stevngrant

[stevngrant]

OSCAR ISAAC as SANTIAGO "POPE" RIVERA TRIPLE FRONTIER ‧ 2019

[stevngrant]

Perfect Fit (Volume 2 of 3)

(you read that right I'm a liar as usual)

"And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust."

Read Volume 1 || Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Read volume 1 first. You are staying at Nathan's secluded home, part of an ongoing experiment that involves a lot of sex with him and his lookalike android Nate. But who is who, and are you truly safe?

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) Nathan Bateman should be warning enough

Content/Warnings: sci-fi horror elements, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, voyeurism, degradation AND praise, creampie, cum eating, spitting, nipple play, impact play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral-m rec., anal sex, group sex, dub con related to gaslighting, sex with AI/androids, language, other sci-fi nonsense, violence, wounds, blood, not beta'd

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

"Here, taste this." You offer an oversized spoon to Nate so he can sample the vegan stew you've been working on all morning. The aroma permeates the air around you, and your stomach releases a symphony of anticipatory grumbles.

The android smirks, but it's playful, not condescending, like his creator. "You know I don't eat. Sounds like you need to, though."

"You can taste, can't you?" You challenge, nodding for him to at least bring it to his tongue.

He wets his lips, dark eyes flickering from your face down the curves of your body. "Yeah, I can taste, sweetheart." His tongue darts out to swipe over his plush lips for good measure.

"Jesus, you're as bad as Nathan," you huff, only half serious anyway. Shrugging one shoulder, you sip the stew yourself, humming at the hearty flavor. "More for me."

Nate regards you carefully for a moment before dutifully reaching into the cupboard for two bowls. "I want to, you know... Eat."

"I'm sure Nathan could make it happen," you nonchalantly reply. "I mean, there are certainly fluids that come out of your body as it is."

"Nicely put, sweetheart," Nate chuckles, presenting the bowls to you. "Nathan couldn't have said it better, I'm sure."

"Fuck you," you tease, bumping him with your hip, nodding toward the twin bowls he's offered. "Why two? Nathan eating with us?"

"You never know."

Nate was right. Determining what Nathan would or would not do, or where he might even turn up was a bit of mystery lately. You were starting to believe you all lived in a modernized house from the board game Clue - complete with mysteries and secret passages.

Nathan disappeared and reappeared at the oddest times.

But there's Nate. He's...softer. He smiles more than Nathan - laughs, even. There's a tender warmth in those earthy eyes. Or Nate's letting you think there is. Or perhaps Nathan's letting you think it. You can't be entirely sure.

Life is like this lately. Nate cooks with you, talks with you - not just at you - plays Scrabble with you, sometimes even Uno - your favorite. (Nathan doesn't even consider it a real game). You work out, swim, hike, fuck - like, a lot, watch movies, take baths...

Nate does everything a regular person might do, except use a digestive system. If Nathan really is trying to pass him off as human, you're not sure why he has withheld this particular function from his creation.

And your role as Nathan's employee has never been more ambiguous. In fact, you haven't done any actual work in a few weeks, unless spending copious amounts of domestic and coital time on camera was in your job description. (Knowing Nathan, it was.)

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nate has been venturing into your bedroom at night anytime he wants. You haven't told him no. In fact, you usually roll over and play with your toy.

This is what Nathan wants, right? For you to 'use him', to see if Nate can pass as a human? All while Nathan watches.

So you give him a show. This is apparently your work, although it feels like extended holiday.

Forget sleep. You can sleep whenever this weird, once-in-a-lifetime fuckfest ends and you are flown out of here, back to your humdrum life.

In the meantime, there's a very eager cock hard and ready as you sink down and slowly start to ride him. The stretch of him inside you pulls a moaning sigh from your lips.

Nate's hands rove all over you - thick fingers gripping your thighs, pushing up over your abdomen to cup your breasts. He likes to make you feel good - that's what he tells you anyway, as his thumbs swipe your sensitive nipples.

And this is a possible way you think you're able to tell Nate apart from Nathan.

Nathan is always about Nathan. Oh, he knows what he's doing in bed and you like everything he does. But it's for him. Everything is, always.

Nate seems different.

Probably all in your head, but as he pushes the pad of his thumb over your clit, you can't find it in you to care either way.

Besides, you keep proving Nathan wrong, at least by your own estimation, and that brings its on brand of pleasure. See, you've figured out that Nate's ego, although nearly a match for his maker's, is his weakness - or, if not a weakness, then it's at least a foolproof way to determine which "twin" is bottomed out inside your cunt.

Rolling over with him still inside, you relax while he pleasures you eagerly.

"Show me how fast you can move," is all it takes for a clearly non-human Nate to turn into your personal vibrating toy.

He looks like Nathan - feels just as good, with the same thick cock - the expanse of his defined shoulders, toned chest, corded neck that seems to invite your tongue to lave over it hungrily - but...Nate is ultimately a machine. He has more stamina and he can move in ways his master cannot...when Nathan allows it, of course.

At your urging, Nate's cock plunges inside you and you verbally "coax" his setting to high. Your Nathan-shaped toy makes you scream in ecstasy as he vibrates your pussy through a rapid orgasm, your body shaking with a euphoric rush that keeps you happily entangled in this experiment. While building toward another, Nate abruptly powers down.

The muscled weight of him pins you to the bed, leaving you not only unsatisfied, but trapped. You call for help, but you hear nothing for the next few seconds.

"Nathan, I know you're watching, you asshole," you huff, finding it a little difficult to breathe underneath the android's dead weight, let alone yell. "Get him off me." You hope Nathan's watching, anyway. You haven't laid eyes on him in a week.

You almost tremble with relief as Nathan strolls in a couple minutes later, shirtless, with black joggers hanging low on his hips.

"Something wrong, babydoll?" He casually taunts, pushing his wire frames up his nose. He gestures dramatically at his creation. "Your little toy malfunction?"

"Nathan, come on," you practically wheeze.

He snorts, and with a determined head shake, rolls the android off your body - Nate's inanimate form thumping on the bed beside you.

Then that damn question - your weakness: "You okay, sweetheart?" Easing down to hover over you, Nathan cages you in with his muscular arms, mustering a puppy eyed countenance that could almost count as concern.

"Like you give a shit," you somewhat playfully whine, squirming underneath him, pounding your fists against his chest in a dramatic pout - when in actuality, you're thrilled to see him. "You did that on purpose."

"That so?" He volleys, dark eyebrows shooting up patronizingly as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds. "He's been malfunctioning - you know this." His middle finger plunges inside you effortlessly while his thumb languidly toys with your clit.

You make no effort to stop him. If he's going to manipulate you, you might as well enjoy it - your mantra. Or maybe your excuse to endure it all.

"I don't know 'this'," you refute - your words weakly attempting to sting as your body shifts receptively to meet the thrusting of his fingers, moaning deeply as he slides two more fingers inside you and curls them forward, into that spongy softness deep within. "Where have you been? Do you seriously spend all day watching us like a TV show?"

Yanking his digits right back out, Nathan smacks your wet cunt as a warning. The sting jolts your body, as pain skitters along every nerve ending, but you crave his attention so desperately, your pussy drips, yearning for friction.

"You know how busy I am," he warns, but you moan at the rough stimulation of your clit as he smacks you again.

"Fuck me or get out of my room," you snarl, shoving at his shoulders.

He actually laughs. "Such a needy whore." He tuts condescendingly before shrugging his bare shoulders. "You don't want answers - fine, I'll put my mouth to better use."

You naturally assume Nathan plans to eat you out but he climbs back up your body and rests his elbows on either side of your head, holding his weight off you. Reaching up with his fingers, he pulls his wire frames off his face and tosses them on Nate's bare, inanimate chest.

On any other man, these stunning, deep brown eyes would melt you on the spot. And they almost do now as he holds your gaze, touching his forehead to yours.

"I have missed you," he murmurs, rendering you speechless.

Then he kisses you.

And...fuck, it's a good kiss. The heat of his breath ghosts your cheek as his fuzzy beard tickles your chin. His lips - a scandalously soft contrast to the rest of him - invite yours open, into a tangle of breath and the wet thrust of his tongue over yours.

His thumb traces the contour of your jaw with deceptive tenderness as he settles on top of you. You part for air and he stares down into your eyes, his prominent nose brushing against yours. His mouth meets yours again and you feel the weight of his clothed cock push against your drenched cunt.

He knows you like to be kissed. And how you like it.

He kisses you and kisses you and grinds the soft cotton of his joggers over your clit, dragging, agonizingly slowly, back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure and desire surging along every nerve ending as he shares your breath, cradling your face and licking into you so hotly...

And he keeps you here for an eternity - steadily grinding, making out with you like a teenager in his bedroom.

If he's taking scientific notes, which he always does - he will note that it takes you 27 minutes to come like this. He never gives you anything else, but his mouth and the steady tickle and drag over your clit as he dry humps you.

He controls the pace, because, of course he does. And you remain at his mercy, willingly.

Your back arches in rapture and he tears his mouth from yours to watch you fall apart underneath him.

Then he gets what he wants when you moan and whimper his name.

His name.

Okay, personal vibrating fuck toys aside, this was pure paradise. Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath - your chest rising and falling deliciously as you come back to yourself.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," Nathan groans appreciatively.

When your eyes finally, lazily peel open, you find him standing on his knees over you, joggers shoved down past the swell of his ample hips, jerking himself to the sight of you attempting to catch your breath.

Out of habit, you reach for his cock to help finish him off, but he gently brushes your hand away. "Just lie there," he instructs, vigorously working his dextrous fingers over the heavy length of his weeping cock. "Look fucking perfect, babydoll. Stay right there. Gonna come on your tits."

You moan his name again, locking eyes with him and thrusting your breasts out purposely before reaching to toy with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers.

"Such a dirty slut," he grunts, wetting his lips at the sight of you fondling yourself. It only takes a few more strokes for him to spill his thick ropes of cum all over you, as promised, delicious sounds rumbling out of his broad chest as the warmth of him coats your skin.

Wetting your lips, you take advantage of his split second of sated vulnerability and decide to tease him, spreading his cum all over your breasts with your fingers.

"Better clean you up," he says, before commanding Nate to power on.

Malfunctioning, your ass. Nathan probably powered the android down on purpose earlier.

"Suck her tits. Clean her up," Nathan commands, nodding toward your chest.

Nate complies, gazing down at you briefly before lowering his lips to your nipple and swirling his tongue over the pebbled flesh, swiping through a glob of Nathan's spend.

Nathan chuckles, amused, before easing down to capture your other nipple. Both men latch onto your tits, swirling their tongues and sucking you vigorously.

"Oh my god," you moan, writhing underneath them, wondering how you could possibly want anything more after a couple of orgasms this evening.

Nathan starts up again, reaching for your cunt, knowing how overstimulated you are. He's been testing your limits lately. Before you can protest, however, Nate pulls off your tit with a pop, easing up to nuzzle your neck and breathe on your ear.

"You okay, baby?"

You smile at him adoringly, Nathan notes - then responds, naughtily cramming four fingers roughly into your pussy.

"Nathan, hold on," you gasp, reaching for his arm. "It's too much. I need a second."

Slowly removing his hand, he scoffs, pinching your nipple hard with his free hand, causing you to hiss in surprise.

"Give her a damn second," Nate echoes, earning a glare from his maker.

Nathan immediately powers him down again; only this time Nate doesn't land on top of you.

"Would you stop that?" You huff, working your arm free of Nate's deadened grasp. "Your god complex, I swear."

Nathan stares at you blankly for thirty straight seconds. You're unsure if you've ever heard him shut the hell up for this long while fully conscious.

"Have fun with your toy," he spits, stalking out of the room.

You groan in frustration. Nathan is such a child sometimes. Nate was only trying to listen to you - to watch out for you.

All right, maybe you haven't been fair to Nate. You've been using him as a life-sized vibrator, but he really does seem to care.

Your mind briefly drifts to the dozens of times he's drawn you a hot bath, washed your body in the shower, made sure you had plenty of water to drink, used a damp cloth to clean you. His aftercare game is next level. He likes to whisper on your neck and hold you while you fall asleep.

Ugh, what is happening to you?

The notion of you having feelings for an android is just...not okay. Also, the idea of you having feelings for a narcissistic mad scientist like Nathan is nothing short of a recipe for disaster...or maybe heartbreak. That is, if your heart is even in it.

Is it?

At first, there was nothing about Nathan you particularly cared for on a personal level - aside from his genius. He's not even really your type.

Obnoxiously rich? Not your style. Narcissistic? Hell no.

Every word out of his mouth makes you roll your eyes. The fact that his gorgeous hair is shaved off while he has an annoyingly long beard is ridiculous nonsense. The reasoning for him wearing wire framed glasses of all looks, and doesn’t wear contacts, or hasn’t had LASIK surgery with his wealth, is absurd.

Probably doesn’t trust anyone to touch his eyes. Altough this won’t stop him from sticking his dick into damn near anything, especially if he invented it.

Sometimes the mere sound of his voice makes you tense up. No one loves the sound of his own rambling more than he does. He probably stands in the mirror and talks to himself. He probably has Nate repeat back to him everything he just said simply so he can hear the sound of his own voice.

He knows everything about everything. A maven. But not. He actually really knows. It’s infuriating.

He’s perfect. He’s active, he’s healthy, his body is a machine as much as Nate’s: eat, sleep, fuck, exercise. But instead of seeing the need to exercise as a of human deficit, (whereas Nate was built to be perfect), Nathan sees it at some sort of basic human function. He performs it without question and it keeps him in excellent condition.

Other times, you could listen to him talk for hours but you hate yourself for giving him the pleasure of your undivided attention. You like to imagine a world where he might actually value you as more than a warm body or a sounding board - something to reflect Nathan back to Nathan - but you know it will never happen. And right when you convince yourself that you are worth more than all this -

Worth more than exhilarating hikes in breathtaking nature, healthy food, stimulating conversation and work, plenty of rest, a near perfect sexual companion?

Wait, what were you complaining about again?

At any rate, right as you start to remind yourself how dangerous and self-centered Nathan really is, he always shows you tenderness - asks your opinion, checks to see if you’re okay.

Even then, he’s always right. He’s the doctor who prescribes exactly what you need to get you back into “working condition” for him. It’s always about him.

And that simmering resentment burns, turning over inside you, fueling…pure lust.

Fuck this.

Grabbing an oversized t-shirt from the end of your bed, you yank it over your head, and follow.

"Nathan, wait!" You call, jogging down the hallway after him, but he's already out of sight.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You find him the next morning in the kitchen, looking a little more bundled up than his typical short sleeved polo shirt or too-loose tank top.

"I'm going for a hike," he announces, taking what appears to be the last swig of a protein shake.

He washes the glass out in the sink before leaning against the counter. Folding his muscled arms over his chest, he gives you a once over. "Wanna come?"

You stare at him for a moment. "You...want me to come hiking with you?"

The question is barely out of your mouth before he groans. "Why do you make me repeat myself?"

"Because...I never see you anymore," you return his condescension, as if it should be obvious. "I don't even do any work for you, or with you. What am I doing here, Nathan?"

He glares at you over his wire frames, dark eyebrows arching pointedly before huffing out a sigh and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "That's what I want to talk to you about. Come on."

Nathan's not kidding about taking a hike. You climb a steep trail, thankful that he encourages eating healthy and staying active. If you had been sitting on your ass all these months, your climb would be quite a struggle. But the view from the top is nothing short of spectacular.

A magnificent waterfall cascades from where you are - a piece of heaven itself - dropping dramatically to craggy rocks below. The two of you sit, enveloped by the roar and refreshing mist the waterfall grants you. And, as if listening to nature itself speak, Nathan is, for once, quiet.         

You take the rare and unrestricted opportunity to watch him, unguarded. He really is quite beautiful, beneath the constantly shifting, condescending eyebrows, glasses that are sexier than glasses have ever seemed to you before, and his bushy beard. Damn, he wears it all well. 

You continue on this way, in ethereal comfort,  unwilling to be the first one to interrupt this unexpected serenity. 

After a while, he turns to you and holds out his hand. "Ready to head back, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile at the conundrum that is Nathan, allowing him to help you up.

"It really is beautiful here," you comment on the hike back down. "Definitely different than being surrounded by androids."

He spares you a glance over his shoulder, but doesn't reply for several more minutes.

"I have to be here, for my work," He informs, nodding around you. "It's...balance."

"The artificial versus the natural?" You question, expecting a condescending remark.

Instead, he regards you with warmth, allowing you to catch up to walk beside him, instead of following his lead.

"Something like that."

"Hmm..." You nod, keeping step with your complicated, brilliant, mysterious boss. "What am I doing here then?"

He rolls his eyes but one corner of his mouth curls. "Upsetting the balance."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Of course an interlude like this with Nathan eventually turns sexual. It is your primary connection to one another, after all, beyond even that of employer/employee.

He takes a quick shower and suggests you soak in the tub while he makes dinner. You don't even make it to dessert before he's all over you.

Which reminds you...Nate has been powered off since yesterday. Maybe Nathan wanted you all to himself.

Perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

As if reading your mind, however, Nathan explains that Nate needed some recalibrating. You mistakenly assumed this would involve you as an employee, but Nathan has other ides.

"Just say the word and I'll leave him off," Nathan flippantly suggests...while he's balls deep inside you.

Breathlessly gasping, you respond to the fusion of your bodies joined, moving perfectly in sync after doing this too many times before. Nathan knows every expanse of skin- every dip and valley. He knows full well how caressing your hip bone causes you to shift against him - creating delicious friction. Fingertips rake across your abdomen tracing each and every insecurity, igniting you with desire and confidence, even. 

Nobody has ever known you like this, touched you, pulled you apart so expertly. Truthfully, you couldn't and did not know ecstasy like this even existed. And the bliss of sexual gratification feels so much like lovemaking that you don't even know what to think or feel anymore. You only know that you crave him, every day, all day. 

And you're somehow meant to be here with him, in this wild experiment, existing in this chaotic sci-fi bubble. Your body fits his so well that sometimes you feel like - androids aside - you really were made just for him, to fit him perfectly. 

"He's your experiment," you counter, finally answering as you roll your hips to meet his expertly timed thrusts.

"Don't tell me you miss him," he groans, gripping your hips and driving into you deeper, eyes darkening at the challenge.

Your back arches off the bed as he hits that spot you love. "I missed you, Nathan," you pant, pushing your hands over the breadth of his sculpted shoulders to tangle behind his neck as you pull yourself against the solid heat of him, your bodies pressed together at every point. "That's the truth. I've missed you."

Answering you with his mouth on yours, he kisses you while you fall apart for him and keeps going until he's coming inside you.

He collapses beside you, panting against your cheek, his hefty thigh slung across yours as you come back to yourselves.

"Are you happy here?" He quietly whispers against your skin.

"Yes," you breathe wholeheartedly. "Most of the time. Is this really what you wanted when you brought me here?"

He huffs out a sardonic chuckle. "Sex? Obviously."

"No, I mean...'upsetting the balance' - what you said earlier." Scrubbing your fingers over his fuzzy hair, you silently curse the warm, fizzy yearning inside you. "I don't think anything could ever upset your balance. Always in control."

Rolling onto his back, he stares up at the ceiling. "You haven't noticed this all revolves around you?" He circles his finger in the air.

"Mmm...sure seems that way when I don't see you for a week," you smart off, already missing his touch and attention.

"That's why you have Nate," his eyebrows shoot up playfully as he props up on his elbow to face you. "Someone to play with."

"Well he's not you. No matter how much of a genius you are."

"Shit," he huffs, amused. "I don't know if I should be flattered or crushingly disappointed in my work."

As if on cue, Nate saunters into the room naked as the day he was invented.

"Somebody missed me?" He teases, sounding a lot like his creator.

With a smug smile, Nathan motions to your naked body. "Somebody missed me. You not up to the challenge? Can't keep her satisfied?"

Climbing off the bed, Nathan walks around to stand right where your face is. "Open that pretty mouth for me," he commands, ignoring the android for a moment.

Nate groans, clearly annoyed by Nathan's condescending dismissal - but the emotional response only manages to please his creator. Every time Nate acts human, it serves to stroke Nathan's ego a little more.

To your surprise, he beckons the android over, instructing him to be the one fuck your mouth. You're so curious to see what Nathan has in mind that you comply without protest. The sight of your naked body draped across the bed, head hanging off the edge, tongue out, has Nate hard instantly. Nathan watches eagerly as you start sucking off his creation.

Nate seems to have gotten over his brief moment of attitude as you take his cock in your wet mouth and get to work.

"So pretty like this, sweetheart," Nate praises you. "So good to me."

Your body warms at the encouragement - such a sharp contrast to being called a whore all the time - which also makes your pussy quiver, to be fair.

Moving around to the other end of you, Nathan traces his thick fingers over the curve of your ass before spreading your cheeks apart and spitting on your tight hole. You moan around Nate's cock, knowing what's coming. You have no objection to being used by these two, and your pussy could use the break.

Nathan pushes his thumb past your tight ring of muscle, teasing you and opening you up for the intrusion of his cock. You're used to him playing with your ass by now, but the stretch always gets to you. After applying some lube, he eases slowly inside, groaning at how tight your ass always feels squeezing him.

Full of cock on both ends, Nate strokes your cheek, praising you while Nathan calls you a greedy whore (again).

"She's not a whore," Nate protests. And this is the first time you hear a full out argument between an android and a human.

Nathan laughs out, nodding down toward your writhing, naked body between them. "Look at her. She's getting nothing out of this - taking it up the ass while your fake dick is cutting off her air supply. Who would let us do this besides a cum dumpster whore?"

As if that's not the meanest thing he's ever said about you, he punctuates his declaration by spitting on your cunt before slapping you there.

And you moan.

Nate roughly pulls out of your mouth, jarring your head as he does.

"You can't actually want this," He accuses. "Not from this piece of shit anyway." He gestures at his creator, who smirks triumph, or perhaps he simply finds Nate's display entertaining.

Gripping your hips, Nathan thrusts into your tight hole faster, spearing you so hard that you know you'll be sore.

"Nathan, it's..." You trail off, your voice a pathetic whine.

"Feel so good squeezing my cock, babydoll," He encourages, licking his lips at the sight of your wildly bouncing tits.

"You're hurting her," Nate lowly growls taking a brave step forward.

"She wants it," Nathan argues, spanking your cunt a few more times in rapid succession, the stinging sensation making your clit throb as you shriek in surprise. "Do your goddamn job and put your cock back in her mouth."

"My job is not to hurt her," Nate passionately defends. Instead of giving his creator anymore of his attention, he eases down beside your bucking body, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

"Do you want him to stop?"

Nathan laughs at him. "You're pathetic."

You can't help yourself. Something about Nathan's dismissive treatment of you, railing your ass while Nate tries to defend your honor has you right at the edge. Or maybe you just like an audience. Nathan’s always known how to push your buttons. Your eyes roll back in your head and you feel like you could come again, with the slightest stimulation.

But you glance between them and you know this is different. Something is way off with these two.

“Wait,” you huff, realizing this has all gotten a little too weird. “Nathan, wait.”

With an annoyed growl, he pulls out of you, hands landing on his hips as he takes his 'ready to lecture you' pose.

“You two need more time alone?” He bites, glancing between the two of you. “A week wasn’t enough?”

"Why don't you fuck off?" Nate snaps, shoving Nathan's shoulder. "She doesn't even know what you're really doing here."

You scramble to your feet, eyes wide and worried. "Nathan?"

"Can you believe this?" Nathan scoffs, but not really to you. He seems to be talking to himself. "Fucking unreal."

Nate shoves him again and Nathan immediately powers him down. Nate hits the ground with a bone-crunching thud and you gasp out, hands covering your mouth.

Seeing you truly disturbed gives Nathan pause.

"What is going on here?" You demand, stalking across the room to grab a robe to wrap around your naked body. "Why are you and Nate at each other's throats?" Kneeling down beside Nate, you roll him over, checking to see if he's...damaged.

You glare at Nathan. "Answer me."

Gesturing animatedly, he huffs, "You saw him. I told you you he needs recalibrating."

"No. You two were having a dick measuring contest - "

"I didn't see you complaining about my dick," he bites back.

"Stop avoiding the question," you scold. "What is going on here? What's Nate talking about? What don't I know? Why am I really here if not to work? What do you want from me?"

When he hesitates, you let out an annoyed sigh, more frustrated with your own expectations than with him. "Nevermind," you sigh, stalking toward the bathroom. He really is going to continue stringing you along, you suppose.

Normally, he isn't one to follow, or play emotional volleyball. He doesn't need to chase you because you're always available to him. But something draws him to you this time.

"Sweetheart, what the fuck?"

You ignore him, barreling through the bathroom door and closing it behind you. He barges right in, uninvited. Amidst all the weirdness, he's maintained an impressive boner.

"I left you alone for a week, with Nate - that doesn't make you happy." He talks demonstratively with his hands, despite the fact that he's stark naked and you're attempting to splash water on your face. "I spent an entire day with you - no androids for two days - that doesn't make you happy either. Why are you being so damn cryptic?"

You can't believe what you're hearing. Turing off the faucet, you glare at his reflection. "Why the hell do you care what makes me happy? Since when does that matter to you in the least?"

"What makes you think it doesn't matter? I just asked you tonight if you were happy."

You shrug him off as he reaches out for you.

"You know what, Nathan? Forget this. I-I need to leave. I need a break from this place. You're never going to tell me the truth about anything."

He scoffs as if you couldn't possibly be serious. "You can't leave."

You shove past him, out of the bathroom. "What do you mean I can't leave?" You demand, gathering some clothes so you can get dressed.

Nathan reaches for his own pants, jerking them up his legs agitatedly. "You know exactly what I mean. You're stuck here for now, sweetheart."

Ugh, you're in no mood.

"Get out of my room." You point to the android. "And take him with you."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

The next day, Nathan is absent. But so is Nate. You can't seem to find them anywhere and the silence chills you to the bone.

So you pack your suitcase because you're done with this bullshit. You want to be here, but you've lost all objectivity and you need a break if nothing else. It's been fun and wild, but there are some serious warning signs starting to freak you right the hell out.

Another day passes and you see no one.

On the third day, Nate comes to your room in the middle of the night. He slides into bed with you while you're tossing and turning.

"Are you okay?" You whisper, although there's no reason to keep your voice down as Nathan is surely listening anyway.

"Are you really going to leave?" Dark eyes bore into yours as his hands grip your hips and pull you flush against his body.

"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't see any point in being here anymore. Not if I'm not going to work with Nathan and the two of you are going to pretend I don't exist."

"I'm not doing that," Nate insists, touching his forehead to yours. "I can't help it if he powers me down. I missed you."

And he kisses you, passionately.

Your body tends to automatically respond, but this has all gotten too bizarre.

"Nate, stop, hold on," you protest, gently pushing him off you.

"I know you want to leave," he confesses, nodding toward your packed bag. "I just...I wanted to spend one more night with you."

You actually consider it. Then against your better judgment, you do.

Because you're leaving. And because at least a piece of your heart belongs to Nathan. And Nate was Nathan's gift to you.

Nate fucks you so slowly and sweetly that you cry - maybe from overwhelm, or from confusion, or because it's over. Maybe because you think you'll never be with Nathan like this again.

He carries you to the tub when you finish, lets you soak, washes you, pats your exhausted body with a fluffy towel and wraps you in a luxurious robe.

"You must be hungry, sweetheart," he whispers on your ear, dragging his palm up your thigh as he helps you work lotion into your skin.

Sometimes this man is pure heaven. Except...he's not a man.

"Why are you so good to me?" You murmur, laying your head on his shoulder.

He finishes moisturizing one leg and switches to the other, a little smile pulling at the corner at his lip. "You know why."

You chuckle, even as he tickles your foot teasingly. "No, I don't."

Locking eyes with you, he pauses. Wiping his hands clean, he touches your cheek. "I was made for you."

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes. "As an experiment?"

"I don't care why," he shakes his head. "I love you."

You falter, your gaze dropping. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure," he insists, lifting your chin up so you'll look at him again. "And I know you feel for me too. Don't you?"

He keeps searching for your gaze.

"Nate...I-I can't."

"But why?" He presses, his voice soft and pleading - warm brown eyes softer than you've ever seen his, or Nathan's.

Wetting your lips, you shake your head. "Because, you're a...machine."

His eyes go cold. Silently he stands up, eyes raking over your body. His hands land on his hips, making him look just like Nathan. "You think I'm not real? That because I was built I can't feel things?"

"I didn't say that," you protest, rising to join him. "I-it's my fault really. I've let this go on too long and for too far. This was supposed to be fun. An experiment, I thought. But I'm so confused."

Feelings will definitely make this far messier than it needs to be. Of that, you're certain, because of the strong feelings you harbor for Nathan. Which is why you desperately need to get out of here.

As if things couldn't get more awkward and disconcerting, Nathan decides to grace you with his presence.

"Nathan, what do you want?" You groan. "And where have you been?"

Smugly folding his arms over the breadth of his chest, Nathan nods to the android. "Didn't want to miss the big love confession. Don't let me stop you."

"Don't be an asshole," you huff, realizing he must have been watching, as fucking usual. "I am seriously over this. Get out unless you're here to tell me about my ride home." Or unless he plans to confess something too?

"I told you. You're not leaving." Dark eyebrows arch over his wire frames.

"You can't keep her here," Nate interjects, stepping between the two of you protectively.

"Nate, please, I'm fine." You turn back to Nathan. "What is really going on here? Why are you two having some kind of pissing contest?"

Nate frowns, confused, but Nathan rolls his eyes.

Just then, the power switches off, bathing your room in an eerie red light.

Nate springs into action. "Get your bag. Time to leave. Now."

Nathan tries to power him down but it doesn't work. "What have you done? What the hell have you done?" He barks at his android, seeming truly frantic.

Even though Nate seems inclined to help and protect you, it's Nathan you turn to in your confusion. "What's wrong?" If Nathan feels out of control of a situation, it can't be good.

But before he can answer you, the glint of a silver blade catches your eye. Nate brandishes a weapon and forcefully shoves it into Nathan's bare chest.

"Can't power me down, can you, asshole?" He snarls, pulling the blade out with a bloody squelch and thrusting it back into his abdomen even as you scream, horrified.

The next few moments rack your body with fear as tears burn your eyes, clouding your vision. You sink down beside Nathan, sobbing, pressing your hands down over the bleeding wound on his chest. The knife remains in his abdomen.

"What did you do?" You cry, flinching when Nate turns his gaze to you. Trembling in fear, you inch back, wondering if you're next.

"Nate, please," you whimper. "Why are you doing this?"

"Not to you," he passionately returns, reaching out for you. "I could never hurt you. I - I did this for you. I love you."

"This is not love," you cry. "We have to help him."

"Why? Don't tell me you love him."

Your shoulders shake as you lean over Nathan, blood oozing between your fingers. There's no one around for miles. Nathan's going to die and you're going to be stuck in this weird ass mansion with the robot who murdered him and who knows how many other robots.

A moaning sob rips out of you as you realize how foolish you've been, letting Nathan toy with you all this time instead of demanding more answers or insisting on leaving.

"You do, don't you?" Nate shakes his head disbelievingly. "You love him. After everything he's done to you. Fucking unreal."

That phrase niggles at the back of your mind, but you're too horrified to realize...

"Hey...it's okay." Nate kneels down beside you, reaching for your hand. You whimper and shrink away, assuming he means to kill you too.

So much for loving you. Asshole.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Look..." Nate reaches for the knife embedded in Nathan's stomach. Instead of yanking it out, he cuts deeper, dragging the knife across his abdomen, all while you scream for him to stop.

A wave of nausea roils throughout your body as he peels back a bloody layer of skin to reveal...machinery.

In fact, past the initial layer of skin, there's not much blood at all.

Your vision blurs and the world goes black.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Thanks for your patience! I always write an extra chapter than I intended. It's my signature move. I'm sure you're used to it by now. xoxo

P.S. I know we love soft Nathan and funny Nathan (I certainly do) but in this story, I wanted to explore the genre more closely related to Ex Machina and what I fully feel the film's Nathan Bateman might be capable of. (Or Nate??) Thanks for reading!

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[stevngrant]

amazing news for the bisexual community

"oscar isaac" "kristen stewart" "vampire" "thriller" "80s" ???? please

[stevngrant]

one of the most challenging skills i've had to learn as an adult is the art of figuring out whether i'm proportionally annoyed with someone or just tired and overstimulated and looking for reasons to be pissed off

[stevngrant]

PHANTOM THREAD 2017, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

[stevngrant]

If You Wanna be Wild: Chapter 7

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Everything falls apart and evryone is alone.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!:mentions of rape an violence, what happened to Helena, smut, repressed feelings, angst.

Almost everything was written by Fen <3

2.7k words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!

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

There was no making up. There was no Javi bringing Santi food as an apology, there was no talking. 

When Santi walked into the office on Monday, he saw the fucking desks rearranged, Javier’s and Santi’s on other sides of the room instead of pushed face to face. Santi quickly rushed to the bathroom where he panic vomited and had an anxiety attack, resulting in him being 45 minutes late. Javi didn’t say anything about it.

Where Santi couldn’t eat, Javi couldn’t stop eating, munching down food and taking frequent trips to the vending machine. His doctor was going to kill him. Santi could barely function, even coming in late or leaving early which was a cardinal sin in his book. Still, none of it stopped him from seeing Candy. Occasionally Candy asked about him because all month Javi hadn’t been to see her either. Santi couldn’t get much answer either.

They worked, but mostly separately. Javi had even been trying to find somewhere else to work, but there weren’t exactly free rooms in the precinct. They talked occasionally but only about Lorea… making Santi desperately lonely. He had his family and he loved his tias, but they weren’t Javi. It was the day of the rally for the beatification of Laura Montoya, which forced them to be in close proximity as they dressed in plain clothes and scouted the area for any sign of the Lorea family. Not wanting to look too much like officers on alert, Santi tried making conversation, none of which was working with Javi, only getting few word answers. 

The boy was going to drive him absolutely batshit insane if he didn’t stop talking. It was bad enough he kept asking. ‘Should we get food’ or ‘it’s nice out today’, but his voice mixed with the crowds and noise and music and chatter or the rally, people shouting about whoever it was they were here for, politicians trying to stop them and constantly flashbacks of that night of the ball… Then Santi had to go and say 

“She misses you.”

“You mentioned her name one more fucking time and I’ll-”

“You’ll fucking what?” Santi snapped, his nerves had twisted, hardened suddenly by rage. 

His anger took Javi by surprise, he’d never heard him speak like that to anyone let alone him. 

Santi took his pause as indignation. “I mentioned Candy once. Once. And that’s only because you haven’t seen her, or called her or anything!” He hissed. “She’s worried about you actually, she-”

It was Javi’s turn to snap. 

He grabbed the younger man by the back of his collar and pulled him into a side alley, using his own momentum against him and slamming him up against the brick wall. 

Sant let out a little huff of air as his back collided, gritting his jaw as pain raced along his back. 

The action had been forceful, but not enough to cause discomfort for most people. However, a rough, uneven lump of mortar had poked oddly against the scar at the nape of his neck, sending a tingle down his back.

Javi rammed the heel of his hand into the wall next to Santi’s head, using his height to his full advantage as he leaned over him like he was interrogating a suspect instead of a colleague. A friend. 

Santi breathed hard, his frown pinching his eyebrows together, and Javi would say he even looked cute if he wasn’t so bloody annoying, so obsessed with getting under his skin. Unable to let anything go, constantly digging at him in his self-righteous attitude, just needing to push, and push, and push, and…

Cute. The thought caught him off guard. When had he started to think of Santiago as cute?

“What the fuck are you doing Peña?” He growled, puffing his chest out, but not pushing back. 

Javi shook his head slightly, trying to break his racing mind, trying to get back to reality. “Candy, look, you can’t just-”

“She’s an adult Javi, I can-”

“You’re going to get her killed!” His voice raised at the end, louder and more desperate than he had intended, with just the slightest waver. He hoped Santi didn’t hear it, but he probably did. Nothing got past him. “Do you understand?” Santi glared at him, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Those stupid large doe eyes looking painfully dark and enticing. “You’re flaunting her. Taking her to the ball and, and-”

Santi scoffed. “That’s none of your business, I asked her, I-”

“You’re gonna get her gutted and dumped on the side of the road!” Javier screamed, haunting flashbacks to Helena’s beaten and raped body, wrapping his coat around her and having to carry her out, not sure if she was dying or not. “You know how easy it would be for Lorea to do something? This isn’t even a put two and two together situation, Pope, it’s you waving a four right in his fucking face! And what do you think is gonna happen when he takes her, huh? When he beats her and rapes her an tortures her to get information on YOU!” 

Santi swallows, his face still hard, but that little bob of his Adam’s apple draws Javier’s eye, but he doesn't respond. Javier lowers his voice, fist still gripping Santi’s jacket.

“She’s not gonna give you up, she’s not gonna help them hurt you. She’s gonna end up dead. You’re gonna…” He closed his eyes for a moment, took a small breath. It was easier not to look at him, not to have to stare at his soft eyes and plump lips. “You’re gonna end up dead too, Pope. I can’t… I’ve seen it, okay?”  

Javier screwed up his face, opening his eyes so that he could look at Santi man to man. Implore him to see reason. 

“I’m not telling you to stop seeing her, I’m just saying.... I’ve seen shit happen to girls in her line of work. To officers like you that are still wet behind the ears to this kind of thing-” The second it was out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake. 

“I’m not a fucking child, Peña.” Santi hissed, pressing forward and getting up in Javier’s face. “I know that’s what everyone at the station seems to think and all their little Virgin Maria mierda. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck if all they see is that.” He pushes firmly on Javier’s chest, almost smacking as he punctuates his sentence. “But I thought you’d know better! I was black ops special agent, I spend years of my life in almost every goddamn continent doing retcon, assassinations, covert operations and rescuing women and children and getting SHOT! I’m not-”

“I’m not saying you’re a child-”

“You are! You are!” Santiago growls, smacking Javi’s chest repeatedly. He doesn’t care that he does sound like a child in that moment, arguing relentlessly on semantics. His emotions are bubbling over and muddying his head. “You’re saying that you know best. That your word is law. Despite all you do to endanger Candy!”

“I do n-”

“You do! You think you’re above it all, you’re just as bad, you pretend to care but you-”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Garcia!”

“Make me!”

He doesn’t think. 

There’s always times he doesn’t think. When he gets too lost in whatever emotion he’s letting overwhelm him. Sometimes rage. Sometimes guilt. Usually negative either way. That’s where Santi is a good partner, keeping a cool and level head while Javi plays bad cop.

Usually ends up with him throwing a punch, not a kiss. 

Santi knew ‘make me’ was childish. Knew it was playground nonsense reserved for kids still in single digits. But if everyone was going to keep calling him that, keep pretending that he wasn’t the only actual goddamned adult in the room then-

Then…

Javier’s lips on his steal his breath away, rob him of every thought that has ever run through his mind. And, for once, it’s blissfully quiet. The anxieties pushed away for the peace of a lover's kiss.

Javi presses closer, pushing Santiago further into the wall and cupping his face with his warm hand as he kisses him, body to body, warmth to warmth. Darting out his tongue to just trace Santi’s bottom lip and groans when he parts them immediately, no hesitation, and lets him lick into his mouth. 

The angle’s a little awkward, Javier’s body trapping Santi’s hand between their chests. But Santiago’s fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as his kisses leave him breathless and desperate for more.

Javier’s leg bumps into his and Santi moves a step, moaning softly and then whining as his thigh presses against his half hard cock, a sharp spike of pleasure running up his spine and- 

His thoughts all come crashing down. What the fuck, what the fuck  was he doing? His mother’s voice rang in his head, screaming his name. 

He could get arrested for this, thrown in jail, worse. He was going to burn in hell.

Santi pulled back quickly, disentangling himself from Javier so quickly that both men nearly fell. He turned, not giving the older man a second look, and ran out of the alley into the crowded street. 

He didn’t even hear Javier call his name. 

*

“Are you okay, baby?” You asked, your naked body covering Santiago while giving him tender kisses, scooting yourself up and down his cock. You loved to tease him, get him whimpering and watch as all those troublesome thoughts left his pretty little head. He was too pretty to be so worried all the time.

He’d been stressed on and off about Javi, occasionally bringing it up, but you think he stopped when he realized it upset you. You were really good at pretending to care when old professors droned on and on about academic works or when men talked about themselves or complained about their wives and mothers again and again and again. You could’ve faked not being upset when Santi, but you didn’t fake anything with him. Javi’s absence hurt your feelings. You were worried about him, and you were angry at him for abandoning you and hurting Santi. For continuing to hurt his feelings. Bitch.

But honestly… you just miss him. A lot. It would take more than a poster to patch this, he’d have to make things right with Santi too, but you’d forgive him. You just wanted him back, and you wanted Santi happy again. He was already thin enough, and as your body slid up and down the sweaty length of him, you could feel he’d lost weight. 

Santi moaned loudly, gripping onto your hips as you bounced on his length, his eyes rolling back in his head as your heat engulfs him over and over. Pulling him deeper and deeper. 

The fat tip of his cock presses deliriously, perfectly rubbing over your walls with every slick slide. Stretching you so wonderfully like he was made for you. He was, he really, really was. Something was bothering him today, and he was finding solace in you. You were happy to give it to him. Pushing all other thoughts out of your head. 

He whines, babbling nonsensically with his eyes closed, “please, please, please,” He rocks up against you, letting his body override his brain as you fuck him into the mattress. “Please, gonna come, please, need you so much,” he gasps, almost sobbing from pleasure. 

You stroke his cheek and pick up your pace, even if he hasn’t said you could tell how close he was. The way his stomach muscles tense, how his eyes are screwed shut and head thrown back into the pillow, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you can come, give it all to me.”

He shakes his head rapidly, “no, please,” he moans, “need you, need mommy to come, please.” 

His whines change in pitch, the little sounds getting higher and higher as he reaches the point of no return. His mouth hangs open, his skin flushed and sweaty, and heat floods to your core. 

You brace yourself with your left hand on his leg behind you as you ride him, leaning back ever so slightly to change the angle just enough that he continuously hits perfectly inside, stretching you to your limit. 

Santi sobs, the position change sending a buzz up his spine, pressing on the thick length of his cock to a surprisingly maddening degree. His whole body pulsed, stealing the air from his lungs.

He bucks up once, his eyes fluttering open in surprise as he comes, his length pulsating. He empties himself deep inside you, his orgasm stretching onwards and overtaking every possible thought. 

You smile as you watch him, happy to see him so blissed out. You ride him throughout his high, trying to prolong his sensations as long as possible. He deserved it.

He sighs, shivering with aftershocks as he comes back to himself and looks up at you. You open your mouth to speak, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Santi grabs you by the hips, urging you up and off him and pulling your aching pussy onto his face. He lets out a small groan at the mess he made, his cum leaking out of your folds before he runs the tip of his tongue through them. 

You bite back a moan, grabbing onto his hair for stability as his mustache brushes against your clit.

His mouth feels like heaven as he lick and swirls around your clit, his movements soft but certain, quickly pushing you towards your peak.

Instinctively you buck your hips, grinding down on his mouth to chase your high. He rocks you against him, urging you tp move and fuck his eager tongue. 

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him, pulling fiercely on his hair. 

He continues licking, moaning against you as he drinks down every drop of your release. 

You breathe heavily, boneless for a moment before slowly moving away to lay down next to him. 

He pouts a little as you settle. “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily, your cum shining all over the bottom half of his face,

You giggle, and gently swat his arm and cuddle up next to him. Santi didn’t need instruction, scooting his back to your chest. In your arms, where he belonged. You loved being like this with him, but somehow it always felt like something was missing. You loved when Javi used to hold you, protecting you with a strong arm around your body, but again, you felt like something was missing, in your arms this time instead of around you.

You kiss the scar on his spine. “Good boy, Santito.”

It happened so fast. Santi teanses and you barely have a second to register how he turns to you, his eyes widen in panic, his skin turning ashen before he’s up, out of bed and pulling on his clothes so fast that it shouldn’t have been possible. What the fuck? Did you do something wrong?

“Santi?” you start, trying to keep your voice soft but unable to hide the fear that has overcome your words.Why is he leaving? What did you do wrong? Did you mess up things with Santi too, the one good thing left? You barely sit up before he’s shoving a handful of dollars at you, practically just throwing them in your direction and the bed. 

“Here.” His voice is quiet, distant. Like he’s not really there. A stark comparison to his panicked, edgy movements. He doesn’t even bother tying his shoes, simply shoving his feet inside them and stumbling towards the door.

“Wait, Sant-”

He slams the door on his way out. 

Leaving your bed cold, and you alone.

It was supposed to be sex, talking. Build a nice repour. That was it. You were good at it too, making old ugly men think you were infatuated, but yourself detached from even the most charming and attractive. Something happened with Javi and Santi, a line that became blurred, friendship and genuine attraction and care. Now they were gone. 

You hate yourself for how hard you cry.

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

thank you so much to everyone whose stuck around while i sort my SHIT OUT (its never ending)

If you like me writing javi, i wrote a drable today too, and if you wanna see a totally insane version of santi, come to rooms on fire!

be sure to give @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction a follow, he's amazing and my everything. they are pumping out AMAZING works rn for the moon knight bingo.

I appriciate you all very very much, please let know your thoughts in the comment!!!

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[stevngrant]

Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

[stevngrant]

OSCAR ISAAC Brioni | 2024

[stevngrant]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #9: Little Shop of Horrors

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist

Summary: Steven is pulled to the front, but for once, it's not Marc panicking. You venture into town in search of a certain disappeared shop.

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake is mentioned)

Word count: 3.5k

Content: angst, nightmare, anxiety attack, hurt-ish/comfort, domestic fluff-ish, romance, cuddling, kissing, mentions of death and dead body, exposition galore, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on Spectre…

Only you were here, with him. 

“I’ve got you,” he promised again, and again.

You remained. You were real.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You fell asleep on top of Marc in his favorite chair. The passionate interlude between you literally wore you out. He held you, contentedly, for a long while. The weight of your body - the solid realness of you soothed him like nothing else could. Not after these empty, aching months without you.

In your sleep, you started to shiver. Feeling like he should warm you up, he decided to carry you up to bed. He pulled the hoodie back over your head, which roused you slightly, before tucking you securely under the covers. Finding his joggers, he pulled them over his hips before climbing into bed beside you.

Marc wasn’t tired at all, but he wasn’t about to leave your side.

An hour passed. You slept the whole time.

“How are you here?” Marc whispered, unable to tear his eyes from your profile - from the petal softness of your lips as you drew each breath of life.

Finally, he decided to creep down to the kitchen for a glass of water, and to retrieve Jeremiah. He remembered that you seemed to want the little guy in your presence at all times.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You were dreaming.

Marc crying at your grave.

Steven taking tea with a sweet little lady on Main Street.

Jake banging his fists against his steering wheel in anguish.

It had to be a dream, because only dreams could conjure images so bizarre.

Steven was somehow now…in the fish tank? Unable to breathe. Trapped.

Marc fell into the earth, inside a waiting casket.

No!

Jake lit a cigarette - he hadn’t smoked in years - and pulled his cap down so low it almost covered his dark, accusing eyes.

“You didn’t tell me,” he spat. His car filled with a dangerous amount of smoke, burning your lungs, as if they whole car were catching fire.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming to see me!” He growled, flinging the still-burning cigarette at your face…

…which pulled a scream from your lungs and woke you up.

In reality, your dream scream was only as loud as a whimper.

You were in your bedroom. Alone.

No.

Were you trapped here again?

Frantically touching yourself all over, you tried to convince yourself that you were here, that you were real. But where was Marc?

You called for him.

“Marc!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed, but feeling the covers tangling around you, holding you captive.

“Marc? Marc!”

You started gasping for air, your chest heaving as you hyperventilated.

"I’m here!” He called, sprinting into the bedroom with Jeremiah under his arm and a glass of water in his hand. Carefully placing the items on the night stand, he practically leapt across the bed to gather you into his arms. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he soothed, his heart shattering as you struggled to regulate your breathing.

Grasping your arms, he knelt with you on the bed, staring directly into your eyes. “Sweetheart, listen to my voice. You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay, you’re safe.” He nodded encouragingly, his handsome face the very essence of empathy and tenderness. “I’ve got you. I know how these feel. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe.”

He looked for any indication that you were understanding him.

Gripping your hand, he pulled your palm flat against his bare chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Gotta slow down. Remember you’ve done this with me a hundred times. Breathe in…” He watched you hiccup and gasp to take a deep breath in, finding a new appreciation for you, having never experienced this side of an anxiety attack before.

“That’s my girl,” he soothed, nodding at you with the softest smile. “Now out, blow your lips like this.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as you shakily exhaled. “There you go. Now in, with me… And out.”

The two of you worked together to slow your breathing until you sagged against him, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry,” he soothed, rocking you back and forth as you slumped into his lap. “I was only gone for a minute. Just long enough to get Jeremiah and a glass of water. I was here the whole time.”

What you couldn’t explain to him just yet was - you didn’t mind crying. The flood of panic and tears made you feel alive. The way he held you protectively against the heat of his bare chest was reason enough to live.

“It’s okay,” you whimpered several minutes later, murmuring against his throat as he held you securely. "I'm not upset with you. I-I had a nightmare and I woke up really confused. I was just hoping I’m really still here with you.”

“You’re here with me,” he assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You're here. I've got you."

"Please just hold me," you whispered, nuzzling into his neck, feeling like you couldn't get close enough to him. After several encounters as a spectre, you simply could not get your fill of feeling your partner warm and close to you. "Talk to me - I want to hear your voice."

Easing down, Marc pulled you with him, keeping you half on top of him, pressed and molded to his body at every possible point. Your legs tangled together as his mouth sought yours out.

Fully aware that you'd asked to hear his voice, he gave you the warmth of his breath and the heat of his tongue instead. You melted into his kiss as he tasted you.

You went limp in his arms - his strong embrace such a comfort even as your body bloomed alive with desire. His hand cupped your cheek as your lips parted, granting you a gentle smile as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"What do you want me to talk about?" He gently questioned, tracing your lips with his fingers before dragging them down over your throat. Before allowing you to answer, he pressed his fingertips to your pulse point. "Your heart is racing."

"I know," you breathed, smiling at him sweetly. "I just keep trying to believe I'm here - that we're here together."

“You’re here, and Jeremiah’s here. And the three stooges are here too, just downstairs in the tank,” he gently teased, referring to the rest of your fish. “And they’re not the only ones here.”

Easing back, he swallowed, considering his next words. “Steven almost confused your anxiety attack with one of mine so he’s…well, he’s here too.”

“Steven?” You whispered, your eyes shining with love and awe. “He can hear me?”

Marc nodded. “It…well, it doesn’t usually happen like this, but…he really wants to…I-I’m not trying to leave you - "

“It’s okay,” you eagerly nodded. “Whatever you and Steven think is best. I trust you.”

Almost imperceptibly, the wrinkle between Marc’s eyebrows relaxed as his brown eyes went wide.

“Steven?” You breathlessly whispered, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“What’s all this then?” Steven blinked, trying to get his bearings - to understand how you could possibly be here, in his arms. He had witnessed some of the interaction between Marc and you already, but actually feeling you against him was quite another thing. “Not back in the Duat, am I?”

“No,” you tearfully laughed out. “No, we’re here, at home. I’m here with you, somehow. I don’t know how. I woke up this morning with Marc.”

"Alive as you ever were, it seems," he breathed out, running his fingertips over any skin he could reach - your cheek, your lips, your throat, warm brown eyes shining with wonder. "Bloody amazin'. Can't believe I'm not dreaming."

"I know," you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a fierce hug. "I can feel you, Steven. Just like we wished."

Eagerly accepting your hug, he kissed your hair. "Missed you so much, my love."

You held onto one another for a few indulgent moments as Steven pressed sweet kisses to your neck and jaw, making you shiver with desire and your heart burn with love.

"You're not hurt though, darling?" He murmured. "Thought Marc was panicking there, but - it was you?"

As he eased back, his eyes darkened with worry, raking over the contours of your face, remembering every single inch that had threatened to escape his memory in the months you were departed.

"Just had a little nightmare. Much better now," you sweetly smiled at him.

You spent the next several minutes in Steven's arms, simply trying to explain the last several hours between you and Marc, and possibly sort out how you could be here.

He filled you in on the odd happenings - anything Marc hadn't already shared, including the mysterious Ms. Marjorie and her disappearing shop.

While Marc had taken care of you physically - easing you into your first moments alive with gentle, adoring touches, taking care of you as you cleaned up, dressing you, cooking with you and finally giving in to your desperate desire for one another -

Steven was there for you to talk things through. It wasn't that you desired Steven any less. It was only about timing. You had only been alive for the last few hours, and you weren't entirely sure if you would stay that way.

Steven was there to puzzle it out with you, patiently, eagerly and sweetly. He suggested that the two of you venture into town. He honestly wanted to see if Ms. Marjorie would be there. He had no reason to believe she would be, but since you had reappeared, maybe there was a chance. He felt like she might have some answers.

And even if the elder woman wasn't connected to you in some way, he still wanted her to meet you.

You and Steven shared a brief discussion about what you might tell the townspeople, who thought you were dead and buried in Green Lawn Cemetery. Most of them had attended your funeral, mourned you, and had spent weeks and even months looking after Marc, Steven and Jake.

You decided to cross that bridge when you came to it. There might be no time to wait around the house only to disappear again. So you grabbed Marc's favorite black baseball cap, pulled your hood over your head and - hand in hand, you and Steven made the short trek to downtown.

"Must be overwhelming for you, love," Steven sympathized, sweetly squeezing your hand as you walked together.

"Marc said the same thing," you let him know, smiling over at him. "I feel okay right now." Even as you courageously shuffled along beside your partner, you gripped his hand, your anchor.

Autumn breeze swirled around you, kissing your cheeks with its faint sting - the aroma of cinnamon and clove invading your senses and making your mouth water.

"You'll let me know, though, won't you? If it's too much? If we need to go back home?" Steven slung his arm around you and hugged you close, understanding how out of sorts you must feel. He'd felt something similar a hundred times at least - being forced to front with no notice.

You assured him that you would tell the truth if you felt overwhelmed. But nothing more happened before your stroll came to an abrupt halt - interrupted by the hand painted sign of the most adorable shop.

"Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties"

"I knew it," Steven gasped, making a beeline for the shop's door, pausing long enough to practically drag you by the hand to a little old woman leaning against the counter, reading a paper.

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"Ms. Marjorie, is that you?" Steven asked, clearly shocked to see her.

Ms. Marjorie, however did not look surprised in the least.  She slowly lowered her newspaper, adjusting her glasses before carefully eyeing the couple before her. A blind man could see you two were in love.

"Mr. Grant - what a match you two are," she almost neutrally observed, as if stating a mundane fact.

Steven glanced at you curiously before turning back to the mysterious woman. "Ms. Marjorie, why...how are you here?"

The older woman smirked slightly. "Why, Mr. Grant, I work here, don't I?"

"Um, no, actually. I mean, I've been looking for you and you haven't been 'round here. No one was." Steven sheepishly shrugged, realizing he wasn't making much sense. Clearly the woman was here, and so was her shop.

"Wait a minute. Is this shop even...real? And does your presence...have something to do with her?" He gestured toward you before reaching for your hand. "This is my partner. The one I told you about. But you don't seem surprised at all to see either of us."

Ms. Marjorie finally cracked a smile. "Clever boy. I figured you would be the one to puzzle it out. Perhaps you'll have some tea and biscuits with me while I explain a few things."

"That would be nice, Ms. Marjorie, thank you," you finally chimed, with a warm smile, thrusting out your hand and reciting your name.

"What a pleasure to meet you, my dear."

After ushering the two of you to the back office kitchenette, Ms. Marjorie showed you and Steven to the small table where he’d shared tea with her before - the first day they met. Without a hurry in the world, she started the kettle and rummaged around for her mother’s tea set before finally speaking.   

“Now I suppose you'd like to know why your partner is here with us, in solid form - but I'm not going to tell you just yet.” She opened a cabinet door, reaching for a tin of biscuits and three small plates. “My story begins months ago - on an unusually warm spring evening.”

“The night I died,” you ventured a guess, eyeing Steven sympathetically as he squeezed your hand.

“Murdered, weren't you?” Ms. Marjorie curiously questioned.

“Yes ma’am, I was.”

“By an evil man, if I'm not mistaken,” she confirmed, with a nod. “But here I've gone and gotten ahead of myself.” The older woman quieted as she distributed a few biscuits to each plate, removing the kettle from the flame just as the whistle blew. She spoke not another word until the tea was poured and the table set with sugar, non-dairy cream and even a few cucumber sandwiches. 

“You and I have a bit of ancestry in common, my dear,” she informed, pouring each of you a cup of tea.  

“We’re…related?” you inquired, taking a bite of your biscuit.

Ohhhh, man, did that taste good. You shoved the whole thing in your mouth, reaching for the second before Ms. Marjorie even finished serving the tea.  

“It’s not so much that we’re blood related,” Ms. Marjorie answered. “No, it's much more…mystical than that. You see,” she chuckled, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, “Well, I might as well come out with it. I'm a witch.”

Steven looked at her like she had three heads, but it was you who spoke up. “A witch? Ms. Marjorie, really.”

“It's okay, love, let her talk,” Steven gently prompted, squeezing your hand across the table.  

“Yes, that's it, I'm a witch,” she repeated, situating herself in the table’s third chair and taking a sip of tea. “And you, my dear, have witch blood running through your veins.”

Oh, well, that pretty much explained things for Steven. He'd seen tons of paranormal happenings in his life. He knew witches were real and that magic could hurt people, although not all witches had magic powers. Some were simply children of nature. His guess was that Ms. Marjorie must be a magical witch.  

You, however, glanced incredulously between Steven and the strange woman who just informed you that you were part witch.

Ms. Marjoie took Steven’s nod of encouragement as a sign to continue. “My dear, your grandmother dabbled in a bit of witchcraft herself, if you can believe it.”

You gasped. “You knew Grandmother?”

“I did. You see, she was my cousin. Well - my second cousin. Our mothers were cousins.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You had a living relative? After thinking you were completely orphaned in the world after your parents died and you came to this town to live with your grandmother, who had now also passed.

“Y-you mean…that would make us, um - "

“Distant cousins,” Ms. Marjorie replied, moving the story along. “At any rate - the night you were…well, attacked, I was summoned.”

You shook your head, confused. “Summoned?”

“My dear cousin cried out to me for help and I answered,” she responded, as if her answer was the most sensible thing in the world. “I saw you on Main Street, stopping to walk into the drug store when a man grabbed you.”

Ms. Marjorie shook her head ruefully, setting her teacup back in its saucer. "My family were church-going folks and did not take kindly to the thought of witches and magic and such. So I never became much of a practicing witch. But the power was so strong in me - you see, I knew I was different from a young age. That night, as I watched you struggling for breath, I cast my first spell. Or - my first life-or-death spell, of that magnitude."

She laughed, pointedly looking toward you. "My apologies for royally messing up your afterlife."

"I-I don't understand," you murmured, completely entranced by this woman's tale.

With a deep breath, she pressed on. "I cast a spell to keep you from harm; I wished for you to have a long and happy life with someone who would truly love you. I believe I used the phrase, 'your one, true love.'

"What I didn’t know is that you were already dead by the time I chanted the words. My amateur spell had just enough power to keep you from passing into eternity, but not enough power to bring you back to life. That's why you’ve been stuck all this time, just like Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her prince to come to the tower and rescue her."

"Ms. Marjorie, a-are you saying that Marc, o-or Steven or even Jake brought me back to life?" you questioned, your wide eyes blinking curiously.

"Indeed I am, my dear. Once true love found you, you were saved, just as I had wished those months ago."

"But she’s been gone for months. Why did she not come back to life until now?" Steven curiously inquired.

"A very good question," Ms. Marjorie answered. “Perhaps this is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead is the most…accessible. Halloween, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Day, All Souls Day - any way you slice it - souls roam freely for these few nights.

"I can only assume that you saw her and she was drawn to you when you were both ready," the elder woman went on. "As soon as you realized it and embraced it, she was able to come back to life but only the next time she appeared. The spell was broken and you are as alive as you were those months ago."

"I'm sorry, darling," Steven breathed, his eyes darkening with sorrow.  "I'm sorry I couldn’t see you before."

You smiled sympathetically, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.  "You've given me the most beautiful gifts, Steven - life and love. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I should have known…and then you would have - "

"No," you shook your head.  "Don't do that. Everything worked out.”

Ms. Marjorie watched the two of you with admiration, pouring each of you another cup of tea from the kettle. "What you just said is more true than you know.," she informed. “My dear, their love brought you to life and you'll stay alive as long as they live, and as long as they love you."

Steven gasped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Are you s-sure? I mean, what if - what If I live a really long time? Or die next week?"

"I'm sure," she said, with a reassuring nod. “Her witch ancestry can give her a long life, not to mention the spell I cast. You two are stuck together, literally, until death does you part. Hope you don't mind, my dears."

But Steven was bursting with questions.

"Ms. Marjorie, why does she look the same? What happened to her body?”

"When I cast the spell on her," Ms. Marjorie explained, leaning forward on her elbows, "It's like I froze time for her. She is exactly the same as the night she died, except no longer in her old body."

She turned to you, smiling softly. “Their love essentially made you…materialize, just as they perceived you to be. I really don't know a better way to explain it. I'm certainly no scientist."

"So my body is…out there somewhere?" You questioned, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of your own corpse. "Ms. Marjorie, you said that you witnessed my murder, isn't that right?" you added, your brain switching gears. 

She nodded.

"So, what happened after I, um…died?  What did the man do? What did you do?"

“Exactly,” Steven chimed, a bit accusingly. “Why didn’t you come forward? Why didn’t you notify the police?”

She smiled wryly. “The answer to that question is beyond the scope of this conversation. But if you think on it - it’ll come to you.”

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Any theories??

Coming up: Event #10: One Missed Call - the return of Jake and more answers unravel

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[stevngrant]

okay judgemental free zone here because I’m genuinely curious: how much of supernatural have y'all ACTUALLY watched

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All’s fair in love and poetry… New album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. Out April 19 🤍

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📷: Beth Garrabrant

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Gaby Moreno ft. Oscar Isaac: Luna de Xelajú | The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon

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[stevngrant]

there's no greater love than a fan watching their fav actor's entire filmography

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