#she hulk fic

[donottouchredbutton]

This is a Legal Rom-Com

Part 2

augustus “pug” pugliese x reader, matt murdock x reader, matt murdock x jennifer walters

1.8k words

you moved out to la after a certain ex of yours returned from the dead seeking a drastic change of scenery and time to focus on your career. you didn’t expect to become victim of the gross cliche of an oblivious office romance, nor did you expect to become coworkers with a known green attorney or for her to reintroduce you to that same resurrected ex

You hadn’t worked with Jen Walters for long, but she had quickly proved to be a breath of fresh air among the stuffy corporate slaves that made up GLK+H. Although her She-Hulk persona was a bit strange to get used to, it was her passion and goal to uphold the law and help people that really spoke to you. She was driven and funny and friendly, so it didn’t take the two of you long to become friends. 

In fact, with the additions of Nikki and Pug, you quickly became the driving force for the Superhero Division of the firm. You were a team. You were friends. You had soon become people who knew each other inside and out.

Which is why it didn’t take long for Jen to catch on to your and Pug’s very obvious feelings for each other. The way you two naturally paired off together, ate off each other’s plates at lunch, spent many sleepless and grueling nights at the office together, knew each other’s favorite takeout place and how you took your coffee and tea by heart, it was clear as day to her. 

And apparently it was clear to everyone except you two. Your shy glances and heart eyes? Nah. The way Pug follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Nope. The way you make sure to leave a fresh hot coffee on Pug’s desk every morning? Nuh uh. The way you and Pug practically hang off each other when the four of you have a night out at the bar? Fuck no. You two were oblivious.

Unknown to you, however, Pug was working on remedying that. While he wasn’t sure if you actually liked him back or not, he was baffled that you didn’t know that he liked you. Jen and Nikki were always telling him how obvious he clearly liked you (which he knew), but he tried to be obvious too. He complimented that new perfume you got last week. He lets you use his lap as a footrest when the two of you are going over paperwork for a case. He shushes your coworkers when they talk over you or try to interrupt. He gives you his lunch when he notices you haven’t eaten yet. He pretends to be your damn boyfriend when a weird guy approaches you at the bar and dreams about what it would be like if it was real. The man is smitten with you. And he wanted you to know.

Jen had invited you all out to the bar that night after a irritating day with her family. Pug thought that was perfect for him to finally ask you out. She had mentioned something about bringing a friend along (even though she heavily implied that he wasn’t quite a friend but more of a friend if Nikki’s inappropriate use of emojis were anything to go by), but Pug was sure that they could spare a moment of privacy for the two of you. He hoped they would be happy to - the other half of your team always rooted for you to get together. 

He and Nikki had settled down at one of the tables at the corner of the bar having been the first ones to arrive. He knew you were almost there, but no one had heard from Jen what the ETA for her and her friend was. Not that it mattered, it just meant he didn’t know when he could go about his plan. Not that he had to go by his exact plan, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to improvise. 

The sound of the door opening distracted Pug from his conversation with Nikki, and he was glad to see you enter the room. The smile you held on your face when you found them made his hands sweat, quickly wiping them against his pants as you nearly glided across the room. You waved back at Nikki who he hadn’t realized was calling you over. 

“Evening, strangers,” you greeted when you were within earshot. Both of them stood to welcome you with hugs before handing you your drink. “Jen’s not here yet?”

“Haven’t heard from her in a couple hours,” Nikki shrugged, topping off her own drink with the pitcher they ordered. 

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” Pug added, his leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. A nervous habit.

A nervous habit that you were privy to. You knew he only did that when something was bothering him. You leaned against his end of the booth and placed your hand on his shoulder soothingly. “You doing okay?”

He looked up at you in surprise at your question before noticing what his leg was doing. Shit. He was quick to stop his leg’s antics before brushing you off. “Yeah, perfect. Just happy to be here.” 

The smile on his face didn’t do much to convince you, but it was easy as ever to get lost in it. You always felt so at ease around him that you let yourself ignore his obvious lie, and the three of you were fast to get into your normal rhythm. Nikki definitely carried the conversation, but it was nice for you all to unwind and chat with each other while waiting for Jen and her friend. 

In fact, your conversation always went back to her “friend.” Nikki was so excited about the “not a relationship but still kind of a relationship” relationship between the two of them that she tried her hardest to always revert the topic back to them. She probably told you and Pug more than she should have about their brief but eventful time together. You would’ve felt bad about how much she was telling you if you weren’t just as excited. You knew how lonely Jen was sometimes even though she assured it didn’t bother her. You were more than happy to hear that she had a friend who was maybe more than a friend.

“You should’ve seen his walk of shame,” Nikki tried to say through her giggles. “His outfit was a sight.”

You and Pug could hardly contain your laughter at her story either. “That poor woman. She really attracts some characters,” you joked. Pug swatted at your arm at your words.

“Some characters, sure, but you should’ve heard her after the fact. She was more than satisfied.”

Your laughter was briefly interrupted by Nikki’s phone chiming, and she revealed a text from Jen that said just pulled up! The wide smirk on her face told you she was going to roast the living hell out of her best friend once she was revealed to the “friend.” Jen didn’t stand a chance, and you were ready for the show.

You guys resumed chatting as you awaited the pair of the hour to come in. Mostly you were predicting what he would be like and more importantly how Jen would be acting. She could be wonderfully awkward, especially around a guy she was interested in. 

The sound of Jen’s voice approaching caught the table’s attention, you all turning to face the new presence. The sound of a walking stick clattering to the ground filled the air, and your eyes were caught by a very familiar pair of red sunglasses.

“Matt?” You couldn’t help his name from leaving you in such a shocked manner, but by the looks of him, he was just as surprised. His eyebrows were raised in disbelief, and you knew he knew you were there. He breathed your name in return, and you could hardly register your team looking between the two of you strangely. All of your initial excitement was nowhere to be found. Everything around you was happening in a blur except for him.

“What are you doing here?” Matt asked. He didn’t even move to pick up his cane, and he didn’t seem to pay attention to when Jen grabbed it for him. His only focus was on you.

“Uh, I was invited,” you stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

“So was I,” he answered, and it was then you noticed the arm that was threaded through his. Your friend’s arm. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” Nikki interrupted the awkward moment, voicing what everyone else was thinking. “You two know each other?”

So... here was the thing about you and Matt.

You and him went to college together. In fact, you were from Hell’s Kitchen originally. Lived there your entire life up until your big move to the west coast, and you couldn’t deny that he was part of that reason. See, up until when you moved, you had been in a very committed and loving relationship with the man in front of you since law school. You had practically planned out your entire future together. Your last name had been the one between Nelson and Murdock. You were one of the few people he trusted unconditionally, and one of the many that he cared about like it was his job. And you were one of the few who knew about his activities after dark.

If Matt remembered far enough back, he could confirm that you were the first person he ever told he was Daredevil. Granted, he had tumbled through your window in the middle of the night covered in blood one night and scared the living daylights out of you, but you were first nonetheless. He had trusted you enough then to keep his secret, and you honored that trust every day of your life since by keeping it safe. You would probably still be with him in Hell’s Kitchen if it weren’t for his own vicious ex, a faked death that seems more than cliche to think about, and the revelation that he would never have told you his secret had he not tumbled into your apartment that night.

So, yeah. You knew each other.

“Well, um,” you tried, not sure what you were supposed to say. You never thought you’d have to say anything - you never thought that you’d see him again. “We, uh… Matt and I used to date…”

You had trailed off on your statement, and you immediately noticed multiple reactions. Jen and Nikki reacted as expected, their eyes widening and mouths hanging open enough to catch flies. Matt, even though you tried not to watch him, was pursing his lips and fiddling with his cane awkwardly. And Pug was… frowning? He looked genuinely upset, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Your skin burned and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You had never been in such an uncomfortable situation, and you once had witnessed Matt giving stitches to his ex girlfriend in your shared bed. Everyone refused to meet everyone else’s eyes trying to figure out how to address the elephant in the room. You nearly turned tail and ran out of there, but luckily or not, Jen spoke up first.

She formally introduced Matt to Nikki and Pug, intentionally skipping you before saying, “Clearly we have some things to be caught up on. Why don’t we sit down, have a drink, and you two can tell us more?”

Shit.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Training Sessions

Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x She Hulk, Steve Rogers x Jennifer Walters

Characters: Steve Rogers, She Hulk, Jennifer Walters

Word Count: 1500 // Rating: Explicit

Summary: Steve and Jennifer have a strenuous training session 

Tags/ Warnings: Requested Fic, Requests, Mommy Kink, Dom/Sub [kinda], Squirting, Friends, Training, Working Out, Frustration, Orgasms, Female Orgasms, Female Ejaculation, Cowgirl, Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, 

Notes: Here ya go! Hope you like it [I don’t know She Hulk that well and the kink stuff isn’t really my thing but I gave it a shot]

Request 

In this fic they live in the tower and they're avengers she hulk wants to train and starts looking for Steve so she goes to his room and when she gets there she o-pens the door she catches him masturbating and quickly walks in and shuts the door and asks him what he's doing but he doesn't stop masturbating he just looks at her and says "hey mommy" she immediately takes off her sports bra and he r tiny skirt and starts fingering herself while he masturbates pretty soon she feels close and walks over to him and stands on the bed over him and cums squirting down all over his body he gets shocked and asks "what was that?' and she giggles and says "that was my squirt you bitch" and she sinks down onto his cock and starts riding him. She rides him for a while and while she rides him she squirts 2 more times then he says he's gonna cum and she gets off of him and jerks him off making him cum all over his chest and then she immediately sinks down on his dick again and says "you didn't think I was done with you yet did you?" Then she rides him some more and squirts 3 more times it spraying all over him and then after that she gets up and tells him to get on his knees and eat her so she lays on her back and he gets on the floor on his knees and starts eating her out and after a while she cums again squirting all over his face and then he stands up and starts jerking off and soon says he's gonna cum so he gets on his knees over her on the bed and cums on her breasts. He calls her mommy the whole fic and she degrades him during smut can you also make this long and detailed and somehow include and ending. Please can you do this?

Jennifer was bored. A bundle of pent-up energy that she couldn't get rid of. Since she had come to start living at the Avengers compound she had found she had too much time on her hands. She didn’t have work to focus on and out in the countryside, there was only so much to do. It didn’t help that the other Avengers weren’t always around either so she was left to her own devices.  Which was why she was here, in the gym, slamming her fists into a punching bag hoping to release something from within her. But as she punched she couldn’t get rid of that feeling inside. She didn’t know what it was but it was driving her insane. With one last jab, she knocked the stand-up punching bag across the room where it skidded across the floor stopping by the door. Jennifer sighed. 

She wasn’t getting anywhere like this. She needed help. A partner. 

So, without another thought, she headed upstairs in order to scope out a friend to help her feel better. She ended up outside of Steve’s room. She liked Steve. He seemed to get her, not like some of the other Avengers. They were nice, sure, but their views were definitely different. They liked their talents or abilities. They used them to their advantage. Steve seemed to be the only one who related to the fact that while they were useful, they were also a burden. Because of that, they’d become close friends. 

Which is why she wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side of the door when she opened it. She’d knocked and announced her entrance but as she stepped inside she found Steve, fully nude, his hand wrapped around his cock as he jacked himself roughly. She stopped, too stunned to speak, but as he noticed her come in she noticed he didn’t stop. She couldn't believe it. Steve, her hundred-something squarer-than-square friend, was pleasuring himself in front of her and he didn’t seem to care. She looked at him and he peered back at her his pupils blown with lust as he continued. As she stuttered to speak he smirked. 

‘What are you doing?’ she said sternly. 

‘What does it look like?’ he challenged. It was the cockiest thing she’d ever seen from him and suddenly that feeling from before was back and hungrier than ever. But it wasn’t a release she would get from exercising, no, this was a different kind of liberation. 

‘I meant what are you doing without me,’ she said not wanting to back down. She walked into the room, shutting the door behind her, and clambered onto the bed so she was kneeling. Steve eyed her with a smirk as she shimmied off her sports bra and bottoms. His eyes roved over her figure as her fingers teased down her body, pinching and caressing her nipples for a moment until they trailed down further. Steve continued to pump his cock which was as she teased between her folds, tracing around her clit a few times before she slid two digits into her hole. Steve watched in awe as she worked up a rhythm pumping her fingers gently in and out of her as she grinded down on her hand, feeling the friction against her clit.

‘Fuck, you’re so hot’ Steve said as he watched.

‘Is this what you’ve been thinking about?’ she said looking at him as her other hand caressed her breast. 

‘All day,’ he said.

‘Bet you were waiting for me huh?’ she asked, ‘all pent up thinking about me catching you like you’re some teenager.’

‘Am I in trouble?’ Steve asked, suddenly sounding unsure. Jennifer smirked. 

‘Not if you make me happy,’ she said her breaths getting heavier by the second., ‘do you wanna make mommy happy?’

‘Yes,’ Steve said.

‘Say it,’ Jennifer said feeling that familiar surge ready to run through her. That release was coming and it was going to hit like a freight train.

‘I wanna make you happy mommy,’ Steve said. And that was it, the barrier was lifted and Jennifer was cumming fluttering around her own fingers as her juices squirted all over Steve. 

As she fell forward, tender to the touch she found Steve looking at her, no longer touching himself. 

‘What was that?’ 

‘My squirt,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen that happen before,’ he said bashfully. 

‘Well you better get used to it because mommy’s got plans for you,’ she said forcing him to lay down as she moved to straddle him. Before Steve could say another word she sunk down on his cock, taking him for everything he had until he was buried to the hilt inside her. 

Steve groaned as she raised off him and back down, riding him in a slow rhythm. Every time Steve tried to change pace she stopped him pinning him to the mattress. He could feel his orgasm coming but he needed more. Watching her riding him without letting him take what he wanted was killing him. He moved his hands to her hips in an attempt to keep her stationary but she merely placed a hand on his chest and said, ‘stop trying to take over.’

‘But I need you,’ he whined. 

‘And I need you to behave. Stop being a little bitch,’ she said and then she started moving her hips quicker. Steve couldn’t believe she was obliging. His release was coming quicker than he could anticipate.

‘Fuck,’ he choked, ‘I’m gonna cum.’

And just as he was going to she pulled off of him making him shoot hot thick ropes of cum all over his stomach. Steve whimpered at the loss of her and the fact his orgasm had all but been snatched away from him. Before he could dwell on it though her hand was back on him, lining him back up at her hole. 

‘Mommy,’ he whimpered. 

‘What? You didn’t think I was done with you yet did you,’ she scoffed climbing back on him. He was tender but she didn’t care. She was riding him hard, pinning him to the mattress as that feeling built back up again. He was writhing underneath her spurring her on until she felt herself gushing all over him once more. Steve whimpered as she slowed down and lifted herself off. She flopped onto her back, resting on the bed on her elbows.

‘Well?’ she said nodding towards her glistening sex. Steve nodded and scrambled to get off the bed. He kneeled beside it and pulled her towards him by her thighs. There was no teasing, no foreplay, instead, he buried his face between her thighs lapping at her like it was his job. Jennifer fell back in pleasure. His tongue navigated her clit whilst his fingers teased her slit before inching inside gently, curving just a little. As he found his rhythm she couldn't stop herself from joining in rolling her hips against his face. Her second high was coming in thick and fast and watching her Steve was no longer concerned about how tender he was. He was back in the game, his hand coaxing him back to full mast.

‘Fuck,’ Jennifer grunted as his tongue flicked over her clit, ‘do that again.’

Steve obliged and it was over. She was trembling around him, that wave washing over her as her juices dribbled down his chin. As she flopped back Steve stood up, watching her as she came down from her high, entirely fucked out. She looked at him as he groaned edging himself closer and closer. 

‘Look at you,’ she smirked, ‘all pathetic and needy after watching me cum.’

‘Need it mommy,’ Steve grunted looking down at her as she leaned up and caressed his thighs.

‘Need what?’ 

‘To cum,’ he said, ‘please touch me.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. But I’ll let you cum on me. Right here.’

She pushed her chest out in front of him, her breasts heaving as she did so. Steve was panting, jerking his cock as fast as he could until he finally came undone, spilling onto her with a moan. He stumbled a little, falling down onto the bed beside her with a thump. She chuckled as she looked at him. He seemed so small and defenceless. As he caught his breath she grabbed his discarded t-shirt off of the floor and wiped herself clean. He only came to as she got off the bed, standing up and grabbing her clothes from the floor. 

‘Well, that was something,’ he said flipping himself onto his back. His cock was softening against him and though he was still fully nude Jennifer didn’t see that man she had just had sex with. Not anymore. He had become Steve again as if that urge inside her was a whole different sort of monster, one that changed her worldview until she expelled it from inside her. 

‘It sure was,’ she replied with a smirk as she headed to his bathroom.

‘Where are you going?’ Steve asked. 

‘To shower,’ she said, ‘I always like to after a strenuous training session.’

‘Yeah?’ he said, ‘funnily enough me too.’

Jennifer stopped and leaned against the bathroom door eying him again. He wasnt as cocky as he was before but there was a definite challenging glint in his eye as he uttered that last bit. 

‘Maybe next time Rogers,’ she said, ‘if you’re a good boy.’ 

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (TV), Daredevil (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Matt Murdock/Jennifer Walters Characters: Matt Murdock, Jennifer Walters Additional Tags: other nmcu characters and pairings mentioned, Fluff, Cats, Canon Disabled Character, not beta read and not proofread but a secret third thing, (posted at 2 am and going to be read over w a fine tooth comb in the morn) Series: Part 2 of guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Summary:

"Aren’t you the person who asked me to let you know if we were bringing any new companions home?”

“Couldn’t help it, baby, we fell victim to the cat distribution system."

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 6: A Deal with the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt, Foggy, and Karen take you out to Josie's. Your night always ends with Daredevil.

Warnings for this chapter: very mild smut at the end, sorry to leave you guys hanging, LOL.

A/N: I love writing Foggy Nelson. That is all.

TAG LIST (please let me know if I missed you/you'd like to be tagged!): @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn

Chapter 5 here

credit to gif owner!

 Hell’s Kitchen

Nelson & Murdock was an interesting law firm to work at. There was no rhyme or reason to the things they did or the way they operated, but you adapted fairly quickly to the revolving door of clients and how to speak to them. For now, Karen had you complete intake forms with everyone who came in. Greet them, ask them why they’re here, things like that. You enjoyed it a lot. 

“Thank you so much, Ms. Cruz,” you squeezed the elderly woman’s arm. “I’ll get your case details in our system and set up a meeting with either Mr. Nelson or Mr. Murdock.”

The older woman smiled at you graciously. “Gracias, señorita.” 

You stood up from your chair and walked over to Karen who fervently typed away at her computer. 

“Okay, all ten of the clients waiting are now ready to be inputted into the system,” you told her, holding a stack of manila folders and a clipboard. Karen looked up from her desk surprised. 

“Really?! You are amazing!” Karen exclaimed. You blushed and smiled at her, appreciating her praise. “I’ll have to get you your own laptop so you can learn how the system works. Seriously, how did you get through all of them without any issues?” 

You shrugged, “good old speaking like a human. I was never good with a customer service voice. It’s all about the approach, you know?” 

“Yes!” Karen smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here. I know Foggy and Matt are, too.” 

You smiled in return. You believed her, that she and Foggy were happy you were here. Matt, on the other hand, was a little strange. You didn’t want to make any assumptions, and you tried to be understanding. But he was very quiet around you, and never really tried to make any conversation like Karen and Foggy did. You found yourself going to them for questions first before you ever had to ask Matt something, which rarely happened. He was intimidating. The most you ever got out of him was an “excuse me” or “good morning.” Never anything more, never anything less. 

While the other two were very bright and bubbly, Matt seemed to always be in his own world. He didn’t join in any conversations you had with them, and he never offered help as Foggy did. You didn’t mind; you were just worried it might have been you he didn’t like. Then again, he was blind, so you knew his world was very different from your own. You didn’t let it get to you, and you just accepted that he was more guarded than the others. 

Karen flipped through the pages of clients you had just interviewed. Her brows were furrowed—her mind was going a million miles a minute. 

“Looks like this pile will be handled by Matt and this one, Foggy. Looks like Matt’s the winner today,” she realized. “I’ll give these to Foggy and run it by him. You can talk to Matt about his cases.” 

“Oh, uh, you sure? I…,” you trailed off, unsure what it was you were trying to object to. Your gaze fell toward Matt’s office. He was at his desk, brows furrowed with focus as his fingers ran over braille. 

Karen looked at you knowingly. “I know Matt’s quiet, but trust me, it’s not you. He’s just a little bit more focused at work. Not that we’re all not focused, but his focus is a little different.” 

You nodded, “I understand. I’ll run these cases by him.” 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?” 

I need a drink, you thought. “Okay.” 

You turned on your heel and held the manilla folders in your hands, bracing yourself. You took a deep breath and walked to Matt’s office door, and knocked on it gently. 

“Come in,” he called out. 

You slowly opened the door and walked inside, gently shutting it behind you. 

“It’s me, __,” you announced slightly awkwardly. Matt smiled a little, behind his dark red glasses. 

“I know,” he replied, “I can recognize voices.” 

“Oh,” you said, nodding your head. Damn it, he can’t see a nod. “I—well, Karen said I should run by these new clients with you. I don’t know what she meant by it, but she said you’re the winner today.” 

“Hmm,” Matt hummed. “Means most of the cases are intentional torts. Please, sit,” he said in a friendly tone. Slightly caught off guard by his kindness, you sat in the chair in front of his desk. This conversation is the most you’ve spoken with Matt ever since you started just a few weeks ago. A memory popped into your head. You had shared an awkward encounter with Matt as he was leaving work one day—you asked if he needed help closing up anything but he was in a rush, and barely replied to you as he rushed out the door. 

“So, the first person I spoke with, Anna Campbell, has a claim her neighbor is taking pictures of her in her house…uh…” you flipped through the pages and cleared your throat. “Negligent employer case…assault outside of a club that may have been intentional and not a random crime of opportunity…” You read through the rest of the clients you just spoke with and watched Matt carefully for any reaction. He sat like a statue, with his brows scrunched and lips slightly pressed together, as he listened to you. His hands were together, fingers interlocked. You continued to speak. 

“Ms. Marisol Cruz. She was such a sweet woman. I feel really bad for her. She’s in a terrible apartment complex, with a high criminal element, and the landlord won’t listen or do anything about it. There are kids in the place, and she’s worried about them,” you explained Ms. Cruz’s story in more detail to Matt, since you felt a little more compassionate to her. You probably weren’t supposed to, but you couldn’t help it. “Her landlord says he needs proof of the element, or he won’t do anything. And she’s a frail woman, and she can’t do anything.”  

Matt stayed quiet for a moment longer. 

“Thank you, __,” Matt said after a bit. You smiled. 

You placed the files on his desk. 

“Oh,” you said, startling yourself, “you probably need these translated to braille. I’ll transfer them with the printer.” 

Matt smiled and stood up from his desk. His hands rested on his waist. Maybe the reason why you were so intimidated by Matt was because of how handsome you found him. His dress shirt fit snugly on his body, and the rare moments you did catch his smile, made your heart flutter more than you’d like to admit. 

“I appreciate that,” he cooly said. 

“Okay well, I’ll get on that now.” You turned to exit his office, but he called your name rather softly. 

“Just—just a word of advice,” he began to say, “I know it may be easy to feel more compassionate for some cases more than others. That can be a good thing. But it can also be dangerous. Don’t take the work home with you, is what I’m trying to say.” 

You considered his words for a moment and nodded in understanding. 

“I won’t,” you replied, “I promise.” 

He smiled lightly before sitting back down again. You left his office.

⣿⣿⣿⣿

After a busy afternoon at Nelson & Murdock, you found yourself in the conference room, transferring all the files you had today into the system they used. You were focused as you input all the information, listening to music as you did. Suddenly, Foggy came into the room. 

“There she is, the superstar client coordinator!” Foggy announced with a clap. You pulled your headphone out of your ear and smiled at him. Foggy had a way of radiating warmth and vibrant energy—you loved working with him. “I heard you got through everyone pretty quickly.” 

“I did!” you said, “it was quite enjoyable. I like talking to people and listening to them.” 

“That’s good. Great! Well, I came in here because, it’s six o’clock, Friday night, and you’re still working,” Foggy analyzed, rubbing his chin. “Aren’t you crazy kids supposed to be getting in all sorts of trouble?” 

You laughed, and then Karen came into the room. 

“She’s not a crazy kid, Foggy,” she defended, “she’s a bright, intelligent young woman who is bound to do great things in life.” You smiled at Karen. 

“I know, I know. But seriously, you’re still working?!” 

You shrugged, “I’m waiting for the okay to go home! Besides, I don’t want to leave anything unfinished.”

“Well, you've been doing so well. We wanted to show our thanks in the only way we know how—Josie’s!” Foggy raised a finger in the air. 

“Josie’s?” You questioned.

“It's a dive bar in the Kitchen we like to go to,” Karen explained. “We’d love to take you out and celebrate. Of course, if you don’t already have plans.” 

The only plan you could think of involved a man in a black mask and your rooftop—but you didn’t say that. 

“I don’t have any plans, actually,” you answered, straightening up a bit. “I’d love to join you guys at Josie’s!” You leaped at the opportunity to get to know Karen and Foggy more. And—Matt just walked in. 

“I’m heading out,” Matt said, in his usual serious tone. You hated how your heartbeat picked up at the sight of him, with his cane in his hand and bag on his shoulder. Part of you was disappointed he wouldn’t join you at Josie’s. 

“Oh, come on, Matt,” Foggy sighed. “You owe us one! Last time, you promised next time. You’re coming out, buddy!” 

“Yeah, come on, we’re taking __ out!” Karen added. You pressed your lips together, awaiting his response. Matt sheepishly smiled. 

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, after a short while. 

“Atta boy,” Foggy patted his back. You began to clean up your workspace as Foggy and Karen left the room. Matt lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You watched him carefully as you gathered your things. You went to the bathroom to fix your appearance. Your hair was still styled, more or less, when you curled it this morning. You straightened your button-down white shirt that was tucked into your black slacks. You sprayed on your marshmallow-scented perfume and decided this was as good as it was going to get. 

Exiting the bathroom, Matt still stood in the doorway but now Foggy and Karen joined him; they were waiting for you. 

“Ready,” you stated.

“Huzzah!” Foggy exclaimed. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

Josie’s

Josie’s wasn’t too far from the office. You stayed walking with Karen while Foggy and Matt walked slightly ahead, Matt holding onto Foggy’s elbow as his cane tapped in front of him. When you saw the buzzing red light that read JOSIE’S in the window, it was obvious you reached the destination. 

“Before we enter, we must knight __ for this is her first time at Josie’s, which is a special event, indeed,” Foggy spoke in a British accent. Matt laughed, flashing the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him. It made sense: if there was one person who could crack him open, it was Foggy Nelson. You had a feeling tonight you’d learn about their history. 

After Foggy “knighted” you, he opened the door and you were immediately met with an intense smell of smoke, old wood, and sweat. Pool cues clacked and barstools groaned from years of being sat on. Someone spilled a pitcher of beer on the floor. It was overwhelmingly hot and stuffy in here—you rolled up your sleeves. 

“Welcome to Josie’s,” Karen smiled cheerfully. “What do you drink?” 

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment. “I’ll try a martini. Three olives.” 

“I don't know about that,” Foggy said, “the olives part. I would hold the olives.” 

“Alrighty, a martini, hold the olives.” 

“And what kind of shots do we want?” 

“…tequila?” You suggested. Foggy groaned. 

“Let’s see if I still got it. Four shots of tequila, please!” 

Foggy and Karen lingered by the bar, getting an older woman’s attention, whom you assumed was Josie. She had brown and gray hair and a slightly suspicious look. You stood holding your bag, looking around the place. Matt was so quiet, you didn’t realize he was standing next to you. 

“Should we find a spot to sit while they order?” You suggested casually. Matt turned his head in your direction, nodding slightly. 

“Lead the way,” he said. You mirrored what Foggy did earlier when he offered his arm for Matt to hold. You gently touched Matt’s arm with your elbow. You couldn’t tell if he was startled, but he was quite hesitant. However, he did latch gently to your elbow as if you were a piece of paper, and you walked him over to a table in the middle of the bar, close to the wall. He reached his hands out for the table and felt for it as he placed his briefcase on the chair. You wrapped the strap of your bag on your chair and sat a seat away from him, intentionally. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you’re used to,” Matt suddenly spoke, trying to initiate conversation. You looked at him amused. 

“What do you mean?” You smiled. 

“I—,” he stuttered a bit, “I just mean kids your age probably go out to fancier clubs than this.” 

“I’m not a kid,” you gently corrected. “I may be fresh out of college but I’m sure I’m not that much younger than you guys.” 

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right.” 

“And you’d be surprised…I can enjoy a dive bar every now and then. I actually think I like them better than what my friends and I are used to. You can at least have conversations at places like this.” 

“Then, why don’t you go to them more often?” 

“Whatever the majority vote is. I never luck out.” 

Suddenly, Foggy came with a tray of drinks while Karen carried over the shots. Foggy lined the drinks and shots up and returned the tray. Karen found her seat next to Matt while Foggy sat next to you. 

“To Nelson and Murdock’s newest and brightest!” Foggy cheered. Everyone took their shots. You felt the tequila burn down your throat as you grimaced. It was like no other tequila you had before. And you’ve had plenty. 

“Yeah,” Foggy agreed when he saw your reaction, “Josie’s got the hard stuff.” 

“Is that even tequila? It tasted like straight-up poison,” you shook your head. “Let’s get another round.” 

Foggy laughed, “I may not be able to keep up, but I’m up for the challenge!” 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

For some reason, spending time with Karen, Foggy, and Matt felt like you were being officially christened into their work group—you were officially a part of Nelson & Murdock. You wanted to pace yourself since you were with your bosses, but Foggy insisted on more shots and drinks—something you found hard to say “no” to. 

You learned that Matt and Foggy met at law school. Columbia, no less. Your dream school. Foggy promised he’d write you a stellar letter of recommendation when the time came. Matt agreed as well, to your surprise. 

“Really?” You asked. “You guys would do that for me?” 

“Of course, Young Padawan,” Foggy said in a Yoda voice. You laughed. “In all seriousness though, you’d kill it at Columbia. Right, Matt?” 

“Right,” Matt agreed, almost immediately. You were thankful he couldn’t see your blush, and everyone else was too drunk to notice. 

As the night went on, Foggy and Karen got up to dance and then challenged other bar-goers to a round of pool. Matt sat in his corner, his hand wrapped around a cold beer. At this point in the night, you ditched your button-down shirt and only wore your undershirt.

Although he was quiet, his presence was anything but. It was like he had some sort of force field around him; the closer you sat next to him, the more prone you were to be sucked into it. You made no attempts to get yourself away. You pretended to be engaged in watching Foggy and Karen play pool, shouting whenever Foggy hit a striped ball. 

Part of you wanted to join them, but the other part wanted to stay next to Matt. Maybe tonight was the icebreaker you needed to figure out why he was so different around you compared to everyone else. 

“Would you like another beer? I’ll go get another round,” you offered. 

“Oh uh, yes, please.” 

When you came back from the bar, you placed the beer in front of Matt and sat in the chair next to him. You clinked your glass on his. 

“Cheers,” you said quietly. 

Matt offered a small smile. “Cheers,” he returned. 

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 9 o’clock already. If you were home, you’d probably be getting ready to see Mike. You worried about missing him tonight. At least, you kept the burner phone he gave you in your bag. He’s only a call away but for emergencies. Pushing the thought away, you tried to be more present. Karen hit a striped ball and high-fived Foggy. The two men they were playing looked slightly disappointed in how good your bosses were doing. More people had filtered into Josie’s and it only grew more stuffy. 

“Thank you for the time you’ve put in with us,” suddenly Matt spoke. “It doesn’t go unnoticed, as you can see. Especially with Karen. I know she’s really happy with you here.” 

“I’m just as grateful for the opportunity,” you shrugged, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at his comment. On second thought, maybe the tequila was finally catching up to you. 

“Did you have any other places you were looking at?” 

“A few, but no one got back to me. I suppose getting a job at a firm in the city is harder than it looks." 

“Even Foggy and I struggled for a bit. We had a job at Landman & Zack lined up, but we ended up going on our own way. You’ll end up just where you’re supposed to be,” Matt said in a bit of a reminiscent way. You softened at his words. 

“You and Foggy seem like you’ve been through a lot together,” you observed, “it wasn’t always easy, was it?” 

Matt paused for a moment, and tilted his head—something you noticed over the past few weeks working with him. As if he was really considering your words and thinking of a way to respond. 

“It wasn’t,” he agreed, after a little while, “but if the people stay with you through the tough times, you know it was worth it. Or, you find a reason to make it worth it—for them.” 

You hummed in response. 

Matt took a sip of his beer. He listened as you got up from your seat to join Karen and Foggy after they called for you. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

It was strange for him to talk to you like this in a public setting—as Matt Murdock, your boss, and not as “Mike”, your savior, as you called him. When you left your seat, he heard something ruffle in your bag—the phone he’d given you for emergencies. Good. She keeps it on her. 

He’d been avoiding you at the office and he knew you picked up on it after a few days. It was for the better, he thought. The more distance he kept from you there, the less likely it would be you’d put two and two together—if you could. It was to be cautious and to make sure his secret stayed a secret. You stayed his secret. Perhaps it wasn’t fair, perhaps it was lying, perhaps that was all true. Even if Matt wanted to reveal who he really was to you, there’s no guessing how you’d react. To put it simply, Matt dug himself even deeper the day Karen said she’d hire you and he didn’t make any effort to convince her to not. 

And the more he saw you at night, the more he couldn’t stay away. God, you were all-consuming to him. He found his new altar and it was your lips. His prayer, your name. Whatever the affair was, his new religion. It was cliche to say, but it was true: it felt so right with you. So right, and perfect, and whenever something so good falls into Matt Murdock’s lap, he always finds a way to convince himself he’s undeserving of it. He wants to be with you. He wants to keep you. But things are just so chaotically fucked up now, now that you work with him and he has to lie to you every day like he doesn’t want to pin you against the wall in his office and kiss your entire body. 

Matt clenched his jaw uncomfortably, pushing the thought away. That’s another reason why he must avoid you; to avoid thinking like this at work. It was hard enough that you were there. 

Being with you during the day was interesting. You were so different professionally, so polite and smart. Thoughtful, he decided. Nothing like the girl he came to see at night, who didn’t hold back a bite and wasn’t afraid of confrontation. He liked that girl just as much as the version he got at the office, though. It was like he was with two different people—and then he thought that he was basically playing two different people with you, too. Except, he realizes his unfair advantage. 

At the office, you were subtle with your actions—careful and alert. How you went out of your way to make sure documents were translated to braille for him, how you took your time with each client in the waiting room…yes, of course, Matt listened to you when you were with them. He always did. And quite frankly, he was impressed with how you carried yourself. Putting his feelings aside for you, and what it was that you shared, he truly thought you were a good employee—a promising future attorney. 

But God, was it hard to pretend to not know what your lips felt like. How hard it is for him to pretend he couldn’t care less when really, you’re all he cares about these days. 

And here you were, coming by his side again, and he has to put on the facade all over again—another mask, he thought ironically, to pretend around you. For the first time ever, he felt a heavy weight press on his heart. No, this wasn’t fair to you at all. 

“Hey, Matt,” you called for him, and he decided he loved to hear you call him by his real name. Your voice was lighter than it was before, actually lighter than it has been at the office, whenever you spoke to him. Maybe a night like tonight at Josie’s needed to happen—so Matt could feel more comfortable around you as Matt. He felt a wall crumbling inside him.  

“Yeah?” He answered. 

“We’re going to take one more round of shots and then step outside for fresh air. Are you in?” 

Matt smiled. 

“Yeah. I’m in.”

⣿⣿⣿⣿

12 AM 

Foggy hailed a cab for you to get home. You managed to get inside your apartment to find it empty, with nothing but a half-filled bottle of tequila on the counter and red solo cups. Your friends went out again, but you didn’t care. You were on cloud nine after tonight, having the best time with your new co-workers, and feeling better that maybe the one you were afraid of really liked you after all. 

And then, you thought of him. Mike. 

Would he be up there? It didn’t hurt to try… 

Before you stumbled up the steps to the roof, you changed into something a little more comfortable. Sweat shorts and a tank top. 

Now that summer was in full effect, nights remained humid. Your tank top stuck to the sweat on your skin. What were the chances of him actually coming tonight? 

Apparently, very likely. As you turned the corner, you jumped to see him already waiting for you, dressed in his usual black outfit—face covered. 

“Jesus,” You exclaimed and held your hand to your heart. 

“Language,” Mike said smugly as he stepped into the light. You smiled. 

“Don’t get all righteous on me now,” you teased, “I believe you are way past that.” 

Mike snaked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you into him. He kissed you softly and slowly—different from the way he normally kisses you, which was more ravenous in nature. You matched his nature, and placed your hands on either side of his face, holding him steady as you kissed. 

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. 

“You’re quiet again,” you breathed. “Why?” 

“You make me feel calm,” he told you. The way his lips moved when he spoke was mesmerizing, inviting you to kiss him again. You did. You teased your tongue on his bottom lip. Mike groaned faintly. 

“Calm isn’t something I’m used to,” Mike continued, chasing your lips with a kiss. “And when I feel something I’m not used to, but that I like, those things tend to slip from my grasp just as I got a good hold on them.” 

You contemplated his words for a moment and realized what he meant. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you truthfully said. “I…like what we have.” 

“But,” Mike guided, knowing you had more to say. 

“But… most people in affairs know who exactly they’re dealing with.” 

Mike turned his masked face away from you. You knew that was the only answer you’d get. 

“Not yet,” he spoke quietly, “I can’t reveal myself yet.” 

“But why? You think I’ll think you’re ugly?” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but you realized you even failed yourself. The more you got in deeper with Mike, the more it hurt, knowing this was all you’d get out of him: late nights on your rooftop, kisses you’d never experienced with anyone else—feelings you didn’t know you could feel so intensely that it felt like your mind suffocated with thoughts of him. Him. You didn’t even know who he was. But he had you in the palm of his hand. 

“Do you want to stop? With this, with me?” He asked ardently. 

“What kind of question is that? No, I don’t want to stop seeing you,” you argued. “Do you want to stop?” 

“No,” he replied almost instantly. “But we should reach an agreement on this. You have to be okay with me not being ready to reveal myself. And you have to know that my not revealing myself has nothing to do with how I feel about you and how much I trust you.” 

“How do you feel about me?” You couldn’t help but ask him. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. 

“Like I’ve never felt for anyone before,” Mike whispered and kissed you, deeply, slowly again. “Just give me the time I need.” 

“Okay,” you agreed. “You’ve got a deal. As long as you keep coming to me.” 

“I’ll never stop,” Mike promised. 

You ran your hands along his strong torso. You could feel the sweat under his shirt. You slid your hands under his shirt and felt his skin—soft, and… scarred. You gasped as your fingers traced along a gash, that’s since healed. You felt another one on his rib cage and another on his chest. You gasped again. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s from another life.” 

“That’s… scary,” you said in a small voice. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he told you gently. “It’s different these days.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I expected to see you one night and you didn’t come…”

“I’ll always come to you,” Mike stated. “Until there comes a day you don’t want me to.” 

“That day will never come, I can assure you that.” 

He kissed you more and ran his fingers through your hair, tugging a little so your neck was revealed to him. You shivered as he kissed along your neck, slowly, antagonizing. You ran your fingers along his back and closed your eyes. 

You didn’t want your nights to be anything but this. 

You lifted your left leg and he grabbed it to wrap around his waist, holding your back to steady you. He gently laid you on the ground. 

“Can I…take this off?” He asked, gesturing to your shorts. You laughed. 

“Will someone see us?” 

“No one will see us. They might hear you though.” 

“Take them off.” 

Mike slowly pulled your shorts and underwear off, and you were completely exposed to him in a dark corner of your roof. You wished you brought a blanket. Mike began to kiss your inner thighs, slowly, reaching closer up to your legs and your wetness. You let your mind drift off, thinking of the deal you’d just made with him. You weren’t completely truthful about being okay with not knowing who he is. But your connection and feelings for him were stronger than your fears of what could happen—you’d teach yourself to be okay with it. 

But your discomfort was quickly replaced with euphoria when you felt his lips kiss your sex, and his tongue began to lap at your wetness slowly and then urgently. You sighed blissfully, closing your eyes. You suddenly couldn’t care less about your worries. 

[erinptah]

Madisynn with two N's and a Y, but it's not where Google Docs Spellcheck thi-iiinks~

(text from Reveals 34: Dark Dimension)

[avengerphobic]

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Jazinda/Jennifer Walters

Jazinda comes back to Earth to pick up where she left off with Jen. Jen has a habit of wearing very short skirts.

[bigbadripley]

Normal People - Prologue

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Husband!Miguel O'Hara

Summary: Two and a half years have passed since Simone lost Marc and consequentially, her place in this world. As she begins to find it; however, the revolving door of tragedy spins again. Violence and liquor become her coping mechanism as she sinks deeper into her darkest era, but Simone learned a lesson years ago: nobody stays dead forever.

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT |   Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Angst, reference to smut, mention of death, reference to violence, use of alcohol, miscommunications, infidelity, hurt/comfort, established relationship, multiversal and time travel, survivor's guilt, death equivalent

Words: 1.8K

A/N: I'm putting the prologue on Tumblr but the rest and what is to come is on Ao3 here along with the first 2 works (this is the third installment) The first work in its entirety is on tumblr here and most of the second. I won't be posting this work beyond this sample on here.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

" The devil came back He's dancing in your path So you're acting like you need me now, hey So tell me if I'm mad There's something in your laugh That makes me fear the way you smile It's hard to believe sometimes We can pretend we're normal people " -"Normal People" by Joji

It felt like his body was inside of a vacuum-sealed plastic bag. Stiff, fighting against whatever held him in place. He could hardly breathe, due to both the weight on top of his chest and the moist soil surrounding his mouth and nose. In the same vein, he couldn't open his eyes or yell for help.

He willed his brittle bones and creaky joints to work again, wiggling his shoulders, neck, arms, and legs to loosen the dirt and reintroduce blood flow throughout his limbs. Once he could feel his hands, he was able to push further, ripping tough grassroots as he freed up space just for it to be refilled by endless earth. His muscles ached already from the efforts, but he needed to be free.

Whilst he struggled against the ground, he started to hear a faint voice over him. It sounded older, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. They continued to speak, uninterrupted by the sound of a shovel sinking and slicing through the land above.

"Don't work too hard, I got you." He was finally able to comprehend the words as daylight peeked through and he pushed the rest of his way out, swiping away at the granules around his eyes. The man who dug him out was George Humbletoes, the mortician who handled his burial arrangements. He looked a bit more gray now than the last time he saw him. "It's about time, Mr. Knight. I was beginning to believe you'd never be back." He said with a wan smile.

Marc began to hoist himself out of the hole, taking note of the brown, dead grass that covered the ground and the flat, moss-grown headstone that read:

Marc Spector

Son ~ Protector ~ Friend

"How long have I been out?" He asked as he sat down and caught his breath heavily. His lungs ached along with the rest of his unused body, even more than normal. George leaned on his shovel and thought about the question for a moment, referring to the date on the gravestone to help with his answer.

"About two and a half years." He said nonchalantly.

Years? Marc thought to himself, nearly saying it aloud amid his huffing and puffing. God, what have I missed?

At first, this wasn't cause for much alarm until his neurons began firing in a way only he could. He thought about the city, Khonshu, Reese-

Moni. He thought to himself, remembering his final interaction with her was shoving her through the gates of Osiris. Forcing her to come back here without him. That was when he didn't think he would be back, himself. It was strange, one moment being in the Field of Reeds and the next being in the dirt with the worms.

Marc began gathering himself to his feet, rickety old bones be damned. He had to find Moni. Had to see what became of the mission in his absence. Two and a half years is a long time to be gone.

"Woah, don't rush. Get your sea legs back first." George spoke with concern, but Marc ignored him and continued to frantically stand and start walking.

"I have to go."

Running through the streets, Marc was able to reach the mission without a word said to him by anyone in the neighborhood. He had his usual white suit on, but the mask was nowhere to be seen. He was covered head to toe in dirt, there were pebbles in his shoes, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't reach Steven or Jake.

Upon stumbling across the mission, he realized that it wasn't that anymore. It had been repurposed into a Spirit Halloween, which told him it was nearing the holiday.

Nearing Moni's birthday.

This took him to his next stop, being a newspaper stand. The date was October 20th, but that was no longer his greatest concern when he noticed his vestments on the front page, only fitted to a more feminine form. Whoever wore them was pictured hanging 8-Ball from a building by chains wrapped around his body. It was sloppy and could have been accomplished privately just as effectively unless this individual was trying to send a message.

The headline read 'Clinic Burgeler Found!' and off the side, there was a blue box with red text inside that read 'Still No Spidey? See page 7.' Indicating that the web-head hadn't been seen publically in a while. Marc never really cared for the guy, but he was good at his job.

"You gonna buy it or keep gawkin'?" The man running the stand asked. This was Marc's queue to put it back and proceed to his next stop- Moni's apartment. This would prove to be fruitless as well, as when he knocked on the door and a totally different woman with a toddler on her hip answered, he knew she was no longer living there. Asking if the blonde woman knew where the previous tenant went didn't help either.

This left him with one last spot to look, and that was her office. Once he arrived, he was disheartened by the sign on the door that read 'Alias Investigations' , now the office of Jessica Jones and freshly-licensed private investigator Kate Bishop. Last he checked, Jessica worked alone unless he was with Luke.

Marc nearly lost hope there. Moni moved out of her apartment, moved offices, and there were no leads. He had no cell phone or he would try the number he knew by memory.

She may as well have fallen off the face of the Earth. He thought to himself before he peered over at the office next door to Alias to find 'Nelson and Murdock' still stamped onto the glass of the door. The prideful side of him didn't want to speak to Murdock, knowing what he knew now, but it was his only tip.

Hope walk-ins are welcome. He thought as he turned the nob and proceeded inside. At the desk was a blonde woman with the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen, speaking on the phone and writing something down. She regarded him with a smile and a finger in the air that told him she would only be a moment.

His gaze darted around the office and caught the blind lawyer through a window on the left. Marc stormed into the door of the small office space like a bat out of hell, strangely startling the receptionist more than the man in the sunglasses.

"Murdock, it's Marc." He announced, letting the attorney know who he was straight out of the gate. Matt stood, shocked, not only with his being alive but his being at his place of practice. For a moment, he didn't believe it, but the smell of fresh soil and the oh-so-familiar sound of the fabric of his expensive suit confirmed it for him.

" Marc ? How are you alive?"

"I don't know, but listen, I'm trying to find Moni. Can you tell me where she might be right now?" He asked, scrambling for answers. His rushing made Matt stammer,

"Uh, shit. If I had to guess, either at Josie's or her apartment." Matt advised before realizing that Marc wouldn't know where that apartment was. Though, he had been there before, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. "The Rothwell building, quote-unquote luxury apartments."

That bland shithole? Marc thought to himself, making the connection that he had been there, but not the reason. The last thing he caught Murdock say was the apartment number before he bolted out like a man on a mission.

Simone awoke from a not-so-deep sleep, stretching her achy muscles and yawning. Her joints and jaw cracked and popped like she was made of glowsticks.

Another fuckin' day in paradise. She thought to herself as she did every morning. As she attempted to check the time on her phone, picking it up off of the nightstand, she remembered it had been destroyed beyond repair; the screen smashed and revealing some of the mechanisms inside, slightly bent backward at the center. I'll get a new one later.

For now, the shower was calling her name. Once inside, the warm water soothed her sore limbs as it washed away the dried blood that sat on her skin for the few hours she had to rest. As the water around the drain turned pale pink, she examined herself to find that it was the other guy's and not her own.

Once all the residue of the late night and early morning activities was rinsed away down to the bit that had somehow caked under her short fingernails, she got out and toweled off without reason to linger. It was just another normal step in her routine and as she slipped on a pair of tight athletic pants, she was sure of it.

Until there was a loud knock at her door. That part was unusual and made her groan as she threw a loose black top over her bare chest that simply said 'Trophy Husband' on the front in white letters. It was a gag gift, but it was comfortable. The knocking persisted, growing heavier as if the person on the other side was looking to punch it off its hinges. They clearly didn't know who they were getting the attention of.

"I'm coming! Jesus Christ , guy." She yelled out as she heavily trudged to the source of the sound. It made them stop, which was a relief but did nothing to rid her of her displeasure. With that, she swung the door open in an attempt to intimidate them, ready to scold the rude visitor.

Said visitor made her freeze in place with wide eyes like a deer in the headlights. She had faced many enemies as of late, of all sizes and creeds, but nothing made her feel more terrified than what stood before her.

"What the fuck." She muttered with disbelief as she stared at the face a phantom. It was Marc motherfucking Spector, wearing the suit she buried him in. Only he wasn't a ghost. He was very much a physical presence, covered head to toe in soil. It was a dream she had had numerous times and had half a mind to pinch herself if it wouldn't make her look like a chump.

Simone wasn't the only one shocked by what she was seeing. Marc's mind was racing, examining the woman she tossed out of the Duat seemingly the day before. Both of her arms were covered in full-sleeve tattoos and she had chunky strands of silver running through her dark, now shoulder-length wavy hair which was a gift from her mother, who also started graying prematurely. His own observing was cut short by her speaking again,

"Marc? What the fuck !" She exclaimed a bit louder than she meant, backing up out of the doorway and nearly falling as she stumbled.

Zombies weren't on my bingo card for the year. She thought to herself, preparing to fight as the figure before her continued to stare blankly and follow her inside.

[agentscamander-romanoff]

I am rewatching episode 7 of "She-Hulk" and I think it would be hillarious if Emil Blonsky would lead a group therapy session for superhuman teams like Avengers and/or Defenders

[donottouchredbutton]

This is a Legal Rom-Com Part 2

Part 1

augustus “pug” pugliese x gn!reader, matt murdock x gn!reader, matt murdock x jennifer walters

1.9k words

Pug tries to be supportive about your dilemma with Matt, until Matt steals his plan of getting you alone to talk

To say you were worried about how the conversation about your dating history with Matt was going to go would be an understatement. To find out that the guy Jen had been hooking up with (allegedly multiple times) was your ex wasn’t ideal, but to be reunited after so many years was also not great. 

Okay, enough sugar coating things. You were freaking the fuck out. In the short time you had known them, you knew how blunt Nikki could be and how she could be bad about boundaries. Especially with something as juicy as this. You loved her, but you knew her questions were going to make this whole situation even more unbearable.

Unknown to you however, Pug was also nervous. Sure, he had known you longer than the other two women, but that didn’t mean he knew your every secret. After all, he was much better at boundaries. There were certain things that you would reveal on your own time, and he was fine with that. He didn’t want to pry, but it looked like the situation called for it. Meeting your ex was the last thing he had expected. 

Since no one was in a rush to start the conversation, seeing as you were keeping yourself busy with your drink and Matt was silently keeping his gaze trained on the table, Pug decided he would take one for the team. 

“So,” he started, “where did you guys meet?”

You were pretty surprised that Pug was the first to speak. He held a polite smile on his face that you could tell was forced. When you caught his eye, he tried to make it more encouraging with a tiny thumbs up. You appreciated the gesture, but you did not want to unpack everything in front of the guy you were into. Part of you felt a twinge of disappointment, too. Maybe he really didn’t like you the way you did if he was asking. 

But thank god he started with an easy question. You glanced at Matt briefly, and he nodded to let you take the lead. “Um, in-in college. We, uh, went to law school together. Always planned to open our own practice, too, which we did.”

“And how long were you guys together?” Nikki asked. 

Twiddling with your hands, you answered with a quiet, “Seven years.”

Pug felt his stomach drop. He had known you were in a committed relationship before coming to L.A., but seven years? Most couples are married by then or planning on getting married. He had to compete with that? With him? Shit. 

“So then what happened?” Nikki’s next question. 

And suddenly it didn’t matter what Pug was thinking because he saw your shoulders tense more than they already were. You held your arms close to your chest, looking anywhere but the people in front of you. You were shutting down.

“Hey, don’t - you don’t have to answer that if you’re not comfortable,” Pug assured. He knew it was an awkward conversation, but that was too much. 

You shook your head, though. “No, um, it’s… it’s fine,” you said. You flashed him a weak smile in thanks. “We just, uh… We both agreed it would be best to part ways. No hard feelings.” Nikki opened her mouth to pry, surely not satisfied with that answer, but Jen interrupted first. 

“We don’t… We don’t have to ask them anymore-“

“How come you-“

“Actually, I have a question.”

Everyone at the table turned to watch Matt, the man who had remained quiet since he saw you. His unseeing gaze was trained in your direction, and had been since the questioning began. His words silenced the onslaught of questions that were only just starting to bubble over. 

He turned to face the rest of the table. “Can I steal them away for a moment? Just for a few minutes.”

You had half expected the question, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from filling the pit of your stomach. Wringing your hands again, you looked toward your friends for an answer. They looked between each other as well before looking back to you, and slowly, they all began nodding. Great. 

“We’ll just be outside then,” you said slowly. Hesitant. Unsure. 

You and Matt both stood up, and you held out your arm to him even though he didn’t need it. Even after all these years, protecting the ruse was second nature to you. The two of you walked to the closest exit, the bustle and chatter of the bar drowning out to a mumble as the door shut behind you. 

You were on him in an instant. “What the hell are you doing here, Matt?”

He floundered for an answer, and you felt a twinge of pride you could still get him to act this way. “I told you. I was invited.”

“You know what I mean!” You were glad you had stepped outside so you could raise your voice without turning heads. “Why are you in L.A.?”

Matt huffed out a sigh before leaning his walking stick against the wall. “I’m here for work.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t realize Nelson and Murdock had jurisdiction in California.”

“Well, we do when it concerns superheroes.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions because that just didn’t make sense, and suddenly it came to you. Jen’s most recent case with the wannabe superhero turned amateur villain. She had voiced her opinions about the opposing attorney on the case, how something about him didn’t sit right with her. She had been livid about the case and about Luke and especially about his attorney, and then all of a sudden, everything was fine. She and Luke were okay again, and the other attorney was an afterthought. She had assured the team that he was just some guy, and that you would never have to deal with him again. 

She had conveniently failed to mention that the “some guy” attorney was blind and that she slept with him. 

 “The moron in the frog costume and the costume dealer with the attorney who demolished her,” you concluded, your eyes closing at the oncoming headache. 

“Well, I didn’t say ‘demolished,’ but-“

“Matthew.” You had only ever used his full name when you were upset. To let him know you were serious. “He made you something. A new suit. Didn’t he? That’s why you’re here.”

He tilted his head down, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. I was the only one he trusted to take the case.”

“Does she know?”

He… hadn’t been expecting that question. Your arms were crossed over your chest, and he could practically hear your blood boiling from the way your heart was thundering in your ribcage. He knew you were talking about Jen, and he knew you well enough to know that if she didn’t, you didn’t want her getting involved with him. You both have seen how much pain it can cause. 

“Yes,” he answered, but he didn’t know if that was any better. “She does know.”

It was times like this he wished he could see your face. You were still and silent for a moment, and the only sounds filling his ears was the chatter from inside and the power of your heart. He hated when you did this. 

“Good.”

Huh? 

His brows furrowed. “Wha-what do you mean ‘good’?”

“I mean good,” you repeated, and by the sound of your voice he could tell you were starting to smile. “She might be one of the only people that can handle you.”

-

Back inside the bar, Pug was shitting bricks. Don’t get him wrong, he hoped that your and Matt’s conversation was going well. He hoped there were no wounds reopening outside or any hands being thrown - he knew you could if the situation called for it. He hoped you guys were being civil.

However, a small and selfish part of him hoped it wasn’t going too well. It was him who was supposed to be outside talking to you, not Matt. At the beginning of the night, he had every intention to finally get off his ass and ask you out. But that plan went out the window the moment you said Matt’s name. Now, Pug was pretty secure in himself. He was a confident guy, and he found that as of recently, only you had the power to get him nervous like he was a teenager in love again. But depending on how your conversation outside was going, he might have to kiss any chance with you goodbye. And the sad part was, he understood. How could he compete with someone you had at least seven years of history with.

“I can’t believe you fucked their ex!”

It was Nikki’s words once the three of them were alone that pulled him out of his head. She was staring at Jen with eyes wider than saucers, her mouth hanging open in speechlessness. 

Jen wasn’t any better, though. Her eyes were just as wide, if not bigger. If Pug didn’t know any better, too, she looked like she could vomit. “I-I-I had no idea,” she breathed.

Nikki was stuttering, trying to find her words. “How the- I mean, did you- did she- did she know? Did you tell her? Did he say anything?”

“No!” Jen answered. “Non-none of us knew, obviously. It’s just... wow. What are the odds?”

The two women looked over at Pug for his own input, and it wasn’t exactly surprising to see him so quiet. No doubt drowning in his thoughts (which he was), they struggled to figure out what to say that would pull him out. 

“I, uh, wouldn’t worry too much about them out there,” Nikki said, giving Pug’s arm a gentle pat. “Neither of them looked too happy to be here.”

“Thanks, Nik,” Jen rolled her eyes. She was the one to invite everyone, after all. 

Nikki turned back to her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

It was about another ten minutes of awkward conversation before you and Matt walked back into the bar, and the team was pretty shocked to see you both smiling. You seemed friendly which was a good sign, but not too friendly which was another good sign. You led Matt back to the table, but neither of you sat down.

“I think I’m gonna take off for the night,” you told them. “I’m sorry to cut the night short, but I can feel a migraine coming on.”

Jen looked at you apologetically. “Hey, you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry. Let me walk you out, okay?”

You nodded, causing her to stand up with you. You looked at the others and gave a small smile to them, your eyes lingering on Pug out of habit. “Sorry, guys. Don’t let me ruin your night. I’ll see you at work.”

Pug was already shaking his head. “Nah, you didn’t ruin anything. We’re sorry for all the questions.”

You smiled gratefully at him, and he was happy to see it finally reach your eyes. You waved to the table before joining Jen by the door.

Matt calling your name caught everyone’s attention, though. “Take care of yourself.”

You nodded at him before turning to walk out of the bar with Jen. Pug hated seeing you go.

Damn you, Matt Murdock, for stealing my thunder.

long author’s note (sorry): sorry this took a while, but work has been ass and i’ve struggled to find the motivation to write. however, once i did, i could not stop at all, so there’s definitely a lot to come. it’s becoming a much bigger series than i had expected, but i’m excited! there’s going to be a lot more backstory about matt and the reader in future parts bc i didn’t want to reveal everything right away, and a lot more of pug x reader developing as well. our boy pug deserves all the love in the world! i know i revealed the makings of a lot of backstory in the first part, but there will be more explained in future parts. a bit of explanation about how long the reader and matt were together though: i couldn’t find an in depth timeline of the events of the daredevil show that included when matt and foggy in college/before the events of the show (but if you have one let me know...), but i determined that from law school, matt and the reader could have been dating anywhere from 5-10+ years. i chose 7 because it made the most sense to me. if you have any thoughts about that, let me know. anyways, i do want to write more pug x reader outside of this series, so if anyone has any ideas of what they want to see, my inbox is always open! consider pug hours officially open. let me know what you think about this part though - i’m always open to feedback. i hope you’re enjoying this silly little series :)

[catboykilljoy97]

Bruce Banner dog appreciation post

[batcavescolony]

I'm sorry this has gone too far, someone on tiktok said She-Hulk, as in Jennifer Walters, was a Young Avenger. I'M CRYING. I could get maybe Kamala because at least shes young and non-comic fans don't know about The Champions BUT JEN? JEN!

[woodenpicador]

woodenpicador: the masterlist (updated July 2023)

ao3 | twitter

I write fanfiction, primarily but not exclusively for Yellowjackets (2021). I've written a few multichapter fics and a few one-shots. I also post headcanons, rewatch notes, and so much more on Twitter. I'm hoping to use this space more!

Fics beneath the fold....

Yellowjackets (2021): Multichapters

natural habitats (13 chapters, WIP)

“Look, here’s the deal.” Nat leans forward and plants her hands on the table. “If we do this, you tell nobody, okay? Not Van, not Laura Lee, not Taissa or Lottie or Misty fucking Quigley, do you understand me?”

Shauna frowns, but says nothing.

“That means you don’t tell Jackie, either,” Nat says. “If that’s going to be a problem, then let me know and we can both start rehearsing for the spring musical now.”

Natalie Scatorccio is having a bad year. She’s not sleeping, her mom’s new boyfriend sucks, and a blown history test might bench her for the season. Luckily, Coach Martinez has an idea:

Tutoring.

From Shauna Shipman.

Fuck.

(shaunanat, alternating POV, novel-length WIP, E)

mes beaux amis (4 chapters, complete)

“It’s a party.” Jackie shouts a honeyed rupture into Shauna’s eardrum. “Have fun!”

Yeah, like Shauna Shipman can refuse Jackie Taylor much of anything.

Watching the best friend you’ve ever had constantly break up and get back together with a guy takes a toll on you. Especially when they like to celebrate their reunions by sucking face in front of everyone.

Shauna Shipman gets by with a little help from her friends.

(Or: Jeff is Shauna's worst reaction, but not her first.)

(shauna POV, angst/drama, explicitish, pre-canon, ~55k words - shauna/jackie, shauna/mari, shauna/tai, shauna/van, shauna/misty, shauna/lottie, shauna/nat, shauna & laura lee)

versez le sang (2 chapters, complete)

Shauna has done the math, knows her life expectancy tops out at seventy-eight or so—and that’s not accounting for what havoc has been wrought on her insides by nineteen months of scrounging, scavenging, praying, and all the horrible things that live in the spaces between those words. She’s got about fifty-six years of exactly this to go, give or take. She can do it. She has to. It’s no more than she deserves, no less than she owes.

She lasts a month.

Everyone said marrying Jeff Sadecki was a mistake, but they were wrong. Shauna Shipman doesn’t make mistakes. She doesn’t make anything.

Shauna breaks.

(Or: Shauna invites cataclysm in pursuit of closure.)

(shauna POV, angst (very dark), explicit, post-rescue (2001), ~23k words - shauna/jackie, shauna/jeff, shauna/tai, shauna/van, shauna/misty, shauna/lottie)

Yellowjackets (2021): One-Shots

demodocus on the radio

Shauna Shipman disappears two weeks before her wedding. This surprises no one.

What might surprise people is that she surfaces in the middle of the day at a dive bar in the East Village owned by Natalie Scatorccio.

(shauna POV, angst, explicit, post-rescue (2001), ~18kwords - shauna/nat shauna/jackie (past))

practice makes perfect

"What do you think about painting?”

In which Van Palmer has to fulfill her Fine Arts requirement, and learns something about herself (and Jackie Taylor) in the process.

(van POV, slice-of-life/romance, T, pre-canon, ~6k words - tai/van, shauna/jackie (background))

still life

In the attic, before Tai leaves to find help, it's just her and Shauna and the secrets between them.

(tai POV, drama, M, missing scene (post-1x06 - saints), ~2.7k words - shauna & tai, tai/van (background), shauna/jackie (background))

for all debts public and private

Nat and Shauna glare at Lottie. She wants to mark it as another point in support of her plan, but the intensity gives her pause.

“Fine, I’ll spill. You two have been at each other’s throats for days. Normally, whatever—go with God and may the Force be with you—but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in sunny Trenton, New Jersey, to play state championship soccer.” Lottie leans forward. “And when you guys are fighting, you fucking suck at it.”

A misplaced ball sparks a feud between Shauna and Nat that threatens to derail the team’s championship hopes.

Lottie has a plan to get them to kiss and make up.

(lottie POV, sex comedy, E, pre-canon/canon divergence AU, ~17.4k words - lottieshaunanat, lottielee, jackieshauna)

gifts of the magi

Teamwork makes the dream work, but recognizing individual excellence is just good leadership.

Two times that Shauna Shipman is Lottie Matthews's most valuable teammate.

(shauna POV, horror, E, canon compliant through 2x02, ~6.9k words - shaunalee, shaunamari, shaunalottie)

closet cases

Have you seen her?

She hasn’t, she won’t, she never, ever will. She has finally done what her mother demanded and shed those pesky extra pounds and all she had to do was cut out half of herself and give it up to Jeff Sadecki and Providence, Rhode Island. All she had to do was become her mother in all the ways she never wanted.

Jackie’s anesthetic won’t fit in a row of pill bottles, of course, but a shoebox isn’t that much bigger.

Seven months after her world falls apart, Jackie Taylor returns to Wiskayok.

(jackie POV, drama, E, no crash AU, ~27.3k words - jackieshauna)

Other Fandoms

pro hac vice (She-Hulk (2022))

Matt Murdock needs help on a case; Jennifer Walters doesn't mind taking a cross-country flight on short notice.

Hey, it's (almost) Christmas.

Written for the 2022 Yuletide Fic Exchange.

(jen POV, casefic, T, 5.5k words - jen/matt, nikki/mallory (implied))

Towards Grace (Perry Mason (2020))

Alice runs. Set during chapter 8.

Written for the 2020 Yuletide Fic Exchange

(alice POV, T, ~1.6k words)

Metas of Note

Yellowjackets: A Not-So-Brief and Hopefully Canon-Accurate Explanation of the 1996 WHS Yellowjackets Soccer Team

[avengerphobic]

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Hercules (Marvel)/Jennifer Walters

Herc's poorly translated Greek dad jokes really work on Jen

[murdockussy]

Beyond These Walls

Matt Murdock x Roommate Reader Fic

previous chapter

masterlist

Chapter Seven: Why Not

words: 2k

With the sound of the pad of your finger tapping the phone screen, ending the call, Matt diverted his focus back on Karen, her muffled words becoming clearer. 

“...Which I'm sure he’ll be happy about”  

“Sorry Karen, I missed the first half of that, what’d you say?” Matt spoke, clearing his throat as he stood in the kitchen, pretending to clear the sink bench. 

“That's fine, I was umm... Just saying that maybe we could grab some coffees on the way. I know you and Foggy usually make one in the office but I thought since we were already out, and we've got the extra set of hands?”  

“Yeah, that’ll be nice” he said, his attention once again drifting to the opening door 6 stories below his home, the guess you were waiting upon beginning to make her way upstairs.  

“Well, we better get going if we want to make it on time, I don’t want Foggy judging us if we’re both late, although I'm sure a hot cappuccino will make up for it” Karen said with a laugh, the joke flying over Matts head as he continued to listen to Noelle now speedily ascend the stairwell.  

“I’ll just have to grab my things before we leave” Matt muttered, teetering around the kitchen as if he didn’t know exactly where everything was placed, his hands tapping along the benchtop pretending to be searching for something to drag out the time.    

The thought of meeting your visitor – let alone you – for the first time filled him with confusing emotions he hasn’t felt for a very long time, his feelings walking the fine line of eagerness and anxiousness. It wasn’t though he wished to avoid you, but he also didn’t feel ready to be face to face with the stranger he was secretly becoming conditioned and comfortable with, these sensations something he check listed to ponder over at a later time.    

Karen watched Matt fumble with an awkward eye, unsure of whether to lend a hand or allow Matt to do what he needed too, not wanting to overstep any unclear boundaries that were yet to be made. “I can go wait for you in the hall?” she asked, sweetening her voice out of uncertainty as she slowly inched her way towards the front door.  

“There's no need, I'll only be a moment. I just need to find...” Matt replied, continuing to delve around his kitchen, his attention dipping between Karen edging closer to the front door and Noelle growing nearer to yours.  

“I’ll just be outside, take your time Matt, really there's no rush”  

“Ah, no Karen, I’ll just-”, As Karen ignored his pleas, finding her way to the front door and swinging it open, his anxieties grew worse, his internal stress radar going over the edge as Noelle reached the final flight of stairs below yours and Matts floor.  

In a panic he raced towards his front door with the intention of reeling Karen back inside before Noelle could spot her, not wanting to give your guest the impression that Karen was living there, or that she was associated with Matt as more than a co-worker. And although he was clueless on why he wanted to avoid that scenario so badly, something deep inside him was potent on keeping Karen clear from your eyes – another thing Matt added to his list to ponder on later.  

However, Noelle’s excited pace was somehow unparalleled to Matt’s distressed-fueled speed, her reaching the peak of the staircase before Matt had the chance to shelter Karen inside from Noelle’s view.    

He stood behind the wooden front door, his heart thumping with worry as he listened to the now inevitable interaction, a quiet gasp leaving Noelle’s throat as she laid eyes on Karen's figure leaning against the hallway wall.  

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut as he prayed for Karen not to interact with Noelle, to let her enter your apartment without any conversation, but found himself silently cursing as Karen's inescapable kindness was released.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” the blonde spoke with a toothy smile, her voice friendly and sincere.  

“No! Don’t apologise” Noelle replied with a laugh, her hand over her chest as she released a deep breath as though she was winded, “I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else up here”  

Matt followed Noelle’s every move as she swiftly passed Karen, arriving at your front door and began to knock, relief flooding within him as your voice called from inside your apartment, “It’s open!”  

Noelle cranked her head over her shoulder, wishing Karen a good day before opening the door and entering your home, Matt releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding onto as Noelle closed the door behind her.    

Scurrying around his home, Matt grabbed his belongings, heading out the front door, locking the door as he apologised for keeping Karen waiting. There the two headed down the stairwell together, Karen's grasp firm on his upper arm in attempts to help him down each set of stairs, his hearing still within the walls of your apartment as Noelle recalled the events from before to you, her words searing the pit in Matt’s stomach.  

***  

“By the way, did someone drop by before I got here?” Noelle asked, dropping her bags on the floor next to the dining table as she gently placed the takeaway tray on the surface, sliding the cups out of their holders.  

“No... Why?” You asked, thanking your friend as she passed you the warm drink. 

“There was some blonde woman standing across the hall when I got here”  

“Blonde woman?” you said as you flickered through old conversations with Fran, trying to possibly remember her mentioning the stranger, “What was she like?”  

“Feminine. More than I'll ever be. Looked professional. Blue eyes, blonde hair, banging figure. I'm talking tiny waist, and hips. for. days. Seemed nice though, totally didn’t give off psycho killer vibes”  

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not” you said, taking a sip of your drink.  

“I’m dead serious. Although it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep the door locked, even when you know I'm headed up, you know how Fran is with that stuff. Anyway, she seemed like she was waiting for someone, maybe your neighbour?”  

“Could be his girlfriend or something? Grandma never gave me the details on him, just the standard cautionary tales”  

“That’s Fran alright, wouldn’t expect any less of her” Noelle said with a laugh, crouching beside the table and began ruffling through her bag, you leaning against the back of the couch as you watched, taking sips of your coffee.  

“Gotcha!” Noelle called as stood, returning to face you with the borrowed set of clothes in her hands, “Thank you again for letting me borrow them. I was tossing up the idea of keeping them, those sweats do cling to my ass pretty good”  

Grabbing the clothes, you headed into your bedroom to put them away, calling out to Noelle to “borrow them any time” before returning to find her sitting comfortably on the couch, sipping her drink as she patted the empty space besides her.    

Complying to her silent offer, you sat down, turning your body to face hers with your feet tucked underneath you, sipping your coffee as you both gossiped about your week. Although the presence of another person still left depths of you feeling uncomfortable and hesitant – a habit you were sure you weren't going to break out of anytime soon - Noelle’s company had you slowly resurfacing from your thickly built shell.    

As Noelle rambled about her latest encounter with a group of freshly legal drunken college girls, you couldn’t help but have your mind slip away from the conversation into its own imaginative void as you pictured yourself in her shoes, the idea of being around so many constant people leaving you feeling overwhelmed which Noelle eventually caught onto.    

“Hey, are you alright?” Noelle asked, her now gently placed hand on your thigh pulling you from your daze.  

“Yes, sorry! I swear I was listening. I was just picturing myself around that many people, I don’t know how you do it”    

“Well for one, true New Yorkers like myself are accustomed to crowds, you can’t beat them. And two, if you’d come visit during one of my shifts you could see for yourself that it’s not that bad”  

“I know you’ll hold me down to it, I'll come visit you someday soon” you said with a smile, patting her hand that rested on your leg.  

“That ‘soon’ better mean within the next few weeks, I don’t want you going mad in this apartment. Don’t get me wrong, this rundown-penthouse is quite the stunner, but you’re going to need a break from it soon, right?”  

You sat there for a moment in silence pondering over her words. Although it had only been a week since you’d moved in, the same daily routine was slowly starting to chip at you. It wasn’t that you lacked any company – being alone was something you were habitual with – but that you were beginning to grow bored, feeling in need of a more proactive change of routine.  

Noelle watched you as you remained stiff, your blank gaze unmoving from your lap, your attention diverting back to her as she murmured your name, "Did I say something wrong? I don’t want you to think I'm pressuring you, you know I would neve-”  

“No, you’re right” You said, interrupting her, taking another sip of your drink before continuing, “I think I do need a break, I need a fresh start, you know?”  

“Yes!” Noelle shouted, an encouraging smile forming over her face as the worry drained from her body, “Back in the city, technically-old but new apartment, fresh start, I love this for you! This is great, timing and all!”  

“Timing with what?”  

There was a pause before Noelle spoke again, her eyes blinking rapidly as a stressed smile pulled at her cheeks, “Don’t hate me, it wasn’t my idea”  

“Noelle” you said firmly, “What have you done?”  

“Nothing! It wasn’t me! Fran and mum have been chatting since you got here, and she knows Fran would never leave you empty pocketed here, but she’s been hounding me with questions on you being cooped up alone here, mothers' intuition and what not”  

“Go on”  

“Well, she wanted me to ask you about this offering at the right time, and I don’t want you to feel pressured at all. If this isn’t what you’re aiming for I totally understand. I get you’re comfortable here and I-”  

“Noelle, just spit it!”  

“Okay! Mum’s asked if you wanted a spot at her book store”  

You smiled, feeling somewhat relieved at Noelle’s words, the offering sparking your interest. “Like a job?”  

“Pretty much. She hasn’t gone over the details much, every time she brings it up I try to brush it off, but you know how persistent she is. All I know is that it’ll be stocking shelves and service stuff, that’s pretty much what mum does day by day anyway”  

You thought over the idea as you sipped through the remainder of your drink, considering the possibility of you working with Noelle’s mum. From what Noelle’s told you, their bookstore has kept a quiet, even pace over the years, the more well-known stores gaining more attention than theirs, which you’d consider a win. And although you had your own money, as well as the gifted cash from Fran, a little extra on the side wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it wasn’t like you’d be working with strangers, Noelle’s family being people you used to be familiar with. ‘What could be the harm in it’ you thought to yourself, emotions beginning to swirl in your stomach.  

“You know what, why not” you spoke quickly before you could take back your words.  

“Wait, really?” Noelle said, her eyes wide with shock, “Don’t feel like you have too, mum just thought she’d offer”  

“Yeah, really” you replied, your smile spreading from your face to Noelle’s, “I think it’ll be good. Let your mum know I said I'll do it”    

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 18 - Trippin

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summary: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT |   Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Angst, reference smut, reference to non-dubious consent, mention of death, reference to violence, mentioned use of tobacco, lots of arguing, miscommunications, jealous!Miguel, small injury on a set of stairs, toy firearm use, Steven is yet again the sweetest individual in this series.

Words: 8K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List and AO3 saw it first!

" I appreciate you for your patience Even though I know it's runnin' thin I ain't tryna put you on the waitlist Maybe we were better off as  friends " -"Trippin" by EARTHGANG

It felt like  the  harder  Simone tried to sleep, the more impossible it became.  Fortunately, at an indiscernible time in the early morning hours , she drifted off into a light slumber .   The unfortunate part came when she was awoken  seemingly right away  by the buzz of her phone under the pillow  next to  her.

A quick examination of her surroundings remedied  the slight confusion she felt  in her sleepy daze: it wasn't some dream she could blink away.  She was indeed right where she thought she was, eyes undeceiving. Once she was re-familiarized, she pulled the cell phone into view of her tired eyes. It was Miguel returning her call.

Miguel apologized for not answering when Simone called the night before, claiming he had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day and woke up to a dead phone. An easy conversation about how strange and awkward everything was soon turned into a beat of dead air so silent you would think they lost connection.

"So, six more days?"  Miguel spoke up, breaking the hush.

"More than that, probably. We have to figure out what to do about this place."

"I'll be betting on at least a week and a half, then?"  

"Likely so. I'm sorry, I didn't think about that."

"No worries. Maybe I'll be down after to help with the house stuff."

Simone smiled at the suggestion,  elated  that he would  both make time for her and tolerate Marc in a time of need. Perhaps things will work out after all.

"We could probably plan that. Sounds nice."

As if Simone's morning couldn't get any stranger, she was overtaken by the smell of melted butter as she descended the stairs. With each step she took, she felt  more and more  anxious to take the next. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face  a full  day with Marc but breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the floor and heard humming that could only mean Steven was present. 

"Morning, darling."  He greeted her with a smile  upon spotting her  and waved the plastic spatula.  "Pancakes?" 

"Sounds great, thank you, Stevie," Simone replied as her bare feet patted the hardwood floors.  She couldn't help but reminisce about old  times;  watching him make a  simple,   yet   thoughtful ,   breakfast and coming up behind to wrap her arms around his middle, sprinkling dozens of kisses along his back.  

Those memories weren't lost for Steven, either  and  he half-expected to feel those arms caress him.  Once  he saw her take a seat at the table after she passed behind him, though, he knew it was a long cause. 

"Hope you don't mind my being here." He said, not sure what to expect as a response but was pleased to see Simone gesture that it was fine. This made Steven happy, even if it was wordless confirmation. "Marc needs some... rest, you could say. Not big on sleeping during the late hours, yeah?"

Simone watched as Steven flipped a pancake and listened to the satisfying sizzle of the batter hitting the hot cast iron. It hadn't crossed her mind before then how hungry she was, and she nearly missed what he was saying while focused on the rumbling of her stomach. 

"I know it. I didn't get much shut-eye either." She aimlessly replied, now running her eyes over the blue cotton tee and black and white plaid pajama bottoms he wore. She used to steal and wear that same combination all the time. 

"Weird being back?" Steven asked as he looked over at her.  His eyes  locking  with her own broke the trance  and  she diverted to the skillet  right away .  

"Weird being alone with you guys. No offense."

"No, no, I get it." He reassured. Simone looked back up and studied him  taking  a clean plate from the drying rack next to the sink. Mrs. Jacobs took care of them before she left the night before, insisting that we don't need to worry about it. "Bananas and peanut butter?"

He still knows what I like.  Simone thought to herself. She pursed her mouth to keep from grinning and gave him a nod but noticed he had already begun expertly spreading the chunky condiment onto one of the cakes with the back of a spoon. Her eagerness grew as he carefully placed slices of banana and stacked the three wonky-shaped circles on  top of  each other. 

Simone started practicing  how to say   thank you  in her head as the red saucer was placed in front of her, but somehow  all  she could manage was to mouth the phrase wordlessly before picking up the fork and digging in. "So, what are we to do with all of this?" 

The question mirrored Simone's thoughts from earlier, but she  wasn't going to  bring it up until a few days had passed. She knew better than to disrupt the mourning period with such things. 

"You guys take what you want  and  we can probably donate the rest. Maybe invite the friends over to take their keepsakes first?" She suggested with a shrug before shoving a forkful of decorated flapjacks into her mouth. It took a lot of willpower not to  make an audible  groan at how delicious it was.

"That could work." He said before sitting caddy-corner to Simone with his own syrup-smothered hotcakes.  They both ate  in silence  for a while, too busy with their mouths full but  also  not too sure what to say.  She figured there was no harm in discussing what she was considering during the dark hours.

"While we're taking care of this place, I  was thinking I could try and  find my mom."

"Yeah?" Steven questions, so  in shock  by the revelation that he nearly choked on his mouthful of breakfast. He held up a finger, signaling he would finish chewing before he continued and followed it up with a sip of creamy coffee. "You're not feeling guilty, are you?" 

Something like that.   She  thought to herself before standing and  making  her  way  to the coffee pot for her  own  cuppa.  

"I just don't want her to die and me not try to have a conversation with her, ya know?" She admitted. At first, she was looking at the man at the table but diverted her eyes the second the words left her teeth. It sounded insensitive and all too similar to the reason Marc felt so upset over his dad's death. It wasn't a call out, by any means  and  she hoped it wouldn't be taken that way. 

Though Steven knew Simone wouldn't intentionally poke that  bear,  and felt that Estefania deserved no loyalty from her daughter, he wanted to  be supportive of  her ventures.

"That makes sense. I could come with you, you know?" 

As always, Steven was proving to be more precious than she deserved. Once Simone was seated with the warm mug  cupped  between her hands, she made her stance clear.

"No, I need to face her by myself."

"You didn't let us face this alone , why  should you have to do that?" 

Because my mother may have hated me, but if she saw Marc with me now, she'd have a fucking conniption. 

"It makes the  most  sense." Simone tiptoed around the truth. She took a small sip of the black coffee before placing the mug onto one of the wooden coasters still sprawled along the dining table after the get-together from the day before. She loved and appreciated the half-eaten pancakes before  her,  but was suddenly not hungry. 

"But you're not alone, love." He said  in a reassuring tone  before tenderly taking her trembling right hand into his. It was a sweet, telling gesture. It told of a man who wanted to earn her trust again. Simone  just  couldn't count on that  and   she  pulled the hand away with a soft sigh through her nostrils. 

"Stevie, this isn't going to be one of those things where being stuck in a house together for over a week  is going to  make me and Marc miraculously rekindle. I can't forgive getting me tied with that damn bird."

Her words made Steven visibly frown, but that wasn't what he was doing all this for. 

"I understand that  but  it doesn't change that we— I —want to be there for you." He made quick work to correct himself. One, because he didn't want to speak for the others. Two, because he cared no more about their thoughts of this than he cared about their feelings towards the moon mark. He hated that he never said anything about it and felt it was time for some making up  to do . 

Simone's eyes fell into her  lap  where her hands retreated to find more picked cuticles and blood under her right thumbnail. She shook them out to halt the tick, missing Miguel's soft reminders to stop.

"I know. I'll think about it."

The rest of the day is spent doing more  sitting,  quietly ,  until about 3 pm when Moni needed a nap on the couch to make up for her lack of sleep.   It was around this time when Marc took back  over and decided to start the search for her mom.  

All he knew was that she was sent to an old folks' home due to the severity of her mental health and lack of treatment for it, as well as the absence of sound-minded people to look after her. Estie had driven them all away.

He sat at the dining table with his phone in his hand, sifting through a Google search of the facilities in the area and calling each number as quietly as he could muster.  Through several ten-minute holds and a series of 'No, we have nobody here by that name' in different voices, he realized he would need to expand the search.

A loud, long honk of a car horn  was what  pulled Simone from her slumber. She wanted to be angry at this stir but couldn't help but giggle at the  phrases that followed .

"Learn to drive, jagoff!" 

"Yeah? Where'd you get your license? Sears and Roebuck?"

The argument caused her to scramble onto her knees and peer through the shabby curtains to find a car that had most certainly run a stop  sign,  and another  car  halted. While no accident had occurred, the classic Chicagoan road rage had taken off.  She  found she  recognized one of the individuals as someone she  when  to school with.

"Huh. Ricky Tenanbaum's still around." She spoke aloud to herself before a  hm?   from  behind her made her realize she wasn't as alone as she thought. A quick look back revealed Marc at the table, intently scrolling. After Simone asked what he was up to, he told her that he had called every retirement home in Chicago  as well as  a couple in Rockford but still had no luck. 

"Don't worry about that right now, Spector." She insisted as she treked to the table, now sitting in the seat Steven  sat  before.

"I'm just trying to help. What else am I supposed to do?" Marc asked, gesturing to the still home surrounding them. She understood not wanting to become encumbered by traumatic thoughts of his boyhood.  If her education taught her anything,  it's that you should  by  all  means  take your time with acceptance, but it only gets more difficult the longer you wait.

"Have you been to your room yet?" She asked, knowing the answer already.

"No."  

"I'm gonna go check it out." 

"I'll stay here." 

"You'll have to go up there at some point when we start gutting this place," Simone stated the obvious, hoping to get through to Marc how much it's going to suck, even if he holds off. "You afraid it isn't what it used to be?"

"I'm afraid of it being exactly how I left it." 

Though Simone was trying so hard to not put pressure on him, she realized it might not be a heavy  push,  but tender  comfort,  that he needed.  Just as  Stevie did earlier, she took Marc's hand to let him know he wouldn't be unaided.

"Let's go." She spoke softly, nodding her head towards the staircase. He understood what he needed to do and silently agreed.

They  walked slowly , side-by-side  up  the stairs, neither  one  dropping the other's hand. Though Simone would never admit it out loud, it felt right. Just like old times, but not the old she chose to forget. Much older, like the children they used to be. 

Once they  made it to  the bedroom door, Marc's hand was sweating around hers, and his knees had grown weak. Fear of the unknown had taken hold  and  he was too afraid to open the door himself. A brief squeeze of his hand told Simone everything he needed to say, and she took charge, using her opposite hand to turn the knob for him.

The door creaked loudly on the hinges and resonated through the quiet landing to reveal the very same room they both remembered, unchanged from childhood.  The sight of  books, knick-knacks, old toys, and furniture collecting dust was almost a relief to Marc, who started stepping into the room before Moni to look around.

As her eyes darted around the room, she passed up dingy Transformers and the shelves they sat on to lay hands on a relic she spotted in the nearly empty closet. Brown leather  now  a tad wrinkled with age,  it  was none other than her old bomber jacket. 

"Fuck me, that's impressive." She laughed as she pulled it from the wire hanger it resided. It stirred up an  air of  undisturbed closet smell as the familiar heaviness rested in her fingers. "Nearly two decades  and  this old thing  still  looks stylish."

At this, Marc's attention was pulled away from the old posters he admired. 

"Holy shit! I always meant to give that back." He said, joining Moni by the closet. The coat conjured an image in his mind of the woman who held it now, wearing it as a kid. It was always far too big but kept her warm for years, up until the day he borrowed it. It was once her father's, and it was one of the few items of clothing that wasn't feminine she could get away with wearing because of that fact. As if Moni read his mind, she took a deep breath. 

"Sometimes I forget he's dead." She spoke absently as the memory of her first birthday without her father arose. The feeling of abandonment followed. He may as well have been dead long before he passed. "I guess never calling your only child while doing time in federal prison will do that." 

Marc watched as the face of wonder and curiosity wore off and was replaced with an expression he knew all too well: disappointment. Her arm extended to put the coat back where she got it.

"Oh no, you're taking that with you." Marc protested. 

"Like  hell,  I am! It fits you better than it did me." She replied, now thrusting it in his direction. "You take it." 

It was then that Marc spotted the plastic handle of an old Nerf gun poking out of the basket next to him.  Without wasting a second,  he went for it quickly and pointed it at the woman before him.  Did he know for sure it had anything in it? No, but Moni didn't know that either.

"Say you'll take it  or   you're getting  a foam dart to the forehead." He threatened playfully. Last time he held one of these, the main rule was to not aim for the face  or  you could take an eye out. He was far better with far more dangerous weapons these days. Moni's jaw dropped,

"That's not fuckin' fair! I'm unarmed!"

"Take the jacket, Moni." He attempted to speak sternly and cocked the plastic firearm for effect. Simone knew he would do it, but she refused to give in if it was the last thing she ever did. Especially now that it has become a game to him.

"Not. A. Chance." She spoke slowly, annunciating each syllable. 

Marc realized it was about as good a time as any to find out if the thing was loaded, took aim, and squeezed the bright orange trigger, causing the sound of the spring-loaded suction bullet to announce as it shot. Moni held the jacket up over her face for protection and heard the foam bullet bounce off of the leather with a thud before it fell to the floor.

"You missed!" She shouted before throwing the coat in Spector's direction and bolting through the bedroom doorway. Without dropping the toy, he let the outwear fall to his feet and took off after her. 

Laughter and false screams erupted from Moni's throat, clearly having fun as she went down the stairs as quickly as she could muster. Somewhere in the  middle;  however, she lost her footing and tumbled down the remaining steps. Marc watched as delight turned to pain when her head smacked one of the wooden stairs.

Without a second thought, he tossed the toy back into the room and rushed to her side. 

"You alright?" He questioned, clearly panicked. Simone felt like her brain had been shaken up as pain bloomed above her left temple, knees, and elbows. She attempted to pick herself up from the floor but was nearly pulled up against her will before she could make the effort. 

"Fine, just gonna bruise." She explained as her hand found the knot forming on her hairline. She stumbled again, clearly rocked, as Marc helped her to the sofa. 

"I'll get some ice." He told her once she was seated.  All he could come up with was  a bag of steamable frozen peas, but it was better than nothing.

Simone didn't want Marc to make a fuss over her. After all, nothing was broken, and aside from a possible skidded knee, no skin was open. Still, she couldn't help but watch  admiringly  while he doted on her and muttered expletives into the freezer, failing to find an actual ice pack.

Must've hit it really hard.  She  thought to herself, finding the thoughts to be out of place.

Upon returning with the peas, Marc knelt down in front of her and brushed his thumb gently around the bump, as well as studied her eyes for signs of a concussion. "No nausea, dizziness, confusion?"

"No, not really," Simone answered as she took the bag from his hand and placed it on the affected area. Absently, Marc put his hand on it as well. For a moment that felt like an eternity, she didn't protest.

This is how it's supposed to go, right? We take care of each other.  She thought, silently grazing her eyes over each line that made up the  face  she knew so well. Loved, even. He was still handsome as ever—it didn't take sexual interest to recognize that—but being so close to him again made her brain feel like it was short-circuiting. 

It was  just  like that night in the office, his mouth mere inches away from hers. That was before she knew the truth, and as the thought took over her mind, disgust pooled in her stomach  and  anger flared in her eyes. "I got it." She insisted sternly, shooing his hand away. 

Visible confusion filled Marc's face, wondering how she could go from hot to cold in  a matter of  seconds. The more he stayed in place, pondering it, the more pissed off she began to appear. "Don't look at me like that." She nearly snapped. Marc stood,

"Well, don't act like I'm just supposed to pretend  like  I don't feel the way I feel."

"I should say the same to you!" She spoke with an unbelieving tone. "You keep looking at me like I'm supposed to  just  accept what happened. Forgive and forget."

"Fuck, Moni, I didn't know!" Marc stated, throwing his hands in the air.  He knew he had said it a dozen times  already , and when she rolled her eyes at it as always, he knew it would fall on deaf ears again.   "He said you would be protected  and  that  felt like a good enough reason."  

His explanation still wasn't satisfactory as Simone stood from the couch, squeezing the bag of peas so hard it popped open, and green pebbles scattered and clacked on the hardwood floor. 

"You should've known there was a catch!" She barked.

"I'm sorry." He said. Marc  was  sorry that he didn't look into it further, blindly trusting the untrustable, but he wasn't  sorry  for thinking it was the right thing to do at the time. Seeing right through this and knowing he was telling her what she wanted to hear, Simone scoffed. 

"Apology not accepted. I don't have an ounce of forgiveness in me for you. I'm only here for your dad, and the second our business is done here, I'm done with you again. Understood?" 

They stood staring at each other for a  minute  solid, unmoving  except  for blinking eyes. There was a time not long ago when a moment like this would be broken by knocking the throw pillows off of the couch and engaging in mindblowing sex.  The look in Moni's eyes this  time ;  however,  gave away that her mind was far away from that conclusion.  A very different face than the one she wore moments ago.

"I understand," Marc replied calmly with a hint of chagrin.  It seemed Moni was  pleased with this response and pivoted around to head upstairs but was stopped dead in her tracks once again when the man failed to hold his tongue. "I  understand  that you seemed pretty ready to forgive and forget in my office the night we  talked about  this. You showed me right there that you miss it as much as I do, but you're not ready to  talk about  that."

The thought of turning around and knocking him upside his head flashed in her mind. His words were like a lit match to the kerosene in her veins. It wasn't the fact that it happened, it was the fact that she went into that office pissed at him  and  the second she crossed that threshold, it was gone . Like  a spell. 

The so-called  moment  happened  as a result of  the mark, and she was sure of it. The bodily autonomy she worked so hard to grasp? Gone the second she was in his domain. That wasn't all on her, and she refused to accept it as so.

"Alright, mate. That's enough." She heard Steven speak from behind her in Marc's stead, having forced his way out to stop any further discourse. Without looking back, Simone disappeared back up the stairs.

While Simone sat sulking in the bedroom, she listened to the distant discussion downstairs. Did she want to fight with Marc right now? Not at all, but she would be damned if  she  were to apologize for standing her ground. Still, she knew it would all go  a lot  smoother if they tolerated one another.

She was lost in her  own  thoughts enough to miss the footsteps growing closer to the bedroom door she sat next to but was pulled away by the soft thump of Marc's forehead resting against the wood.

"I wish there was a way for us to just be okay. Be friends again." He spoke through the barrier. Simone's sinking feeling deepened at the bummer she heard in his voice. 

"Marc, I don't think we could ever  just  be friends." She responded, not bothering to hide her frustration at a fact that he  also  believed in. "Fuck, I don't know that we were, to begin with." 

It  sounded awful  in her own ears. After an entire childhood of telling everyone around her that they were  only  friends, nothing more, would she really accept it now? Simone expected Marc to get defensive, but the slight snicker from outside confirmed that he had his suspicions as well.

"Just a couple of kids who didn't see what everyone else seemed to see. That makes sense." He spoke tiredly, possibly just trying to avoid another fight. She didn't have it in her to change her mind or disagree. It was exhausting. 

A long pause weighted heavily on Simone in the bedroom by herself. She  thought about  inviting him in so they wouldn't have to speak through the walls, but felt it was pointless. The door didn't lock, and it was his house. As it would turn, Marc would beat her to it. "Can I come in?" 

At first, she nodded to herself before remembering he couldn't see her.

Yes.   She  then thought to herself before remembering  he  couldn't read  her  mind. 

"Yeah." She finally spoke aloud. Marc entered the room slowly, unsure what  he could  find upon opening the door. He found her sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and her back against the wall. He nearly held out his hand to help her  up ,  but thought better of it and joined her, leaving a wide birth between them. 

Is this how it'll be the whole time?  He wondered silently.  Why does it have to be so hard to  just  get along? 

From what he could make out in his peripheral vision, Moni hadn't been crying  or anything , which made him feel a little better. He ran what he wanted to say to her a thousand times over in his head, but it was caught in his throat like a lump of peanut butter. Her silence spoke volumes for her, though, and  told  him she wouldn't be speaking until he did.

"You know, I...  I don't know how to fix  any of this  or make any of  it  right.  Seems like when I try, I screw it up even more."  He spoke softly, losing  the words he originally intended , and improvised something close.  

Of all the things Simone wanted to say in response—kind, harsh, half-truthful—she tried to land somewhere in the middle and stand on business without picking another argument.

"You can't expect me to just suddenly overlook the bullshit and fall in love with you again." The words came out  a lot  sharper than she planned, and to Marc, they hit him in the chest like daggers. She hated she could feel the pain of her own words but couldn't tell for sure if it was hurt she felt for  herself,  or the connection between them causing her to feel what  he  felt. 

"Ouch." Marc voiced the ache.  "Hearing you say you don't love me anymore solidifies it , I guess ."

"I mean, it's not that I don't-" Moni spoke up quickly  then  stopped, unsure of what overcame her and why she felt compelled to correct herself. " Obviously  there's love for you, or I wouldn't be here." 

"And you have that love for Miguel now?" He asked, feelings unclear over whether he wanted to hear the truth  or not . He kept his eyes away from her face to avoid catching her if she lied. 

Was she happy? Absolutely. She considered the word  love  with Miguel in mind and had chewed on it several times already. Maybe the problem was it felt so different this time that it was unrecognizable. Still, as far as she was concerned, it was none of Marc's business.

"Everything with him is still new, Spector. Love is a stretch." 

What drove Marc crazy was that it wasn't a simple  no . He chose not to dwell on it, afraid of hearing what he didn't want to, and  chose  to veer off course.

"He just seems so boring  but  I guess it's normal that you want." 

"Right.  Normal ." She said sarcastically. To her surprise, he didn't seem to pick up on the tone, too lost in his  own  thoughts. Her eyes stayed glued to her  socks;  dark blue with a pattern that she supposed was supposed to look like sushi rolls but instead seemed like colorful blobs.

"If I left all this behind, would that make  something  right between us?" Marc asked with a hint of hopefulness. Though Simone still wanted to avoid a fight, she found the question laughable and couldn't keep a snicker from escaping her nose.  In her mind,  he already knew the answer and was wasting his time asking.

"You couldn't leave being the fist of Khonshu behind. It's ingrained in you now."

"I might if you gave me a reason to." He replied. Amusement was quick to bubble into irritation  and  she felt her neck tense up. 

"I thought I did a long time ago." Simone spat but followed the outburst with a deep breath. In retrospect, Marc knew it was a dumbass thing to say. She was right.

This time, a prolonged quiet blanketed the room  and  the thought of the photo downstairs clouded her mind before she cleared her throat. "Your dad wouldn't want us to fight. Like on that fishing trip, you accidentally knocked me off the boat, and I  swore  you did it on purpose." 

"You didn't talk to me the entire ride back, and then once we were out of the car, you tackled me to the ground."  Marc chuckled at the memory of himself bending over to reach into the water and almost losing his balance, trying to grab something to stabilize himself and Moni being the closest ,  but  also  unsuspecting ,  victim.  

Before either of them could think, he heard a splash from the other side  and  his friend was nowhere to be found until her head popped up above the water. Dark, tousled strings of wet hair stuck to her face  and  her hat floated next to her as she coughed up water she accidentally breathed in.

"I was so pissed to be riding back in soggy clothes.  The whole time  I  was  thinking   'I'm gonna beat the brakes off this guy when we  stop '  and I meant it, too!"  

"Dad had us stick our noses in opposite corners until we apologized and hugged it out." 

"Just be glad it wasn't my mom who witnessed it. Would've been belts to asses." 

They laughed for a good while  and  once it died off, they  found themselves finally looking  at each other. Though they were much older now, the children they were resided in their eyes and recognized one another instantly. Sadly, their newer, more mature facial features were quick to overpower them.

He's just too pretty.  Simone thought to  herself,   involuntarily,  before she remembered why she was sitting on the floor in the first place.  Get ahold of yourself, Fredrick.

I'd kiss her right now if I didn't know better.  Marc's mind mirrored, knowing if she could hear his thoughts, she would kick his ass. Luckily, she couldn't, and if his mental images were all he had  left;  so be it.

Both of  their inner monologues were interrupted by a loud rumble that could only be a hunger signal from Moni's stomach. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, and it was nearly dinner time  at this point .

"You know what we need? Tacos from that place on Howard." Marc suggested as he stood up, holding his hand out to help her  up . She took it and brushed her palms over her butt and legs while he pulled out his phone to call for food.

The tacos were delivered  and  they started chowing down immediately, both seated at the table and not speaking.  As much as Simone wanted to attempt conversation, she was disheartened  by the fact that they only ever  seemed to get along when they  weren't  talking to each other.  Her internal strife was eventually overpowered by her need to break the awkward silence.

"I could move back here just for these." She said mostly to herself. This statement perplexed Marc, having heard her say every negative thing one could say about Chicago. 

"You  actually  mean that?" He asked curiously before putting the final bite of his fifth taco into his mouth. Simone  was only trying  to make conversation and didn't expect the grilling, so she shrugged.

"I mean, I don't know." She started, realizing she might not have been truthful. Though the carne asada with cilantro and onions would forever be in her heart, she could get good tacos almost anywhere. "I hate this place and everything we went through here." 

When she felt relieved of the question, she leaned back in the wooden dining chair, running a trimmed nail between her teeth to pick out a stubborn bit of steak that had jimmied its way in there.

"You know, I thought about it," Marc spoke, hoping Moni had not given up on the subject  entirely .

"About what?" 

"Asking if you wanted to move here instead of New York." 

At the mention of this, Simone suddenly  had a  hankering  for a cigarette. There certainly would have been enough crime for him here, but she knew  he  knew better than to bring it up.

"You know what I would've said." 

"You would have asked if I was out of my fuckin' mind." Marc chuckled, which made Simone laugh along with him. It was a gratifying sound, them finally agreeing on something. Once it ended, she changed the topic.

"I'm stuffed." 

"I bet. You just smashed eight street tacos." Marc began, having only had five himself with a few left over. "Where'd you put it all?"

"Do you want me to say that it goes to my rotund ass? Because that's probably true." Moni joked.

And a nice ass it is.  Marc thought to himself before realizing it wouldn't be wise to say anything aloud that would be in agreement. They were getting closer to being okay  and  the last thing he wanted to do was say something stupid and ruin it when it  just  barely began.

Though Simone felt the same, she couldn't tell if she wanted him to make a comment about her butt joke or not. She brushed it off as a feeling of wanting attention she didn't need and let it go as  easily  as she let go of the hardy gut laughs they had shared together.  She  missed this. She missed him. It terrified her.

"We could  try  the friends thing." She blurted out just as the idea entered her mind. It seemed to catch Marc off guard, and he tilted his head in confusion. It was a very different tune than she was singing earlier. "It sounds a lot better than me hating you."

Hearing Moni say it out loud made him realize what he had said before was a blatant lie, even if he didn't catch on  at the time . The word  'friends'  in reference to their relationship stung deeply. He, again, didn't want to ruin  a perfectly good  moment of getting along. 

"Wow. Didn't think you'd come around so fast." 

"It has to work correctly, though. No being buddy-buddy with ulterior motives." 

In other words, no hanky panky.   She  thought.

"Moni, I just want you in my life again. I don't give a shit how." 

Another lie, and this time, Marc could tell she noticed with the doubtful look in her eye. He expected to be called out on it but  ended up proceeding  to speak before she could. "Did I tell you how much I appreciate you  for  doing this?"

"Don't worry about it. You'd have done the same for me." Simone trailed off at the thought, knowing she may need him sooner than either  of them  thought. " Will  do the same for me. There's a possibility she's already dead."  

"How'll that make you feel?" Marc asked.  Moni rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her palms, familiar with  the technique he was using .

"Are you shrinking me?" 

Marc met this with a snicker and a shrug, 

"Just wanting you to talk to me." 

Simone didn't think very fondly of her mamá by any means. The woman was as much to blame for the torment she endured as a youth as her uncle was. Estie opened the door for her  own  daughter to be ripped apart by her peers, the church, everyone. Her mother—the one person left on the planet Moni was supposed to count on—refused to protect her.

Knowing what she knew now after years of education, she knew her mother had severe religious psychosis, and she knew not to blame someone for their psychological issues. Simone felt her mom was the one exception to that. She used to hope against hope that her mother would miraculously die, crossing her fingers that it would solve her problems.

Now, after  coming back  and being forced to think everything over, she was ashamed of those thoughts. 

"I would feel like shit for waiting this long." She finally answered after what felt like forever of debate with herself.

"Like I do?" 

"So you're here out of guilt?"

"I guess so. What does it say in your books about that?"

"That you really  are  human, after all." 

"Oh, joy. I was beginning to have my doubts." Marc quipped back at the snide remark, which garnered a laugh, but he wanted to get away from the subject of himself and back to Moni's feelings. "So, if we find out that your mom's dead, then what?"  

"Figure out what they did with her remains , see  if a last goodbye is possible." 

"You gonna cry?" 

"Fuck you!" Moni shouted with a giggle and false offense, meeting his shoulder with a playful backhand. 

Their moment of peace among each other would end just as soon as it began when Simone's phone  began  ringing from her pocket. The song  'The Joker'  by Steve Miller Band grew louder once she pulled the device out and saw it was a video call from Miggy, whose name in her phone was affectionately changed to  'Space Cowboy.'  "Shit, I gotta take  this " She announced as she began to stand up to take the call outside.

"It's okay, you can answer it," Marc said, idly placing his hand on her back to stop her. "Pretend I'm not even here." 

For a moment, Simone hesitated and felt a rush of panic overcome her before a sense of calm. She had nothing to hide from either of them. Any other time, she would have bitten Marc's head off for the intimate gesture he  committed,  but noted the understanding in his eyes as he removed the hand and thought better of it.

She placed herself back in the dining chair and brushed her thumb over the green button to answer the call, feeling immense delight when the face of her affection appeared on her screen, thankfully wearing his glasses in case Marc happened to see.

"Hey, what's up?" She greeted with a million-dollar smile.

"Not much, I actually started looking into where your mom might be, and I believe I got a hit."  Miguel began, sounding confident. Marc couldn't help but cross his arms sternly at his words, feeling a hint of jealousy that the other man made more progress.  "There's an Estefania Fredrick at Greenhurst Retirement in Aurora. Ring any bells?" 

"That's probably her. Send me the details; we'll look into it." Simone responded, still smiling. Miguel's, on the other hand, seemed to falter.

"'We' as in?" 

"Marc and I. We've been looking, you know."

"Right."  Miggy's tone grew cynical.  "You and Marc." 

How he spoke puzzled Simone and caused her to feel slightly concerned. She attempted to save the mood.

"I  really  appreciate you using your resources to check on this, Miggy. I do." 

"I guess I just assumed we'd go at this together." 

"You're still welcome to help , the  more the-" 

"No,  no  it's cool."  He interrupted, vocal inflection revealing that it was clearly  not  cool.  "I have a lot of work I have to do, anyway. Let me know what comes of it." 

This wasn't a direction Simone was expecting this call to take by any means, and she couldn't stop the tightness in her chest that came with her rising anxiety. She felt embarrassed taking this call in front of Marc now as if she had been putting on a ruse and was being exposed in real time. She refused to look in his direction for fear of him seeing right through her.

Marc knew the envious man's attitude well. It spoke of insecurity and doubt, and he would  be lying  if he said there was no reason for him to feel that way. Even then, he didn't appreciate how he was speaking to her as if she had already done something wrong.

If he isn't scared yet, he's about to be. 

"Hun, really, I want you to help." Marc heard Simone say, the pet name pulling him out of his thoughts before he realized it wasn't directed at him.

"I did, but you obviously don't need me for the rest  of it ." 

When Miguel said that, Moni began to stand up and head toward the stairs, being sure to avoid Marc's gaze  who  would  surely  find how nervous and frustrated she was. She felt she  would be able to  turn the tide if she continued without an audience. 

"Maybe not, but I'd like you to be a part of this. It seems like you wanna be, also. It's fine." 

"Don't do that." 

"I'm not  doing  anything," Simone said defensively, tilting her phone  a bit  towards the ceiling as she walked to capture as little of her frown as she could. 

"He was back there when you answered, wasn't he?"  Miguel asked, clocking the fact that she was moving. She didn't see the significance and rolled her eyes,

"What of it?" 

In her distraction, she  didn't notice  Marc following her at a distance, feeling the need to stay nearby and growing irritated with the  man,  himself.  Given how highly Moni spoke of Miguel,  this felt like a  major   fall from grace.

"Just seems sketchy that you'd take my call away from him now." 

"Why are you being like this?" Simone questioned, hands becoming visibly shaky now with agitation. The possessiveness was annoying her.

"Simone, you really can't blame me for being concerned.  You act like this is  a  normal  thing  for people to do  and  I can't help but feel like there's something shifty happening."  

"So  now  you wanna tell me you have a problem with this?" Simone nearly shouted. "If you're so worried, come make a shiva call. See for yourself." "Nope, he's absolutely  not  welcome here. Not a chance, Moni." Marc finally spoke up. This caught Simone off guard  and  she whipped around to find him taking a couple steps closer. She wasn't sure who to disagree with now as his name barely left her mouth before being cut off by an equally pissed Miggy.

"Moni ?" The old nickname that only Marc used spewed from Miguel's lips like sludge and sounded just as disgusting.  "That's fucking hilarious."  "That's enough of that," Marc said cooly before swiping the phone from her hand and pressing the end call button before his face fully registered on the camera. Simone didn't realize what he had done until she successfully took the phone back and saw the face of a woman with rage seeping from her pores staring back at her on the black screen. 

"Why would you do that?" She asked unbelievingly, the only sign of Miguel being the candid photo of him on her lockscreen. She was  sure  that would be the final straw for them.

"You might be okay with him talking to you like that— which,  you  shouldn't  be—but as your friend, I'm not." Marc stood firm.

"As my  friend ?" Moni spat in a way that told Marc she didn't think friendship had anything to do with it. She stomped up the stairs and back to the bedroom once more, closing the door with a ferocity  that was  near slam territory. 

From inside the bedroom,  Simone sat in front of the door, barricading it with her back for lack of a lock.  She tried to call Miggy back, whispering to herself as she heard it ring and ring before going to voicemail.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

With the phone pressed to her ear, she leaned her head back and hit it hard enough to rattle it on its hinges. She tried to call  once more , but it only half-rang this time before going straight to voicemail. "Fuck!" She roared into the open air.

Though Marc couldn't take it back now ,  and admittedly wouldn't if he could, he didn't care  for  how stressed out she was  acting  over it.  He wondered if he was too hasty. 

Of course not. The guy's an asshole.

"Moni?"  He spoke her name in the form of a question  upon hearing her exclaim the expletive as he stood outside the bedroom door.  The shadow  that was  shown through the crack told him she was directly in front of it to avoid him. 

"Just leave me the hell alone." She replied with a heavy exhale. She was pissed, and it wasn't his right to tell her she shouldn't be. It got under his skin how desperate she sounded to get back in touch with Miguel  and  it reminded him of how she sounded when she yelled his name in the face of Jake after he retreated with no sign of coming back.

The sound of shuffling feet grew further away after Simone expected more  pushback,  but didn't receive any. 

"You're being childish."  She typed  out  a message to Miggy, feeling her stomach lurch as her thumb hovered over the little 'send' button. The fear of only making it worse overtook her and nearly caused her to erase the text, but the sound of his  condescension,  when he repeated her  nickname,  echoed in her brain. 

Simone sent the message without another thought to spare and stared at the bubble until the 'delivered' receipt changed to 'read' with the time following it. The sight made her crave the taste of burning tobacco and that sweet sting in the back of her throat, but going back downstairs surely meant crossing paths with Spector, and she had had her fill of him for the night. 

I shouldn't have come here.   She  thought before tossing  her  phone. The device skated across the floor and disappeared under the  bed  where she heard it hit something solid. Out of curiosity, she got on her hands and knees and retrieved her phone to use as a flashlight, investigating to find a wooden box. 

Is it rude to snoop through dead people's belongings?  She thought to herself.  Nah.

Simone had to reach  pretty  far under to get a good grip on the container to pull it out. The caked dust made her nose itch  and  she questioned the last time a broom touched this portion of the floor, but she was successful in its retrieval.

In her hands was a dark-stained, heavy chest with golden hinges and clasps with the word 'Memories' etched into the face. Simone ran her fingers over the letters as she  questioned opening  it, feeling the rough woodburn. It was beautifully made, likely the work of Mr.  Spector,  himself. The click of the clasps coming undone made it all the more satisfying.

Inside was an unorganized metric ton of old photographs, and as she picked them up and examined them, she realized why they were hidden away. Most of them were of Mrs. Spector, some of her alone, some with her husband, some with Marc, some with Randall, but she was happy in all of them.

Simone realizes she hadn't seen Marc's mom smile  at all  during the last few years she was in Chicago when she saw her at all, which was rare. She had forgotten what it looked like. Mr. Spector put all these away, likely after Randall passed. She closed the box back up but didn't put it back where it came from before climbing  up  into the bed for another night of sparse sleep.

[blackbird-brewster]

Oh noooooooooo, I'm raging about CME again and I'm getting furious all over again. What a fucking shit-show of a reboot. Honestly.

Now I just have to resist the urge to work on my Tebecca re-write. I've got other projects first. But soon. Soon, I'm gonna give them the story they were robbed of in canon.

Good time to remind any new followers: This blog loves Rebecca Wilson unconditionally.