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

You set the groceries down to knock on the door to Stevens flat. You don’t hear any movement on the other side of the door for a few brief moments. You know Steven wasn’t always punctual but he never missed an opportunity for you to cook him dinner. 

It was a little nerve wracking at first taking over his job in the gift shop. He was promoted to tour guide at the museum but Donna insisted he train his replacement. 

Marc was annoyed in the beginning. How hard could it be to work in a gift shop? He knew Steven had been waiting for so long to be a tour guide and told him in so many words to tell Donna to shove off. Until you walked in.

  For once in his life Steven didn’t bumble his way through an introduction. You loved the way he cared so deeply for the regular patrons and cataloged all the items  in the gift shop. 

  He gave you a taweret plushie on your last day of training and couldn’t contain his excitement when you wrapped your arms around him as a thank you. 

  Ask her now

  It wasn’t often Jake made an appearance, but since you’ve come into the picture he was making himself more and more known. 

  He’s right, ask her

  It was a problem for Steven when Marc and Jake were getting along. He has yet to make his condition known to you, but he’s noticed you smirking when he’s talking out loud or having a stern conversation with his reflection in the glass of the gift shop. 

  “I was wondering if maybe…you’d like to go to dinner with me sometime?” 

  You said yes before he could even get the words out. 

  That was a few months ago. 

  ****

  Steven noticed you at the end of the hallway as the doors to the lift opened. 

  I told you to just give her a key hermano 

  Steven didn’t want to just hand you a key like Marc or Jake would. He wanted it to be special…he already had it made, he just needed an opportunity to present it to you. He’s been so busy with his promotion he’s barely had time for you. 

  You offered to cook him dinner and he couldn’t even bother to be on time for that. 

  He looks so tired, even from where you’re standing. You can tell he’s had a rough day and you’re determined to make it better. It’s not often the boys let you spoil them, always so concerned with your needs. 

  Steven had needs too…he just needed a gentle reminder. 

  ****

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Love.” He pecks your lips as he drops some scrolls to the ground to fish out his keys. 

  “It’s okay Steven, I haven't been waiting long.” You bend over to pick up the groceries as he drops his keys. 

  “Oh bollocks, can’t even open my own door.” You try to grab his shoulder as he picks them up from the floor. He mutters something under his breath about being clumsy and your certain Marc or Jake aren’t helping. 

  “Steven, honey.” You wrap your arms around him as you slowly grab the keys. “Let me help you.” 

  Steven wants to protest but your hands are like magic covering his. He has to pinch himself everyday to remind himself he’s not dreaming, when it comes to you. Marc and Jake may give him a hard time but he never lets them forget that you were interested in him first. 

  He sighs into your touch as you slowly open the door. “You’re too good to me, you know that.” He scoops the groceries in one arm and the scrolls in the other. 

  “There’s no such thing as too good.” Your lips curve into a smile before you lean in and kiss him and he nearly drops everything in his arms. 

  “Why don’t you set that stuff down and get comfortable.” 

  He goes to protest but you place your finger on his lips. “Go wash off this awful day, change into something comfortable and relax.” You kiss him again a little deeper and longer, you can feel him sigh into it as you start to pull away. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

  I would do what she says if I were you. 

  He pinches himself before he heads off to the bathroom.

  ****

  Steven notes the delicious smell wafting through the flat as he pulls on his favorite jumper and sweatpants. Although he knows whenever he comments on how good it smells you always tell him it’s just garlic and onions. 

  You’re a picture of domestic perfection as you finish putting something in the oven. You wipe your hands on the small towel as you look up and smile at him. 

  His feet are rooted to the spot in the living room as you make your way towards him,you look like you want to devour more than just the food. The urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s the one you’re looking at is strong. 

  Your soft hand gently grabs his wrist as you pull him toward the couch. Perhaps Marc or Jake took control of his legs because he certainly doesn’t remember how he swiftly ended up seated with you on your knees in front of him. 

  The words are leaving your mouth but he can’t hear anything over the buzzing in his ears as you rub your hands up and down his legs. 

  “What did you say love?” You smirk and lean up, pulling his face to yours as your soft lips meet his. He could stay like this, just kissing you as he melts into the couch. The stress of the day pouring off him like the rain outside. 

  “I said…did you have a bad day?” You trail kisses along his jaw and nip at his earlobe as you wait for his answer. 

  “Yes.” It comes out as a confession, like he’s ashamed to admit that he has bad days doing his dream job.

  Your warm hands roam under his sweater along his chest and trail down as you hook your fingers in his waistband. His breathing is coming in too fast and he tries to calm himself down as your body brushes against the obvious tent in his sweats.

  “Do you want me to make it better?” It’s a whisper in his ear that he hears loud and clear as your hands wait for permission.

  Say yes Steven

Say yes Steven

  It must’ve been too long, because his head mates urge him to answer you before you change your mind. As if you ever would. 

  “Yes…please.” You chuckle at his rushed out response as if you can read his mind and know exactly what they’re saying. 

  It drives him a little bit wild that you’re giving him this attention. He was always a little more reserved than Marc and not as bold as Jake. He’s never been treated like this. The sole purpose of someone’s desires. 

  You tug a little on his pants and bite your lip. He lifts his hips to help you as you pull them down just enough to pool at his feet. He’s achingly hard as your hand reaches out to pump him a few times. 

  He bites down on his tongue to keep from coming at the first touch of you. It’s only been a few days and he’s already so desperate for anything you’ll give him. 

  The genuine look of enjoyment on your face as you stare at it like it’s an appetizer to a four course meal is something he’ll have to frame in his mind. 

  The feel of your hand is quickly replaced with your mouth as you slide down the length of him, your plush lips wrapped around his cock as you hum in approval. Finally provided the relief you both wanted. 

  He chokes back a moan as your tongue slides back up, slowly twirling around the tip. A drop of precum trails down the side and you tilt your head licking it up like an ice cream cone. Not wanting to waste a drop. 

  Fuck

  Your hands are on his legs again as you rub them in time with your head as you bob up and down, moaning around his cock sending chills up his spine. 

  You loved watching Steven let go. It was exhilarating that you could make someone come undone. The  dark look in his eyes is almost similar to Marc’s but you know by the noises coming from him and the way his hands grip the couch it’s your sweet Steven. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head

  “What?” He rasps out above you. 

  You come off with a pop and take in his unruly curls as the sweat forms on his furrowed brow. 

  “I didn’t say anything honey.” He stares blankly at you for a moment before he realizes he must’ve spoke out loud. 

  Idiota

  “Sorry love, you can keep going…if you want to—

  His rambling is cut short as you take him into your mouth again, not wasting a moment as your lips slide all the way down his cock. Your nose brushes the curls at the base and you gag a little. 

  “Sorry love…” Steven begins to apologize but you don’t seem to be stopping. 

  Listen to me and don’t say anything 

  Perhaps he should just listen to Marc, he’s never…well maybe not never, but he’s rarely led him astray. 

  Put your hand on the back of her head and Gently…go with her movements. 

  You glance up at Steven who nods his head as he places his hand on the back of yours. He’s looking at you with those puppy dog eyes like he’s asking for permission to do what you’ve been wanting this whole time. Enjoy it. 

  You hollow out your cheeks and pull him in deeper as he audibly moans a little louder. His nails scratch lightly at your scalp as he pushes you down a little further. His bold movements turn you on even more than you were before. You breathe through your nose and push past the burning in your lungs to stay on the edge of his pleasure for a little longer. 

  “You’re perfect, you know that?” He mostly says it to himself as you whine your response because you can't really answer at the moment. Not verbally at least. 

  You know you probably look a mess as your mascara runs down your cheeks and the drool pools outside your mouth as he takes what he wants. Except he’s looking at you like you hung the moon as his free hand swipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. 

  It feels like he’s in the duwat again the way he’s floating between this reality and the next. He struggles to keep his eyes on you as he throws his head back against the couch finally relinquishing all control he had over his emotions. 

  The sounds of your mouth and the muttering of praises are all he can focus on as the familiar feeling starts to creep up his back and infiltrate his brain. 

  You can feel his legs tense beneath your hands as the grip in your hair tightens instinctually. 

  “I’m…im close love, you don’t have to.” 

  Cállate y déjale

  “It’s okay Steven, you can let go.” You half pant out as you resume before he can protest. 

  You place your hand on top of his and urge him on as he curses under his breath. His hips stutter slightly as he feels himself let go, spilling hot ropes of come into your mouth. You don’t let up as you swallow every drop until he’s boneless beneath you. His cock twitches slightly as you come off, slowly catching your breath. His hand drops to the couch with a thud as you raise up next to him and brush his curls out of his face. 

  The redness on his neck dissipates with every breath that he takes in. He may have been close to passing out if you hadn’t stopped soon. 

  “That was…incredible.” He half whispers to himself and you chuckle into his neck as you place soft kisses to his sweaty skin. 

  “I’m glad I could help.” 

  The timer on the oven beeps bringing your attention back to the dinner you started when you told him to relax. 

  “Ooohh, the lasagna is done.I hope you’re hungry.” You bounce up off the couch as he stands and pulls his sweats back on. 

  He feels like he ran a marathon and food sounds delightful at the moment. 

  “You made my favorite?” It’s said as more of a question than a statement as he watches you move around his kitchen like you’ve been here all your life. 

  “I made two actually.” You cut into one and place a serving on each of your plates. “Vegan and meat sauce. I’ll mark them for you so you know which is which.” 

  I love her 

Ella es perfecta

  You lick the sauce off your finger and he’s brought back to what you just did for him on the couch. 

  “I have something for you love.” Steven heads to the room briefly and digs through his jacket pocket before he finds it. 

  He sheepishly returns to the kitchen island where you’re digging into your smaller portion of lasagna. He’s trying  to rid his head of these thoughts for a second as you make the same noises from before as you savor your food. 

  His hand shakily slides the key towards you and you set your fork down to pick it up. The beautiful brass key looks so big in your delicate hands. 

  “Is this my prize?” You ask with a mischievous glint in your eye. 

  Smooth

  “Oh no…I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while. I didn’t plan it this way…it was supposed to be special and well…”

  “Shhh. Steven, relax, I'm just joking.” He eases a little at your words, knowing you’re just teasing him. You and Jake had that down better than he or Marc ever could. “I love it honey, thank you for trusting me with this.” 

  You lean in and place a kiss to his cheek, shorter than he would care for. He never wants you to stop touching him if he could help it. 

  “Eat up, before it gets cold.” 

  Before I take the body and eat my own

No me parece 

  He eats while they bicker, not wanting to waste another precious moment with you. 

  ****

  Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you stare out the window of the bus on the way home from work. 

  Steven: where are you love?

      On the bus I just left work, how was your day?

  Steven: It was quite dreadful 

           I’ll be home soon to make it better 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@missdictatorme @chichimisaki @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @simpforbritgents

[rosesanddecay]

Anyone x fem reader - Quick write

——

His eyes cracked open to the familiar ceilings of the hospital. But things felt different this time, not that he could put his finger on why.

As the sleepy haze left his mind, his head snapped up and looked around the room.

“Where’s my wife?” He asked the first person he saw.

The woman was sniffing but smiling, her makeup smudged from previous tears. “I’m right here, dear.” She sniffled and put her hand over his.

The ring that glinted back was one he recognized. “Why do you have my wife’s ring? Where is she?” He questioned, slight accusation coming in between the worry of his words. Where were you?

She stuttered in shock and sniffed out a few more tears, “But I am your wife, we’ve been together since-“

“You’re not my wife.” He snapped, his eyes meeting hers. She didn’t even look like you.

Her eyes were wide before she stood and raced out of the room crying. Not that he cared, he needed his lover. He needed to see you safe.

He tried to move out of the bed, to call for someone he recognized, but pain shot through his head. Hunched over and pushing against his temples, he didn’t even hear his teammates slip into the room.

“Please you have to stay in bed-“ they begged, only to be shut up by the same question as before.

“Where’s my wife?” His voice was desperate now, tear rimming his lashes as he looked between the hesitant comrades.

“You… you divorced a while ago…” they finally explained, knowing it was you he was referring to.

“Never. I’d never-“

“But you did. After you left her for your current wife.” One barked, finally letting some withheld resentment. What had he done?

He shook his head as much as he could, denial filling all the leftover memories he had. “No, I’d never- she’s the love of my life- I- I-“

Silence fell over the room as he was forced to come to the realization that he’d done something wrong. That he’d lost you because of a version of himself he couldn’t even remember anymore.

His drug-induced sobs filled the room as begged to see you again. To see you safe…

——————

John Price, Miguel O’Hara, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish , any cod man really , Marc Spector or Jake Lockley , Gojo Satoru , etc. I’m really showing my fandom preferences lmao

These are the men I can imagine specially getting into this situation (idiots)

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Seven: Saturday

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Moon Boys x F!Reader

Summary: You’re a workaholic, but now that you’re on a week’s vacation, your lives are going to take FULL advantage of your presence aka the Moon Boys keep you in bed for a whole week.

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), squirting

Series Masterlist

You're cooking up dinner while Marc stepped out for errands. You sway your hips to the record playing. You're only in one of Jake's shirts and underwear. You hum along to the music as you add some seasoning to the stir fry.

Unbeknownst to you, Marc arrived back home, only he was no longer fronting. Jake stares at you with dark lustful eyes. He slowly approaches you like a predator with its prey.

His gloved hands rest make their way to your hip, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Shit, honey. You scared me."

Jake hums and kisses your neck, "Always need to be vigilant, amor."

You smile wide, lowering the heat on the stove and turning to face Jake. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, "Well hello there, Mr. Lockley."

"Hello, mi amor," he presses his lips to yours, hands sliding back to grip your ass. He gives you a spank and you yelp, pulling away from him.

"I'm cooking."

"It can wait."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Not for food," he replies with a smirk. He reaches around and turns off the stove. He then picks you up and carries you to the counter.

You hiss, "The counter's cold!"

"I'll warm you up," Jake says as his gloved hands slide up your legs and stop at your underwear. He hooks his fingers and pulls the garment off, tossing it to the floor.

You chuckle as he presses his lips to yours, his fingers sliding in between your legs. He teases your core as he moves his lips against yours. He pulls away to kiss your jaw, lips trailing down your neck to your chest.

His gloved fingers circle around your clit and you throw your head back in a moan.

"That's it, baby. Lemme hear you," he murmurs against your skin. He's rubbing slow circles against you. You grip his shoulders as he continues to pleasure you.

He dips his middle finger into you and then looks down to see your slick shine against his black leather gloves. You watch as he licks your juices off his fingers and, with his teeth, pull the gloves off.

He kneels down and pulls you by your legs so they hang over his shoulders. He delves in and your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tasting you. You weave your fingers through his black girls and give them a tug. He moans into your core.

He licks up your slit and then begins to circle his tongue around your clit. He looks up at you, feeling a sense of pride as you rest your head against the cabinets, eyes closed, and mouth open in pleasure. He just loves to see how you fall apart for him.

He spreads your lips wider to taste more of you. Your slick smearing along his mouth. He doesn't care how much of a mess you make on him. He loves being marked by you.

While he eats you out, he inserts a finger in you for more added pleasure. He slowly pumps it in and out, gaging your reaction to the sensation.

When you moan and tug at Jake's hair, he takes it as a sign that you can take another finger. So he inserts a second one and you hiss in pleasure, "Fuuuuck yes! That's it, Jake! Just like that."

He stares up at you while he fucks you with his fingers and mouth. You're so beautiful while you're falling apart for him. Sweat forming along your hairline, your chest heaving as your breathing grows harder.

With his other hand, Jake reaches up and slides his hand under your shirt or, rather, his shirt. He grips your breast and then tweaks your nipple.

"Holy fuck, Jake. Shit! So good!" you cry out.

He starts pumping his fingers faster now, "Cum, amor, cum for me. Lemme taste you," he mumbles against your core.

His tongue flicking at your clit while he fucks you with his fingers. Your nails dig into him while you arch your back. Your eyes closed shut as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shaking around Jake's face as he helps you through your orgasm. A burst of wetness coats his face and Jake is smiling with pride.

As your body calms, he slowly pulls his fingers out and leans back. His face and neck coated in your wetness.

You're panting and looking at him with a tired smile, "Sorry, baby."

He chuckles, wiping at his face and then licking his fingers, "Don't be. You know I love it," he gives you a wink and stands. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, "You okay?"

You nod, "Yeah," you sigh and look to the stove on your right, "I should finish dinner."

Jake shakes his head, "No, no. Clean up. I'll finish." He helps you down from the counter top and makes sure you don't collapse at his feet. He silently asks you if you're okay.

You smile, "I'm good. Thank you," you peck his lips.

He hums, "I should be thanking you."

You snort and roll your eyes, "We both got something out of it. You sure you don't need me to-"

"Go take a quick shower. I'll clean up here and finish dinner."

"Okay, okay," you hold your hands up in surrender, "Love you, Jake."

"I love you too, amor," he kisses your head and gives your butt a gentle spank before you head to the shower.

[melodygatesauthor]

You Forgot to Say 'Thank You'

Jake Lockley X f!Reader

Blurb 22 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration

NSFW below the cut

The sound of Jake’s hand slapping against your wet thighs filled the bedroom. You shrieked and squirmed from your place over his lap, but his free hand kept you from wriggling away.

“Uh uh, sweetheart,” he tutted, bringing his hand down over your bare ass this time. “Just two more, and you’re gonna stay put for me, si?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your cheeks, “yes!”

“And you’re going to say ‘thank you daddy’, after each one like a good little girl, right?” He rubbed his palm over one of your ass cheeks idly, waiting for your answer.

“Y-yes, d-daddy,” you hiccuped through your sobs.

No matter how much you cried, the sweet, slick arousal that dripped out of you and down your thighs told Jake that you were enjoying every minute of it. You could feel how he was enjoying himself too, noticing the way his erection pressed against your stomach. His hand came down again, followed by a short gasp and an agonizing groan from your lips.

“T-thank you, daddy, thank you,” you muttered, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“One more, sweetheart, you’re doing great, but this next one is gonna be rough.”

He shifted, feeling his cock throbbing against you. His hand struck down once more, your flesh bouncing in response and the sound of your loud cries fueling the orgasm that overwhelmed him. Jake rutted upward against your stomach, holding you in place while coating his slacks and your skin in his spend. He breathed heavy, hand gripping your raw and aching rear as he came down from his climax.

He grabbed your face and turned you to look at him. He gave you that smug smirk that you knew meant trouble.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “you forgot to say ‘thank you’.”

Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist

[romanarose]

Congrats on reaching 1k followers 🎉

Can I request number 7 from the smut prompt "that was the prettiest sound i’ve ever heard" with Steven Grant? ❤

HI!!! Sorry this took forever I got caught up in writing 3 different series lol and my anxiety has been horrific since June lol bad time for a follower celebration but im TRYING

"Prettiest Sounds"

Steven Grant x Reader

Join my taglist! : Masterlist

Summary: You are self-conscious that don't sound sexy when cum, Steven assure you that you do.

Warnings: PIV sex, references to a past shitty ex.

************

You burry your face in Steven's neck as he fucks into you with care; your attempt to muffle the moans that couldn't help escape, yet another attempt in a long string of them. Steven just made you feel so good... it was hard to hide, but you tried.

When Steven moved enough to kiss and lick and nibble at your neck, you bit down on your bottom lip, a light whimper escaping you.

"Let me hear you, love." Steven begged as his hips thrust inside you, your fingers clawing into his sweaty back in an attempt to stay grounded. "Please?"

"You don't want that." It slips from your lips before you can stop it, your intrusive thoughts taking on a life of their own. You pinch your eyes closed, hoping he didn't hear you.

He did, of course. Steven had great hearing and slowed down to a stop. "Why would you say that, darling?" When you didn't answer, Steven carefully pulling out of you and making you whimper when he did. With a stroke of your hair out of your face, Steven laid on his side next to you. "Love? Please talk to me?

You hesitate, but with your eyes still closed in a cringe, you relent. "It doesn't sound good."

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What doesn't?"

Finally, you give into his gentle touches. Steven and you had only started dating recently, and only begun having sex this week, both wanting to take it slow. "I don't sound... sexy. during sex."

Steven had to take a moment to process what was said. "Well of course you do darling, I've heard you, you sound beautiful!"

"No," You shake your head. "That's not... real..."

His eyes widen comically large. "You mean... you're faking... uh- you're faking... orgasms?" He nearly whispers the last words, still a little awkward around sex.

"NO!" You are quick to reassure your sweet Steven. "I'm not faking the orgasms, I'm just faking... the sounds..." Embarrassment causes you to look away from him, but Steven coaxes you back to looking at him.

"Love... did he make you feel that way?" Steven knew you had a bad experience with your last boyfriend; he always nitpicked you in everything from the way you dress, the way you did your hair, how you walked... nothing was free from subtle critiques and little jabs.

You nod, confirming his suspicions with glistening eyes. "He said... I don't sound feminine enough."

The small rise and fall of his chest was a telltale that Steven was mentally envisioning kicking his ass. "That's not true, I know it's not. Whatever you sound like in genuine pleasure is sexy. I want to know how I make you feel, how I actually make you feel. I don't want a performance."

It took a little more reassurance, Steven encouraging you to open up during sexy and communicate, but as you made love that night, you threw away the fake, porny moans and let Steven hear you. When you came, you thought it was the least sexy thing you could've imagined, but it caused Steven to spill into you with a pathetic, loud whine.

"That was the prettiest sound I've ever heard."

******************

this was inspired by a convo between me and Dolli about Will Miller actually XD

@fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @littlenosoul @missdictatorme @steven-grants-world @ahookedheroespureheart @runa-falls @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @@myfandomlikesandstories @milkymoon2483

[variety-fangirl]

3 Days Away / Jake Lockley x fem!reader

Summary: you and Jake end up arguing about his safety, especially when he comes home worse than ever. After days of silent treatment from him and him refusing to let the others front, you decide a few days away for him to calm down is best.

Warnings: angst, Jake not knowing how to express his feelings until the end, reader feeling hurt and upset, fluff ending.

Authors note: I have a few Moon Knight fics in mind to write, so I hope you guys enjoy them but feel free to send me requests also. Angsty!Jake to soft!Jake, super soft emotional Jake (I know he isn't typically like this but I just loved the idea) This is majorly a Jake fic with bits of Marc and Steven. Liking, reblogging, and commenting really help me out. Thank you my loves! :)

Word count: 2.5k

You hated arguments more than anything, especially with those that you loved and cared about. You hadn't even intended for this to cause a fight, you simply just wanted him to know how scared you were for their safety. It's not like what they did was a typical everyday job where they wouldn't be harmed by dangerous people or killed. Seeing Jake come home with blood covering him, bruises all over his torso and back, and cuts on his face was enough to scare you. You were terrified of losing them, the three most important people in your life that couldn't live without.

And so a few days later you set to have a conversation about it with whoever was fronting at the time, which happened to be Jake. You stayed calm and tried to say your piece without tears, but it had proved futile. Jake had taken your concern as an attack, thinking he couldn't handle himself. The yelling, on his part, had started and your tears had a mind of their own, flowing freely. You silently cried as Jake stood in front of you with a booming voice and red face, you just allowed him to get his anger out, knowing there was no reasoning with him at that moment.

"I'm going to take a walk and let you cool off, okay?" you managed to get out through tears when he stopped, wiping your face as best you could as you stood. You hoped some time to himself would allow him to calm down enough to talk to you calmly when you returned. His silence was enough of an answer to let you know you needed to leave for a bit. His back was to you as you stepped toward him, breathing heavily. Placing your hands gently on his back as you lay a kiss on the clothed area, a small sob choking out in the process. "I love you," you whisper as you reluctantly let him go and walk towards the door, grabbing your jacket in the process.

You look back at him for a moment, not fully wanting to leave so you could sort this out, but you knew he needed space. You watch as Jake leans over and holds onto the wall as he breathes heavily, looking at his reflection in the mirror. They're talking, so you took that as your cue to leave, closing the door behind yourself.

It luckily wasn't too cold out, the breeze only just slightly nipping at your skin. You sighed when the tears refused to stop, a headache already starting to form because of it. Your chest felt heavy with an ache, sadness overwhelming your senses. Your legs absentmindedly took you where they pleased as your brain ran a million miles an hour, worried and hurt-filled thoughts filling it. You knew Jake was hard to reason with when he was angry or upset, but you weren't expecting him to be that angry with you for being worried about his and the boy's safety. You loved them and didn't want to lose them, you wouldn't know what to do if you did. You didn't even want to think about it.

An hour later, you ended up at a small food stall that sold hot food and beverages. You had been planning to cook for you both before the argument broke out, that plan is out the window now. You grabbed yourself something to eat and drink, luckily having found some money in your jean pocket. You found a small park nearby that was mostly empty, it seemed peaceful and a good place to be for a while to clear your head and give Jake the time to calm down. Walking through the trees and pathway led you to a small lonely wooden bench, and you took a thankful seat on it. Your feet ached from walking a long period of time without stopping, the pressure relieving the second you took a seat.

You stared forward at passing byers, eating and drinking without thought. The jacket hugged your body and neck as you wrapped it around yourself tighter, not particularly cold, just needing extra comfort. The added warmth from your hot beverage helped make you feel slightly better, helping to relieve the coldness of your hands and the dull ache in your head. You weren't sure how long had passed with you sitting on that little bench, it was a while but you weren't sure of the exact amount. Having accidentally left your phone at the flat in the rush to leave without thought of necessities, like your phone and purse.

By the time you had started to make your way back, it was beginning to get dark. The walk took a while, but luckily you memorised the way home. When you reached home, you realised that you'd left your keys there. Having to begrudgingly knock and disturb him, the slow shuffling of feet letting you know he didn't want to move. It took Jake a while to answer the door, his red unimpressed eyes staring at you without a word. Still angry it seemed. He simply walked back towards the couch, leaving the door open for you to enter.

You sigh, closing the door and locking it, as he gets back on the couch and wraps his blanket around him. Realising he wasn't intending to come to bed with you, you walk toward him. "I love you and I'm sorry. We'll talk tomorrow," you whisper shakily, tears forming once again. Bending down over the back of the couch, you stroke the mop of black curly hair and place a gentle kiss on the back of his head. You linger for a few seconds, tears falling down your cheeks. Begrudgingly, you walk away from him to your shared bed. You change into one of Steven's shirts and get into the cold bed alone, silent tears falling. You fall asleep with an aching heart.

-

Two days of silent treatment had been driving you insane, you had expected to talk about it by now but Jake wasn't budging. He wasn't letting the others front either, which made the situation worse. You were sure something else was going on that had contributed to his mood, and you were trying to be patient but it was driving you up the wall not being able to speak. So, in the middle of the night, you decided to go stay with your friend, having checked with them beforehand for the ok. You packed a small bag with your necessities and leave a note for the boys to read when one of them wakes.

'Don't freak. Went to a friend's house for a few days or so to let Jake cool off until he's ready to speak. Can't cope with the silent treatment, I'm sorry.'

You loved them all more than anything, even their flaws but that didn't mean that you could always handle it all the time. Sometimes you needed a small break when one of them was in a mood, to give yourself some time to de-stress. As you walked through the door of your friend's apartment, you set your bag down and turned to face her, she was patiently waiting for an answer to her question. As soon as you saw the look of concern and love on her face, your bottom lip began to tremble and tears clouded your vision. "Oh honey, come here." She gently replied with open arms, her heart breaking to see you like this.

It had been late by the time you'd arrived at your friend's home, around midnight, you knew she'd be exhausted from a long day at work and yet, she refused to go to bed until you were laughing and smiling. Which she exceeded, as she always does. She grabbed a shit ton of ice cream, two bottles of both your favourite wine and fluffy blankets, while you explained to her what had happened (not completely delving into the full truth about your boyfriends and their line of work). She listened intently while you cried and explained what had led you to leave in the middle of the night and go to hers, and she was ever as understanding about it all. At that moment, you were so grateful to have a friend that truly cared about you and your happiness, not wanting to just leave you there crying while she went to bed.

That had been two days ago, and your phone had been blowing up non-stop since. Your friend insisted that it seemed he was ready to talk and going home was probably the best idea, and so you agreed. You didn't really know what to expect when you arrived home, unsure of who would be fronting and how they would react to the whole situation. Would Marc or Steven be angry with you also? You hoped not, you could barely cope with one angry boyfriend, but three? it would just completely swallow you whole. Packing up the little belongings you'd brought with you and making your way back without a word to the boys. You flicked through the messages on the way, the majority were from Marc and Steven, but a few from Jake stuck out. You had expected the other to reach out but not Jake, deeming him to still be angry for a couple of days more.

'Please come home.'

'I'm sorry..'

'Please..'

Your heart clenched and you felt the tears prick at your vision once more, you were fed up with crying. Jake never begged, said please or apologised, so for him, this was rare and he must truly mean it. Those words didn't come from him lightly, and you were thankful. It meant he would be in a much better mood than a few days prior, you didn't know if you could cope with a replay of how you ended up here. The silent treatment was worse than anything, it killed you to see him walk straight past you with a dead expression and not a single word uttered. That was a part of Jake you weren't the fondest of, the fact that he could hide his emotions so well and appear that the situation wasn't bothering him.

What you didn't know was that Jake (Marc and Steven also) had been freaking out the whole duration since you left, not knowing what to do. Marc and Steven had been trying to get through to him, pushing for him to call you and apologise, beg for you to return if he had to, but to get you to come back to them. To him. Jake knew he was terrible at expressing his emotions and they often came out.. wrong, often acting angry or upset when he actually wasn't. He wasn't used to someone caring about his well-being or loving him as deeply as you did, his actions tending to be harsh and not coming across in the way he wanted them to. And yet, you still chose to stay with him and love him unconditionally, accepting every part of him, good and bad.

Jake had been pacing bak and forth for what felt like hours, panicking at your lack of response, worrying implicitly that he'd done it this time and scared you off. Marc began yelling at Jake through the reflection, blaming him for potentially losing you. He didn't know if he could handle losing another important person in his life, 'I swear to god Jake if you've chased away our girl, I'll never speak to you again.' Marc spat menacingly as he pointed at Jake, turning away to calm himself. Steven just looked lost, not quite knowing what to do with himself at the thought of you leaving them. 'Please mate, call her, text her, I don't care what you have to do, just get her back here!'

You were their light, life, and love. Their everything and more, what would they do without you? How would they cope without you? Everything in their life reminded them of you, you did everything together. The route Steven took to work every day as he passed your favourite tea shops, the little corner shop that Marc passes on the way home that you had introduced him to, the little bakery that not many people knew about that made mouth-watering pastry that had converted Jake. Everything was a perfect reminder of you. Even the simple things like letting someone in, trusting someone to know about all of them and their secret, the way you could perfectly tell them all apart from the other. Everything you did was done with love and care. They couldn't bare losing that.

So, when you walked through the door timidly, looking around to see where your boyfriends were, you weren't expecting what happened. Jake stared in shock at you, not fully expecting you to even return home. He breathed deeply, emotions overwhelming him as he'd never felt before, pushing him over the edge. Jake walked quickly toward you and cupped your face in his trembling hands, his eyes filled with tears. You were sure it was Steven or maybe Marc, you definitely didn't expect Jake to currently be fronting with the amount of vulnerable emotions that were showing right now. 'Oh thank god.' Marc whispered, a shaky breath leaving him. Steven stared with wide eyes, silent tears leaving him. If only you could see how grateful they were to see you.

"Mi vida." you stare at him in shock, realising it is Jake when you hear the nickname. You were surprised, he was never this emotional or vulnerable with you. He was usually hard to read and kept his emotions hidden, so seeing him visibly upset made you want to cry with happiness and heartache. Jake pulls your body into him, his trembling lips placing a gentle kiss on your head as he holds you as close as possible. You sigh as tears begin to form, stuffing your face into his warm chest and wrapping your arms as tightly around his waist as possible. You were so thankful that he wasn't angry with you anymore, seeming happy to see you back home. You knew they probably worried when you didn't reply but you wanted to come over as soon as you could.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't angry with you, I'm just not used to someone caring about mine and the boy's safety. Other than us. I didn't know how to handle it and reacted how I usually would, it won't happen again. Just don't leave again, please." Jake whispered into your hair, tears flowing freely. He was so afraid that he'd lost you, he could care less about how he looked right now, he was just thankful you were home. Your cheeks were now soaked, the feeling of relief and love overwhelming you as you both held each other tightly, you made a mental note to spend time with Marc and Steven shortly, also.

"I'm not going anywhere, can't get rid of me that easily. Those three days were difficult with you three." you giggled, looking over to the reflection of the fish tank next to you both, hoping your boys were watching and listening. Luckily, they were with smiles and tears in their eyes. You loved them all more than anything and one argument wasn't going to scare you away.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him. 

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together. 

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close. 

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own. 

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?” 

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’. 

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?” 

“Hmmhmm.” 

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that? 

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold. 

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?” 

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants. 

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.” 

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.” 

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.” 

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it. 

He shivers. You know what you’re doing. 

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle. 

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary. 

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him. 

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him. 

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words. 

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.” 

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say. 

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake. 

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.” 

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers. 

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?” 

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince. 

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.” 

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.” 

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.” 

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”  

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time. 

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.” 

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?” 

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease. 

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter. 

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.” 

You grin and kiss his nose. 

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning. 

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?” 

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” 

“Almost all the time.” 

“Almost?” 

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice. 

“I’m sleeping.” 

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly. 

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again. 

“You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.” 

“Steven won’t care.” 

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.” 

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment. 

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.” 

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.” 

You poke your tongue out at him. 

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.”  He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction. 

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive. 

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?” 

Jake nods once. 

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily. 

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins. 

“But, humour me, yeah?” 

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.” 

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.” 

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?” 

“Jake.” 

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective. 

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth. 

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous. 

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips. 

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked. 

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his. 

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants. 

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you. 

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck. 

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing. 

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly. 

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down. 

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time. 

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him. 

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue. 

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy. 

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold. 

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing. 

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides. 

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue. 

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth. 

“This okay?” You ask between licks. 

“Yes, ah,  yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds. 

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily. 

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air. 

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat. 

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush. 

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly. 

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips. 

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth. 

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you. 

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around. 

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.” 

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches. 

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering. 

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?” 

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning. 

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.” 

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture. 

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside. 

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy. 

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?” 

“You.” 

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. 

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls. 

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you. 

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.  

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back. 

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore. 

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on. 

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal. 

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock. 

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge. 

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time. 

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat. 

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again. 

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain. 

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly. 

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly. 

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace. 

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch. 

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear. 

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises. 

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair. 

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words. 

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air. 

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity. 

“Please what?” You whisper. 

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips. 

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?” 

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before. 

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his. 

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down. 

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside. 

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still. 

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?” 

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly. 

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage. 

His fingers don’t falter though. 

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second. 

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour. 

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly. 

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still. 

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans. 

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same. 

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace. 

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin. 

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again. 

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it. 

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. 

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants. 

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend. 

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe. 

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe. 

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you. 

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.” 

You snort. “Oh, do you?” 

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.” 

____________________________________________

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do not chastise the dove (epilogue) ✧ 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: a look into what the future holds.

word count: 6,120

warnings?: visiting elaine’s grave, talks of death, pregnancy announcement, inaccurate depictions of giving birth, marc being anxious about being a father, fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread 

The Royal Cemetery was a place that was rarely visited. It was completely closed off from the public. Only members of the Royal Family and their guests were allowed to enter. You had only gone once before, just after your mother had passed. You were supposed to be in school at the time, but it had not even been a week since she had been buried. You couldn’t focus on your studies at all, so you found yourself sneaking out the back door and walking all the way to the cemetery. You sat in front of your mother’s grave well past nightfall. You told her all about how you missed her, how you wished you could have hugged her one last time, told her you loved her one more time. You had every intent on staying there forever, but Pearl arrived just as the stars began to twinkle.

When you returned to the palace, Benjamin banned you from going to the cemetery again. At the time, you convinced yourself that he had been worried about you, that he didn’t know where you had gone. You had been so sure that if you asked just nicely enough, he might visit your mother’s grave with you one day. That day never came. Now, you knew he banned you from the cemetery because he cared about his public image. The King didn’t know where the Princess was? He couldn’t keep track of his daughter? It was a tabloid mess if there ever was one. That day had been the beginning of the end of your freedom for a long, long time. 

It was strange being back there now. It was even stranger being there with company. Marc held your hand tight, a bundle of flowers in the other. He dropped your hand as he carefully placed the bouquet on Elaine’s grave. He glanced at you, then back to the headstone. 

“Your daughter is a wonderful woman,” Marc said to the headstone. “I…I want you to know she’s in safe hands. I will never let a day go past without her knowing how loved she is. She deserves all the good in the world, and I will make sure she gets that.”

Your mouth quirked up into a smile. It was still so rare for Marc to make grand statements of love and affection. He was more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words kind of person. You, of course, appreciated his actions. You wouldn’t change a single thing about him. But, still, when he had those rare romantic movie type of declarations of love, your heart always soared. You knew how big of a deal it was to him, and so you savored every last word. 

“I wish you could be here,” you said. “There’s not a day that doesn’t go by without me missing you. I like to think, though, that you’re still here, guiding me through life. Guiding me straight to the loveliest, kindest men I’ve ever met. I mean, you did guide me straight to the truth about my birthright, didn’t you? Thank you. I love you, mommy.”

Marc looked at you, his pretty brown eyes soft. “We should come here more often, keep your mom updated on our lives. Maybe even bring Cleo down, our kids when we have them.”

Your smile grew. Marc still had his doubts about becoming a father, but he had slowly started talking more about the future. One day, he even told you how he wanted three kids. He even confirmed that he liked Steven’s suggesting of naming your son, if you should ever have a son, Randall. Sometimes, when he was feeling even bolder, he would tell you about family traditions he wanted to share with the children. How they would have a bar or bat mitzvah. How Marc couldn’t wait to teach them how to play dreidel. How he looked forward to sharing family recipes. Once, you even found him ordering children’s books, ones Steven told you had been his favorite during his childhood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

Marc slipped his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze once, twice, three times. You bid your mother farewell before the two of you began walking around the cemetery. Every so often, you would point to a headstone, tell Marc about the family member. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention. Most of his focus, it seemed, was on you and you alone. That is, until a question came to Marc’s mind.

“Is Benjamin buried here? I would have thought he’d be buried beside your mom.”

You pointed to a corner of the cemetery darkened by the shade of a large tree. A new headstone had been placed there, but it was already being destroyed by winding tree roots coming out of the ground. “Over there.”

Marc snorted. “You pick the spot?”

“I would’ve left his grave unmarked if I did,” you said. “I let the groundskeeper handle it. I almost expected him to bury Benjamin beside my mother. That had always been the plan. Benjamin even had the gravesite picked out. But the groundskeeper holds grudges against those who forbid their family from coming here, it seems.”

“Have you got our spot picked out?”

“I was thinking beside my mother. I feel like she might be lonely, all by herself.”

Marc smiled. “That’s sweet of you, dove.”

“And a bit morbid,” you laughed. “Now, come on. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Good, because Steven’s been begging to eat for the last little bit.”

“And you just let him starve?” you said with a fake gasp. “We’d better go now, then. We can eat and talk more about the future, yeah?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan, dove. A perfect plan indeed.”

Coronation day had finally arrived. You felt like an odd mix of Anna and Elsa from Frozen, Anna’s excitement fueling you but Elsa’s anxieties making you keenly aware of just how many eyes were going to be on you. It felt a bit silly to be so nervous. After all, you had already been Queen for a year. This was more of a formal ceremony than anything. The power was yours, it couldn’t be taken away. However…You certainly could make a fool of yourself. 

What if you tripped on your way into the cathedral? What if, when you got out of the car, the door was shut on the train of your dress and it got ripped as the driver drove away? What if you jumbled up all of your words? What if you dropped the crown? Oh, it could all be a disaster!

“You’re gonna do fine, my dove,” Steven said watching as you fussed over your dress. 

Well, all things considered, even if the worst happened, at least you looked beautiful while it happened. You had chosen an off-the-shoulder blue gown, adorned with floral appliques. It was tradition that royals wear blue—the family color—to coronations. In any case, the dress was gorgeous when you picked it out, and it looked even more gorgeous on you. 

“I’m scared,” you said. 

Steven rose from his seat before you could blink, coming to stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips, turning you around. As you looked at him, he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s scary going out there,” he said. “Can’t deny that, can I? I can’t. Every time we do a public engagement, I’m terrified that I’ll come out as a bumbling fool. That I’ll trip over my feet or I’ll say the wrong name. But every time, I get up and it turns out fine.”

“What if this time is different?”

“I’ll be there to support you. Marc and Jake, too, if you’d prefer one of them to jump in. Your entire support system, honestly. If you end up doing something silly, we’ll all do the same thing. You fall? I’m taking a tumble too. You start speaking backwards? I’ll jump up and start speaking backwards too. Alright? The only thing you need to be scared of is the press running stories about how the Queen married a brainless half-wit.”

You let out a laugh. “You’d really do that?”

“Without a second thought.”

You bit down on your lip, holding back another laugh. “Well, then I think we should go now, yeah?”

“Lead the way, my Queen Dove.”

The streets were lined with citizens from all over the kingdom and abroad as the driver took you to the cathedral. As the car passed by, cheers erupted from the crowd. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of people were waving at you, pointing at the car. Your heart lifted at the sight. Part of you knew that many were gathered just to say they caught the glimpse of the Queen on her way to the coronation. But, it felt nice to see so many people there in support of you. 

You reached over, taking Steven’s hand, as the car approached the cathedral. When the car came to a halt and the door opened, Steven got out first before helping you. Attendants descended upon you, aiding you with the long train, ensuring that the door did not slam on it and rip it. Steven walked in front of you, leading the way into the cathedral. You gave a few smiles to the press as you walked, but you mostly kept your gaze focused on the entryway. 

All eyes were on you as you walked inside. You, again, tried to ignore it. Kept your eyes to the front. Focused on the officiant waiting for you. Watched Steven as he went to his seat in the front row. You stopped when you reached the stairs, letting the officiant hold his hand out for you to take as he helped you up the stairs. You turned to face the crowd as the attendants fixed your train.

Finally, you sank into the throne, look out at the crowd. The officiant stepped in front of you. He asked, “Madam, is your Majesty willing and able to take the Sacred Oath?”

“I am willing and able,” you answered.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of our Great Kingdom according to our laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

“Will you promise to protect our Great Kingdom against enemies without and within?”

“I always will.”

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

The officiant took the Royal Scepter from one of the attendants and passed it to you. You held it carefully with both hands, swallowing hard. Wow. This was real. This was becoming a reality—even more so than it already was.

“Then repeat after me.” When you nodded, the officiant continued. “I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

The officiant turned to another attendant, taking the crown off of its velvet pillow. He turned back to you, holding the crown over your head. “In accordance with law and custom, I crown you, /N Y/M/N Y/L/N, Queen of our Great Kingdom.”

He placed the crown on your head, then turned to face the crown. “Long live the Queen.”

The crowd echoed back—perhaps Steven the loudest of all— “Long live the Queen!”

Layla squeezed your hand as you looked at the white stick in your hands. You couldn’t believe it. You had wanted this, but…God, it felt so different when you knew it was a reality. You had been feeling sick for a week, waves of nausea constantly washing over you. This morning, when you looked at your calendar and realized you were weeks late for your period, you sent a worker out to pick up an assortment of pregnancy tests. She came back with five, and all five told you the same answer. 

“When are you going to tell them?” Yelena asked.

“Soon,” you said. “I want to do it today, but…I don’t know. I’m scared that it might scare Marc.”

“Marc will be fine,” Layla assured you. “He’ll be scared shitless, sure. But if you think he might run or stop fronting or whatever you’re worried about…I know him well enough to know he would never abandon you like that. Especially not when you’re in such a vulnerable state. He would sooner die.”

“How should I tell them, though? Should I do something elaborate? Be more coy? I just…Pregnancy announcements are a big deal. I want to get this right.”

“Just tell them outright, don’t make a big fuss of it,” Yelena said. “Walk up to them, say I’m pregnant bitches!, and go about your merry way. No muss, no fuss.”

“…you’re pregnant?”

“No, not me, Y/N,” Yelena said, turning towards the door. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the man in the doorframe. “Oh shit.”

You lifted your head to see Jake standing in the doorway to your office, his jaw slack. You dropped the pregnancy test, it clattering on the desk. 

Scott, who stood behind Jake, peaked around him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was a bad time,” he said. 

“It…It’s not a bad time at all. Jake, come in. Um, everyone else…Could we have a bit of privacy please?”

Layla stood up and ushered Scott away. Yelena, however, remained standing beside you. When you raised an eyebrow at her, she let out an “oh!” before following Layla and Scott out, shutting the door behind her. You stood up, picking up one of the pregnancy tests, and walked over to Jake. You took his hand, and placed the test in it.

“Two lines…That means positive?” he asked as he looked at it. 

You nodded. 

“And, you’re sure?”

“I took five tests, all positive. We’ll still have to go to a doctor to check. False positives do happen and all that. Plus, it’s good to just start going to a doctor and getting everything ready. But…Yes. I’m sure.”

Jake’s arms were wrapped around you in an instant, squeezing you tight, nearly lifting you right off the floor. “We’re going to have a baby! We’re going to have a baby! We need to go get a, a crib and a bassinet and a stroller! We need to get baby books and parenting books and diapers! Babies poop a lot, so we should start stocking up now! And—”

You placed your hands on either side of his face, stopping his rambling with a kiss. “Shh, we have months to worry about all of that.”

“Times flies, my dove.”

“Well, waiting a day won’t kill us.” You kissed him again. “How are the others holding up?”

“Steven’s been jumping for joy, trying to take control ever since I walked in here,” Jake said. 

“And Marc?”

“He’s still rambling about all of the things we need to do to prepare for our little baby.”

You let out a laugh. Well, you supposed that wasn’t the worst reaction. In fact, it was probably the best reaction he could have had. “In that case…I suppose it’s time for a celebration, hm?”

Jake wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said, “Oh, I’m ready for the biggest celebration.”

And, oh, he was. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Her Majesty, Queen Y/N Y/L/N and His Royal Highnesses, Princes Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley in a union commended to be honorable among all,” the officiant said. 

You looked at Marc in front of you, unable to hide your smile on your face. You still couldn’t believe he had offered to front for the public wedding ceremony. The one that would be televised internationally. The one that everyone would be watching. If you were honest, you had thought Steven might have been the one to front again. He was all about grand statements of love, after all. But this…This felt perfect. 

Marc held your hand, his thumb rubbing the top of it. “You look beautiful, my dove.”

You had reworn your dress from the private ceremony, with some small alterations. You were a few months into your pregnancy now, and you were just starting to show. Before the dress had been let out, it had been near impossible to close the dress up without ripping the seams because of your belly bump.

Marc had been…Well, you hesitated to call his reaction feral, but it was pretty damn close when he walked in your dress fitting and saw your bump. For all intents and purposes, he was still incredibly nervous about being a father. But there was something about seeing you carry his child that sparked a sort of energy in him that was near impossible to contend with. 

“And you look handsome, my love.”

“And therefore, this union has not been entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly, and solemnly. Into this, these two persons present now come to reaffirm their wondrous union,” the officiant continued. 

The officiant paused, looking between you and Marc, before smiling and continuing, “William Penn tells us to never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely. He that minds a body and not a soul has not the better part of that relationship, and will consequently lack the noblest comfort of a married life.

“Between a man and his wife, nothing ought to rule but love. As love ought to bring them together, so it is the best way to keep them well together.

“A husband and wife that love one another show their children that they should do so too. Others visibly lose their authority in their families by the contempt of one another, and teach their children to be unnatural by their own examples.

“Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affection; it being the basest of passions to like when we have not, what we slight when we possess.

“Here it is we ought to search out our pleasure, where the field is large and full of variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, poverty or disgrace being not able to shake it because it is not under the moving influences of worldly contingencies.

“Nothing can be more entire and without reserve; nothing more zealous, affectionate and sincere; nothing more contented than such a couple, nor greater temporal felicity than to be one of them.”

Marc had been the one to pick out the opening reading. He had found the poem among Steven’s books and declared it perfect for the ceremony. And oh, how could you deny him when he pulled out his pretty puppy dog eyes? 

“There are few loves in this world as pure as the one I have witnessed between the Queen and the Prince Consorts,” the officiant said. “In the short time I have shared with them, it has become clear to me, as it should be clear to all, that these two adore each other. Their love is the kind of love we should all strive to have. They care of each other. They respect each other. They ensure the other’s happiness, always. It is surely the kind of love that artists try to paint, that writers try to write, that will endure forever, always.”

You took a moment to look out at the crowd. The cathedral was filled to the brim and then some. This was, after all, the event of the year. Everyone who was anyone wished to attend. Members of Parliament, foreign dignitaries, and, of course, all of your friends. It was almost strange, seeing so many people there. At least, compared to the more intimate, private ceremony. 

You looked back at Marc as the officiant said, “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness have chosen to share the traditional vows.”

The two of you had done personal vows for the private ceremony. You and the boys debated on sharing an updated version of those vows today, but in the end, the answer was clear. Some parts of your love, of your lives, was meant to stay private. The entire ceremony was to be broadcast internationally. The world didn’t need to know all of the ins and outs of your love for each other. 

“Your Royal Highness, if you would repeat after me: I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” Marc paused. “And every day after that, too.”

You smiled as the officiant directed you to say the same vows. Once you finished, the officiant said, “We will now exchange rings as a symbol of this couple’s love. May we have the rings?” Layla stepped forward and gave you Marc’s ring and Marc your ring. The officiant looked to Marc, and said, “Your Royal Highness, please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” Marc said, sliding the ring onto your finger. 

The officiant turned to you. “Your Majesty please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” you repeated, placing the ring on Marc’s finger.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and husband.” The officiant looked at Marc. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“My pleasure,” Marc said. 

Marc grabbed at your waist, spinning you into a dip and kissing you positively senseless. Well, that was certainly going to be the picture plastered across the front page.

As Queen, the annual birthday parade now celebrated your birthday instead of Benjamin’s. The first two years of your reign, you had opted out of the tradition. There was far too much going on between gaining your footing as Queen, planning the coronation and public wedding ceremony, and recovering from the string of attempts on your life. Now, after all of the dust had settled, you decided it was time to revive the tradition. 

You settled in the open carriage, smoothing your hand over your much larger baby bump. You were a month out from delivering your little bundle of joy. This was actually to be your last public engagement for a long while. After this, you planned on resting until you had to go to the hospital. Finally, after months of carrying her, you would finally get to meet your baby Eliana. 

“Little one bein’ fussy?” Jake asked he sat next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on your belly. “Because I told her this morning that she needed to be extra good for a couple of hours.”

Jake loved doing that. Talking to your baby bump, you mean. Most mornings when you woke up, you would find Jake with his head resting on your bump, telling little Eliana all sorts of stories. About how her daddies were excited to meet her. How he hoped she grew up to be like her mommy. Sometimes, he would tell her fairytales, though he often forgot most of the details and made them up on the fly. (And, sometimes, you woke up and found Marc doing the same, though he often stuck to telling her how much he loved her. You never let him know you caught him, letting him have the moment to himself.) 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s settled down after breakfast,” you said. “Think she’s taking a nap in there right now.”

“Good.” Jake leaned, kissed the side of your head. The carriage jolted forward as the parade began, leading out onto the streets of the capitol. “Can you believe this time next year, she’s gonna be sitting right here in between us?”

“No,” you said. “I can hardly believe that in a month’s time, I won’t be carrying her in my belly anymore. I think I’m gonna miss it.”

Jake gave you a wicked grin. “Guess we’ll just have to put another baby in ya then, won’t we?”

“Mm, I would like that.”

Before Jake could say any more, your attention was pulled away by the sound of the cheering crowd. You painted on a smile, getting ready to wave at those in attendance. As you got closer to the crowd, though, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd. You tapped your hand against Jake’s leg. He looked at you, following your gaze to the girl in the crowd. Little Daisy stood there with her parents, giving you both a toothy grin. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she shouted when she realized you were looking at her. 

“THANK YOU, DAISY!” you shouted back, turning to look at the way her face lit up as the carriage continued down the road. 

“Did ya hear that? She remembers me!” you heard her say before you turned back around to face the front. 

“I hope Eliana is as happy as Daisy,” you said to Jake. 

“With you as a mommy? She definitely will be.”

You grabbed Jake’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, my dove.”

“Just one more push!” the nurse said. “Just one big one, okay?”

You screamed as you pushed, gripping Marc’s hand so tight it might break. He squeezed back, telling you encouraging words that you mostly drowned out with your shouts. Then— A noise louder than your screams filled the room as your baby was born.

The nurse held your baby as the doctor cut the umbilical cord. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling widely as you. “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” you repeated. You looked at Marc, a tired smile on your face. “We’ve got our sweet Eliana. Oh, I can’t wait to hold her!”

“Well, let’s not think about that right now. We got another baby to have,” the doctor said. 

You raised your head off the pillow, looking at the doctor with furrowed brows. “Another? You told us we were having just one!”

“Sometimes, one of the babies blocks its twin in the ultrasounds,” he said. “In any case, you need to get ready to push ‘cause this baby’s coming out whether you only expected one child or two.”

The nurse, who had passed your baby to another nurse so she could be cleaned up, glared at the doctor. “Don’t be such a dick,” she hissed at him. She looked back at you, smiling. “Just gotta do it one more time, okay? Lean back, and start pushing when we tell you to, just like we did before.”

You settled back, head falling on the pillow again. You took a moment to look at Marc, seeing the color drained from his face. “You okay, my love?”

“I wasn’t prepared for two. I was barely prepared for one,” he whispered. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “We can handle assassination attempts and hidden family plots, can’t we? We can handle this just fine.”

Marc swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Several minutes, too many pushes, and a sore throat later, your second child was born. A boy, your Randall. You watched as he was taken away, too, to be cleaned up. You glanced at the doctor, who started to get up. 

“No more, right? No secret triplet I should know about?” you asked. 

The doctor shook his head. “Just the two, I swear.”

“You also swore there was just one,” Marc muttered. 

You patted Marc’s arm, turning his attention back to you as the doctor left. “You’re gonna be okay, love. It’s not what we expected, but we always wanted multiple kids. We’re just getting a head start on that big family sooner than expected, yeah?”

“One newborn is hard, two is…unimaginably difficult,” Marc said. 

“We can handle it. And if we can’t, we have a wonderful support system to help us.”

Before Marc could reply, a couple of nurses entered the room, your babies in their arms. “It’s important the babies get plenty of time with mommy,” one of them said, passing you Eliana. The other nurse handed you Randall. Both babies were settled in either book of your arm, nestled in there like it was home. “Don’t want to shock them too much after leaving the womb, hm?”

You thanked them and they soon left the room after telling you to shout if you needed anything. As you and Marc were left alone, you looked at him, seeing his gaze entirely focused on your children. He almost looked like he wanted to ask something but like he was too scared to say anything. You took a shot in the dark as to what that might have been. 

“Go on, my love, hold her,” you said, holding Eliana out towards Marc. 

He stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His gaze lifted to look at you, his head giving a small shake. 

“She deserves to know all of her fathers. My love, I wouldn’t ask you to hold her if I thought you would drop her or scare her or hurt her in any way. You’re one of her fathers. You deserve to hold your baby.”

Marc looked back at Eliana. He glanced at Randall, nestled in the crook of your other arm. Eliana cooed at him, wiggling in her cocoon of a blanket as if she was trying to reach out for him, practically crying out, hold me! hold me, please!

“I trust you.”

Slowly, Marc extended his arms, one hand going behind Eliana’s head, supporting her as she nestled in his arms. “She’s so tiny,” he breathed out. “She looks like she could be broken so easily.”

“Not so easily. Babies are resilient, you know,” you said. “This is gonna be hard, Marc. I can’t lie to you about that. But we can get through. That’s what matters. That we don’t give up, that we try to do what’s best for our kids. Sometimes, they might love us for it. Others, they might hate us for it. But let them grow up knowing that we all tried.”

Marc sniffed. He leaned down, brushing his nose against the top of Eliana’s head as he kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna keep you safe,” he whispered. He looked back to you, his eyes glassy. “I’m gonna make sure no one hurts our family.”

You watched as Randall doddled around the ballroom, his chubby little hand clutching Layla’s fingers. Of everyone in attendance, he was probably the most comfortably dressed. Rather than forcing him into a tuxedo and making him uncomfortable all night, you had purchased one of those t-shirts that has a tuxedo design printed on. Paired with some comfy shorts, he was practically wearing pajamas. Eliana was similarly comfortable, wearing a pink t-shirt and shorts. Unlike her brother, though, she had clung to her daddies all night long. 

“Are you gonna let me dance with daddy?” you asked, tickling under Eliana’s chin as the band began a new song.

She shook her head, giggling. 

“Hm…Well, how about we both dance with you?” you asked. 

Her little face lit up. She let out a noise that almost sounded like she said “yess!!”

Steven let out a laugh, adjusting Eliana so he had a better grip on her before leading you and her onto the dance floor. You placed one hand on Steven’s shoulder, wrapping your other arm around Eliana. Steven put one hand on your waist. Together, the two of you swayed to the music.

“Me!”

You looked down, seeing Randall doddling up to you as quickly as he could manage. Layla let out a laugh, scooping him up and helping him get the rest of the way to you. You let go of Steven, balancing your baby boy in your arms, before continuing to sway.

“How could I ever forget my boy?” you asked, kissing his cheeks. “Gotta have both my babies, don’t I?”

It was your first birthday ball since…Well, the horrible one that sent your entire life as you once knew it spiraling. You had chosen to not hold the ball last year when you revived the birthday parade tradition. It was one thing to sit in a carriage and smile and wave for a few hours. It was an entirely different thing to stand in the ballroom for a couple of hours, even if you did forgo the heels. Now, though, as your sweet babies were nearly a year old, it felt right to bring it back. A new family, a better tradition. 

“What about this boy? I think you forgot his kiss this morning.”

You lifted your gaze to look at Marc, who was now fronting. You smiled and leaned in, careful to not bump Randall’s head against Eliana’s, and gave him a gentle kiss. “That better, my love?”

“Hmm, it’ll have to hold me over for now.” He smiled slightly. “Happy birthday, dove.”

The song came to an end and Layla stepped forward, Yelena by her side, offering to watch the kiddos so you and Marc could have a moment to yourselves. You both agreed, passing the toddlers to them, before slipping your hand in Marc’s and leading him out to the balcony. 

“As nervous as I was for all of this,” Marc said, looking up at the stars, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

You smiled at him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. Everything is more amazing than I ever could have imagined.”

You felt a shift in Marc’s body language and, when you lifted your head, you realized that Jake was now fronting. “I can think of something that would make this even more amazing.”

A brow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Adding another member to the family.”

You smiled. “You know, I think that would be an amazing birthday present.”

It was almost strange, feeling so happy. So content. For so many years, you had been on edge. You were scared and anxious and hated the way your life was headed. There was a constant weight on your shoulder. But ever since you met your husbands, that weight was slowly being lifted off of you until now, when you felt as light as a feather. You could breathe. You weren’t afraid anymore. Ever since you met your husbands, you felt free to live, to love, to be authentically you. Sure, you still had to paint on a smile for public engagements (after all, anyone who spent their days being attacked by flash photography could much rather glare than smile), but otherwise? You didn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You once thought that, if you had a choice, you would be anything but a royal. You thought that it wasn’t what you wanted. You thought it ripped your freedom from you. You thought you would never be able to do anything right. Now, you knew that this was the life you always wanted. Being a royal had its issues, to be sure. But when you looked at your life that you had built with Marc, Steven, and Jake by your side…You wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“I love you, dove. We all do.”

“And I love you all, too, my loves. Forever and ever.”

And all was well for now and forevermore. 

FIN.

[nerdieforpedro]

The Man Next Door

Jake Lockley x plus size black female reader

This blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx. 4.1k

Summary: You've been eyeing your neighbor Jake for the last few months. A major even and discovery puts things into perspective. You make your move after the dots are filled in.

Warnings: Mentions of blood (various amounts), violence, one minor character death, sprinkles of Spanish, first aid, unprotected P in V (wrap it IRL), aftercare

Notes: My first Moon Knight fic! 🥰 It's been in the works for a bit. It's a half of a request for @megamindsecretlair I asked her what she wanted in it and she told me. We'll see if I delivered on that or not. 😄Dividers are designed by the wonderful @saradika-graphics ❤️

Main Masterlist / Moon Knight Masterlist/ Oscar Isaac characters

Sometimes he has blood on his hands, attempting to wipe it off with a rag, other times there are small drops of splatter on his chin and cheek as he gives you a morning nod before you head off to work.

He’s never without a drop of crimson on him, no matter what time of day you happen to spot him. It makes you keep your distance from him, not indulge in idle chatter like your other neighbors in your apartment building, ask to borrow items or even keep a package or two for you.

You’re curious about him, about Jake Lockley.

He’s been your next door neighbor for six months. You haven’t heard anyone in his apartment or seen anyone visit. It was odd, that you’re sure of. He only gets a few pieces of mail and seldom any packages. Never rude and never too friendly either. A fair distance away from any who may try to get to know him.

You wonder if you should have ever spoken to him now. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen him and had your morning farewell nod. You walk from the bus stop to work each day, it’s less than ten minutes and you count it as your exercise. This is the night you see him again, your neighbor. Walking home like every other night, you happen to hear a thud and look in its direction. Sure you left work an hour late due to your boss being a dick and wanting you to finish putting together the reports for tomorrow, but at least you got overtime out of it so you hadn’t minded too much. Maybe you should have.

You can’t say it’s completely unexpected, there’s only so many reasons Jake would have blood on him but it’s still shocking. It’s not everyday you see your neighbor standing in a pool of someone’s blood. Honestly you can’t tell the gender or the person or ethnicity from the distance and from the amount of blood.

There’s just so much. Dripping from his hands, splashes on his face and clothes.

No wait…the clothes are odd. They went from some off gray looking robes to his normal jeans, and jacket. Maybe you’re hallucinating. It’s then that you feel a hand on your arm.

“You know him, don't you woman? What do you know about him? Tell us!” When you turn to see who the hand belongs to, you’re met with a knife that grazes your cheek. There are four men in addition to the one holding you for a total of five. You’re shaking your head, it’s not a lie, you don’t know anything about the man other than his name and that he lives next to you. His grip strengthens on your arm as you try to pull away from him and the other men watch amused at your attempt to try and escape. Their laughs are replaced by curses as you stomp on your assailant’s foot and drop your bag to punch him in the face. He’s stunned so his grip loosened finally to give you a chance to go for the knife and you do.

There’s blood on you now. Not on your hand you punched the man with, but on the knife and your white button down from where you went for your assistant’s neck. He’s holding the side of it, trying to apply pressure but he’s shaky on his feet. One of his friends, you assume, grabs him to help him but he slumps in his arms, the man’s hand falling slowly from his neck.

Did you just kill someone? What the hell is happening?

(Khonshu): Is that the woman you glance at and who occupies your idle thoughts Jake? I thought she was one of the many worms. It appears she is not. You may want to don the suit again. She has spirit, but not skill nor strength. She’ll not last long.

(Jake): I hear you loud and clear, you old bird. What is she doing here anyway? She’s normally off work and at home by now. I know her routine and she doesn't change it by much. I knew she had a little fire in her, she went right for the neck, most would have gone for an arm or torso.

The three other men are circling you, screaming at you about their fallen friend and how they’re going to take their time in torturing you no matter if you actually know anything about Jake or not. You lunge at the man closest to you, going for his neck as well since that did the other man in, but he caught both your arms and chuckled.

“Luck like that only strikes once bitch!” He presses his fingertips into your wrists, but you keep hold of the knife, it’s the only weapon you have. But you start to smell more metal - iron, no there’s more blood. It’s not on you, or it wasn’t until the goon holding you falls forward and to step back to avoid his body hitting yours, wrists free, but you’re falling. It seems among all that scuffle, you’d been near a curb and you’d stepped off awkwardly.

You don’t hit the ground though, instead you’re in strong arms. The same gray you’d seen earlier except now there’s a mask, cape and a moon in the middle of his chest? He supports you as you stand up. You’re still holding onto your knife though, adrenaline running through your veins as you hold it close to your chest. He holds your shoulders and gives them a soft squeeze to help you pay attention.

“Mira! Hola! (Look! Hello!) Tch…” Jake’s trying to get your attention but it’s not working. This whole gentle thing isn’t his norm and he can see that your eyes aren’t registering him or his words at all. Not even him squeezing your shoulders, he’s worried that squeezing them harder will result in an injury and the suit only heals him, not you. The blood dripping from your cheek angers him and the men are only knocked out now. He needs to get you out of here so he can come back and find out information from them - slowly and painfully. He releases you and picks up your bag, then tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he doesn’t have time to console you, not that he would be any good at it. He hears you squeal then yelling and shifts your back to the same arm he’s holding you with, then pinches your hip.

“Silencio! (Quiet!)” Your body tenses in his arms as he makes his way to the apartment building. He jumps to the fire escape outside of his window as he usually keeps it open for when he doesn’t feel like using the door. He removed that suit before heading in, donning his street clothes and carrying you inside, setting you down on his couch. You’re sniffling, but not crying loudly or yelling anymore which Jake is thankful for. He goes to get a small first aid kit. It was included with some beer he bought when he last shopped for anything really and hasn’t been opened. Kneeling in front of you, he sighs as you’re still looking forward, he’s wondering if he’ll still get soft nods and hellos after this. You might even see if you can move from the building. He wets some gauze with some saline and dabs your cheek, finally you respond by hissing from the sting.

“Oh, now you’re paying attention princesa (princess)? You’re in my place by the way. Stay still.” Jake gives you a brief smile before dabbing your cheek a few more times and applying some antibiotic ointment. It’s not nearly deep enough for stitches or even the little strips they have in here, but he still hates that you were there at all, let alone that you’re not only injured but you also had to kill to survive.

“I..so that was all real, not a nightmare? Oh…so I killed…” You finally drop the knife and in klangs on the floor, your hands take hold of your knees, covered halfway by your pencil skirt. Your realization sinks in that no, it was not some crazed fearful dream from watching way too much FBI in one night. No, there had been a fight, there had been blood and you had indeed killed someone.

“It was self-defense hermosa (gorgeous). That’s all it was. You wouldn’t have had to if I wasn’t slow in getting to you.” Jake takes your hands in his. You finally look at him. He looks like every other day, black leather jacket, dark gray t-shirt, dark wash jeans, a wry smile on his face and it’s surrounded by his dark shadowy stubble. When did he change clothes? His eyes are unexpectedly warm in their chocolate pools. You hadn’t really looked at them before, always in passing. You nod and close your eyes. He’s telling you what you want to hear, but you know what you did with that knife. “Come on, let’s get you next door. You should wash up and change clothes. Don’t touch your face though.” He instructs and you follow him to your feet as he stands and walks to his door. His apartment has the same brick walls, though his are more sparse with decorations though you see many books. You didn’t expect any and you’re not sure why.

You aren’t able to find your keys, your hands are shaking so badly and you’re crying again, silently since he told you to be quiet. He regrets that a bit. You’re not accustomed to death and violence as he is, of course it's shocking, most would find it so. “May I princesa?” Jake holds out a hand, he’s not going to force it, it’s not the time. You hand him your back and he searches for half a minute. The bag is large and looks like you keep a lot of ‘just in case’ stuff in it. He finds your keys and unlocks your door, but doesn’t enter with you.

“You’re not coming in? I…” Your voice fades out. You want to ask him to stay, you don’t want to be alone, but would he even want to? He likely thinks you’re a wimp for crying, why would he even want to stay? “N-Never mind Jake see-”

“I’ll be back. I need to tie up loose ends princesa. Just take a nice slow shower, if you get your face wet, clean and apply some more ointment and eat something. You did well, you survived. Don’t feel bad about it at all.” He’s spoken more to you now than he ever has. On one hand, this eleates Jake as he was never really sure how to start a conversation with you, but under these circumstances, it’s far from ideal. His arms wrap around you, bringing your head to his chest. He still smells a little metallic like blood but now like the books in his apartment and cigarettes? You’d never seen him smoke, curious, but not your focus. His heartbeat is steady and one hand touches the back of your neck, his fingers run up into the small hairs you have at the back edge of your hairs, those little ones that no amount of hair grease or edge cream will tame. He’s playing with them though before he lets you go abruptly. “Hasta leugo princesa (See you later princess).” And he’s back to his apartment. Gone that fast. His warmth lingers on your neck and the front of your body and it’s what you ponder while you’re in the shower.

Peeling off your clothes and showering was the easy part. The clothes went in their own small trash bag and would go out with tomorrow’s garbage. It was trying to eat, you made a sandwich and only ate half of it, then there was soup, which normally you love, but the smell made your stomach curl. Eventually, all of the sandwiches went down with some water and on the couch you sat. Alone with your thoughts. You don’t feel any different, but you know what you did with that knife. The blood, the men’s threats, the fear you felt, Jake being covered in blood. What was he going to do when he came back? Where should you even start with your questions? It had been a few hours by this point and you’re staring at the wall when there’s a knock at your door. Standing and hurrying to the door, a familiar voice uttered one word.

“Princesa.” It was the fastest you’d open the door for anyone.

Jake sits down from you on your couch and explains to you who he is, who he serves and why he usually has blood on him. It’s fantastical and had it been any other day, you’d told him to get out and avoided him like he was insane. But the events of the night had told you to believe him and it was honestly better to think he was punishing those causing harm to others than being a serial killer or something else. You do notice something though, Jake appears to be nervous, which is weird, his eyes are darting around and he keeps clearing his throat and moving on the couch, like he can’t get comfortable.

“Did you want to sit in the armchair? You might find it more comfortable.” Your offer makes him stop moving and sigh. Jake’s a little worked up since he’d been doing a lot more of Khonshu work, normally he’d drink to ease himself into some sleep. He should leave. Now. You’re freshly showered, took down a man despite being scared out of your mind, and he held you too long earlier, much too long. He meant to calm you with that hug but it instead had him in his thoughts again.

He shouldn’t have watched you stand either, your wide hips make Jake want to do more than pat them as do the soft caramel of your legs that he sees as you glide over to your fridge to offer him water. He stands as you bring him the water and he gulps it down, thanking you as he starts toward the door.

“W-Wait, you’re leaving already Jake?!” He needs you not to call for him like that. You sound like you need him and…that’s not something he can handle right now.

“You’re okay now. I shouldn’t stay any longer princesa.” He doesn’t turn to face you. If he sees your eyes he’s not going to leave. He knows what he’s feeling is partly from all the fighting but not entirely and that’s the part his mind has latched onto and won’t let go of.

“Could I at least have another hug before you go Jake?” You’ve said his name softly, almost with care. How can he say no now? He did give you a hug earlier. He turns to see that you’ve dropped your robe and you are wearing a red silk nightgown that just barely covers your bottom. Your eyes aren’t telling him you want a hug, at least, not just a hug.

“Hermosa, I don’t think that’s all you want from me. Let’s both be honest here. Has this been part of why you watch me as much as I watch you?” His steps are slow, he’s giving you an out. You can say no and give a flimsy excuse like your robe slipped or something. You don’t. You put your hands on his chest and run them up as he did to you, your hands grabbing his curls, their silken texture makes you smile.

“You’d be correct Jake. This dance has gone on long enough. You’re finally in my apartment and I almost died tonight. I also had a long shower as you suggested.” Your plush lips look so inviting and he can’t resist. The kiss is sloppy and his hands are roaming your body, he’d like to rip the gown off of you, but he’s sure you put it on to be admired so he will for a little bit. Jake is much more interested in what’s under it. He bends temporarily and hooks his hands under your knees to lift you up carrying you to your bedroom.

After setting you on the bed gently, Jake slips off his clothes, making a pile on the floor in front of your bed. He’s not one to be embarrassed and is well aware of what he’s working with. His swollen length bobs while he licks his lips. His eyes roam your body as he climbs on the bed, calloused hands start at your ankles and slide up your thick legs. Once he reaches your hips, his hands stay under your nightgown as he pulls it up and over your head. The low groan makes his Adam's apple bob when he sees you weren’t wearing any underwear as you open your legs for him to expose your wetness. You gasp at the cool air and it allows him to capture your lips again, your arms and legs wrapping around him.

He grins into the kiss, lurching his hips forward to have the head of his cock glide across your wet slit. Your hips react and jut forward having the tip enter you, Jake grins on your lips and pulls back but leaves the tip in. “Rather eager aren’t you cariño (sweetheart)?” He takes hold of his length, removing his tip fully and rolls the wrist of his free hand for you to roll over. “I’ll have you from the back first. I want to see that large ass of your bounce.” You roll on your stomach and spread your knees, feeling him lean over and run his hands along your body as he notches at your entrance. His bulbous head is just past your entrance. “Move that ass and push back on my cock. Show me what you can do hermosa.” He leans to kiss along your spine as you use your legs to move your hips back, having your forearms flat on the bed with your elbows as an anchor.

You’re able to get him deeper and feel him stretching you, almost too much, his hips don’t feel flush with yours yet, there must be more. “Jake you’re so thick…. Please move with me.” You coo, looking back at him, your hips moving slowly, your walls are pulling on his shaft, learning his shape. Jake’s hands are roaming your back as praises for working hard for him. He’s aware of his girth and wants to push forward but not yet.

He leans over your back again, making his chest flush with it. His lips are next to your ear, “Muy bien (very good) mi (my) princesa. I’m going to reward you by moving. Be as loud as you want.” A kiss is placed on your shoulder, a last bit of tenderness he shows you before straightening himself up and taking hold of your hips. He draws back, nearly pulling all the way out of you but he thrusts forward, his hips finally flush with yours and the walls of your core expanded to accommodate him as his thrusts increased as did your cries of Jake’s name. You felt yourself pressing into the mattress, at one point face down. Jake was not having it. He wanted you vocal unless your voice had truly given out, which he was sure it hadn’t. His hips came to a full stop and you gasped. “No, no princesa. You won’t go quiet on me yet. Roll.” He gave a light slap to your ass for encouragement for you to move.

You had just sat yourself up back on your elbows and lifted your head when Jake decided that you were moving too slow for him and pulled out of you, the loss had you groan before you yelped with your leg up in the air where it had not been for a long time. He crossed your leg over and succeeded in flipping you over so you were now on your back. Jake’s relentless, his hands are roaming your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, “Jake....Jake..Fuck…” You keep chanting as he grins before capturing your lips again with his. He has yet to enter you once more and his precum is dripping onto your slit as it rubs your viscous liquids together.

Once he pulls back, he takes in your swollen lips, the heaving of your chest, every curve that he’s tried to feel with his fingers and he knows he hasn’t. This time when he slips back within you, it’s slower and he keeps eye contact with you, one hand on the back of your knee pushing your leg forward to allow him deeper and the other on the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his as he presses his chest against yours. “So much better than I imagined princesa. You’re not getting away from me you know.” He nibbles on your bottom lip as your core tightens around him again, “Good girl, milk me and accept what I’m going to give you.” Your hands grab his shoulders and dig into his skin, scratching him, your hips keep crashing into his as he speeds up a bit, nearly at his climax.

“Give me what you’ve got Jake. I’ll mark you…” Using your teeth, you graze the skin on his neck before biting down and hearing him hiss, giving you a few more strong pumps before spilling inside of you. The heat from his spend has the walls of your cunt close around his throbbing shaft as you scream in your own peak. Jake continues to slowly roll his hips until you both start to come down. Neither of you move, only the sounds of your breaths fill the room. Your body is completely limp and you stare up at Jake who gives you a small kiss to your lips before starting to move back, your arms weakly reach for him and he grins.

“You want more already? You’ll have to give me a few princesa.” Shaking your head, you stick your bottom lip out and give a small pout.

“Don’t leave yet. Stay.” Jake rubs circles on your belly and chuckles.

“You’re even more adorable than I thought. I need to know where your washcloths and towels are. We need to clean up. I’m not leaving.” You inform him that they’re in the small hall closet next to the bathroom to which he goes and gets two washcloths, warming them up along with towels. He wipes you down first and dries you, then takes care of himself before slipping the both of you under the sheets. His hand cups your cheek before running his fingers through your hair and then it dawns on him - you’re not wearing your bonnet. Jake asks where you keep them and you tell him the bottom drawer of your nightstand so he reaches to get one for you and you decide to pinch his rather round ass.

“I think we’re fond of each other’s asses Jake.” You laugh as he slips the red satin onto your head. “I’m surprised you knew that I wore one at night. You’re keeping that close of tabs on me?” An eyebrow raises and he puts his hands up.

“Come on, give me a little credit. I’m not going to say I know everything about caring for black hair properly, but I know bonnets, protective styles, but don’t ask me how to do any of them and oil.” He put up three fingers for the things he did know.

Now it’s your turn to grin. This sly man. “Pfft. You’re full of surprises Jake. We’ll sleep and then you’re helping me oil my hair in the morning before work.” You press his chest lightly and the scoot closer to him to cuddle. His arm wraps around your back, and those fingers of his run down your spine again.

“I’ll help you oil your hair tomorrow if it’s after breakfast and you take a day off of work.” Jake kisses your forehead and closes his eyes.

“Alright. You talked like you knew what to do. I won’t forgive you if you mess up my hair.”

“Hm. If it’s anything like what you did tonight, I get it. I’ll be extra careful princesa. Don’t worry.” You’d drifted off to sleep and Jake watched you before he dozed off as well, looking forward to having his hands on you again. In your hair or anywhere you’d let him.

Keeping an eye out from the apartment across the hall 👀: @soft-persephone @saturn-rings-writes @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @dameron-grant-spector @soft-girl-musings @agentjackdaniels

[layla4567]

I'm just a librarian ✿

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a library in the middle of London, you get paid well and you love your little reading space surrounded by books that rise to the highest ceiling. But one day your normality will be turned upside down when a guy comes looking for some books on Egyptian history.

A/N: Ok first of all I must say that this idea arose from a little dream I had (and I also wanted to use the image from the movie The Mummy, I mean, just look at her, she is beautiful, she looks like Belle) second, I don't know if this will have more parts the truth is I'm not good at making long stories because then I leave them unfinished or I run out of ideas so, yes, I'm building this as I go along, sorry.

Part 2

And here I am once again, sitting behind the counter where you could see an old green lamp, a couple of books stacked one on top of the other, a typewriter and a little badge where you could read my name. With my legs crossed I moved my airborne foot rhythmically back and forth following a silent melody while my face rested lazily on my hand. My view was always directed towards the large windows that were near the line where the roof began. They were in the shape of a half circle and had a nice drawing similar to a stained glass window through which the sunlight passed in a warm way.

I loved being around libraries just for the sake of being a bookworm. I could spend hours reading old books sitting in a comfortable chair enjoying the silence without realizing it. But it was kind of boring to sit and wait for people to arrive so that you could help them with whatever they needed. I had already finished arranging the books with the help of the ladder, I loved doing it, it was fun to slide from one side to the other, it was almost like skating.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize someone had entered the library until they were in front of me so I gave a little jump in my seat.

"Oh so sorry! did I scare you? It wasn't my intention"

The person who addressed me was a very polite and kind middle-aged man, he had an innocent look in those pretty dark eyes he had. He was wearing a jean jacket and underneath was a white shirt, he was also wearing khaki pants and had a brown shoulder strap on one side.

"Don't worry, It's okay, I was just thinking, can I help you with something?"

I could not stop seeing his eyes, his look gave off a peculiar innocence glow, I could sense a genuinely beautiful aura like that of a child

"Well, yes. I was looking for books on Egyptian history, you know, gods and pharaohs, myths, pyramids, etc."

Every time he spoke his face would light up with enthusiasm, it was admirable to see

"Sure, we have several. Follow me please"- I said while my smile deepened

I led him through the aisles looking for the "Ancient Egypt" section by the gigantic shelves. The man meekly followed me like a lap dog without taking his eyes off me as he clung to his backpack. When we had reached the section, I took out 4 books, stacking them one on top of the other and numbering them as I handed them over to him.

" "History of Egypt", "Gods and mythologies", "Encyclopedia of the pyramids" and "The 10 most famous figures of ancient Egypt" And remember to return everything within 15 days "

I piled the books in the arms of that man who tried with effort to hold them since they were quite large and hardcover while I raised a finger and recited the prayer from memory. Even though the books were about to fall out of his hands, the man looked from the books to me with a beaming smile.

"Of course, yes, miss, I will do so. Thank you very much for your help"

I smiled generously at the man's good manners and walked him to my desk to finish the paperwork. I sat as the middle-aged man patiently watched me with his books in his arms like a child waiting for his Christmas present.

"Ok, I will give you a paper with the exact date where you must return the books along with our address, I would only need to know your name to write it down please"- I looked at him expectantly

"Steven Grant, Steven with a V"

I couldn't help but laugh at the clarification as if I didn't know how to write his name

"I clarify it just in case. A lot of people always misspell it, sometimes they call me Stephen. But surely you wrote it well, you seem to have nice handwriting hehe"

Steven giggled nervously as I smirked in amusement. What a singular man that Steven was

"No problem, what a nice name you have"- I smiled warmly

Steven got more nervous and his face begins to take on a cute reddish color as he stuttered and mumbled a thank you.

"By the way, my name is Y/n"

I told him, pointing with a fingernail to my badge that was resting on the desk. He looked at it for a while and smiled

"Now I won't forget"

And with one free hand he gave me a childish wave as he uttered a sweet "Laters gators" and headed for the exit. With one elbow on the table and my hand resting on my cheek, I watched him until he disappeared through the door.

"Steven.."

I pronounced his name slowly delighting myself with the syllables, it was sweet as honey and resonant as a bell. I was wondering if I would see him around here more often. I sighed with a lopsided smile and went back to staring at the stained glass windows waiting for someone else to come and help them.

The days passed and I didn't hear from Steven, he hadn't returned the books within the agreed period and I was beginning to worry. He supposed that this man was a little distracted or had forgotten or was busy with something important, anyway it was very common for people not to return the books on time and to be a little late. My head was full of thoughts hoping nothing bad happened to Steven and hoping to see him again when someone stormed through the library entrance.

"I'm really sorry!! I got there as fast as I could, apparently I fell asleep and woke up in a place full of sand. I have a sleep disorder, I'm sorry"

Steven was talking fast, spitting out the words like a machine gun, he looked agitated and his hair was messy. And on his face you could see the nervousness and concern. I tried to reassure him

"Steven, Steven calm down, it's okay. I get it, you don't have to apologize."

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard trying to provide warmth and protection. Steven giggled nervously and his cheeks turned pink, it was adorable.

"Oh by the way, here are the books"

Steven took out of his bag the books in perfect condition that I had given him. At least he was a man of his word

"Thank you very much Steven, do you want any other books?"

"Well actually yes, if it's not a bother, wouldn't you have one that talks about the moon god Khonsu?"-he said something nervous

I laughed in amusement

"Of course! We have many books on Egyptian gods, take the ones you want"-I said tenderly

Steven for some reason gave me a strange feeling, a maternal need to protect him, he looked so helpless at times. I can't even imagine how chaotic his life must be

"You know something? Why don't I buy you a coffee? I'll give you the new books and then we can hang out and chat, I have a break in 15 minutes."

Apparently Steven didn't expect that so he got even more red.

"I-Is it some kind of date?"

"If you want to see it that way, yes"

Steven smiled like a kid in a toy store and followed me back to the bookshelves. After giving him everything he needed, he waited for me at the entrance of the library like a true gentleman. I left my position in charge of my partner Selma who answered me with a grunt and left with Steven towards the nearest cafeteria.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

We sat at a table close to the street. The cafeteria was decorated with flowers and vines, it was my favorite, it made it look Parisian. We both ordered a simple latte and to eat I ordered a croissant with chocolate and he asked for a kind of vegan burrito, then he explained to me that he doesn't eat anything that comes from animals.

"Well Steven tell me something about yourself, do you have a job?"

"Yes, I'm working in a gift shop at the British Museum. But I would really love to be the one who makes the guides"

"Really? Amazing! who'd say? You are a museum and history enthusiast and I am a bookworm willing to provide you with all the information you want."

We both laughed happily forgetting what was happening around us. Steven's laugh was like sweet nectar to my ears that made all my worries disappear. Except for one that was still on my mind

"Wait a second, how come you woke up in a place full of sand? Where exactly?"

"I have no idea, I wish I knew. But it's not the first time it's happened to me, one day I woke up on top of Everest"

Steven started laughing downplaying it and I laughed too but with less enthusiasm. I was worried about him.

"Well I think I should go back to my work, thanks for everything I really needed to talk to someone and distract myself"

I looked at Steven tenderly, thinking that I was probably the only person he could talk to broke my heart.

"Anytime Steven. Anyway, I also have to go back to work, the time flies by when you talk"

I left a tip on the table and was about to go to the library when Steven stopped me with a question.

"Would you like to visit me one day at the museum? It's that I always visit you...-"

"I'd love to"

We said goodbye with a smile as if we were lifelong friends and each one went their own way to continue with their work on that beautiful afternoon in London.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sorry if it was boring and there wasn't much interaction with Steven but this is just the first part of the story

[heartthrobin]

my bleeding dream, my shadow in the night

jake lockley x female!reader

wc: 9.5k

warnings: mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda?), angst, jake lockley is emotionally constipated, there is heavy steven / marc x reader but mostly jake centred, description of wounds and stitching them up, blood, a couple references to sex, there is a dog (i see him as a leonburger btw), jake still works for khonshu, post mk s1, heavy handed on the spanish fight me

an: hey loves !!! sorry it took so long, but here you go. obvs this is my interpretation of jake cause we don't see much of him in mk :// remember to comment and repost to support your fav writers

summary: you were convinced, no: you were sure, that Jake Lockley couldn't stand the sight of you. then why was he consistently banging at your door in the middle of the night, dripping in blood and begging to be stitched up?

Mouse was noisy.

You really wished he wouldn't be.

He was a big boy, the largest puppy you'd ever seen when you'd picked him up from the shelter. Tall enough now to sit straight up at your kitchen table and swipe leftovers off the middle shelf in the fridge when left unattended.

Despite his monstrous presence, Mouse yipped and whined like a teacup terrier.

It wasn't too bad most days. You were more than welcome to lug his eighty kilogram bum with you to the veterinary clinic where you worked, which you did, but it was the weekends that were tough on him.

When he'd be left alone in the flat.

Mouse would whimper at the door all the hours you were gone, whine until he heard you shuffling back up the corridor after a couple drinks with friends or between all the mostly horrible dates with monotonous men you subjected yourself to.

You couldn't call him a nuisance - he was your baby, you could never - but the guilt picked at you. You wondered most of all if he bothered your neighbours.

There was a sign up in the elevator: no pets allowed in the building! which you avoided eye contact with on a daily basis.

It wasn't all bad, Mouse's noisiness.

After all, it was his dramatics that brought Steven Grant to your door in the first place a Sunday night somewhere deep into April.

Steven had knocked so lightly, so politely on your door.

You'd opened it just slightly, enough to hide the furry mountain who was hovering curiously behind your figure. Who's there? Who's there?

He'd stumbled out a greeting, introduced himself as your neighbour. Two doors down.

You were long lost in the confusion of how you'd never realised that the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on was living less than a few feet from your front door, when he mentioned Mouse.

Not by name, exactly, but rather asked if "the dog" was alright. That he'd heard whining into the early hours of that morning.

That morning when you'd been in a bar two streets up from the apartment building listening to a man tell you about why Bitcoin was the "future of finance". God.

Dread had drained your face of colour, you remember how you'd tripped over your apologies, and begged him not to mention it to the landlord.

Steven's face reflected your panic. He assured you that everything was fine, he was just worried that something had happened. He apologised about as much as you had.

You invited him in that night, let Mouse sniff around the edges of his pants.

Mouse had sat with his bear-sized head in Steven's lap the rest of the afternoon when you'd poured them tea. Steven chuckled nervously: you figured that he hadn't anticipated the size of the dog when he'd come to make his welfare check.

From that day, things rumbled into a colourful blur of neighbourly dues to genial friendship to ... god, you didn't even know anymore.

Stops in the corridors became twenty minutes for tea which morphed into "I cooked too much pasta, care for a plate?" and then three hours over your kitchen table.

Steven, you found, was cheeky and endearing, and shy in all the right places.

He talked more than he listened and you would warm yourself happily with the sound of his voice for hours before he'd stutter out a "I'm so rude, I didn't even ask how was your--", and then you'd give a little too.

There were books he put you on, mostly about Ancient Egypt, but others were poetry or mysteries or biographies. He'd invite you for tea in his flat, poke and prod you on your thoughts on the book while Mouse sat quietly invested in watching Gus and Gil float up and down the tank for hours.

You met Marc eventually.

He was soft in different ways to Steven, eyes wearier than his counterpart's. Marc was hesitant, following slowly when Steven tugged him out into the light of your eyes.

You worked on him gently, steadily. Brought him baked goods when you'd made, walked out with him some mornings to work and offered to stop with him for a coffee.

More than that, none of the boys took to Mouse more than Marc.

It was something about the military in him, you thought, that brought Marc around to bury his hands into the spaces behind the dog's ears. Coo at him and fish pieces of jerky out his pocket just so long as Mouse sat draped over his lap the whole time.

It rolled into walks with you on the weekends, when you'd need to sneak Mouse out the building, and then dinner on the way home.

The ebb and flow of it was sweet, and slow, and you sunk into the boys' presence like a cat bathing in sunlight.

Jake came later. Later, in the early days of July when the tendrils of Summer had sunk themselves deep into the heart of London.

He wasn't like Marc, not skittish. Neither welcoming nor open to your meddling, he seemed distinctly above it. Above you.

There was an explicit distinction between him and the other boys, maybe just to you.

Jake avoided your eyes and your conversation. He kept up with his alters' wishes but entertained you no further.

You'd heard about him long before you'd met him. A rainy afternoon, chasing down the foyer of the building with a "hold the elevator!"

His eyes found yours and you beamed at catching Steven or Marc before heading up.

"Hey--" you watched his eyes turn you over.

Jake didn't slouch like Steven, nor was he taut and tense in the shoulders like Marc. He stood with an ease about him, his head tilted down under the flat cap that worked to shield his eyes.

He greeted curtly, a definite East coast twang to his speech.

"You must be Jake." You said plainly, finding no other way around it.

The man's brow tightened, "Sure."

There came a realisation to his expression, twisting up again. "You must be the doll from down the corridor."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Neither of you moved.

"Uh ... I suppose so."

Jake nodded, moving without another word down towards his door. Your feet tripped over themselves to follow him.

Jingling keys broke the quiet of the corridor and his door creaked open.

"It was nice meeting--"

It closed with a thump.

"... you."

Your interactions with the third member of the system were spread out, bumps here and there. No more than a few words.

Steven worried about him, about Jake.

Him and Marc had told you about Khonshu, about the Moonknight, in the darkness of a Thursday night following a few glasses of whisky.

"But ..." the glass teetered over the wooden table where Marc was twirling it round. "He's gone now, right? I-I mean, you're done, aren't you?"

Marc's eyes flickered up just once.

"Yeah, yeah ..." he nodded, words blurred around the edges with alcohol. "Just some days ... I ... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

His eyes flickered.

"Yeah, love. We just worry about Jake some days, he comes home with bruises and stuff--" Steven.

His expression twisted again, this time almost painfully.

"Nothing to worry about." Marc had returned, clearly intent on shutting Steven up. He took a long slug of the brown remnants in his glass. "You still got any of that cake from yesterday?"

And so it passed that way, for weeks.

Jake was a ghost that haunted the corridors between awkward elevator interactions or sometimes when he'd pop into the middle of you and Steven's documentary movie nights.

It stayed that way for a long while, until the visits began.

The landlord arranged a check-in once a month, just to ensure that nothing was broken, that you were keeping the place clean, that you weren't hiding one of the hounds of Baskerville in your flat. Things of that sort.

Steven had graciously offered to let Mouse come stare at his fish tank for a few hours until the check-in was over.

You lingered at his door and knocked twice, eyes flickering nervously up and down the corridor for signs of any other tenants creeping out their own flats.

The door opened and with one glance over his figure, you knew it wasn't Steven.

"Jake?"

He squinted at you, clad in pajamas and looking you up and down affronted as if it wasn't already three o' clock in the afternoon. It was clear that he'd just woken up.

"Yeah?"

His hair was tousled in a way that was making your stomach churn. God, surely there were laws in place to stop men from looking this handsome in the middle of broad fucking daylight?

"Sorry to bother," your hand tightened around Mouse's leash where he was inching forward to lick at Jakes exposed ankles. "Steven said I could leave Mouse here for a couple hours while the landlord comes to check my place?"

Jake's eyes dropped to the dog, as if he was noticing him for the first time. He nodded, pulling the door further open for him to slip past.

You smiled softly, feeling the awkwardness crowd over your face and redden your cheeks. "Thanks, I-I really appreciate it."

He nodded again. "Yeah, no problem."

When you collected Mouse later that night, Marc opened the door with the dog merry under his palm and Jake was foggy memory.

That was the first night.

The street outside had already dimmed to a soft whir of taxis and buses when you'd slipped off into bed. Mouse was taking up most of the space, as he did most nights, and you'd passed out before the blinking light on your bedside clock had even hit midnight.

It was thunderous, the knock, when it came. It jostled you from sleep with the immediate panic that the door was being broken down.

Mouse was scratching at the base of the door before you'd even sat up, adrenaline pumping through your system. The clock flashed four thirty-seven.

"What the fuck ..." your bare legs kicked off the sheets, stumbling towards the door.

In hindsight, maybe checking the peephole would have been wise, but you threw open the door in oversight.

Leaning, head down and panting, against the wooden frame stood the figure of your neighbour.

"Jake?"

The jacket with the fur lining, the cap crumpled in his fist. It had to be him.

"What are you ..." Your eyes found the side of his waist, white shirt blossoming with a crimson stain.

Jake looked up with wide black eyes. Even in the darkness, they curled with remorse.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I just--"

"Get inside," your hand reached for his arm, helping him off the doorframe and guiding him to crash down into the nearest chair at your kitchen table.

He seethed, head leaning back over the seat. "Fuck ..."

Your knees found the wooden floor, hands creeping up his legs towards his shirt. "Can I?"

He nodded.

Cold hands crumpled up the edges of the once white t-shirt and you lifted it up against his chest. A deep gash was reaching from his armpit towards his hips.

You drew a shaky breath, "Jake, you need to go to the hospital--"

"No." His voice was stern. "No hospitals, I can't ... they can't know."

Realisation was dawning on your reeling mind.

"This has to do with Khonshu. Doesn't it?"

Jake's gaze burnt into yours, but he made no move to answer. It was the response you'd expected.

You sighed, running a hand back over your hair. "I ... I don't know what you want me to do?"

Mouse was sniffing curiously at Jake, sensing where the tension was building.

"You're a doc, aren't you?"

"For animals!"

He shrugged, "I'm as close as you're gonna get, muñeca."

Sucking in another deep breath, you glanced back at the wound. The dim light in the kitchen worked to hide where you were sure other cuts and bruises were forming over his torso.

The thought of Steven and Marc occurred to you. When they would wake up tomorrow morning in a hospital bed, panicked.

You nodded eventually.

"Fine." It was barely a whisper. "Give ... give me a second."

There was a small set-up in the cupboard beneath your sink, the basics you'd need to stitch him up.

He made no other comment in your movement to the bathroom and back. You placed the box onto the table noisily.

"You need to get up on the counter," you said, flipping the light on in the corner of the room. "I can't work kneeling down like this."

With a grunt that made your cheeks warm, Jake rose from the chair and hauled himself up onto your kitchen counter, knocking your toaster back against the wall loudly.

"Lose the shirt." You said it without meeting his eyes.

When his jacket and shirt had been tossed back against the table behind you, you neared him again: letting your fingers graze softly around the wound. You worked hard to ignore the sharp inhale he made at your touch, or the goosebumps that rose around your hand.

He was watching you with heavy eyes, you glanced up to meet them and if you didn't know better, might have said that they twinkled with a shine of endearment.

"I don't have any anaesthetic," you whispered, sure he could hear you at the close proximity you now found yourself with him. "You'll feel everything."

"He tenido peores."

I've had worse.

You considered him for a moment, before reaching behind his head for the knob on the cupboard: swinging it open.

Behind some coffee mugs was the last of a bottle of vodka you'd gotten for your birthday. Not a lot, but maybe enough.

You handed it to him and he took it without question, spinning off the lid. He took three big gulps, face twisting as he sat it down.

Picking it up before his hand had even left it, you took two similar sips to wash down the panic rising in your throat.

When you found his face again, a smile had curled into his lips. Like he was on the verge of a laugh.

"Oh no," you set it down, "Don't go starting to like me now right before I have you put your life in my hands."

The objects from your little medicine box clattered out onto the counter beside him, you pretended not to notice where his face curled up in confusion.

"What makes you think I didn't like you before?"

You huffed. "Jake, please."

It seemed he didn't have an answer. Silence grew stale between your figures as you sanitised the utensils and your hands.

You drenched a bandage in alcohol, giving Jake a sympathetic look before pressing it over the wound.

He seethed at the pain, but not enough that you worried. You wiped it down as gently as you could manage, resting your other hand on his shoulder.

When the dried blood had been cleared and only fresh blood was leaking out did you reach for the needle.

"You ready?" You whispered, voice trembling.

He shrugged, "Are you?"

Mouse nudged at your leg, whining lowly. You ignored him and nodded.

Your fingers pushed at the skin, nudging them together where you pierced the needle and Jake let out a jolt.

The needle wove in and out, your fingers stained in blood against where Jake was groaning. He'd reached for the bottle of vodka again, guzzling down sip after sip: the rim of the bottle working to quieten his moans of pain.

Your eyes flickered up between the wound and his face, his face twisted and his chest reeling with heavy pants.

"I'm sorry," your words wobbled, the vision of the wound growing blurry behind gathering tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so..."

A hand found your jaw, pulling you back up into Jake's line of sight. The grip was warm.

"Hey, hey ..." his other hand released the neck of the bottle, swiping a calloused thumb over your cheek where a tear had run down. "You've done this before, I'm just like a ... a big dog. Just not as hairy."

You nodded, ragged breaths escaping you. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

His hand stayed over your face and you hoped it would linger for a little longer.

It moved, returning to the safety of the last swigs of vodka.

Your hand came to find the needle again, working it into his side to finish out the last few stitches. He was making more of an effort to stifle his groans, you could tell.

When you finished, you patted it with alcohol again before setting everything down against the counter. You wiped your hands, watching down as you stained the kitchen cloth with blood.

Jake investigated the wound site, hunched carefully over. "It looks good. You did a good job."

You handed him a roll of fresh bandages, ignoring his needless compliment. "It needs a fresh wrap every time you shower ... and put some antibiotic ointment on if you have. If you don't have, go buy."

He slipped gently off the edge of the counter, you took a seat at your kitchen table: sucking in hard breaths and avoiding his face.

The jacket and shirt slid off the table, he pressed them against his chest.

"Thank you."

You nodded, still not looking at him. "You need sleep, Jake."

But he lingered, made no move towards the door. The quiet stretched long enough to where your head came back up to find him.

His fist was curling and uncurling at his side, lips pursed.

"What is it?"

Jake's brow softened. "Please don't .... don't tell Steven or Marc that I was here."

You stared at him, affronted. "I think that's the least of your worries, Jake. If I were you, I'd worry about how you're gonna explain the twenty stitches in your side."

"You'd think." He shrugged, an air of charisma to his tone that you were realising was characteristic of him. "They'd freak those two, if they knew I woke you up in the middle of the night for this. For anything, actually."

"Meaning?"

He huffed, tugging the blood-wet shirt over his frame carefully. You avoided where your eyes were desperate to follow the trail of black hairs down over his stomach.

"You're a smart woman, princesa. Playing dumb doesn't suit you." Jake tightened the jacket to his side. "You've got those two wrapped around your pretty little finger."

The implication made your cheeks flush. Made you itch under your skin with his remarks, with how little care he tossed them at you.

"Right. So that's why you don't like me, is it? Cause I care about Marc and Steven?"

He shook his head in place of answering.

"I'm gonna go." Jake's feet shuffled backwards.

The door clicked behind him and Mouse whimpered at his absence.

-

In the weeks following that night, days dissolved into a technicolour blur of work and sleep.

Things had picked up at the clinic: you were tied down by late night surgeries and early morning consults.

You didn't see Jake once in that time.

Steven invited you around in the few moments you were home when you had them, with the pot boiling, offering a store-bought muffin warmed on a plate and good intentions.

Even Marc had stopped past your work, a coffee in hand and a smile lit between blushing cheeks. It was the one you liked from the place around the corner.

But Jake remained a foggy memory and as they days passed, you were growing more and more sure that his visit had only occurred in a dream.

That was until he came again.

Another knock, another confused shuffle through the darkness towards the door.

The light from the hallway framed a halo over his head, throwing a shadow over where you knew a cheeky grin was forming. "Princesa."

You drew the door back, rubbing the sleepy buzz from the corners of your eyes. Too tired to indulge him with argument, you motioned for him to pass into your flat.

He limped past your frame, hand kissing his bloody shoulder.

"On the counter, Lockley." You mumbled around the sleeve of your pajamas.

Jake lifted himself with his left arm, groaning where he slid onto the surface. He reached into the cupboard, bumping past mugs to where you'd stashed the bottle of vodka. There was hardly two sips left in it and he cleaned them out before you'd even returned.

Mouse was watching the action from a spot on the couch.

When you'd set the kit onto the space beside him, his shirt was already pulled to the side: revealing two stab wounds up his right shoulder.

You made no move to lift your arms from your sides, instead your eyes traced the wound where blood was leaking steadily out.

"I thought there was a suit? Steven says it used to heals wounds."

Jake's gaze hadn't left your face since he'd sat down. He shook his head.

"I don't wear it, the suit." He said simply.

You said nothing else, instead moving to wash your hands and wipe down the needle, attaching some thread to the end of it.

Silence rung in the space. You could tell by his fidgeting that it bothered Jake, but still, he made no move to talk.

Your hands, cool from the water, ran up over his arm and pressed gently into the skin surrounding the cuts. He sighed and you pretended that the sound didn't eat you up from the inside, pretend that you weren't thinking about how it would sound muffled against your own mouth.

The needle pierced his skin without warning and he jerked against your hand before apologising quietly.

Compared to his last visit, these cuts were deeper rather than wide: like the perpetrator only managed a nick before Jake threw himself back. It would only need five or six stitches and you sewed them in gently, but this time, insensitive to his twitching and squirming.

Annoyance flared beneath your skin. He doesn't show his face once in the time since he last appeared at your door, but here he was again: offering his wounds like a struck puppy.

"You know I could lose my license for this." You say it quietly, more of a comment than a question.

He observed you from under thick black lashes. "Why're you doing it then?"

There hung a pause where you grappled for answers. Different combinations of words fought to leave your mouth - all of them reaching out from your bruised heart.

"Because Marc and Steven are in there." You settle on. "And if I left it to you, all three of you would die of sepsis."

Something akin to hurt flashes across his face, but it's hard to tell through the darkness and easy to chalk up to the needle dipping in and out of his skin.

"Good to know you worry about me, too, muñeca."

You wipe the now stitched wound unceremoniously, not even admitting to the end of the procedure and definitely not addressing the fact that you do worry. That since his last visit, you worry about him every fucking night before you sleep. But he doesn't need to know that.

"Let me see your side." You motion over his shirt where you'd stitched him up less than a month before.

Jake lifted the shirt tentatively. You were met with the pink stretched scar down his abdomen.

"Who took out the stitches?"

His abdomen rippled where he shifted. "I'm sure you can guess."

The image of Steven poking around between dried stitches and gagging dramatically made a chuckle rise up in your throat. "Marc."

"Yeah."

"What did they say? About the scar?"

Jake's hand brushed along where your forearm rested at the counter, but - not for the first time - drenched your question in silence.

Irritation picked at you again. You pulled your arm out from under his touch. "Whatever, Jake. Keep your fucking secrets."

Before you'd even been allowed the chance to storm back to your room, he caught your arm: slinging you back against the counter.

Your breath caught on the back of your teeth when his forehead pressed against yours.

It was warm and sticky with sweat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his nose pressing against the side of your own. "I'm sorry, don't be angry at me princesa. Please?"

His eyes were so intoxicating this close. You unstuck your face from his, far enough to wash him with your gaze but close enough to still feel the puffs of warm pants across your jaw.

You pressed some hair up out of his face, letting your fingers venture softly through its brambly depths.

"I'm ... I'm not." His forehead was salty where you pushed a kiss there. "Go to bed, Jake."

You'd already disappeared under the comfort of your duvet when your neighbour's footsteps faded out into the hallway.

-

Steven and Marc had taken to asking you about Jake. More than they ever had and far beyond what was necessary.

It peaked suspicion in you.

"No, I've barely seen him." You'd shrugged. Not completely untrue in your words, but not letting on what you knew you could. "Why's that?"

Steven would shake it off. "Nothing, just wondering."

Marc's responses were laced in a little more candour. "He's been asking about you. Talking about you."

"What's he say?" You pretend it's unimportant, like you're not burning to know.

Marc raised his shoulders. A part of you knew that Jake had to be imploring him, insisting he abandon it. Leave him alone, and you alone, and you and him alone.

It was a matter your mind twisted over: did they know? know about Jake and Khonshu and your medical handiwork? -- until it wasn't.

Steven asked you out on a Monday night outside your flat door.

He'd stuttered and stumbled through: "I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Sure, that sounds great Stevie--"

"No, like ... like a date. I'd like to take you to dinner. On a date, i-if you want to."

You'd paused, delight crawling up over your face and manifesting into two cherry red cheeks. "I'd love that."

That Friday after work, you sat across Steven at a tiny round table in a dress you'd not had opportunity to wear in ages.

It was at a pizza place up the road where a single candle lit the space between you, like it did in the movies, and a bouquet of white roses sat in the open chair with your purse. Steven had bought them for you.

You noticed his eyes flicker back in intervals when you spoke, but pretended you didn't.

He was attentive and funny, like he was most every time you saw him, but this time seemed more nervous at it. Your hands curled around his across the red tablecloth and he smiled over words when you brushed a forefinger over his own.

The night ended with a takeaway pizza box interrupting the space where you pushed against his chest, taking his jaw gently into your hand and kissing him sweeter than you'd offered a man before.

It was barely Monday morning when Jake came again. Hardly a week since his last visit.

He hung at your doorframe, fist hovering over the wood.

His head was throbbing something terrible and he could feel where blood was trickling between the tendrils of hair down past his left ear.

A part of him wished he could feel an ounce of shame for it, for creeping out into the night in search of a fight. In search of a reason to end up back at your door.

He didn't.

The knock scraped his knuckles and echoed down the hallway past the other flat.

Jake waited for it. The sniff of the dog at the door, then the sleepy shuffle of feet over wooden floorboards.

It played into the space like his favourite song. The door clicked open, spreading to reveal your figure against the light from the street beyond the window.

The image was burnt into his mind the first time he'd seen it, playing like a video on loop until the next moment that he was blessed with the sight again.

Your sleeping shorts rumpled up against the top of your thigh, sleeves reaching down to your fingertips and a stretch of stomach peeking up at him. So soft, so domestic - he wanted to squeeze you between his calloused palms and press you against him until your forms fuzed.

Instead he settled, like he's done before, with a "princesa" and a finger motioning to wherever he let a deadbeat land a punch or a swipe of a blade on his body.

Tonight, he was dripping all over your doormat. The sky lit up the flat behind you with a crack of lightning, followed with a rumbling that could just have easily grown from the back of your throat as it did from the sky.

Jake felt your eyes, felt it's warmth over his neck where the trail of blood was leading down like the Nile.

"Have you ever thought of coming to visit me when you're not fresh off the bad end of a beating?"

I never stop.

"You gonna patch me up or not, doc?"

He found his usual spot, up on the counter. You disappeared, like you did each time. The dog rested a friendly head on his lap and Jake offered him a pat.

You'd bought a new bottle of vodka, he found it behind the mugs just as he did the time before. He wondered for a moment if you'd gotten it specifically for him.

Cool hands found the base of his neck. This was always his favourite part, when he'd get a taste of your touch against his begging, desperate skin.

And as much as this was his immediate reason for coming, your skin lingered further in his mind: a memory that didn't belong to him. It had kept him up for days.

You were working quietly, like you'd done before and the time before that.

"So." He broke the crisp air that had settled around you two. "Steven asked you out?"

Your eyes flickered up from where you were patting an antiseptic drenched cotton ball at the bump on the side of his head between his hair. The smell was reminding him of the last time you'd pinned him against this counter.

Why're you doing it then?

Because Marc and Steven are in there.

They were words that punctured a new wound into his gut every time he thought on it.

"What's it to ya, Lockley?"

Your hands went back to work, unconcerned for his question.

He shrugged like he didn't care. Like he hadn't scratched violent tears into the sides of his shared brain for a fraction of a sight of you that night: in the prettiest green sundress he'd ever seen and looking like heaven on a plate.

Satisfied with just that, he'd slunk back into the shadows again.

Steven deserved the moment to himself. Deserved you to himself.

It didn't mean that Jake was any less jealous. Any less ripped apart by your place in their life, the place he could never make for you in his own.

"He took you to Lorenzo's, right?"

You hummed, not looking at him.

Jake shrugged noncommittally. "I mean ... everyone knows that the pizza at De Luca's is better. The wine too, but whatever, I guess."

A nail raked gently over a spot behind the cut and Jake tried - failed - not to shiver at it.

"Isn't that place run by the mafia?" Curiosity weaved through your tone.

Jake hummed, "That's what makes it the best."

You laughed softly at that, just barely under your breath, and it made the pit in the base of his stomach warm. He could grow drunk on the sound.

He noticed the red vase on your kitchen table, white roses peaking out the top and watching him merrily.

"And white roses?"

"I like them, Jake." you dug a finger into soft spot against the side of his neck, no doubt on purpose. He jerked against it. "Steven put in a lot of effort."

It struck a funny chord in him, listening to you defend his alter.

"You'd prefer carnations though, wouldn't you? You said they're your favourite."

"Not to you, I didn't."

Sure, you hadn't. You'd mentioned it to Marc one afternoon stroll past the new florist that had opened up around the corner, but that didn't mean he hadn't heard. Didn't remember.

He leaned closer to your face, watching how your eyes flew up from wiping the blood down his neck.

"You forget ..." He whispered, tapping a finger against his temple. "I'm always here, muñeca."

You stepped back and out of his space, tossing the bloody tissue into the bin.

"Well, if it bothers you so much ... you're welcome to take your complaints up with Steven when you see him. Alright?"

"You kissed him."

That made you stop. Made your hands freeze over the kitchen cloth you'd been using to wipe his blood from your fingertips. Another line of lightning cracked beyond the window loudly.

Your eyes moved slowly between resting on his knee and taking sips of his own gaze. There was a sliver of moonlight grazing over your cheek, Jake was sure it was Khonshu taunting him.

"Is that the only place you were bleeding?" You deflected his question with another.

Jake watched you with desperate eyes. He didn't know what he wanted, he just knew that he wanted all of it. All of you. It's heat dissolved when he looked down to his boots. Sticky drying blood smudged over the toe.

"Yeah. Tha's all."

He was surprised when a warm palm closed over his cheek. Droplets of water chased down from the edges of his hair over the back of your hand.

The hand was gone before he'd even a chance to acknowledge it.

"You could have a concussion, Jake." You perched yourself at the edge of your kitchen table across from him. "I think you should go shower and put on warm clothes and come back ... so I can watch you for a bit. Okay?"

As tempting as the offer was, and it did tempt him something terrible, he nudged himself off the counter shaking his head. "No. I should go."

"Jake." Your voice was stern. "Just ... please. I want to make sure that you're okay."

"That I'm okay, or that the others are okay?"

You swallowed. "That you're okay."

His chest inflated and deflated loudly against the hum of the rain at the window. Was it a crime to want more than just a few blood and pain filled moments under the solace of your hand?

"You have work in the morning."

A simple huff escaped you, akin to a chuckle. "Never stopped you before."

He flashed you an annoyed look that held absolutely no substance. His hands itched for yours.

"I'm not gonna go change."

"But you're wet."

"A little rain never killed anybody."

"Does someone pay you to be difficult, hm? A little something on the side?"

You grinned, proud of your little jab at him and he could melt under it's sticky sweetness.

"Shut up." He mumbled.

You sighed and he followed you without instruction towards the couch where you fell back against it. He sat more civilly down beside you - purposeful in the space he left between your thighs.

"You wanna watch something?" You ask quietly.

He shakes his head. No. You nod. Fine.

The fabric was growing damp under his wet jeans, Jake could feel the cold creeping up his legs. The dog was snoring loudly from a spot on the carpet.

"Where did you find this giant dog--?"

"Why do you only talk to me when something's wrong?"

Jake's eyes flew to you, but your gaze remained steadfast on a dark corner of the book shelf across the room.

"I found him at the shelter. Named him Mouse, thought it would be funny ... cause mice are small. And ... he's so big." Your voice was only barely more than a whisper, meandering between words like you didn't know where the sentence was going. "Your turn."

He ran a hand down the jean over his thigh, adjusting in his wet seat. Honesty choked him with the way it was clawing it's way up his throat. You make me nervous and I'm too scared of how much I care for you to face you in the light of day.

A hard swallow washed that confession back down from whence it came. You still weren't looking at him.

"I like it when it's just us." He mumbled instead. A half admission.

You sniffled like you might be crying. Jake was too scared to look.

"It could be just us during the day sometimes too, you know."

There was nowhere left to look for answer, so he didn't bother. Instead, he reached tentatively across the space where your hand was curling on itself at your side.

He pressed his palm against yours and it uncurled, fingers drawing around his like they knew all the curves and dips and callouses there. You shifted so your head pressed into the side of his arm, it stayed there.

Nothing else was said. Not for the rest of the night.

A long quiet hour had drifted past when Jake realised that you'd fallen asleep. Soft, predictable breaths were drawing in and out from your nose.

He shifted to look down at your face, a movement that jostled you off of him and he almost mourned the loss when you curled instead onto the plush of his lap: arms twisted up against your chest.

It took a long moment of convincing to lift his hand from his side: letting it brush along your hairline, tucking back pieces that fanned over your forehead.

His fingertips trailed down over your face, brushing along the bridge of your nose - he watched where it scrunched up and twisted, feeling his heart melt stickily over his ribs - and softly over puffy lips.

He thought again about how you'd kissed Steven.

Jake knew because Steven had told him, voice breathless and heart thumping against his chest just moments after he'd shut the door on you. Marc was proud, Jake was too - but it burnt where it lingered.

Marc would no doubt get there with you too, ask you on another date and have his moments with you. Have something to tend to, to grow, and he knew it because he saw how you looked at them.

That endearment that he knew he could have too if only he just--

He blinked the thought away.

There was danger in allowing himself to love you, far too much to consider it. A weakness that one of Khonshu's adversaries could surely exploit. 

Sure, Steven and Marc could bask in your warmth. Taste the sweet fruit of your intelligence and kindness, wrap themselves around your heart.

But not him.

It’s what kept him so far, you at arm's length. 

Only in the moments where pain and adrenaline blinded him to sense could he offer himself pathetically at your door in the dark of hot London nights. 

You twitched against him.

"I'll come for you one day, muñeca." He whispered for nobody but himself to hear. "Te lo prometo."

I promise.

-

Life fell into a sweet sway after that, it curled around the edges with the warmth of finding home in a person.

You drifted between work and the comfort Steven's presence.

It took three more dates and a shy kiss along a bridge over the Thames before he asked you to be his girlfriend and your heart swelled three sizes at the look on his face when you agreed.

Many weeks passed that way: Saturday mornings were warm despite the creeping winter where you found the morning light between the crack in Steven's arm over your waist.

Marc was around almost as much as Steven.

He'd asked you to the ice-rink in the days after Steven and you had become official. He wouldn't have asked if Steven hadn't thought it fine so you smiled and accepted his offer too.

You'd promised and delivered on the fact that you couldn't skate. Marc spent most of the time catching you moments before hitting the ice and your stomach cramped with laughter. He laughed too, loudly and with a shaking chest pressed against your own. It was the most you'd ever seen him smile.

He'd held you close under the gazebo where you'd bought him a coffee and yourself a tea, his nose brushed against yours almost as nervously as Steven's had. A different kind of nervousness though, more ... tentative. He shivered with it.

His hand slipped into yours, nose against yours but shifting no further than it. Quiet in his plea for permission.

"Steven?" You whispered against him.

Marc's eyes found the puddle below his feet, the hint of a smile teasing at his mouth.

"He's been begging me to ask you out for months, d'ya know that?" He chuckled softly, warm breath drifting over your lips. "Been holding out. Kind of forced him to do it first."

You laughed too, brushing your top lip over his. "You two are ridiculous."

He snorted. "Just wait till you get to know, Jake."

You kissed him.

Marc was confident, leading the kiss where Steven only followed. It was all-consuming, hand at the bend of your throat and sucking oxygen from your lungs until it's absence forced you apart.

You'd already made peace with the fact that maybe Jake was just a ghost. A figure that appeared to you in the night and you'd never see his shining beetle-black eyes in the light of any day.

But as you should have long since made out, Jake had a special talent for surprising you.

He appeared in the five minutes between making eggs and toast that you'd run to the bathroom. Nearing the kitchen: you found Steven leaning against the counter and biting down into a piece of buttered bread, wide back turned to you.

Your face found the centre of his back, nuzzling your cheek against his warmth. Cool from being freshly washed, your hands slipped under the flimsy layer of Steven's pajama shirt and chased up his hot stomach.

"Ay, mierda!" he flinched, but his voice stayed soft and even, "your hands are freezing."

It took a hard second, digesting his exclamation, before your hands withdrew from his chest as if scorched by a hot stove.

"Jake?" Disbelief laced your tone.

He glanced over his shoulder, clearly unconcerned when he nodded, "good toast, this."

That same wave of irritation was crawling over you, the one that found you late when the banging on your door deafened you, but it was numbed by the endearment. The fondness at hearing the lilt of his voice, seeing him so bright in the daylight.

"It wasn't supposed to be for you." You grumbled but the words held no malice.

Jake bumped his shoulder against yours, he shrugged: "Same stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"But," he sighed, sipping on Steven's mug and making a face, "If you want your darling back so desperately, you could have just said."

"Jake, wait--"

His eyes rolled back and Steven returned, gripping the counter. "Was that Jake?"

He chuckled softly, reaching for the mug Jake had just abandoned. "Sneaky man."

You nodded, sighing quietly. "Yeah ..."

It wasn't the last time. Jake cropped up again and seemed determined to surface in the moments where things were most tender, the most private.

Late one night, your bare chest draped over Marc's. His fingertips drifted up and down your back, and you smiled while he talked.

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

He was grinning though like he already knew, fishing for affection.

You shrugged, pressing closer to him. "Like what?"

"Like that."

"What, like I'm lying against a very handsome man and enjoying his conversation but also thinking a little bit about how I wished he'd kiss me again?" Your nail outlined a little heart over his tanned chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A warm hand moved up your side, finally resting up behind your neck and steering you in the direction of his face.

"What, like this--" His voice crackled out like a television losing signal and his eyes rolled back as they'd done time and time before.

Pupils straightening out again, you knew who it was immediately: that tight, thin line tugging between his brows giving it away.

"Jake, what the hell--!" Your hand grappled for the sheets, ripping it up over your chest to hide your body. You straightened up to sit on the bed.

His eyes widened, hands inching himself backwards. "I ... I didn't know-- perdóname. I'm sorry--"

He was gone again.

It carried on like that, Jake popping in for a few minutes at a time: once at lunch, once when you'd arrived from work, again when you'd fallen asleep against Marc on the couch - you'd awoken to find him there.

Sometimes, he lets you get a question in edgeways: "you gonna stick around, Jake? I'm about to put the pot on?"

"No, no. Just ..." he always looked around like he came for something but he'd forgotten what. "Never mind."

-

Christmas leered in the distance. Almost two months since Steven had asked you to be his, nearly one since Marc asked you to be theirs, and Jake remained the elusive man in the shadows.

There was ten days to New Years when Jake appeared for the fourth time.

You'd long dropped the habit of waiting up for him, having done that in the early times he visited. It was almost enough to put him out your mind, almost enough to pretend you didn't miss him miserably.

The door rumbled against the hinge as it had all the times before. You sat straight up, Mouse was already bounding noisily down the hallway.

Your hand ran up over your face, waiting for the knock to sound again. Maybe you'd dreamt of his return.

But it delivered, and the sound echoed through your flat.

With little concern of the sheets tangling around your ankles, you leapt from the bed and stumbled to where Mouse was scratching at the foot of the door.

The knob rattled under your hand where you threw it open and, as you'd hoped, there stood Jake: illuminated by the starchy yellow light of the building hallway.

"What's wrong?" Your eyes pressed over his figure for another bloody wound or ripped tendon. "Where are you--"

Your eyes could only find one smear of red. Barely more than a trickle edging down from the bridge of his nose. He pointed tiredly up at it.

Jake drank in your figure with his eyes. You'd abandoned the shorts that he loved so much, replaced by winter bottoms: the ends too long and trapped under your heel. A worn jumper hid your hips.

Like all the times before, you moved aside and Jake found himself up on the counter. He'd be surprised if the cut on his nose even bruised come morning, and he hadn't even gotten it in a fair fight. If you didn't consider hitting himself with the cupboard door while looking for a mug a fair fight, that is. But the pain had his eyes stinging with tears and the blood against his fingertips reminded him of you, again, and he'd crushed his tight fist through the cupboard door where it ripped clean off the hinge.

It's what lead him down the corridor, down the six steps separating your door from his.

You reappeared beside him, little first aid kit in hand and your side brushing his knee. When you dug through the box, your calf nudged at his hanging ankle.

The sharp smell of sanitiser made his nostrils itch but warmed his insides. Reminded him where he was, who he was with.

Your hand was gentle where it overtook the stubble of his cheeks. "This is gonna hurt a little, okay?"

Jake nodded, before realising that he still had yet to say a word since entering the flat. "Sí, amor. Está bien."

The cotton was ice cold against his nose and he groaned against it.

“Why are you here?” You wiped the drying blood down his cheek.

He watched you down the bridge of his nose. “Whad’ya mean? I’m all banged up here. Needed the doc to fix me up.”

He couldn’t tell if you appreciated his little sarcastic comment, but you didn’t answer him.

“Oh, you didn’t miss me?” He asked, digging and prodding in the hopes of hearing your teasing voice again.

“I missed you so much it made me sick, Jake.”

It was so quiet, a sentence said half into your chest and Jake thought he might have imagined it.

The words bubbled something inside his chest that was making it hard to breath. Hard to think.

But maybe that’s what made it so easy for his envy to creep up around the lump in his throat and jump out of his mouth.

“Didn't look like it.” His voice didn't come out as strong as he'd hoped it would have. "Got those other two keeping you plenty busy."

Your eyes flew up where to him. They were wide and wet.

"Like I didn't ask you to stay all those times you decided to pop in? Huh?" You pressed, tone crumbling around the edges. "You're the one who jumps in and out as he pleases."

"Not everything is about you, y'know that princesa--" It was a disgusting fat lie and Jake knew it too. Every breath he drew was in your honour, he'd long decided.

"Just answer me, Jake." Your hands trembled. "Just this once, can you give me something more than shrugs and silence. Can you answer me this once?"

He betrayed you with his silence.

"What do you want?" The wetness was collecting at your waterline, shivering like your frame.

Jake shook his head, the threat of your tears was making it hard to focus. "I can't ... I just can't."

"Can't? Can't what?"

"I can't have what I want."

You stepped closer again, hips pressing into his knees where he was still up on the counter. The gap of silence egged him to continue.

"Khonshu ... someone, they'll--" he sighed, hands curling into fists at his side. "I'd be putting you in danger."

Your head shook. "You think I didn't know that when Steven told me? That I'd be in danger?"

"It's not the same. thing"

"It is, Jake, it is!" your hands tightened against his thigh, "Do you forget that you're walking around with the same face? That I'm holding the same hand walking down the street?"

Mouse was peeking up at him from where he'd crammed himself under the kitchen table. He whined miserably.

"So what now?" He asked, not exactly sure what he wanted. "That solves everything?"

You retracted your hand and Jake desperately wished you hadn't.

"You still haven't answered my question." A whisper.

He shook his head, as if his thoughts would come tumbling out his ears at the motion. Frustration willed him off the counter, he huffed like a wild animal and pushed past your still figure towards the door.

His hand hadn't even collided with the doorknob when your voice rung out again.

"Don't come back, Jake."

Your tone was soft, apologetic, but the words hit him like a curled fist to his windpipe. He stopped.

"I ... I used to wait up nights for you. Hoping you'd come by. It's the waiting that'll kill me ... and I can't do it anymore."

Jake's forehead pressed against the wood of the door. He sighed deeply against it. Is this really how it ends?

"I want what they have."

He made out the sharp breath you sucked in. "What?"

His shoes squeaked against the wood where he turned. "I want what they have. I want what Steven and Marc-- I want you."

You seemed suddenly uncomfortable in your body, weight shifting between each leg and hands folding over themselves. "Oh."

It snapped a cord in him and his legs were moving before they'd been commanded, urging himself against you in three long strides.

"I also want to take you out," His voice was course, but pressing gentle words where he nudged his cheek against yours. "To De Luca's because Lorenzo's is shit--"

You giggled wetly under tear kissed lips and it made Jake's knees buckle. His hands found your jaw, face still hiding in your neck.

"-- and I'll bring you carnations or whatever the fuck you want. I want you to make me toast and coffee, too, and I want to come home to you. Let you patch me up like you do, but I want to stay. Want to fall asleep next to you afterwards and not ... not disappear like a coward anymore."

Your hands found his waist, scrunching his shirt into your fists. "Jake, I--"

His own hands slipped down from your face, caging your hips between his wide palms.

"And I wanna make you feel good." His thumbs dug welts into the soft skin there, he pressed a hot kiss against your neck and watched where the skin rose with goosebumps under his mouth. "Fuck, princesa, I could make you feel ... so good."

Hot pants were warming the shell of his left ear.

There was a long moment where nobody moved and nothing was said. Fear was starting to drain him of the courage that had so readily devoured him moments before.

When your hands nudged at his chest, he stepped resentfully back. Your face was twisted into an expression he couldn't place and you motioned him back toward the counter.

"Come on ... I haven't finished patching you up yet."

He slid himself back onto his usual seat. You rustled back in the little first aid box, your hand emerged with a little slip of paper.

"This is my last plaster." You flashed it at him, he made out the little pink poodles and sparkling hearts decorating the glittery little patch. "Is it fine?"

He sighed, pretending as if he cared even at all. "'s fine."

You smiled, the kind of smile that could stop traffic down the Lincoln Tunnel, and pressed the sticky end over the bridge of your nose.

"You not gonna say anything?" He asked quietly.

You chuckled softly, laughter bubbling like you'd been holding it in a while. "Oh, not so nice is it?"

"You're very annoying."

Shrugging, you pressed yourself into the space between his knees. "And yet, you seem pretty in love with me, Jakey."

His face ran hot all over at the allegation.

"Jakey?" he guffawed, his heart thrumming against his ribcage like a rabid dog. "Worse than annoying, I'm afraid, you're absolutely aggravating."

Your face drew closer against his own.

"And you are exhausting. You're worse than a child." But you grinned the whole time, "And you make me want to rip my hair out."

His nose prodded your own. "Well, you--"

"Jake, will you shut the fuck up and just kiss me."

It took all the willpower not to melt off the countertop when your lips met his. They were warm and soft and tasted sweeter than he could have imagined them to.

His hand pulled you all the way against his figure, desperate to swallow you whole. Your breath stuttered over the bow of his lip, parting for a fraction of a moment before pressing hot surging kisses against him again.

"I want that too," words huffed out between wet, red lips. "I want to take care of you, Jake. All the time, until you get desperately sick of me--"

Jake licked into your mouth, aghast at the accusation. "Not ever, mi princesa. Nunca."

Your hot tongue chased over his and he swore he was moments from floating off the counter. Your soft sighs were making his hands more desperate where they brushed over the warm skin of your back.

You pulled back abruptly, eyes wild and lips swollen. Guilt was twisting at your face. "We have to tell Steven and Marc."

Jake shrugged, his pulled you back against him by the sides of your pajama pants and kissed you again.

"Ugh, don't worry about 'em. They already know."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, "Who do you think told me to come here in the first place?"

A silence divided you, words sinking in when you slapped his chest: plaguing him with a widening grin. "I was worried, you asshole."

"Claro, pero al menos ahora soy tu imbécil."

Sure, but at least now I'm your asshole.

-

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