my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saviour IV

Summary: The aftermath of Charlie's impromptu call to Steven

Word count: 2.2k

No words left your mouth. You called him. You’re supposed to say something.

“Charlie?” 

“Hi,” you rasped, your voice hoarse from crying.

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head despite the fact he couldn’t see you. Now you could hear his voice you felt stupid… no, you felt scared. “It’s nothing,” you muttered.

“We both know that’s a lie,” he countered gently.

You winced, you were an idiot. Pathetic. A cry baby who couldn’t control her fucking emotions. And now you had semi snapped yourself from the spiral by calling Steven, it all just felt melodramatic. You cleared your throat before replying more decisively, “I can handle it.”

Steven sighed softly. “Handle what?” 

“Nothing. I can go, I’m sorry I bothered you,” you rushed out, already pulling the phone away-

“No wait!” 

You hesitantly brought the phone back, “Yeah?” 

“Where are you?”

You sniffed, using the back of your hand to wipe your eyes. “I’m home.”

“Are you safe?” he asked.

Your eyes rested on a dent in the wall, one made many moons ago. “Yeah, I’m safe,” you answered quietly. 

“What’s happened? Talk to me,” he asked coaxingly.

You could hear car horns in the background as he waited for an answer, the faint screech of a train. But you said nothing, you couldn’t. 

“Okay,” he tried again. “What’ve you been up to today?”

You let out a humourless scoff, “What does it matter?” 

“I just want-” he hesitated, “Just talk to me, please Charlie? Tell me about your day.” 

“Why?” Your eyes began stinging again.

“Because I want to hear about it,” he said simply.

Your chest tightened. Why did that hurt? You shoved it down and began to pick at the crumbs embedded in your coffee table. “I went to work,” you replied flatly.

“Is that all?”

“I… go to a dance class. I went to that.”

“A dance class?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “How was that?”

“Fine,” you shrugged even though he couldn’t see. 

“What kind of dance is it?”

You held back a sigh. He didn’t need to take an interest, you weren’t interesting. “It doesn’t even matter, it's just dance,” you mumbled self consciously. 

“Like ballet or?”

“Ballroom,” you mumbled, the back of your neck heating up from how insteasingly… seen, you felt. “I have to go, Steven, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“No, don't hang up,” he said quickly, “Just keep talking, yeah?”

“Why? I’m fine,” you insisted as your throat tightened.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Don’t you have bad guys you need to be fighting,” you deflected.

“Not right now.”

“But there’s always bad guys.”

“They can wait.”

You huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. His persistence was grating. “Fine. What did you do today?” 

“Me? I went to work, talked with my friend in one of the squares afterwards like usual. Oh and picked up some food for Gus and Gus the Second.”

Your brow furrowed, your fingers pausing in their ministrations. “...Two Gus?”

“Sorry they’re my pet fish,” he said sheepishly.

“And they’re both called Gus?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, “it’s a long story. Look what are you doing this weekend?”

You hesitated, wondering why he was asking, worrying it was going to lead where you thought it might. “I don’t know, why?”

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Hang- what are we, 12?”

You heard him chuckle lightly, “Do you want to spend the day with us?”

“Why?” you immediately questioned, suddenly becoming hyper aware how many times you’d asked him that. But you weren’t friends, you weren’t even acquaintances. You were just his burden.

“Why not?”

“What would we even do?” 

“Do you like museums?”

“Yeah,” you replied noncommittally, fiddling with the hem of your jeans.

“I work in one, I could show you around.”

“Which one?”

“Did you like it?”

“The National.”

“I’ve been there a few times before.”

You shrugged again despite him being unable to see, “It’s okay, yeah.”

“How about we go together on Saturday? Are you free?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh.

“Great!” you could hear an even bigger smile through the phone, “I can meet you there at say 10am?”

“That works for me. See you Saturday,” you said, half in resignation, half disbelief. 

“And Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Look after yourself, please?”

You rolled your eyes. “I am.”

The closer the train got to London, the worse your anxiety became. Each station that whipped by brought you closer to seeing the man who saved your life. The man who took your escape from you. The man who apparently cared.

The carriage smelt of a concoction of coffee, perfumes, and breakfast foods, which that early in the morning made you a little nauseous. You listened in on conversations between various groups of people; a couple off on a day trip to meet friends, a set of older women on an adventure to the theatre, a group of girls heading to the upmarket shops you’d never afford. You looked over the shoulders of solo travellers, peeking at what they were up to on their phones but glancing away before it became obvious. And there you were with no one to call, nor text, not even send a Snapchat to. You supposed you could if you wanted, there were people in your life, but no one that fitted the category of being “close”. Not anymore. Not in the way he’d felt close. You’d got used to the loneliness by now, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Could Steven become someone you could be close with? Marc? 

No they were 10 years older than you, and a vigilante for fuck’s sake, so you shut that fantasy down before the seeds could embed themselves in your brain. Instead you focused on the way the sun began to peak through the grey clouds just before the train pulled into Euston. The station had become a familiar comfort to you over the last two years. You thought it ironic, a place that used to give you such anxiety when with him, was now a source of stability. There were many ironies in your life now. 

You stood up to wait in the entryway on the train along with other eager passengers, becoming third in an unspoken queue. The train swayed gently to a stop, the doors pinged open, and you were all off.

You couldn’t see that far ahead, one of the many downsides of being short, but you tried not to let it stop you beelining down the platform and out into the concourse. You dodged left and right between countless busy travellers, and as always paused by the piano. This time there was a man playing a mistake riddled rendition of… you listened for a few bars longer, head cocked to the side as you tried to figure out you were indeed hearing Fur Elise. He somehow got even worse, and you felt too self conscious to linger any longer.

You dashed to the tube entrance and down the escalators, sticking to the right as per the rules. The station was busy, but the tube itself was worse. You debated waiting for the next one to arrive, but you were already a little late so pushed yourself forwards onto the carriage, squeezing between people half a foot taller than you that probably hadn’t even seen you. It was only three stops, but the screeching of the line, the heat, and the lack of personal space got to you when you were already so nervous. As the tube arrived at Tottenham Court road you felt that familiar tension, the way people silently watched The Chosen One closest to the door button. Luckily the person was clearly experienced, and seconds later you were on the platform darting towards the exit.

Once you were free of the public transport system, you slowed your walk back down to catch your breath and lose your sweat. You knew your way around the area, and deliberately dawdled towards your destination.

And there he was, sitting outside the cafe he’d texted you to meet him at, the wind gently blowing his mop of brown hair around. You took a deep breath, psyched yourself up, and walked towards him. He noticed you within seconds, a big smile forming on his face as he stood up.

“Charlie! Hi!” he held out his hand before awkwardly putting it back down.

“Hi,” you smiled politely, pulling out the chair opposite.

“How have you been?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you answered automatically as you sat down. “You?”

“I’m good, great, thanks,” he replied as he retook his seat.

“And Marc?”

Steven nodded, “Yeah they’re fine.”

You froze. “They?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Yeah we actually have a third alter.”

Your eyebrows raised. “...who?”

“Jake,” he answered with a sigh. “You’ve met him, briefly.”

You blinked a few times, processing the information. “When?”

“Just after we fell from the roof.”

You glanced around, worried someone may have heard. “I don’t really remember…” you said quietly. It was a half truth, you remembered the moment vividly, but not him switching to a third person. 

“He asked if you had a family or kids,” Steven explained quietly. You really didn’t want to be plunged back into the memory right now.

You nodded, “Okay. Jake it is. Anyway. Are you all set for our museum adventure?” you asked, desperately trying to steer the conversation towards your activities and away from anything feelings related.

“Of course,” he smiled, taking the hint. “Are you?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

Damn he just had to ask. “A um, bar of chocolate.”

You shook your head, adding “I ate earlier,” before his mild disapproving frown could deepen.

“Anything nice?”

He tutted, “That’s not breakfast, luv,” he chided gently. It was almost parental. And you hated that a tiny part of you liked it.

Nevertheless you huffed and rolled your eyes, glancing away towards the museum to avoid looking at him and the way he was looking at you. “It’s fine.”

“What kind of chocolate was it?”

Your gaze snapped back, your brow furrowed. Why did it even matter? “Dairy milk.”

He nodded approvingly. “Nice choice, though I’m more of a Galaxy fan myself.”

You looked away again towards the street, unsure what to say. Luckily you were saved by the appearance of a waitress. Steven ordered himself a black tea and croissant, then turned to you, an eyebrow raised. You smiled politely at the waitress and asked for a slice of banana bread.

“Changed your mind?” Steven asked once she was out of earshot.

You shrugged. “You put the idea in my head.”

After a beat of silence, leaned forwards, his hands resting clasped on the table. “How have you been?” 

“You already asked me that,” you replied neutrally as you leaned back.

“And your answer didn’t sound entirely truthful, darlin’,” he said quietly, tilting his head. Why did he have to look at you so softly? It made you want to crawl out of your own skin.  

You clenched your jaw and levelled a pointed glare at him. “I’m fine.”

Steven sighed, raising his hands, “Alright, have it your way for now.”

The waitress returned with your order, and you had to admit it did look delicious. You tucked into your cake whilst Steven sipped his tea, another small moment of silence. You wondered what he was thinking about, you wanted to ask. But instead, you kept eating, staring at the pavement.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. You almost choked.

“What?” you asked as you covered your mouth, finishing off the bite. You looked up to see him picking at his croissant. You wondered if he meant here as in with him or here as in… alive? 

“I’m glad you came,” he replied before taking a bite, flakes of pastry blowing gently to the plate.

“You don’t have to say stuff like that,” you immediately rebuffed, trying to dislodge the tiny lump in your throat. 

He looked up at you. “But it’s true.”

You looked away again, adjusting the placement of the little cake fork you didn’t bother using. “Okay,” you eventually acquiesced quietly. 

Steven didn’t go any further with it, instead he finished his tea and pastry whilst you sneakily checked your phone under the table, grasping at straws in your mind trying to think of something to say.

In almost no time at all, he asked “Ready to go?”

You nodded, and Steven got the attention of the waitress for the bill. After an awkward moment insisting you split the bill rather than let Steven pay for all of it, the matter was finally settled after reminding him he paid the last time. Whilst you paid with your phone, Steven paid with cash, and a tip.

The chair scraped loudly as you stood up, readjusting your clothes subtly.

“Bloody crumbs,” Steven muttered as he swept the flakes of pastry from his clothes to the floor. He stood straight, gesturing towards the museum. “Shall we?”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

SO WONDERFUL!

Saviour III

Summary: Reader struggles the next day after her almost fatal fall

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts

Word count: 2.1k

Your unbridled tears made it hard to see as you drove home, wet patches formed on the tops of your thighs. The dark sky became a blanket of anonymity, no one could see the way your face scrunched up, the way you rubbed your mascara away. No one could hear you wail. It was just you, the road and your pain for two hours.

You often went for drives alone in the dark just to get away from it all. It ate away at the petrol, but you justified it was worth it in order to let yourself actually feel your pain. Or perhaps torture yourself was a better description. Sometimes you spiralled so hard you thought you were going mad. But the storm would subside, and you’d pull yourself together enough to drive home. Just like you were doing now. Only this drive was different, because sprinkled in between your turmoil were thoughts of the man who ruined your plan. The man who you know the secret identity of. A man who’s-

“Wait, is he a murderer?” you asked yourself aloud.

You narrowed your sore eyes as you tried to think it through. You know a bunch of people died in Cairo, you know that crazy cult leader was responsible. But the news said Moon Knight killed bad guys too. But if it was for the greater good, that wasn’t the same, right? You shrugged, your head was starting to ache too badly to think that hard about it. It was no different than all the other vigilante’s that had spewed up in the last few years. 

You pulled up slowly onto your driveway and cut the engine. The overhead light illuminated your face enough that you caught a glimpse in the mirror. You sighed, and with your fingers cleaned yourself up in the car before stepping out. Not because you lived with anyone, you just didn’t want your neighbours to catch what a mess you were in on their camera doorbell. Or worse, in person.

You grabbed your bag from the car and made your way into the house quietly, conscious of your next door neighbour's open bedroom window. But you couldn’t avoid the way your front door shut with a loud thud, the plastic juddering as you still hadn’t gotten round to getting the warped frame fixed. You glanced down at the red light of the dehumidifier as you picked up your scarce post, noticing another ant crawling on your tiled porch floor. You’d deal with it all later. You threw the clothes you’d left on the sofa onto the floor and plopped down with a deep sigh. The golden glow of the streetlamp shone through your thin copper coloured curtains, illuminating your silent living room enough to stare at the empty shelves where his belongings had once sat. The peeling plaster from where you’d removed pictures in haste. The scratch on the wall you still can’t remember the cause of. You sighed and got your phone out to text your mother you were home, then, as agreed, sent a quick message to Steven and Marc. Your mother replied first, and too nasally to call her, you texted the details of your failed interview, hitting send just as a reply from Steven came through.

Glad you made it home safe and sound!

Your chest felt heavy, your head ached despite painkillers, and your willpower was weak. A minute later, a bottle of wine was on your coffee table, no glass, and a knife. You drank quickly, desperate to get out of your own head. Only once half the bottle was gone did you feel able to breathe, to feel comfortable in your own body. Only once three quarters was gone did you cry again. Once it was empty, you slept.

Light and car horns forced you awake, though you didn’t remember getting to bed. You fumbled around for your phone, thankful it was early enough you could still make it to work. The world spun as you stood up quickly, alcohol still in your system. But you shrugged it off. The sooner you could get some caffeine in you, the better. An hour and half a can of Red Bull later, you were ready to face another day of it all.

You could face it, right? Sure, you cried for a few moments when in the bathroom, and maybe a few more tears escaped as you began to drive. And yes, yesterday you were ready to end it all… And now that you thought about it, that feeling hadn’t actually gone away… And the lampposts looked inviting again to make your car into a pretzel. 

But you couldn’t. You’re expected at work, you have a class later that day, you have things to do. 

Why did a fucking vigilante have to go and ruin it.

Wondering if the man in question had contacted you, you tapped your phone screen as it rested in your lap. You were surprised to feel a flicker of disappointment at the lack of notifications, but why would he actually think to message you anyway? He didn’t care. If he knew what you were really like, what you’d done, he’d hate you.

The closer your car crawled to the office the more you suppressed the pain, and by the time you pulled into the car park, the mask was almost back on. You chugged the rest of your first Red Bull of the day, and set off.

Two hours into your day, a notification popped up. Your heart pounded as you saw it was from Steven. You waited ten minutes before replying to his basic check up, but he replied within a minute.

I wanted to ask something of you, if that’s okay?

What is it?

When’s your next therapy session?

Your eyes narrowed at his straight to the point question, so you shot one right back.

Why?

Please just answer the question?

In six days.

Will you tell them about what happened?

No.

For me?

No.

Charlie.

No. I have to work.

You put your phone on the desk face down, and attempted to muster up enough concentration to do what you’d told him you would. But nothing went in as you stared at the screen, nothing motivated you enough to try as you scrolled through emails, checked spreadsheets, updated plans. It was like you were physically there, but mentally elsewhere. Why was he fucking asking you to tell your therapist? He doesn’t care, he shouldn’t care. No one cares.

The sad music began to play in your head. The sad scenes, guaranteed to make you feel that pain, started in your mind's eye. Before you knew it, you were sniffling back tears. You grabbed your phone and went to the bathroom, tying a hair band on the dodgy lock to ensure no one would accidentally walk in. You grabbed onto the edges of the sink and let your silent sobs go. 

You felt so alone. So trapped in your own head, in your pain, you wanted it all to stop. You needed it to stop. You furiously wiped your tears away as you pulled your phone from your pocket.

Why did you have to ruin it?

You stared at the screen, regretting it instantly. But it was too late to unsend.

Ruin what?

Nothing.

You marched back to your desk before you fell deeper into the spiral, and tried to work. You managed to get some things done, flitting between the present and the memories. It hurt, craving the kind of connection you thought you had with him. What if you’ll never find that again because what you had with him was a level of fucked up you still don’t comprehend? What if you aren’t meant to be alive anymore? What if this is what was finally meant to finish you off?

The sad music played. The sad scenes ran. And you just rode the wave of pain until your work day was over.

At 5:30, you stood in your closest supermarket staring at the bottles of wine you couldn’t truly afford, your side aching as if your liver knew you were going to abuse it even more. You were desperate for something, anything to help. And it only took one fleeting, impulsive moment. 

I can’t tell my therapist.

You picked up the bottle, you didn’t have to drink it, it would just be there for-

Tell them what?

You hadn’t expected him to reply so promptly. You put the bottle back down so you could type better. 

How messed up I really am.

But they’re there to help, Charlie.

And she has helped.

Not enough, not if you’re like this.

She HAS. You have no idea what I’ve gone through.

You picked the stupid drink back up and marched to the self checkout. Only once back in your car did you read Steven’s reply.

If she’s helped you that much, why won’t you let her help you with this?

Because I don’t want to disappoint her.

Why would you be?

Cause I’ve been lying about how I really am.

Even if she is disappointed, she’d want to know. She’s there to help you.

I can’t.

You started the engine as the tears welled up. But by the time you were out of the car park, you’d suppressed them. You couldn’t do this, you had a class in 2 and a half hours. You couldn’t afford the headache, nor the spiral, not when you wanted to look put together. You blasted loud music driving back, you continued to sing to yourself when you entered your home. You ignored Steven’s text asking ‘why not’, and allowed yourself to get absorbed in your preening process. The meticulous routine of shaving, cleaning, putting your face on, doing your hair, allowed you to turn your brain off for a short while. And by the time 8:15 rolled around, you were in a vastly different mood as you sent Steven a text before stepping out.

I’m sorry.

You checked your phone as you headed into the studio, five minutes to spare before your class started.

Whatever for?

For being a burden.

You made sure to do up your dance shoes tight, straighten your trousers, plaster a pleasant face on.

You’re not a burden, you just need help.

Nothing can help me.

You offered a small smile to people as you went in, engaged in the small talk, tried to hang on when you felt yourself slipping into the darkness. Then finally the class started, and all you had to concentrate on was dancing. 

The music made you feel alive, the movement made your body feel good, and for 90 minutes you didn’t feel quite so broken. You laughed at your teachers antics, at the others' banter, felt almost fucking normal.

Then it ended.

You got in your car, you checked your phone.

Don’t say that. Please don’t give up on yourself, Charlie.

You drove back home as the darkness crept back. You drove past home as the pit of dread settled in your stomach. You drove to that place you discovered where it doesn’t feel like the world is suffocating you. Where the world was quiet. You finally began to cry. It took 40 minutes of driving around, a further ten minutes parked up in a lay by before you decided to face the house with the memories again.

Yet even after crying all those tears, there were still more to be shed as soon as you sat on your sofa. You wrapped the blanket you’d bought together around you, you sobbed into it. Why did everything still hurt so badly? No one is supposed to live like this. Were you supposed to live like this? Were you supposed to end things because of this? Was this how it was always meant to go?

Your arms burned from the scratching, your head killed too much to continue. You suppressed it all expertly and calmed down enough to chug some water and take some painkillers. The reprieve lasted less than a minute.

“I can’t fucking do this,” you whimpered to yourself.

You pulled your phone out, flitting between apps which did nothing to distract you.

You went to the conversation, your finger hovering over the button. You hate phone calls with new people. You really, really do. Your finger inched closer. You really hate them. He may be busy. He may not even care. You pressed dial. Fuck it.

It rang only once.

“Hello, luv?”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

STUNNING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saviour II

Maybe not a one shot after all?

Summary: The moon boys take reader to a café in the aftermath of her 'attempt'

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts

Word count: 2.6k

As you walked down the street, you made sure to keep a distance from the man whose coat was now warming up your body. You didn’t like how the subtle scent of it made your chest feel tighter, made you feel something other than pain. You pushed the feeling from your mind and focused on where the fuck you were aimlessly walking. You had no idea where you were going, though it didn’t matter. Nothing did. You were so close to finally doing it before that fucker saved you. A literal vigilante saved you from certain death, it’d be a cool story if it weren’t for the fact you were up on that roof to die.

“What about over there?” Steven asked, looking towards a pretentious cafe. His coat rustled as you shrugged and changed course, it at least looked quiet.

You splashed through puddles to stay ahead of him and opened the door yourself, wanting to neither be polite nor let him be gentlemanly. You were immediately blasted with warm air as you stepped in, the grinding of a percolator, the scent of freshly brewing coffee, clattering of plates, laughter from a group of girls by the window. All of this mundane normal shit hubbub was bombarding your senses in a way that was bitterly comical compared to your turmoil inside.

You led the way straight to a table for two in the corner and plopped yourself down on the cushioned bench. Your eyes stayed fixed on a scratch on the tiled tabletop as you removed Steven’s coat. In your peripheral you watched him sit opposite, then pick up a menu. As if he possibly had any kind of appetite. 

“How about a nice cup of-”

“Don’t like it.”

“Alright,” he said quietly, “What would you like?”

“Not thirsty,” you said coldly as you looked up into his surprisingly friendly chocolate eyes.

“How about something to eat?”

You shrugged, “Not hungry.”

Nonplussed, he put the menu down. “Your choice.”

You watched him head to the counter, all smiles to the barista in between concerned glances back to you. You fumbled around your pocket for a frantic moment before remembering you left your phone in the car along with everything else. But a seed of worry quickly planted itself in the back of your mind.

It wasn’t the safest of car parks… And it was already semi dark. What if someone hypothetically broke in to steal the car and found your note? Would they ignore it? Would they out you? Would they even notice? Your breaths began to feel thinner. What if they already had broken in and they were going to tell your parents?! 

Steven’s loud thank you grabbed your attention, and you swallowed your rising panic and actively suppressed those emotions. Your eyes narrowed as he returned with a cup of tea, a glass of water, and a slice of lemon cake.

“I said I’m not thirsty,” you complained as he set the items down.

“Thought I’d bring it anyway, just in case,” he replied whilst placing the little tray on the empty table next to you.

You folded your arms, staring at the floor as he retook his seat. Your jaw clenched when you heard him blow on his drink then take a sip. He let out an audible sigh of content as he placed the cup back down and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a sigh in annoyance. He should have left you alone. He shouldn’t have even saved you. When you couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence any longer and risked making eye contact, it was almost enough to make you snap.

“You’re looking at me like I’m about to break.”

He tilted his head to the side in that irritating empathetic way. “Why haven’t you told your therapist about this, Charlie?”

“I’ve been dealing with other stuff.”

His eye wrinkles deepened. “Other stuff more serious than this?”

You scratched your tongue against your teeth before answering, “It’s complicated.”

“This has got to be the most important thing to speak to them about. Don’t you understand, Charlie? This is dangerous you could have-”

“Keep your voice down,” you whisper hissed, looking pointedly and nodding towards the counter.

“What is going on that is more serious than this?” he implored.

“I’m not telling you.”

He sighed, shaking his head gently before taking another sip of tea. The stupid tinkling of the cup returning to the saucer for some reason wound you up even more.

“Do you have friends?” he continued to probe.

“Yes,” you said curtly.

“Let me guess, they don’t know either?”

“They don’t need to know,” because you’re a bad person.

He raised a brow. “I’m sure they’d want to help you.”

“They can’t handle it,” your nostrils flared. He had no idea what he was talking about.

“How do you know?”

“I just do!” you snapped. It was Steven’s turn to whip his head round towards the counter.

“Okay, okay, new topic. You mentioned you lived a couple hours away, yeah? Why are you in London?”

Your leg bounced briefly as you looked at the glass of water, watching a drop of condensation slowly descend from the rim. “Had an interview for a job. Didn’t go well,” you admitted quietly. 

“So is that- is that what made you go up there?”

“No- well- yes I just- it triggered me giving- but I wanted to do it anyway.”

“Why?” he asked, then when it became obvious you weren’t going to answer, your throat feeling impossibly tight, his shoulders slumped and he leaned forward. “Is it home? Work?”

“Stop prying.”

“Please just give me something here, Charlie? Something we can work with,” he pleaded.

“Why?” you scoffed. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Because I want to help you,” the sincerity in his tone irritating you further.

“You’re not responsible for me just because you saved my life!” you whisper shouted, the tightness in your throat making it hard to get the words out.

“That’s not why-”

“What will it take to just make you go away?” you begged, moments away from the dam of tears bursting.

His eyes darkened, from hurt or something else, you couldn’t tell. “Call your bloody therapist.”

“No,” you muttered, folding your arms as you leaned back against the cushion, looking as far to the side as possible. 

Another impasse descended upon you. You picked at your fingernails whilst you heard his fingers wrap against the table. You chewed on your lip whilst you heard his fork scrape against the plate. But when suddenly his face was too close from trying to catch your gaze, you flinched. And you weren’t quick enough to hide it.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s fine,” you replied automatically. Your gaze flitted down to the half slice of lemon cake remaining. You cleared your throat and picked up the glass of water. One timid sip turned into long gulps as you hadn’t realised how thirsty you were. Though the tiny smile on Steven’s face when you set the glass down made you wish you hadn’t drank any of it at all. He pushed the plate towards you.

“Go on,” he said softly.

“I don’t want it.”

“If you won’t have it, it’ll get fed to the pigeons, and they’re overfed as it is.” You stared at him, making no moves to take him up on the offer. “Please don’t make me give it to Percy Pigeon out there, he’s one crumb away from a heart attack.” You rolled your eyes. “I’d hate to be the one to tell his wife, Penny Pigeon,” he continued. You raised an eyebrow at him as he glanced between you and the cake. “And their poor chicks, Peter Pigeon, Penelope Pigeon, Phyllis Pig-”

“Oh for God’s sake,” you sat up, trying your damned hardest to suppress the smile threatening your face. “Manipulative git,” you muttered under your breath. 

Not wanting to share the fork, you picked up the two inch slice and put the thing in your mouth. It tasted… different. You hadn’t eaten for 20 hours but the texture seemed- “Is this vegan?” you asked in between chews whilst covering your mouth.

Steven’s eyes widened, “Sorry I should have said. That’s not a problem, is it?”

You swallowed as you shook your head. “Just unexpected.” 

“Nice?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s… okay?” you shrugged.

He nodded slowly, “Okay, okay is good. I’ve been vegan my whole life, me,” he began. You clocked the barista removing the empty trays from the counter. “Though I tried steak once, I thought it'd made me go doolally,” he continued. You glanced around searching for a clock. 5:55pm. “Didn’t even taste that good. Do you like steak? Maybe we could-”

“I should get going,” you interrupted him before he could finish that suggestion.

His answering sad puppy dog eyes would have tugged at your heartstrings if they weren’t practically dead. “Please don’t. We’re not done- I’m not…”

“We can’t sit in a cafe indefinitely.”

He sighed, rubbing his brow. “Why not?”

“Because it shuts soon,” you deadpanned, nodding towards the counter.

“Bugger,” he murmured as he followed your eyeline.

“Thank you for the cake,” you said as you stood up.

“Please.”

You frowned whilst you picked up his jacket. “Please what?”

“At least let me escort you to your car?” he asked, looking up at you hopefully. You held out his jacket to him, but he shook his head as he stood up. “You can give it back to me when we’re at your car.”

You sighed. “There’s no getting rid of you, is there,” you lamented. “Fine.”

You shrugged the coat on, and led the way, marching out of the place as quickly as you politely could. As the night air hit your face, you heard Steven thank the staff behind you. You paused, holding the door for him until he joined.

“Blimey it’s cold tonight,” he commented. You didn’t reply as you tried to remember how to get back to the car park, your head darting left and right up the street. You bit your lip, then looked at him guiltily.

“Do you have a phone?” he nodded. “Can you use Google maps please?”

He cocked his head to the side as he fished his phone from his pocket. “How were you planning on getting back without-” he cut himself off as realisation dawned on his face. You weren’t. He pursed his lips as he looked down, bringing up the app in question. “Right, where are we off to?”

You told him the street name you remembered the car park was on, and a second later it calculated the route. “Show me the map? So we can memorise?”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Memorise?”

“This is London. You can’t walk around with your phone out.”

“I can keep my phone safe, luv,” he replied though held out the phone anyway. You looked down at his screen, the amount of notification symbols on the top of his phone startling. It was an easy enough route, and the two of you were quickly off.

It felt awkward when he tried to make neutral small talk. You shot down every starting sentence with a passive aggressive dry comment, a roll of your eyes, or a disapproving look. Once you reached familiar surroundings, he asked if you’d been to London much before. You sighed deeply and paused by a wall to look at him.

“Yes I’ve been here many times. No, I haven’t seen the latest Doctor Who trailer. Yes, that teddy bear in Boots looked cute. Yes, the workmen are loud and annoying and the building works won’t be completed until next year, which you’d know too, if you’d read the sign. The tube station back there was busy because at 7 o'clock there’s a football match at Wembley between Newcastle and Liverpool if you’d just looked at the colours of the scarves and recognized the chants. And no, I'm not looking forward to summer,” you listed your real answers in the reverse order he’d asked questions.

He raised an eyebrow, did he look almost… impressed? “Didn’t think you were actually paying attention,” he commented. You rolled your eyes, then marched on. You quickly found the car park entrance, heading straight past the lift to the stairwell.

“Don’t like lifts?” Steven asked as you took the stairs two at a time, your anxiety increasing the closer you got to your car. 

“No, I got stuck in one once,” you explained only once you got to your floor. You let out a sigh of relief as soon as you saw your car safe and sound and slowed your pace.

When you reached the vehicle, you turned to look at him, making eye contact for the first time since your little rant earlier. “Well, this is me.”

Steven nodded, glancing at your car then back to you. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” you lied, knowing he’d see right through you.

He sighed deeply. “It doesn’t feel right, leaving you like this. Let me give you my number.”

Your brows raised. “What for?”

“So if you- if you ever feel like…” he trailed off then looked at himself in your car window. 

“I don’t need some kind of personal suicide hotline, Steven.”

“But you won’t talk to anyone else about this.”

“I don’t need to!” your voice echoed in the car park.

“Charlie-” his eyes rolled into the back of his head for a split second. “Just let him give you the damn number or I won’t hear the end of it,” Marc interjected. 

You let out a shaky breath. “Jesus, fine.” You unlocked your car and opened the door, subtly moving the note under the seat then grabbing your phone from the glove compartment. You pulled up the contacts page on your phone, creating a new one and handed it to him. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, watching his hands like a hawk as he held onto your precious device. He handed it back to you, a jolt going through your body as your fingers touched for a split second. But then you looked at the screen.

“Grant? Steven Grant? Like the kids TV show?”

Steven’s cheeks flushed as his expression fell. “Something like that,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. You texted him hi, along with specifically only your first name. 

“There. Done. Can I go now?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “You gonna be okay, kid?” Marc asked. 

“Kid? I’m not a kid, I’m barely 10 years younger than you! Don’t patronise me!”

He smiled slightly, “Just making sure you’ve still got some fire in you.”

You scoffed, then opened your car door, pausing on the precipice. You sighed then took a deep breath. “Thank you for saving my life.”

He gave you an exasperated look. “Could that have been any less truthful?” 

“It’s what you’re supposed to say,” you muttered, shrugging. 

“Text when you get home?” Steven asked.

“Fine,” you agreed as you sat in your car. You opened the window and looked at him expectantly. “Bye then, Steven… Marc,” you said slightly awkwardly.

He did not look like he wanted to leave, but a bye left his lips regardless. You watched him hesitate before walking back to the stairwell. He took a long look at you from the doorway, then when it finally closed behind him you let out a sigh. Which turned into a whimper. Which turned into sobs.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

BRAIN EMPTY. ONLY THIS NOW.

Triple Frontier choo choo train:

Option A) Reader lying on the bed blindfolded while all the boys take turns with you - Will, Frankie, Benny and transmasc!Santiago, who uses a strap on so realistic that you honestly can't tell who's fucking you when. You try to listen out for their moans, but anybody who isn't fucking you is getting pleasure from somebody else while they wait, making it impossible to work out whose cock is buried inside you at any given moment

Option B) transmasc!Santiago laying back and letting you all take good care of him. Cocks in his mouth, fingers in his hair, fingers in his pussy, plush lips wrapped around his clit, soft kisses being planted down his flat chest, showering his healed scars with care and affection. He's taking it all like such a good boy, and nobody's shy about calling him their good, slutty boy before coating him in their cum

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

SRIJGA0WIO AMAZING!!!!!!!

Moon Knight x Reader

(this is my oc I guess, I created her a few years ago but like I'll insert you guys into it. I used her for an avengers fic a few years back)

You kept your hood over your head as you walked through the streets, trying to be as fast as possible so no one would bother you.

Suddenly you ran into someone, so hard that you fell onto the ground, you hold falling off.

The man with long hair stared down at you, curious about the cat masquerade you wore that covered the top half of your face.

"Sorry... I wasn't looking where I was going." You muttered as you quickly stood up about to back away before you ran into someone else.

You looked behind to see a large man stopping you from going anywhere.

"Curious creature aren't you? Why do you wear a mask?" He asked as your breathing picked up and you clutched your bag.

"I didn't mean to cause any harm, please just leave me alone." You whispered as he came closer and tilted his head.

"Are you trying to hide your identity for some reason? Maybe a criminal? Or a wannabe super hero. Should we see?" He said stepping closer as you went to run away before the large man held you in place.

"Please, just don't take it off. Please just respect my privacy." You begged as he smiled.

"It's alright, dear. I'm not going to hurt you, I just wish to see what you're hiding. Now, stay still." He said as he reached forward and grabbed the edge of your mask as you squirmed and tried to break free.

"Stop! Get off me!" You screamed before he ripped the mask off and saw what was underneath.

He stepped back and stared in shock, your face almost like a black hole of matter, glitched and impossible to describe to anyone who hadn't seen it.

Arthur's head began to hurt as he stared at you, you managed to break free of the man and grabbed your mask before running off while securing your mask.

"Incredible." Arthur whispered as he watched you run off.

"Grab her." He ordered to the larger man.

You ran along the streets dodging between people.

The inevitable happened and you slammed into someone, the both of you falling onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" The man said as he helped you stand up.

He saw you were trying to run and looked behind to see Arthur in the distance.

"Are you running from him?" He asked in a British accent before you quickly started running again.

"Steven, go after her!" Marc shouted as Steve started running.

He clearly wasn't fast enough so Marc took control and followed behind you.

He quickly grabbed you and pulled you into an alleyway, clamping a hand over your mouth as you watched Arthur run past they alley.

Marc took his hand away as you panted and tried to catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" He asked as you looked at him in confusion.

"Weren't you British..." You muttered as he chuckled a little.

"I have dissociative identity disorder, the other guy was Steven. I'm Marc." He said holding his hand out for you to shake. Marc was getting a lot better at being honest about himself and Steven. 

You smiled and shook his hand.

"Y/N." You replied as he nodded.

"So, why were you running from Arthur?" He asked as you looked back out the entrance of the alleyway.

"I ran into him and he took off my mask, forcefully..." You muttered hoping Marc wasn't about to do that same to you.

"Can I ask?" He asked as you stared at him.

"I don't think... You would probably think I'm crazy and I can't show you because you might die." You muttered looking away as he looked at you in confusion.

"Well, why don't I put my mask on. Then you can tell me about yours." He said as you tilted your head in confusion. 

Suddenly white bandages began to form around him as you stepped back and watched in amazement until he was fully suited up.

"You're Moon Knight." You said in disbelief before his mask retracted and he smiled.

"I sure am. There's a lot that happens in my life that I would never believe would happen. So, whatever is under your mask I won't be scared." He said as you smiled a little.

"Its a long story... Do you want to have coffee?" You asked making him smile charmingly.

"That sounds great."

--

You sat across from Marc in a quiet coffee shop, getting the usual states from people passing by.

"I come from a different universe. My world was being destroyed...apocalypse style kind of stuff. I was Begging over and over for it to not be real, I was screaming while everyone died... Suddenly I fell. I kept falling and falling as I cried in pain, my body and soul falling through space and time as it morphed, ripped apart and put back together until I fell into this universe. My face the only thing that didn't get fully put back together. So... Underneath this mask it's like a black hole, morphed and impossible to explain. If anyone looks into it they basically go mad or get brain damage. Arthur was a bit different, his mind was a lot stronger." You explained as Marc listened, it was nice to be honest about your life. You didn't exactly have friends or family.

"Wow, that's an incredible story you've got there. And Arthur is different, I've been fighting against him for some time now. I managed to take away his power but he still runs his cult. I'm sure he saw you and was thinking he could use you for something." He replied as you sighed a little and nodded.

"Well, I guess that's something I have to worry about now."

--

A few weeks had gone by and your life had been pretty quiet, you had Marc's number and had seen him a few more times.

But, the quiet didn't last long.

You woke up, groaning when you felt your body twinge in pain. You felt soft sheets below your body but you could tell they weren't yours.

You slowly sat up to see you were in a small room that had stone walls.

"What the..." You muttered before the door opened and you scurried away to the corner of the room.

Your eyes widened as you stared at Arthur.

"I hope you slept well, Y/N." He said as you pressed yourself against the wall.

"What the hell do you want?" You growled as he smiled, almost in a comforting way.

"I want to see what you can do, you're a very interesting person, Y/N. Wouldn't you like to find out more about yourself?" He asked as you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

"You think you can just kidnap people!? Just because you find them interesting!?" You shouted as him as he chuckled softly.

"I'm trying to help you here, Y/N. I could be a lot more forceful, so why don't you do as I say and I won't have to use such forces." He warned as you stared at him.

"All I want to do is live my life, I'm not your fucking lab rat." You cursed him out as he sighed.

"I've got some very nice food down here, you can be nice and come eat some or you can keep acting this way and I'll have to use force." He said as you glared at him.

"Fine." You grumbled making him smile with satisfaction.

You followed him out of the room as people stared at you while you passed them.

"Why is everyone whispering when I walk passed them..." You muttered before you sat down across from Arthur and he handed you some food.

"Because you're incredible, Y/N. We have no one to worship anymore and you come alone and you're perfect and powerful." He said as you looked away.

"If I take my mask off, I kill people. How is that perfect?" You grumbled as you stared down at the food, you couldn't ignore that you were hungry.

You began to eat as Arthur watched you.

"The things I saw when I gazed into your face, it was like nothing I'd ever seen. It means I am worthy, if someone gazes into your face and can't handle it then they aren't worthy." He said as you stopped and looked at him through your mask.

"Well, that's complete bullshit." You growled, continuing to eat.

Once you were finished two men grabbed your arms.

"It doesn't matter what you think, Y/N. I know what's best for you now." He said as they began to drag you away, Arthur reassured everyone around him before following alongside you.

They dragged you into a small room and restrained you to a chair.

"You fucking suck." You growled as he chuckled.

They brought a man in who looked nervous.

"You will be the first of the test, are you ready?" Arthur asked the man as he nodded and sat across from you.

The guards held you down before Arthur ripped off your mask and you tried to look away.

"No! Stop it!" You screamed, but it was too late for the man.

He stared wide eyed at you as his nose began to bleed.

"You'll kill him! Stop!" You screamed before he slumped forward and his head hit the table, you bagan to cry, black substance dripping down your face before Arthur put your mask back on.

"Looks like he wasn't worthy." He said as you continued to cry.

"That's not how it works!" You screamed out, you heard a commotion outside before the door slammed open to reveal moon knight.

"Always here to ruin my faith, aren't you, Marc?" Arthur said before Marc threw his guards to the ground.

"Always here to ruin innocent lives, aren't you, Arthur?" Marc growled before he knocked Arthur out and freed you.

You leapt up and hugged him tightly.

"I didn't mean it." You whispered while crying as Marc held you.

"I know... I know. It wasn't your fault, we have to go." He whispered looking at you and making sure you were somewhat okay.

"Just hold onto me, I'll get you out of here."

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I am so sorry it took me so long <3 <3 <3

Hey sorry if I’m sending this a second time tumblr crashed on me but do you think you could do something for Bassam 👉👈 theres literally nothing for him and he may be my favorite of his characters after Will Dempsey and Marc Spector

I was thinking something he says he knows this great tea place and he practically drags reader there just for it to be…ok so he’s like well I’ll make up for it with a kiss jokingly and then he actually does

First, I am so, so sorry this has taken so long <3 This idea is just so sweet! Bassam my beloved! I could write a symphony about his hair. (I also need to appologise as it has been a very long time since I saw Body of Lies (it was pre my oscar isaac era).)

Tea

Bassam x gn!Reader • Rating: pg+ pals  •  Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Bassam takes you out for tea.

Warnings: Reader enjoys tea, fluff, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 390

“It’s excellent, I swear, the best tea you’ve ever had.” Bassam grins at you, so pleased that he’d managed to convince you to go there with him. He’s practically vibrating with happiness when two istikana cups are placed in front of you. 

The smell of cardamom wafts around you heavily from the dark amber liquid. You stir the tea slowly, mixing in the thick layer of sugar at the bottom of the glass. Steam rises into the air.

Bassam stirs his eagerly for barely two seconds before he pours a sizable amount from the istikana glass into the saucer to cool before drinking it now in a greedy gulp. His throat bobs as he swallows and pauses. 

A slight frown crosses his face, a furrow of his brow and a wrinkle of his nose. 

You bite back the smile that threatens to surface. There’s something about his expression that reminds you of an outraged kitten. 

“What is it?” You ask and he shakes his head, takes another sip from the glass, this time. 

He swears quietly. 

“What?” You raise your own glass to your lips. 

“It’s burnt.” He looks utterly crestfallen. 

You take a sip anyway, letting the flavour spread across your tongue. It’s not bad, there’s only a slight bitterness to the tea at the end of the flavour. In fact, you would call it pretty good. The blend is a high quality with the correct amount of cardamom to complement it and not completely overwhelm.

“The water must have been too hot when the leaves were added.” He sighs.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Bassam, it’s hardly burnt, really.” You take another sip to show him. “It’s good.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s not as good.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s silly, I know, but I wanted you to taste it like it tasted the other day.” He glances around a little, and then shakes his head. “Must be different staff today.” 

“Well, I like it.” You purposefully finish the rest in one mouthful and he gives you one of his sweet smiles. 

“I’ll have to make it up to you.” He says with a nod. 

You chuckle. “We can go here again, I don’t mind.” 

“I was thinking more…” He leans closer to you. “That I could say sorry with a kiss?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

💚🫂💚🫂💚🫂💚🫂💚🫂I am so looking forward to the next chapters! (No pressure at all of course! <3)

Summer Project - Original Character Edition

Brothers' Best Friend!Santiago Garcia x Younger Miller Sister!Original Character

Issue #1: Three Rules...or Four?

next chapter Summer Project OC Masterlist • Santiago Masterlist • Main Masterlist Join my tag list • fic archive @ivy-just-my-fics • updates blog @ivystoryupdates

Please let me know if you want to be tagged!

Summary: Hazel Miller is the much younger sister of Will and Benjamin Miller (and new character) Jace Miller. She has just graduated college and is returning home to Florida for the summer before moving to yet another new city for grad school in the fall. Summer goal? 1. Leave for grad school not still a virgin. 2. Enlist the help of her brothers' best friend Santiago Garcia.

Overall Story Content: legal age gap, her brothers (particularly Ben) call(s) her Ducky. Family angst and drama, arguing, secrets, romance, fluff, idiots in love, lifelong family friends to lovers, drinking, being intoxicated, mentions of food, self-worth probs, discussions of combat and PTSD, disability, discussions of sexuality, innuendo, loss of virginity, kissing, grinding, dry humping, p in v, fingering, spitting, hand job, nipple play, praise kink, dirty talk, creampie, oral-m and f rec., mentions of sex toys, semi-public sex, lingerie, discussions of safe sex and sexual health, aftercare, language, not beta'd

wc: 3.8k

"Duckyyyyy, there she is!" Benny Miller called with a boisterous laugh before scooping his little sister up in his massive arms for a big hug, twirling her around just enough to cross the line to mild annoyance.

"Stop it, don't call me that," Hazel giggled, pounding on his arm and motioning for her big brother Will, to rescue her. Although he was a couple inches shorter than Benny, Will was no less strong.

"Don't pretend he listens to me," Will shrugged, folding his arms over his equally broad chest.

Benny finally set her down so she could hug Will, who welcomed her with open arms and a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Where's Jace?" Hazel inquired about her middle brother, who exemplified "middle child" in every possible sense of the term.

Benny, technically also a middle child, rolled his eyes. "Who cares?"

Fair point. Jace tended to bring a little storm cloud with him to preside over every event he attended. He wasn't quite as smart as Hazel or Will, or as athletic as Benny. He was far shorter and more scrawny than both his brothers. Will and Ben were tall, muscular and handsome with dark blond hair, square cut jawlines and piercing blue eyes, while Jace's light brown hair, ironically hazel eyes and lanky frame made him the odd man out.

Hazel was the sibling with dark brown hair that tumbled halfway down her back, and warm brown eyes with flecks of gold. The boys took after their fair mother. Hazel looked just like her dad.

Jace lacked a sense of humor, and her other two brothers were constantly joking around. Still, he never let anyone forget that, at 5'10", he was still taller than their best friend Santiago Garcia.

"Be nice," Hazel admonished Ben, giving him a playful (but pointless) shove as her eyes quickly darted around, looking for the rest of the boys - Frankie Morales, Santiago, her next door neighbor Diego - all of whom were at least ten years older than her.

Hazel's high school besties would be joining the barbecue in a couple hours, after they finished up at their little sister's graduation party.

Hazel headed upstairs to her old room to stash her suitcase, happy to be home for the sizzling Florida summer before heading back out of town for grad school.

Benny and Will grabbed the rest of her luggage and brought it to her while she quickly freshened up before joining them all in the backyard.

Salsa music was playing, drinks were being passed around and she could hear laughter which gave her a homey feeling right away.

Since the Millers' dad passed away right after high school graduation, the boys had all been taking care of Hazel, sometimes a little too much. Their mom died when she was in elementary school, so four men in the house, plus Frankie, Santiago, and even Tom, before he passed away, was more than enough supervision, not to mention the neighbor Diego.

They were all amazing in their own way, but she had to get out of state and spread her wings for college. Now she was finally graduated and ready to spend time with them this summer, however overprotective they might be.

Hazel also had a little...project in mind. Something she'd pondered for months and months. Her eyes landed on Santiago's back as he manned the grill.

The shortest of the bunch, he more than made up for it with charisma, charm and personality. She watched the muscles of his back flexing through the thin fabric of his gray t-shirt. His backward baseball cap almost covered the scar on the back of his neck. Even the movement of his tanned arms as he flipped burgers was mesmerizing.

She licked her lips without realizing it, but Frankie busted her.

"Hungry?" He bumped shoulders with her, granting her that big goofy smile she loved. His warm brown eyes twinkled from underneath his Standard Oil baseball cap he rarely went without.

"Hey, Frankie," she quietly greeted him, giving him a side hug. "Where's the kiddo?"

"Angelica ran back home because we forgot his damn pacifier. Vinnie fell asleep in the car seat, so she's just circling the block until the little demon wakes up."

"Do not call that baby boy a demon," she swatted Frankie's arm playfully. "He is an angel."

Frankie shrugged. "Not without a nap, he's not."

Santiago must have heard her voice because he whirled around and waved his spatula at her, flashing her a knee-weakening grin. Her cheeks heated as she found herself beaming, pushing up on her toes as she waved back.

"Come here." He waved her over, still using the spatula as an extension of his arm.

With a giggle, Hazel bounded over to the grill, a little caught off guard as Santi set the spatula down and wrapped her up in a big hug.

"There's my girl," he breathed on her ear. Releasing her after an indulgent moment, he gave her a once over before winking. "Been waiting for you. Got the burgers almost done medium, just how you like 'em, with garlic and Worcestershire sauce."

"Perfect, I knew there was a reason to invite you over today," she teased.

"Damn straight, someone's gotta bring talent and looks to this party," he fired back, chomping on his gum, which he somehow made look so sexy.

Her heart flip-flopped. "Did you bring your guitar?" The thought of Santiago singing did things to her insides.

He winked. "You know it. Drunk karaoke after sunset."

She rolled her eyes. "You think my brothers are gonna let me get drunk?"

"Fuck 'em. You're graduating," Santi reasoned, which made her chuckle.

"I've been an adult for over four years," she reminded him. Which made her remember the whole predicament:

She was still a virgin.

And it brought to mind her summer goal: to leave for grad school not a virgin.

Speaking of missed opportunities, Santiago eyed her carefully. "Where's the boyfriend?"

She groaned. Santiago knew very well that she and Marcus had broken up after Christmas. "Who knows? Maybe I'll meet my next one this summer."

"Good luck with that," he laughed, flipping a few burgers. "With all of us circling." He nodded toward the back door, where Jace was finally arriving to the party. He made his way straight over to the grill.

"Hey sis," he casually greeted, stuffing his hands into his khaki pants and barely giving Santiago a nod. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay, hi," she breathed, giving him a quick squeeze.

"Just in time to help with zero suitcases," Benny guffawed, squeezing his older but smaller brother's shoulders from behind before playfully grabbing him in a chokehold. "Lazy bum."

Jace was not amused.

"Aw, leave the little guy alone," Will teased, joining the group by the grill. He ruffled Jace's thin hair, messing it up, before doing the same to Benny.

"Can you guys not?" Jace groaned, shrugging them off, which sent them stumbling into an impromptu backyard wrestling session.

Jace shook his head and turned to Hazel. "How are we related to those two animals?"

"Girl, you haven't been with anyone since Marcus?" Hazel’s friend Anna questioned, flopping onto her bed dramatically. Anna's auburn waves fanned out on Hazel’s favorite pillow as she held one hand above her face to inspect her manicure. The three girls had grabbed a drink and headed upstairs to catch up and get out of the heat.

"No, the final semester kicked my ass. I barely had time to text you guys, let alone go on a date," Hazel explained, settling into the oversized, cozy chair in the corner of her room.

"Still, you can have fun, blow of steam, right?" Anna's sister Fiona chimed, grabbing one of Hazel's fluffy throw pillows and sinking down on the edge of the bed, her short, brown curls flopping in the process. "Unless you're still... you know..."

"Wait a second, oh my god, you are not still a virgin," Anna gawked, sitting up on the bed and reaching for her favorite stuffed animal - a stuffed duck with faded yellow fur. She squeezed the scruffy little guy before turning it around, as if looking to its eyes. "Who am I kidding, of course you're still a virgin."

"Her dad gave that duck to her," Fiona reasoned, whacking her sister with the throw pillow. "Don't be a dick."

"Not that it's anyone's business, but yes, I am. And yes, that's why Marcus dumped me." Hazel sighed, taking a swig of her beverage, thankful for the sting of alcohol. "I just...it didn't feel right. I wasn't ready."

"That's because you're secretly in love with me," Fiona giggled, tossing the throw pillow, which Hazel barely swatted away from her glass.

"Dream on," she quipped. "I like men."

"A word that definitely does not describe Marcus," Anna groaned. "I only met him twice, but he was an infant. You need a real man."

"A woman does not need a man to find happiness," Fiona defended.

"I'm not talking about happiness, Fi," Anna protested, "I'm talking about sex." She motioned to Hazel. "Unless you really aren't into men?"

"I'm into men," she confirmed. "I don't know why it's taken me so long - "

"You don't have to explain it. It's not like it's a bad thing," Fiona reasoned. "Maybe you just want someone to feel safe with."

"Knock, knock."

Santiago's voice rang through the crack in the slightly open door as his knuckles wrapped gently.

"Come in," Hazel chimed, beaming at him.

He poked his head in, errant streaks of silver littering his dark curls as he smiled charmingly. "Ladies, dinner is served. Come get your meat." He winked and retreated, sending the sisters snorting in amusement.

"Oh my god he is such a dad," Anna chuckled.

"He is not a dad," Hazel reminded them. "That's Frankie."

"I know, I wasn't being literal. He is old though."

"No he is not," Fiona argued with her sister. "He's hot. And don't get me started on Frankie - an actual DILF."

"Oh god," her sister groaned. "Her undying, unrequited crush on Francisco Morales."

"As if you have any room to talk, 'Mrs. Benjamin Miller'," Fiona mocked.

"Whatever, I was in eighth grade when I wrote Benny's name on my notebook!"

The sisters got into a swatting match, reminding Hazel of their own version of Benny and Will wrestling and half-seriously arguing, and making her wonder, for a moment, what it might be like to have a sister.

"They're too old for us anyway," Fiona finally acknowledged, as the group stood and started making their way back downstairs. "Unfortunately. Your hot brothers and their hot friends. If only..."

"They're not that much older," Hazel found herself blurting, quite without thinking first.

"Babe, come on, Benny is like, what, ten years older than us and he's the youngest one! Is Santiago the oldest?" Fiona questioned.

"Nope, that's Frankie," she explained. "Frankie is 18 years older than me, Santi is 16, Will is 14, Jace is 12 and Benny is 10 years older. And Diego next door is the same age as Will."

"See? Old," Anna shrugged right as Benny walked in the back door, headed for the bathroom.

"Who you calling old?" He winked at her and she made a mildly embarrassing sound.

"Okay, well we know who Anna likes the best," Fiona giggled, "and we know I have it bad for sweet, married, dad Frankie, but what about you?" She pointed directly at Hazel, now that Benny was out of earshot. "Who's the hottest of your brothers' friends?"

"What, I don't know," she tried to laugh it off, stopping in the kitchen to deposit her empty glass in the sink. "I'm related to half the group and feel like I'm practically related to the rest of them. Besides, Diego is getting married this summer."

"So...Diego then?" Anna teased.

"No it's Santiago," Fiona decided, folding her arms over her chest. "Diego's basically her fourth brother. That leaves Santi and Frankie. And Frankie's all mine."

"Mystery solved," Anna agreed.

"Yeah, okay, I'm definitely into Santi," Hazel laughed, if only to cover her actual real and consuming interest...in Santiago Garcia.

"Somebody looking for me?" Santi piped, right on queue, hauling dirty, barbecue sauce covered trays in from the back yard to deposit into the sink.

"Yep, we were just rating who's the hottest guy here today," Anna tried to convey seriously, but her sister was already making her giggle. "We narrowed it down to Benny, Frankie and you."

Santi turned to Hazel and narrowed his eyes. "This is a contest? With your brother?"

"Do not look at me, I am just an innocent bystander," she laughed, holding her hands up in a surrendering pose, even as her face heated under his scrutiny.

Santi stepped in close to her, shaking his head condescendingly but playfully. "Only two choices for you then. Me or Frankie." His tongue swiped over his lips as he winked. "Good luck to me, I guess."

As he barreled through the back door, out into the yard, Fiona let out a dramatic sigh. "Maybe I picked wrong. He is so hot. I don't care how old he is."

Dinner was delicious, plenty of alcohol was consumed (although Will did literally take two drinks out of Hazel's hand. Frankie sneaked them back to her though), the sun set and she had a pleasant buzz going by the time Santiago took out his guitar.

Jace rolled his eyes, accusing Santi of being a showoff under his breath.

Santiago kicked things off some Bruce Springsteen, followed by a crowd favorite, and soon enough, everyone was singing along and acting ridiculous. Hazel found herself laughing and so glad to be home.

Anna and Fiona's dad picked them up since they'd been drinking, and Frankie and Angelica got Baby Vinnie home while he was just the right amount of sleepy.

Santi was all smiles and charm and eventually got everyone singing at one point or another, even Jace.

Diego went home next. His fiancée was flying in the following day to do some more wedding planning. Jace went to bed, leaving Hazel, Benny, Will and Santiago to hang a while longer.

Will finally got tired, so they all decided to call it a night. While Benny shut everything down and locked up, Hazel pulled Santiago aside.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked seriously, steadying her by holding onto her forearms.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Little buzzed," she admitted with a chuckle. "Can I talk to you about something?" With slower reflexes, she got lost for a moment in his soft, syrupy gaze, his dark eyes raking over the contours of her face.

"Yeah, sure what is it?"

"Not now," she swallowed hard. "Later. Maybe at your place?"

"Okay, is everything all right?" Those piercing eyes shifted in concern.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, it's just kind of personal."

Benny walked in, tossing a blanket at pillow at Santiago, which sent him stumbling back a step. "I saw how many you had, Pope. Lay your ass down on the couch, you're going nowhere."

Scrubbing his hand over the nape of his neck, Santi shrugged, too tired and drunk to argue. "Thanks, dad."

Hazel couldn't linger any longer and try to talk to Santi alone. Too suspicious.

So she wished them both goodnight.

The next day, Hazel slept off her buzz, took a long shower and headed over to Santi's to tell him about the summer project.

As she knocked on his front door, she shifted from foot to foot uncertainly, almost convinced to turn around and leave before embarrassing herself.

"Heyyy, there's my girl," he greeted her with shower fresh damp hair, a thin white t-shirt and shorts, with bare feet. "Come in."

As she walked into his home, she realized she'd never been here alone. Clenching and unclenching her fists, Hazel chewed on her lip as he opened the fridge an fished out the orange juice.

"Thirsty?"

If he only knew.

"Uhm, I'm fine, no thanks."

Noticing her trepidation, he set the OJ carton on the counter, inching closer.

"Sweetheart, you okay? What did you wanna talk to me about?"

Exhaling loudly, she started to lose her nerve with him gazing into her eyes. It was now or never.

"What is it?" His dark eyebrows shifted in concern. "You can tell me."

Drawing a deep breath, she decided to go for it. "I'm gonna ask you something. A favor. It's big."

"Okay," he nodded sincerely.

"But if you don't want to do it, you have to promise to say no and I won't be mad. And you have to swear not to tell anyone."

He eased around the kitchen counter to stand right in front of her. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Hazel's heart swelled, seeing his concern. "No, it's not like that. It's just a favor. But you have to swear this conversation never happened, especially if you say no."

He shook his head, confused. "Okay..."

"I was wondering if I could get your help with something. But it's...it's big." She exhaled loudly, hardly able to believe she was asking him this. She'd rehearsed the speech in her mind so many times. "See....I'm graduating college and I have a little problem I want you to help me with."

"Tell me what it is," he insisted, a bit more emphatically. "Like, a party? Or..."

"I'm...still a virgin."

As soon as the words left her mouth, her face went hot and she clenched her hands even harder to keep them from shaking. Time to do this. Better to get it out in the open and have Santi reject her, than wonder all summer if he would've said yes.

She watched the confusion, then realization, then shock register on his face. Now it was out there, might as well.

"This summer, I wanna....I don't know, not be one - a virgin, I mean, by the time I go to grad school, and so, I was wondering if you would maybe...help me out?"

Santiago frowned, shaking his head slightly. "You want me to help you find someone to hook up with?"

Oh god. This was coming out all wrong. Feeling overwhelmingly flustered, she shook her head. "Nevermind, forget it. It's stupid."

But Santi didn't let her get far, gently grasping her shoulders to steady her. "Wait, sweetheart, you mean..." He pointed to himself. "You mean me?"

Hazel closed her eyes and held up her hands defensively. "Look, Santiago...I get it. You probably don't see me that way at all. You probably never could. I just, I trust you and I thought I would ask you first because... well...I don't know." She took a step back, to safety, bracing for inevitable rejection. " You can just say no and then we can forget I even came here today 'cause I don't want to - "

"Yes."

Her eyes went wide, nervous rambling coming to a halt.

"I'll do it. If you're sure." His eyebrows shifted questioningly.

She swallowed hard. "I'm sure. Are you sure?"

He licked his lips. "Definitely."

Her stomach flip-flopped as he stalked toward her with slow determination.

"O-okay. I have rules."

He smirked. "Rules?"

"Yes. They're for our...mutual protection, let's say. If you don't want to hear them, or do them, just say so now. They're not negotiable."

"Okay, shoot." Santiago folded his arms over his chest smugly. He was enjoying this.

The shock of the situation was starting to wear off a little, so she dove in. "Okay, the most important rule by far is: my brothers cannot know. They can never ever know."

He quickly nodded. "Good point, I enjoy being alive."

"Exactly."

"'kay and number 2?"

"Obviously this goes without saying for both of us, but, we have to be safe and that includes either one of us being able to change our minds at any time."

"Obviously," he agreed, "Next?"

She took a deep breath. "No feelings."

His eyebrows shot up, the corner of his mouth following. "Feelings?"

"Right. No feelings. Just...sex."

He swallowed hard, his eyes traveling down the shape of her body. He nodded, his eyes flickering to her mouth, then back into her eyes. "Just sex."

Pacing away and back, he had a question of his own. "So, how do you want to do this?"

She paused. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Santi chuckled. "Believe me, this is something I can definitely do for you. And like I said, I value my life, so I won't be telling your brothers."

"Good."

"Do I get to have rules?" He returned, eyes meeting hers challengingly.

"Huh?"

Licking his lips, he shrugged one shoulder. "If i'm participating, do I get to make any rules?"

She wryly smiled. "I doubt it, but if you can think of any, let's hear it."

"Okay," he agreed. "How about, I set the pace. Obviously, rule 2 applies. You can stop anytime, and we never have to go any faster than you're comfortable with. But if this is about you not being a virgin anymore, are you thinking 'one and done' or - "

"Santi, are you asking if we're gonna be fuck buddies all summer?"

"Hey, you said it." He winked, making her cheeks heat as she sheepishly giggled.

"But seriously," he went on, easing into her personal space, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "I mean, have you...done stuff before? Anything?"

"Yeah, I've done stuff. Some stuff." She squirmed under his undivided attention - something she'd never had fully, ever before.

"Okay, that's what I mean." Leaning in, he locked eyes with her. "I want to sort of...do it all. Everything. I want to figure out what you've done and what's new for you." Her eyes flickered away, but he chased after her gaze. "I wanna learn what you like, what gets you going... I want it to be good for you."

Her mouth went dry, but just hearing those words from him, directed at her - not everything was feeling so dry at the moment. "Right, so..."

"So, when do you wanna start?"

"As soon as possible," she blurted. Shaking her head, she tried to regain some control over the situation. "But not today."

"Tonight? Tomorrow? I'm ready right now."

Hazel slugged him on the arm, putting her back on what was the normal dynamic with her brothers' friend.

Santi grinned. "Hey, a beautiful woman wants to sleep with me. I'm not hesitating...unless she wants to, of course."

"Okay, tomorrow," she agreed.

"But no sex tomorrow," he insisted. "Not yet. I'll make dinner."

Before she protested, he clarified, "Not to make it a date, just to set the mood. It'll help if you're comfortable. No sex. First base only." He winked. "Maybe second."

"Oh god," she groaned, the sound coming out as much more of a moan than she intended.

What had she gotten herself into?

next chapter Summer Project OC Masterlist • Santiago Masterlist • Main Masterlist Join my tag list • fic archive @ivy-just-my-fics • updates blog @ivystoryupdates

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EGAPIEORGJAPIEW MY HEART!!!!!!!!

Saviour

A one shot? The start of my second Moon Knight series? Who knows

Summary: Reader is contemplating taking drastic measures and the Moon Boys step in

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, possible suicide attempt

Word count: 2.4k

You shouldn’t be up here. You know you shouldn’t. If security realised you’d get arrested.

Well, maybe not arrested, but at least in trouble. 

You hate trouble. You hate drawing attention to yourself. So it’s ironic that you were standing on the edge of an office building peering down at the pavement below.

Usually your legs would feel like jelly this high up, but they don’t. Usually you’d feel excited and alive being this high up. But you don’t. 

You just felt done with everything. 

You wished a strong gust of wind would help push you over the edge, figuratively and literally. Then everything would finally be over.

“Miss?” 

You froze. You hadn’t heard the door creak, why the hell was someone else up here? You daren’t turn around in case you lost your footing. Another irony, not wanting to die unless it was on your terms.

“Miss, are you alright?” the male voice asked gently. 

“I’m fine,” you replied, knowing he wouldn’t believe you but hoping anyway. 

“It’s a bit chilly out here, innit?”

Why was he talking about the fucking weather?

“Why don’t you come inside and warm up.”

That’s why.

“I’m fine out here,” you answered, your voice surprisingly steady.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, luv. It’s a lot warmer inside than it is out here.”

“I said no.”

“Can I at least give you my coat so you’re not freezing?”

His insistence was grating, so you finally risked turning to look at the man.

Huh. 

Cuter than you’d expected. 

And a lot closer than you’d estimated.

“I don’t need a coat,” you replied, your words at odds with your sheer blouse.

“Look, I can see you shivering from here,” he said, slowly shrugging off his jacket and taking a miniscule step towards you.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shouted.

The man raised his hands in surrender, his jacket halfway down his arms. “Alright, alright. Not coming any closer, okay?”

He shrugged the item back on, pursing his lips. You quickly glanced down towards the pavement below before looking back to him, ensuring he hadn’t moved.

“Can you keep looking at me, luv? I know I’m an ugly git but I’d wager the view up here is far better than it is down there.”

Your brow knitted together. What was he talking about? He wasn’t ugly at all.

“My name’s Steven, can you tell me your name?” he asked gently, his brown eyes softening in a way you knew was designed to make you answer. 

“Charlie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Charlie. How long have you been up here?” he asked, never taking his eyes off you.

“A bit.”

Steven nodded. “A bit,” he echoed. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it? Can see right across to St. Paul’s from here,” he smiled weakly.

“I’m not here for the fucking view,” you snapped.

“I know, luv. I know why you’re up here,” he replied calmly.

“No you don’t! You don’t know anything about me!” your throat felt tight.

“Then tell me. Why are you out here, Charlie?”

Damn it.

“No,” you mumbled, glancing at the floor by his feet.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

A car honked loudly below, your head turning down towards it.

“Hey, hey, hey don’t look there, remember?” You looked back to Steven, you hadn’t heard him step closer but there he was, two feet away. “Charlie, come on. Can you tell me why you’re out here? It’s the middle of winter and freezing, what’s going on darlin’?” 

“You wouldn't understand,” you insisted, hating how cliche it sounded.

“I might not understand it all, but that doesn’t mean I can’t listen. I’m a good listener, I should know, I listen to myself talk plenty enough-" 

“Stop trying to use humour to butter me up!” you shouted, surprised he didn’t even flinch.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. But Charlie, I can listen to you. I don’t know your situation, I don’t know anything about you. All I know is you’re standing on a ledge so cold that your lips are going blue, and I want to help. Will you let me help you?”

Your eyes stung, from the cold wind that’s all. Not because you wanted to cry. “I don’t want your help!” you tried to push the tears back with anger.

“Why not?” 

“Nothing can help me! Nothing will ever make the pain go away!”

His head tilted to the side, his eyes getting impossibly wide. “Pain from what, luv?” he asked softly. You hated his tone. The look on his face. How he seemed to care. He wouldn’t care if he knew the truth.

“Stop! Just stop, okay! Stop trying to get me to open up, stop trying to stop this from happening because it’s going to happen whether you like it or not!” your foot slipped slightly as you became more animated. You suddenly felt a dizzying rush at the absence of ground beneath half your shoe.

“Charlie please, just- just step away from the edge, okay?” Steven pleaded.

“No! Don’t tell me what to do!”

Suddenly you lost your balance. You glanced down to the pavement, and with a sickening lurch in your stomach, your legs turned to jelly. Your head spun as you swayed.

“Charlie!”

You were flying.

No.

You were falling.

This was it. 

It would all finally be over.

Something hard wrapped around your torso, your collision course with the pavement slowed as if a parachute was somehow pulling you back. You looked down to see two weirdly bandaged arms around your waist.

You landed- or rather whatever was behind you- landed on the ground whilst your feet were slightly raised, protecting you from the force of the jolt. Whoever he or she was set you down and released you. You scrambled forward then turned to face your unwanted saviour at the same time as the vestiges of bandages peeled back instantly from Steven’s body.

“Are you okay?” he asked in an American accent, stepping towards you. 

“Why did you do that! How did you do that!” you scrambled backwards. He’d ruined it.

“To stop you from-”

“I fell!” you hissed, looking left and right to see if anyone was watching. Did you fall or did you jump?

“You wouldn’t have fallen if you weren’t up there in the first place considering suicide.”

You winced at the word, marching towards a nearby alleyway. “Whatever!” you shouted, unable to think of a reasonable argument against him. It all happened so fast. He’d ruined it. This random man had witnessed your moment of weakness, had seen you at your lowest, and now you heard him following after you. You felt mortified. You had to make him go away.

“Charlie,” he called.

You wheeled back to face him once you were near a dumpster. “Why are you talking like that! And how did you just save me!”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is you. Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yes!” you snapped, exasperated. You just wanted him to go. 

He raised an eyebrow as he shook his head. “Don’t lie to me. You need help.”

“I don’t need help,” you glared at him. 

He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.

“Why are you being like that? What happened to the ‘darlings’ and niceties!” 

“It’s called tough love, kid.”

“I’m not a kid, I’m 30!”

Both of Steven’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t look 30,” he said slowly.

“I know!” If you had a penny every time… You watched him glance over your curves, before practically scrutinizing your face.  “Please just go away, I'm not up there anymore, you can leave,” you begged.

He shook his head before you had even finished. “I can’t leave you like this.”

“Yes you can! You have two legs, use them!” you pointed towards the street.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t take that tone with me, I just saved your damn life.”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“You didn’t have to!” he shouted back.

“Please Steven just go away,” you began to march back towards the street. 

“It’s Marc. And no,” he stepped in front of you. You tried to side step, but he matched your movement. You glared up at him, and he glared back. You tried to formulate a plan, your gaze subtly flitted to the ground at your side to assess if you could feign one way then dart backwards, but he was somehow a step ahead. “Don’t even think about it.”

Normally you wouldn’t ever be so confrontational with a stranger, so verbose. But this man had just seen you up there trying to- No. You weren’t that close to doing it. He just made it worse by coming up there and disturbing your moment. 

“Why are you calling yourself Marc now anyway? You more fucked up than me or something?” you asked spitefully, hoping to get a strong enough reaction that he’d finally leave. For a second you thought it worked, what with the way his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched.

“Miralo,” he murmured. What. He took a step closer to you, then another, making you walk back until you were against the wall. “You got family?” he asked, his voice huskier.

“Yeah,” you replied reluctantly.

“Kids?”

You scoffed. “No.”

For a second he looked like he was having a seizure, then he sighed loudly and took a step back, granting you personal space once more. “Can I at least take you to the hospital?”

You almost laughed. “The hospital?” you asked incredulously. “I don’t need the hospital.”

“You need help, Charlie.”

“And the hospital is going to help me, how?”

“Charlie.” Oh you did not like his tone.

“‘Marc’,” you air quoted. “I’m fine! The moment is over! I’m safe on the stupid ground!”

“How do I know you won’t go right back up there the moment I leave?”

“You don’t! Tough shit!” you shouted, becoming increasingly embarrassed with yourself.

But he’d ruined your wallowing, he’d ruined your moment, he’d ruined the fact you had finally plucked up the courage to end everything once and for all. He snatched your peace away at the last second. Though the longer this conversation was going on, the more your brain was connecting the dots.

“That’s it, I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said decisively, reaching out to grab your hand. 

You snatched it away. “No no no, no touching.”

“You’re coming with me regardless.”

“I am not! I’ve managed this long without a hospital trip, I can manage a bit longer!”

He gestured towards the roof. “You call that ‘managing’?!” he asked incredulously.

“Just please just- leave me alone. I’ve got through this before on my own and I can do it again,” you tried to reason.

“I can’t leave you alone after you just tried to kill yourself.”

“I fell! But if you’re going to be like that then how are you gonna explain saving me, huh? You gonna tell them you’ve got powers?”

He stayed silent.

“I may be dumb enough to go up there and try to-” you cut yourself off. “But I’m not stupid! I know who you are! I saw you on the news last year. And now I know your name is Marc, and Steven. I know what you look like behind that mask.”

His eyes darkened.

“So unless you want me to go blabbing to the world about the bandaged guy in Cairo who’s real name is Marc and or Steven, I suggest you shut the fuck up and move on.”

He stared you down for a long moment, your resolve beginning to crack. “You threatening us?” he murmured, the soft tone at odds with how menacing it sounded.

You second guessed yourself, narrowing your eyes in slight confusion before eventually nodding “Yea-” then changing it to shaking your head “No…”

“Good.”

“Still not going to the hospital,” you added quickly.

He sighed loudly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again they were noticeably softer. “If you won’t go to the hospital can you at least let us call someone for you?” he said in a British accent again whilst taking his coat off.

“No! No one knows I feel this bad and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you said decisively as he wrapped the jacket around you. “I don’t need you to care about me.”

“What was it you said, ‘tough shit’?” he retorted gently. 

“I have my own coat,” you continued to protest.

“Then where is it?”

“In my car.”

“And where’s your car?”

“The car park.”

He gave you a slightly exasperated look. “Which is where?” 

“The one that way,” you pointed towards the direction you felt it was in. “I don’t know, I don't usually drive here!” you added defensively.

“Okay, okay. Do you live nearby?”

You shook your head. “Two hours away.”

“How about this, we’ll go to a nice cafe and get you warmed up, then you can call one of your loved ones-”

“I just told you they don’t know!”

“-okay what about your doctors? The Samaritans? Or do you have a therapist or anyone?”

“They won’t care, Samaritans didn’t help the last time, and I don’t want to bother my therapist with this shit right now,” you listed off.

His eyes darkened so much you thought the other guy was about to come out. “Your therapist is there precisely to help you with ‘this shit’! You can’t shut down every option Charlie!”

“I can and I bloody will!” you tried to walk off for a third time.

“At least just sit with me for a bit then! Until you calm down!” he called after you.

“I am calm!” you turned back to shout, walking backwards.

He gave you a disbelieving look. “Fine until I calm down!” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

“Why! I don’t owe-” you cut yourself off. You owed him your life. You sighed loudly. “Fine.”

He caught you up in no time, then held out his hand. 

“No,” you muttered, not taking it, then began to walk.

When the two of you re-emerged onto the bustling street, it was as if it were just another day in the busy city of London.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Feel free to reblog to have more people to vote. Feel free to explain why you voted the way you did. DO NOT SENT ANON HATE FOR HOW PEOPLE VOTED.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂😭💚🫂

I have fucking forgotten how to write.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

AOEWGJ[OAWEDPIO I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH!!!!!!

Joey: Firsts

Trans!Younger!Joel Miller x Male!Amab!Reader

TLOU Masterlist : Main Masterlist

Tag list

Summary: You take Joel's virginity

Warnings: virgingity loss, heavy praise, belly bulge, all the good stuff.

Written for the trans joy event hosted by me @perotovar @sp00kymulderr and @qveerthe0ry !! ongoing, so jump in any time!

Dividers by @i-collect-shiny-stuff

Joel lay sprawled beneath you, his chest rising fast against yours. The room was quiet except for the soft catch of his breathing and the occasional creak of the bedframe when he shifted restlessly. His lips were already swollen from your kissing, a sheen of damp across them as if he’d been waiting all his life to be kissed like this.Joel laid sprawled out on the bed, body growing damp as you teased him. Today was special, a very special day indeed, and you wanted him ready.

You brushed your thumb along his jaw, holding him still just long enough to press another slow kiss to his mouth. He immediately leaned into it, hips jerking up against you like his body was begging even before the words formed in his throat.

“Please,” he whispered, voice trembling, caught somewhere between pleading and wonder.

Your chest ached at the sound. He’d never let anyone this close before. Every shiver of his hands, every eager tilt of his head against your lips, reminded you just how new this was for him. You kissed along his cheek, down to the corner of his jaw, until he was squirming beneath you, fists clutching at your shirt like he didn’t know what else to do, desperate. Joey was always so desperate.

“Slow,” You murmured against his skin, soothing even as you slid your hand to the hem of his shirt. 

He nodded quickly, almost frantically, but lifted his arms without hesitation as you tugged the fabric upward. His shirt tangled briefly at his shoulders before you pulled it free, baring him to the cool air. 

“You’re beautiful, Joey” And he was. Stunning jaw and nose, medium dark tousled curls, muscles firm with hard work. 

By the time you moved to tug at the drawstring of his pants, Joel was restless, his legs shifting against the sheets, breath coming quicker. His hands scrabbled at your shoulders, your arms, anywhere he could anchor himself as if he was afraid he’d float away if he let go.

“Needy boy,” You whispered, grinning softly against the heat of his skin. “I love how much you want this.”

Joel whined softly in response, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with want.

“You gonna finally do it?” Joey is panting beneath you. “That why you took me out to dinner, get me all dressed up?”

SMart boy. “Yeah.” You chuckled against his skin, and you felt him smile. “Want you to feel special. Want you to know I’m not just using you.”

“I know that, dumbass.” It was Joel’s turn to laugh. “Been beg’n yuh t’fuck me for 3 months now.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the sheen of sweat that had gathered on him. You both finish undressing before you straddle him, cock hard and heavy in your hands. You’d worked him open so, good, making sure he was ready physically as much as mentally. You didn’t want it to hurt. He’d bleed already on your fingers, so you weren’t too concerned about his ability to take you. 

Your hands slid over his chest, broad palms smoothing across firm muscle and warm skin. Joel sighed at the touch, arching faintly into it like he’d been waiting years for someone to touch him like this. The oil-slick glide of your hands caught the dim light, every pass was slow and reverent, easing the tension in his chest until all that was left was need.

Your thumbs brushed across the faint ridges of his scars. He tensed for a moment, the old instinct to flinch, but you bent down and pressed your mouth to the place just above them. “Every inch of you is mine to love,” You whispered and Joel just meeelted.

You cupped his face gently, catching the faint scrape of his patchy beard against your palm. His cheeks were hot beneath your touch, lips parted and shining, eyes wide and glassy as though he couldn’t believe you meant it.

“Joey,” You murmured, voice reverent, leaning in so close he could feel your words ghost across his mouth. 

His hands clutched at your wrists now, holding you there as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you letting go. “Love you,” he blurted, voice cracking, and you kissed the corner of his smile in reply.

You slid lower again, your hands gliding down with the faint residue of lube, catching at his waist and hip bones before finding their way back to his chest, slick palms pressing flat against him. The scent of it mingled with the warmth of his skin, and Joel whimpered, twisting under you, aching and restless.

“Shhh,” You soothed, brushing your nose against his cheek, lips ghosting over his jaw. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re perfect.”

When you scooted back, positioned Joel legs around you, you laid you heavy cock over his stomach. “Think you’re ready, Joey? Ready to feel me here?” You poke his stomach right at the tip.

But he just grinned at you. 

Joel’s cunt is slick and juicy when you slide in, and as much as you love seeing his face go wide as he’s stretched open, you’re eyes roll back just for a moment as his warmth envelopes you. It’s like heaven, being buried inside his pussy, being the first person to taste him, to touch him, now the first person to fuck him. He’s yours, every part as you claim him. 

When you bottom out, Joel’s chest rises in a gasp.

“Hey, hey baby,” You tap his cheek to get him to focus on you again. His eyes are wide, glossy, tousled gentle curls falling and sticking to his sweat-slicked face. “You okay?”

“Amazing, feels… feelsnice” the last two words slurred together as bliss spread his features. Joel rested his head back on the pillow, body language relaxing as you stayed stuffed inside his tight little hole. “Nice being so full…”

“Good boy, Joey… can I move? Are you ready?”

Joel nods, eyes closing as you begin to fuck him slowly. His hands feel up his own body, taking control of his own pleasure as you brought it to him simultaneously. No one looked better than your Joey, no one could ever compare, no one had ever been more handsome take your cock than him.

You press your hand down on his stomach, groaning loudly when you feel your cock moving inside him. “Fuck, can you feel me there? Feel how fucking deep I am?”

He was nodding rapidly, plush lower lip whimpering the way it does when he gets close. So sensitive, this one. You gave him 3 orgasms before this as he still wasn’t satisfied. “Deep”

“Yeah, that’s right Joey, good boy using your words…” Your palm grinds down on his clit making him yelp in pleasure, a little smile playing on his face. You massage the sensitive area, slicked up with his cum, and his hands fly to grip at the blankets when you pick up your speed.

“Fuck! Ooooohhhh shitshitshitshit!” Joel is a sloppy mess. From his cunt squelching below you to his dropped open mouth drooling to the sweat glistening off his body, he’s a complete mess for you.

“Pretty boy gonna cum his first time?”

And- oh fuck he did.

Joel looks possessed, body writhing underneath you, a full body orgasm that left his legs shaking and eyes rolled back. Once you’ve milked out every second of climax from him, you pull out and can’t hold back anymore. Rope after rope of your seed marks his tanned body, white cum contrasting on the tender, soft skin. You cum on his abs, his thighs, and of course you spill over that sopping wet, throbbing, swollen boy pussy.

*

Joel flinches at the soft wash clothes on his cunt as you clean him with warm water. “How do you feel?”

“Really nice.” He smiles at your, features soft and relaxed. You like seeing him soft and relaxed.

When you crawl into bed with Joel, you make sure he knows how special he is, that you love him more than anything. Aftercare was important, physical and emotional. Nothing but soft kisses peppered against your Joey’s skin until he fell asleep in your arms.

***

THANK YoU ALL FOR YOUR LOVE I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!

@pedge-page @mountainsandmayhem @miraclesabound @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

SDRJGIERJO I AM BITING THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!

Poe and Rey have been separated for a little too long

@omgbarbiegurl @jewelsrulz @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @loki-hargreeves

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

You have made my day 😭💚🫂

At This Hour

Jonathan Levy x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 24: On the counter

Summary: You look after Ava while Jonathan goes out on a date.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing and being so lovely! <3

Warnings: neighbour!reader, mentions of the reader liking horror films/Terrifier, reader also has a cat, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2554

Jonathan knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just can’t help himself. 

The date had been a bad one, pointless in fact. He should have ducked out after the first ten minutes, no five. 

But he’d stayed and now it was nearly twelve fucking am by the time he got home. He should really go to bed. Get some sleep. 

Instead, he was talking to you, and drinking coffee. Oh, three am him was going to be pissed.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” Jonathan pushes his glasses higher. “Please, you got to let me give you some money.”

You shake your head, raising your hand, “Oh, no, no, no, you letting me pinch your netflix and amazon password for the last four months is more than enough.”

He chuckles, fiddling with his mug, “Yeah, but that’s just being neighbourly.” 

You scoff. “It is not, Jonathan.” 

Your friendship had started about seven months ago, when Jonathan had taken in a grand total of eight parcels from fedex on your, and your roommates, behalf in one day.

After collecting them, you’d apologised profusely, and baked him a banana cake. Panicking when you gave it to him that a, you didn’t actually know if he was allergic to anything, and b, that he actually liked bananas. 

Luckily he did.

Your friendship had grown when his car wouldn’t start one morning, and you’d given him a lift to work on your moped and picked him up after. Plus you’d got your friend’s cousin’s, uncle’s ex-colleague to have a look at his car and sort out the problem. 

He’d bought you lunch and looked after your cat if you had to go out of town. You watched his daughter if he had to work late on the days he had her. 

Originally, this hadn’t been his weekend to have Ava, hence why he had a date. A very, very bad date. 

“Come on,” he smiled at you, that horrible brilliantly blinding smile that leaves you weak at the knees, “usually you’re just with her for what, forty five minutes? An hour, this was nearly four.” 

You giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t just politely leave.”

“I am a man of faults.” 

You laugh harder, “Look, I like Ava, we watched a series of R rated horror films and I made sure she ate her weight in sugar without brushing her teeth.” 

He grins. “I’m sure I would have had a better time with you guys here.”

You shrug, “Well, you can join us next time. We’re going to watch Terrifier.” You tease.

“Ugh,” he shudders, “Don’t tell me you like those kinds of films?” 

You can’t stop from smiling at his dramatic reaction. “What? You don’t?” 

He pulls a face and you giggle.

“They’re fun!”

“They are not.” He takes a sip of his cooling coffee, trying to nurse it as long as he could.

“They are.”

“All blood and guts.” He screws up his face, putting it on a bit for you.

“But the prosthetics! Plus it’s not real.” You say playfully. 

“Freaky.” He shakes his head. “Too much for my old heart.” 

You snort. “Jonathan.”

“What?” He smiles.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” 

“You just want me to tell you how young you are.” You rest your chin on your hand as you look at him.

He pauses and then nods rapidly, “I do actually, and you have to, it’s the social contract.” 

You giggle, “Well, I’m not.” 

“That's unfair.” He says in mock outrage, making you laugh harder. 

“Fine,” you hold up your hands, “You’re very handsome.” 

He pauses, looking at you for a moment. “I said you had to tell me I was young, not beautiful.” He teases, expecting you to throw a comment back at him immediately. 

But instead, you pause. For a moment, it’s almost funny how you freeze. 

“I…” You swallow, your mouth dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It’s okay,” he quickly covers, “I’m just teasing, it’s fine.” 

You smile weakly, your skin burning. You get up quickly, nearly knocking your mug over in the process. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sorry, I, erm,” you pick up your mug, and then his, “Let me, erm, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” 

You turn before he even has a chance to say anything, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the mugs on the counter.

Jonathan stands quickly, calling your name, “Hey, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry,” anxiety cuts into his chest, leaving his ribs bare. He walks behind you, accidentally bumping into you as you turn. 

“Sorry,” he grabs your arm to steady you and himself, his heart thudding so hard in his temples he’s sure he’s going to burst a blood vessel. 

You glance at his eyes nervously, breathing hard. “I…”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He says softly. He should put his hand down, stop touching your arm. “I was just teasing.” 

You nod, “I know, I… I’m sorry.” Your insides squirm a little, trying to find a way out to escape this awkwardness. 

“Don’t be,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “It’s always nice when someone beautiful calls you handsome.”

Your brain glitches, static for a moment, rebooting.  

“Beautiful?” You repeat.

“Beautiful.” His mouth says before he has any say in the matter. “And kind, and funny, and wond-”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeply. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the counter.

It takes him a moment to catch up with his body, to figure out this is actually real, not some well used fantasy he plays out behind his eyes in the shower. 

You pull lightly at his hair, moaning softly when he licks into your mouth and pushes his legs between yours. He rocks against you, his cock quickly hardening in his trousers as he presses against the seam of your jeans. 

Part of him wants to pull back, to not push things, to not rush. But the much louder voice in his head laments at how long he’s been holding back, how long he’s been thinking of you while touching himself with a lubed hand. 

You gasp as he kisses along your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks at your pulse point greedily. God, if he could just get you to make that noise one more time.

“Jonathan,” you moan softly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling on his shoulders, needing to rid the fraction of space between you.

He growls, nipping at your neck and nearly coming on the spot when he hears how needily you call his name. “Can I take these off?” His words are nearly lost with how he sucks on your skin, barely able to move his mouth back more than a centimetre. He pulls at your top, your trousers and you nod hastily. 

His groan at your confirmation makes you shiver. He practically tears your clothing from you, pushing and pulling the material away as if it personally offended him, before he hikes your right leg up around his waist and urges you up onto the counter. 

He sucks your breasts into his mouth greedily, quickly going from one to another, like a child in a toy store unable to choose his favourite. While he presses his thumb to your clit and strokes his fore and middle fingers through your folds. 

He groans deeply at the wetness he finds, rocking against you as he pushes inside. 

You gasp, biting down on your lip to keep yourself vaguely quiet as you cling onto his shoulders with one hand and the counter with the other. 

He strokes gently, pressing rhythmically against your walls as he toys with your clit and you sob, practically clinging onto him for dear life.

Pleasure builds dizzyingly fast in your belly, threatening to pull you down with every stroke. You moan in his ear, lightheaded, just about gathering yourself together to whimper his name. You weren’t prepared for this utter onslaught, for him to be so determined to pull you apart piece by piece. 

Spikes of sensation buzz along your skin, twisting and building. 

“You’re going to make me come,” you sob, shocked at how quickly your body is ready to fall apart. 

“Fuck yes,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your collar bone before he licks up your neck back to your lips. It’s hot and wet and messy, his tongue in your mouth to quiet your sobs  as you pulse and gasp, coming violently around his fingers. 

You shake in his grip, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. He works you through it, stroking and pumping until you feel like liquid in his hands. 

“God,” he groans, kissing your forehead and breathing hard. He takes his fingers out of you slowly and shoves them in his mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste. 

When you manage to pull back a fraction to look at him, you can see his glasses have steamed up. You giggle and he grins around his fingers, taking them out with a pop to kiss you. 

You run your hands through his hair, shivering as he presses close once more. 

“Do you?” He starts at the same moment you speak - “Can I?”

He chuckles, nodding for you to go first. 

“Take these off.” You mutter, pulling at his jumper. He moves back a fraction, letting you pull it over his head and snorting when his glasses get caught in the neckline. He whips them off, placing them on the side, his curls wild. 

Jonathan bites his lip as you unbuckle his jeans, helping you by undoing his fly.

“Can I fuck you?” He groans, kissing your cheek and jaw, each glide of his tongue makes your body sing. 

“Please.” 

He growls, barely pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs before he’s taking his heavy cock in hand and pumping himself a few times. 

You take a cheeky look down and bite your lip. 

He grins, “Like what you see?” 

The line would make you giggle in any other situation, but now your mouth is watering. You nod rapidly. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, spitting in his hand, “So that’s what makes you lost for words, I get it.” He smears his saliva over the head of his cock before he presses closer, guiding the tip to your folds. 

“You’re really-” You whine, gasping as he notches at your entrance and just glides inside. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your body bucking unthinkingly as he pushes deeper. 

He groans deeply, sighing like this is his first drink of water after a long hot day. He slides his hands to your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he eases in.

“Jonathan,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, fuck, you’re so tight.” He lightly rocks his hip, sheathing himself in the last few inches. 

You whine, licking into his mouth when he kisses you hungrily. He thrusts experimentally, easing out a fraction before he pushes back in. 

“How do you like it?” He mutters against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. 

“I don’t mind,” you manage to say, your voice barely there. 

He snorts, moving one of your legs to wrap around his waist again as he takes hold of your hips in a firm grip. “Tell me if you want something.” He groans, pulling out and then plunging back in. “Want to make you come again.” 

You nearly shriek, throwing your head back and managing, somehow, to keep your voice muffled as he sets a brutal pace. 

He bucks into you rapidly, shaking the cutlery on the drainer by the sink with every deep thrust. The toaster jumps with every buck of his hips into yours. The sound of your slick echoing as you coat his cock.

“You look so fucking hot when you come,” he groans. “So fucking wet.” He pounds into you, sweat beading in his hairline, the way you grab at him and whine setting his blood ablaze. 

His pubic bone smacks against your clit with every thrust, his cock rolling against your walls and pushing impossibly deeper. 

Something in you wants to break, needs to snap and flood out as he keeps rhythm, your body moving in time with his desperately. 

You bite at his neck, sucking a love bite into his skin and shivering when he tenses and growls. He pulls you back a fraction with one hand on your jaw, his eyes so dark, and licks into your mouth like you hold the secrets of the universe. 

You whimper, so needy for anything he’ll give - and he’ll give you everything. 

Pleasure pulses in your core, makes your pussy flutter and you’re so close you can taste the sweetness on your tongue. 

“Jonathan!”

“You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a nice creamy mess?” He groans, his balls tightening. “Want to feel you, please.” 

You gasp, sobbing silently as your orgasm is ripped from you. Pleasure explodes along your nerves, wiping out any other thought as he drowns you and revives you in the same instant. 

“Shit.” Jonathan’s hips stutter, his mouth open as your walls squeeze and suck him deeper, milking him for every single drop. He comes with a deep groan, emptying rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside. 

He clings onto you as he finishes, hazy for a moment with the strength of his orgasm. 

You breathe hard, he can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

Lightly he sucks on your neck, licking the salt from your skin. He kisses your temple. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a week.” You tease, exhausted, and he chuckles.

“I’ll wait on you hand and foot while you recover.” He smiles when you look up at him, stroking your cheek as he kisses you softly, reverently. 

“Honestly, was that alright?” He mutters, a pang of worry settling under his ribs.

You snort, and kiss him deeply, stroking your fingers through his beard. “Fucking amazing.” 

He grins. “Do you want to do it again sometime? Maybe in a bed after I’ve bought you dinner? I’ll even watch that Terrifier film with you.” 

You giggle and nod. “I’d like that.” 

He tries to help you down, but you end up helping him. His jeans have twisted around his calves and he nearly falls to a heap on the floor. 

“My hero,” he mutters as you pull them off and kiss his thigh. “We’re lucky Ava didn’t wake up when we were… can you imagine me falling over is the thing that actually wakes her? She’ll need therapy for years after seeing her dad naked on the kitchen floor with his jeans around his ankles.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to stop your fit of laughter and he grins as he helps you back to your feet.

“I love hearing you laugh.” He lightly touches your cheek. “Do you want to take a shower?” He gives you a cheeky smile. “With me? You can stay over… if you want, I mean. No pressure.” 

You smile and nod. “I’d like a shower. With you. And sleep over.” 

He grins, wrapping his arms around you. 

Thank you for reading!

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Saviour

Summary: Reader is contemplating taking drastic measures and the Moon Boys step in

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, possible suicide attempt

Chapter 1 | Reader is contemplating taking drastic measures and the Moon Boys step in. 2.4k words

Chapter 2 | The moon boys take reader to a café in the aftermath of her 'attempt'. 2.6k words

Chapter 3 | Reader struggles the next day after her almost fatal fall. 2.1k words

Chapter 4 | The aftermath of Charlie's impromptu call to Steven. 2.2k words

Chapter 5 | Charlie and Steven begin their museum trip. 2.8k words

Chapter 6 | Charlie and Steven continue their museum trip. 2.6k words

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hey, man, c'mere. Listen. Get in real close, this is important.

You're gonna make stuff again. You're gonna make stuff you're proud of. You're gonna make stuff you're excited to share. You're going to feel that overwhelming drive to create, not just the frantic I want to want to you're stuck in now. You're going to have awesome ideas, and you're going to make them into reality. You're going to create again. You're still an artist. You're still a writer. You're still home to the same passion you had before. You'll find it again. It's not gone. It's just resting. Let it rest. You're going to make stuff again. I promise.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Back to front fingering on a Tuesday night, surely the universe put them together for this reason. I agree, they are meant to be XD

Surprise socializing last night. Briefly considered sending my husband out alone, but something in me knew it wouldn't be because I needed alone time, it would just be me being a curmudgeon. So, I went. And was glad I did! Surprise of surprises, I had a great time!

Also, it was a local festival and everyone else was very wasted and we saw a lady get fingered back to front by her man. Yes, in that order. Yes, I'm sure. UTI city.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

This is why I read the reddit comments