Please Reblog, This Is So Important.

"For years now, Jake had had a soft spot for you." Yess, I love when Jake has a soft spot for the reader 🥺

The ending left me like this: 🤨🧐

do not chastise the dove (2) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

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

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: marc decides to give you a chance. 

word count: 7,060

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, abusive father, pet name (dove), not proofread

Continuar lendo

Me reading:

🥺🥹😭😍😮🥵🤤🥴🥹

do not chastise the dove (6) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

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

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: feelings get weird when you’re in isolation.

word count: 3478

warnings?: 18+ MINONRS DNI, a little angsty, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, a little bit of fingering, a little cockwarming, pet name (dove), not proofread

Continuar lendo

[ YOU ARE A HERO ]

•Tony Stark would want you to become your own legacy.

•Peter Parker would want you to be better. There’s a hero in all of us that keeps us honest, gives us strength, and makes us noble.

•Steve Rogers would want you to stand up for what you believe in. Your opinions matter. Don’t let anyone tell you other wise. 

•Logan would want you to write your own story. You don’t have to be what they made you. You have the power to make your own choices.

•Wade Wilson would want you to be happy. It is okay to laugh. It is okay to smile. Don’t let the world take away your happiness. 

•Bucky Barnes would want you to move forward. Your past does not define you. Your decisions do not determine who you are; your actions do.

•Matt Murdock would want you to know that the important things in life cannot be seen. What is essential is invisible to the eye.

•Jessica Jones would want you to be strong. Never doubt your strength or power.

•Frank Castle would want you to seek out the truth. The truth cannot be long hidden; you must reach out for it.

•Clint Barton would want you to protect the ones you love. The people you care about make life worth living.

•Bruce Banner would want you to learn from your mistakes. It is our mistakes that shape who we are.

•Bruce Wayne would want you to fight for justice. You have the power to make an impact.

•Barry Allen would want you to face your problems; not run away from them.

•Diana Prince would want you to be resilient and empowering. You are the love that will change the world.

No, the one I like is in Hawkins. 

C'moooon. STOP BEING STUPID! KISS. DATE. MARRY. HAVE CHILDREN ALREADY!!

"I have a girlfriend!"

Wait, wait, wait. WHAT?? OMGGGG. 😫😫😫😫 I can't even be angry with Steve because he waited so much for y/n and he deserves someone who can makes him happy the way he deserves. 😭😭😭 I didn't think that read Steve say that the other girl is funny and sweet and that he wants to give it a chance would hurt me so much 😭😭😭

Loved the chapter. Your writing really amazes me 😍😍

timing's a bitch (s.h) - 3/5

spring '86

i almost had you and i almost wish you would've loved me too - almost, bowling for soup (x)

"if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing...timing. but timing is a bitch" - how i met your mother

a.k.a a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

You didn’t come back to Hawkins until Spring. 

It was nothing to do with Steve. Actually, nothing had changed with him. Aside from looking at him and realising that he was single-handedly responsible for the best night of your life, he was still Steve to you. Steve, who you had shaken hands with and agreed that neither of you would ever mention the hook up. Steve, who had insisted you both have a mature conversation about your fight. Steve, who had continued to drive to the city every other fucking weekend since then so you could spend time together as best friends. Just best friends. Nothing else. Even though you shared ice cream at Coney Island and stalked through Battery City at six in the fucking morning to admire the views. You shared a bed and many demons but here you were. Best friends. 

Spring Break came around quicker than you expected. You’d been eager to spend more than a singular weekend at home and actually catch up with your old friends; coffee with Nancy and record shopping with Eddie were all on the agenda, but Steve had insisted on booking you up for most of the week you were home. In some way, hooking up had accidentally brought you closer. All signs of co-dependency that you would rather have ignored than face in couples therapy. Who had the money? 

That night had played on your mind over and over again, as had the other night that you and Steve almost-but-didn’t actually hook-up. That word, you’d found, had come up a lot in recent months: almost. You almost slept with him. You almost took Steve up on his offer of a relationship. You almost begged him to stay the morning after you fucked. So many almosts in the space of just a few months and it was starting to fry your brain. You’d gone fourteen years without ever thinking of Steve as anything more than a friend; fourteen years pitying whichever girl he was trying to woo that week. You’d never anticipated that you might one day be one of those girls. 

It didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would.

Your first day home, as promised to your parents, was spent at their house. It was unpacking and lunch and then catching up on what you’d done since Christmas - though you refrained from telling them who you had done -and then finally, around sun down, they released you from their grip to go and meet your friends at the lake. Steve, as promised, pulled up outside your house at 8:02PM. 

He met you half-way up the garden path, taking you in his embrace.

“Hey, stranger!”

“Hey, Steve,” you laughed. “I only saw you last week-”

“- in New York,” he cut you off, releasing you from his grip. He ran a hand over your hair with a grin. “Seeing you in Hawkins is…different.”

You frowned. “Different how?”

“Just different,” he shrugged. “C’mon, everyone’s already at the lake.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you huffed, following Steve to the car. “My mum was talking my ear off for like three hours about my Aunt Fiona’s operation.”

Steve smiled. “Don’t apologise. I visited her in hospital last week and she’s doing okay.”

“You visited my aunt in hospital?”

“Well…yeah,” he said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve known her basically my entire life.”

“It’s not that,” you replied. “It just looks really bad that I didn’t come from New York earlier to see her-”

“-it’s okay, you’re busy,” he shrugged. “Besides, I will always be Fiona’s favourite. The Golden Child.”

You chattered back and forth until you reached the lake. 

As promised, Nancy was already down there with the gang and, true to her nature, she’d brought everything you could possibly need. A tent, towels, stuff to make s’mores when the sun went down. Evening was slowly creeping in but it was still very warm out - maybe seventy or so degrees - and the water looked beautiful under the pink sunset. Save for a few other groups dotted about the shores, the lake was pretty quiet. That meant that the group had spread out a little. 

Still, that didn’t stop them all piling in your direction as soon as they saw you get out of Steve’s car. Nancy first, and then Robin, and then finally Eddie Munson wrapped his wily arms around you and dragged you over to where they were sat. There was no pointing in screaming and kicking - he was freakishly strong after all - because that would only encourage him even more to dump you straight in the lake. So, you were grateful when he dropped you on the ground and handed you a beer from his cooler. 

“Beers are on me, ladies,” he grinned proudly. “Stole ‘em from my uncle.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Robin muttered. 

“So,” Nancy rolled her eyes at them, pulling the attention to you. “How’s New York? How’s college?”

“It’s amazing!” you grinned. “The city is amazing and college is amazing and…it’s amazing.”

Steve leant over to you, voice lowered. “Say amazing one more time and we might believe you.” 

“I wanna go to a proper one next year when I’m done with this community college bullshit,” Eddie chimed in. “I hear the hook-up culture is amazing at the inner-city ones. Better than it is here, I hope.”

“I mean…yeah, it’s good,” you shrugged. “Depends where you go, though.”

“There must be so many guys in New York,” Nancy said. “Found any nice suitors yet?”

No, the one I like is in Hawkins. 

You glanced over at Steve, but shook your head. “There’s been some here and there but…all that’s boring. Let’s go in the lake before it gets dark!”

With that you, you cleared your throat and stood up. Tossing aside your t-shirt, you kicked off your shoes and ran into the water before anyone could ask any further questions.

The lake was cold, despite the warm air, and you quickly regretted throwing yourself in so quickly. Even though the ice cold water wasn’t any less painful than the conversation you were having back on the shore, you sort of preferred the suffering when it was just a metaphorical sense. Still, you forced yourself to swim further out in an attempt to get away and to warm-up. Two birds, one stone and all that. The lake wasn’t massive but still, you only got half way out before your arms began to ache.

Grabbing onto a buoy, you pulled yourself up to catchy our breath. You’d never been the strongest swimmer but you could have been an Olympian when it came to running away from conversations you didn’t want to have. Only for a little while, though, because Steve - who was an annoyingly quick swimmer - was already on his way over. The other three, it seemed, were stood on a bridge arguing over who was going to go in first. Nancy pushing Eddie in was the last thing you made out before your best friend arrived on the scene. 

“They get too much for you already?”

You smiled a little bit, shaking your head. “No, they just ask a lot of questions.”

“And you ran away because…?”

“I-” you began, but then stopped. “No reason, Steven. I just wanted to get in the water before it got too cold.”

“Y’know I hate when you call me Steven,” he muttered. “That’s not even my legal name-”

“- yeah, but it’s funny when you get mad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. 

“Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” Steve asked. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Your constant changing on the subject, the fact you near enough drowned yourself when Nancy raised the question of boys-”

“- I just wanna enjoy tonight,” you cut him off. “I appreciate you looking out for me but right now, let’s just have fun. Please?”

Steve nodded and gave you a little smile. “Of course - just as long as you promise to tell me what it is later?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“And you know I’ve always got you,” he kept one hand on the buoy, raising the other to give you a light punch on the shoulder. “Provided that this new thing of running into freezing cold water every time you’re inconvenienced doesn’t become a habit, m’kay?”

“Lakes are a very good way of avoiding certain subjects,” you teased. “And you still came in after me.”

“I said it in sixth grade when I saved you from the pool and I’ll say it again,” he said. “I will always come after you.”

That was a promise he had kept: Steve had never not come after you. After every bad date and bad day and bad anything, he’d always been there. He’d come after you on New Years Eve simply just because he missed you and tonight, he’d come after you the second you’d run away. He’d saved you in every way since you slipped and fell in the pool all those years ago. 

You took one hand off the buoy, gently placing it on Steve’s face. His eyes followed your movements, brown irises never leaving your form as you thumb softly stroked his cheek. Any other time, he would have slapped it away and called you cheesy, but right then, he didn’t move. In fact, he was stone cold still as you leant in towards him - not from the cold, and not from shock either. Wasn’t it sort of established that kissing was just a thing you did now?

Steve met you half way, face slowly inching towards yours. 

And then, as if by magic, you both suddenly pulled backwards just before your lips touched. 

“I have a girlfriend!”

“I’m dropping out of college!”

The revelations came at the same time and were met with equal looks of shock on both your faces. You reeled backwards, not bothering to avoid splashing Steve as you did. Eyes wide with surprise and what he thought might have been fury, you pulled yourself to the other side of the buoy to take a moment. Just a moment, even a singular second, to process what the fuck he had just said. 

Steve was in a similar situation; he’d never even considered the idea that you might ever move home so soon. After all the bullshit conversation about things changing and this is what I want, Steve, even the possibility had seemed so far fetched. He would have been overwhelmed with joy at your revelation had you not looked like you were about to stab him. 

“What the fuck?!” you demanded. “When you were going to tell me that?!”

“When were you going to tell me about you dropping out?!”

“I think we should talk about your thing first!” you said. “So I’ll ask again - when you were gonna tell me?” 

“I don’t know!” Steve exclaimed. “Tonight, probably? Maybe tomorrow? Honestly, it was just something I was going to slip into conversation-”

“- we talk every fucking day, Steve! Every day say hey, what’s new? and you NEVER thought to answer the question with I HAVE A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND?!”

“I thought you’d be happy for me!”

“You’re so stupid,” you muttered. “I’m not angry at you for having a girlfriend, I’m angry at you because you didn’t tell me, and also maybe a little angry that we almost just kissed and you didn’t stop me earlier!”

“I forgot?”

“How do you forget?”

Steve sighed. “Imagine the thing you want most in the world. And then imagine finding a thing that makes you almost as happy as the last thing. And then imagine that the first thing, the thing you want most in the world, is trying to kiss you and you temporarily forget about the other thing-”

“- I’m the thing you want most in the world?” you asked softly.

“In any form, yes,” he admitted. “I met this girl a few weeks ago at the arcade. She’s funny and sweet and…I really want to give it a chance, okay? I owe it to myself because I think, to some extent, I might still be recovering a little from your rejection. You are not easy to get over.”

You smiled, giving him a little nod. “So I’m too late to ask you to take a chance on us when I move back?”

“‘Fraid so,” he murmured. “I love being your best friend and I’m so glad that you’re mine, but like I said, getting over you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You’re on my mind 24/7 and after we hooked up, it only got worse and…honestly? I think I might just need to let myself be with someone else for a while. She’s good for me. The change is good.”

“Yeah,” you tried to swallow your pain, forcing a grimace. “Change can be good.”

“Can we talk about your thing now?” he asked. “Are you really dropping out?”

“Mm,” you nodded. “I haven’t been happy for a while. I tried to wait it out but I think I need to come home for a while.”

“And I’ll be here every step of the way, I promise,” Steve said. “C’mon, let’s head back to shore before it gets dark.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right behind you.”

Steve gave you one last smile before letting go of the buoy and swimming away. As soon as he was a few meters out, you released your grip too and let yourself slip underwater. Only for a second, just long enough to open your mouth and let out the world’s biggest yell  of frustration. On and on and on, until your lungs hurt from the presence of screaming and absence of breathing. Then, you re-submerged to the surface and took a deep breath. 

If only you’d been a few weeks earlier.

taglist: @yaskna @karasong @etherealforever234 @i-bitch-you-bitch @aphex2winn @raes-gay @handsupforamiracle @palmtreesx3 @lokiofasgard616 @notahappystan @we-out-here-simping @angel-jz @suniloli @mapleransom-blog @thexplosivegirl @lou-la-lou @eddiemunsonloml

Can't wait to read the next chapters 😍😍

Poor Steve freaked out there for a moment.

Eddieee 🤏🤏

If you do a tag list, can I please be added to it? Thanks! Continue with the great work 😍

Chapter 1: The Beighton Score

Summary: Steve’s new patient is full of surprises.

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: Howdy. Please enjoy part one based on the unfortunate way people with chronic illnesses are treated by the American healthcare system. This is my first Steve fic, so please let me know if I am doing it right! Also: I’m not a Billy Anti. So let’s keep things respectful to all favorites.

1997

The Health Institute of Indiana had been Steve’s home away from home for the last few years. After surviving the upside down, the party had to move on. Steve never had much direction as far as a career was concerned, but he knew he didn’t want to be rewinding video tapes for the rest of his life.

Academically inclined was not a phrase generally used to describe Steve. Math, English, history—none of these subjects ever received higher than a well fought for ‘C’ on his report card. This left him very little hope in the way of a college education, but with some help, he figured out what he wanted to do.

What Steve lacked in book smarts, he made up for in athleticism. So he decided he’d do the one thing he knew how: sports.

More specifically, sports medicine. He thought it would be easy as pie, but like usual, he was wrong. Without Lucas and Dustin’s help with pharmacology and biomechanics, Steve would have never made it through his prerequisite courses. But, by the skin of his teeth, he did. He gave the boys fifty bucks each as a reward with his very first paycheck as a bonafide Physical Therapist Assistant. Dustin said he required more compensation than that, so Steve promised him a shitty Gremlin from his dad’s lot when he turned 21. Steve still had a year before he had to make good on that particular promise.

His dad didn’t like the idea of Steve being an assistant to anyone or anything, and constantly pushed Steve to become a full fledged physical therapist, but Steve was just happy to have gotten this far. He wasn’t going to pursue anything further unless he felt he needed to. He was happy where he was for now.

Well, he wished Robin was here. About as graceful as a newborn foal, she didn’t follow him in his employment—not completely. She was here at the Health Institute as a music therapist. Robin replaced him with Eddie fucking Munson as her new partner in crime while on the clock. The two went floor to floor through the pediatric ward playing music to cheer up the kids. If Steve knew anything about music, he would have followed along with them. Instead, he was put in a makeshift gym that reeks of feet and menthol without his friend to make the time fly by. He missed her, and sometimes Eddie, too.

But it wasn’t all bad. He enjoyed his work quite a bit. The kids who came in were often in really rough shape. Some had to learn how to live without their freshly amputated limb, build dexterity and balance with the new hardware sticking out of their skin that helped straighten the bones in their bowed legs, or trying to help keep what strength they had as Muscular Dystrophy stole their mobility little by little. Steve liked to make them feel better, both physically and emotionally. Usually when they first come in, the kids look like wilted flowers—slumped over, tired, without hope. But after a few sessions of encouragement and sometimes a little tough love, they perked right up and their personalities start to show. In his gym, they’re not sickly and helpless. They’re people who are capable of doing whatever they set their mind to once they learn the tricks that help them do so.

Today would be a light one. He had six patients with only one of them being new. New patients were either scheduled at the first or last appointment of the day to ensure they had enough time to go over the exercises, explain why each one was necessary and what they did for their body, and mostly to answer all the questions parents had, and that was usually enough to have to add an 25th hour to the day to address them all.

Marcy Hargrove, a 12 year old female with unspecified joint instability and inflammation, was due any moment. He received the chart with her detailed evaluation and care plan. It didn’t seem like the kid really needed to be here based on the PT’s evaluation. She had all her limbs, balance was only slightly below normal, no recent surgeries or injury, and did not have any degenerative disease. She seemed like a normal twelve year old.

Steve wiped down the exam table with a bleached rag before gathering the weights and resistance bands he would need when you and Marcy walked into the gym.

“Steve?” you asked with visible shock.

Steve smiled politely, not really sure of the reason behind your bulging eyes and slack jaw. You seemed much too young to be the mother, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions. Last time he misspoke like that he got a smack across the cheek.

“That would be me. Are you sister or Mrs. Hargrove?”

You snorted and sat in the chair by the exam table. “No. Never. It’s Ms. Y/L/N. And this is my daughter Marcy.” You put your hand on the girl’s shoulder and nudged her forward.

Marcy seemed quite normal—short stature with long hair that hid part of her face, which started to break out in angry red zits. Like all his first timers, Marcy seemed very timid. Folded in on herself and fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt, she kept her eyes trained on the floor.

Steve crouched on his knees to try and be within her line of sight. “Hey, Marcy. I’m Steve.” He held out his hand for her to shake, but she didn’t take it. Instead, she looked at his face—not quite meeting his eyes—and gave a small nod.

“Right!” Steve exclaimed, extending back to his full height. “Why don’t you get up here on the table and show me what brings you in.”

Marcy hesitantly did as Steve instructed as you began to rattle off her ailments.

“She’s got problems with her knees, elbows, wrists, ankl—“

“Hold on, hoooooold on,” Steve held his hands up in a time -out T and shook his head. “I would like Marcy to tell me what’s going on. That way I can get a sense on where to start.”

Taken back by his request, you scoffed and made a show of zipping your lips and throwing away the key before crossing your arms over your chest. Marcy, on the other hand, looked as if she was physically trying to bite back a grin.

Steve honestly expected more of a fight from you. Kids were the easy part of the job. Training the parents was the real challenge. Most of the parents he encountered would take up all the air in the room and never let their child speakat all. Steve could understand that the overbearing came from good intentions—the kids were deficient in one way or another and needed an advocate. But here, Steve wanted to teach the kids that even though they were different, they could still be more than sickly and had the ability to speak for themselves. Almost all the parents had a hard time being shushed, often calling him rude and arrogant, but by the third session, the kids were the ones talking so much that the parents were the ones who couldn’t get a word in. It made Steve glow with pride.

He pulled up his rolling stool and took a seat next to the bedside and instructed Marcy to scoot until she could sit flat against the backrest of the table. She did as she was told, and for the first time she was able to meet Steve’s eyes.

“Alright, tell me what’s going on,” Steve prodded.

Marcy chewed the inside of her cheek for a few beats before answering. Stretching her arms to touch her knee caps, she said, “My knees hurt on this side and they pop in and out of place all the time.”

Steve hummed to himself and pinched either side of Marcy’s kneecap before giving it a tentative wiggle.

Marcy immediately flinched away from him with a strangled squeal. “Don’t do that!” she demanded through gritted teeth. The cold glare she was giving him seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

“Sorry, Marcy, but I’ve got to see if your kneecap is where it’s supposed to be. So I’m gonna move it around a little. Try to stay still but if it hurts too much, tell me and I’ll stop, okay? Relax for me.” Steve once again pushed the kneecap to the right, waiting to feel the resistance of the ligament that kept the bone in place. However, the resistance never came, and the small disc of Marcy’s kneecap popped out of place, completely dislocating from its socket.

Steve couldn’t hold back the “Holy shit!” that came bursting from his lips as the patella stayed in an unnatural position. He tried to push it back into place, but Marcy whacked his hands away in a flurry of slaps. He watched in awestruck horror as she pushed the kneecap back into its place with little more than a wince.

Steve met the piercing and unhappy gaze of Marcy Hargrove, her chapped lips twisted into an angry frown. “You’re saying this happens a lot?” he questioned.

“All the time,” she snapped, gently massaging the side of her leg. “My left shoulder and knee more than my right. My right ankle and elbow more than my left, and my jaw.”

“All the time?” Steve repeated in awe.

“All. The. Time,” Marcy huffed. “I don’t have to do anything and things will just pop out. My jaw gets stuck when I try to take too big of a bite. If I run, my ankles give out and I fall, and then my knee buckles. If I fall too hard and try to catch myself, my shoulder will go out, too.” She exhaled sharply and looked over at you for reassurance. You gave her a sad smile and nodded.

Steve flipped through the chart again to see if he missed something. As he skimmed over the notes from Ori, the physical therapist who examined her, he saw no mention of dislocations or subluxations of any of her joints. Confused, Steve tossed the chart towards the other bed and turned back to Marcy.

“Have you ever been in a car accident or injured your knee somehow?” he asked.

Marcy shook her head no. “Never. No accident. I didn’t fall off of a trampoline or anything. It just happens and it really hurts.”

Steve stared into Marcy’s alarmingly blue eyes as if they held the answer. The only thing he could think of was hypermobility, but that just meant she was a little more flexible than the norm and did nothing to explain how easily she could dislocate in multiple places. .

“Okay, I’m going to check something,” Steve announced. “Can you touch your thumb to your forearm?”

Marcy looked at him as if he asked if she could spell her own name. With ease, she pressed her thumb to her forearm, her wrist completely hyperextended.

“On both hands?”

Without blinking, Marcy did the same with her right hand.

“How far can you bend your pinky?”

She laid her hand flat on the table and pulled her pinky back, stretching it far beyond a 90 degree angle. She did the same to her other pinky without Steve asking.

He asked her to stand to her feet, and she did gingerly to avoid further agitating the leg he just injured. When she stood, her knees snapped back, locking and curved like a banana in the wrong direction. He had her hold her arms stretched out at her sides, and noticed that again, her elbows sunk in much farther than they were supposed to, almost creating a fulcrum in the center of her arms. The last test he could think of was to see if Marcy could touch the floor with her palms completely flat. It didn’t come as a shock when she did it without struggle.

What did shock him was when she returned to her full height, Marcy suddenly swayed uneasily and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Steve caught her by the shirt in order to stop her from cracking her skull on the tile.

“Marcy?!” he shouted, watching her clench her eyes shut. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t responsive either. “Kid, are you with me?”

Marcy didn’t acknowledge him at all.

“Is she a diabetic?” he panicked. “I have orange juice in that cabinet there!” He had never seen anything like this before, and it was scaring him. In ten minutes he managed to dislocate her knee and make her pass out. He looked to you for help, but you were already by Marcy’s side.

“She’s not a diabetic and orange juice won’t help. Help me put her on the table,” you instructed.

Steve was thrown off by your calm demeanor. He’s had kids puke before and the parents nearly gave themselves heart attacks over it. How were you not freaking out?

He picked Marcy up and laid her on her belly just as you instructed. She folded her arms under her chest and rested her forehead against the blue vinyl of the table. Marcy’s breathing started to slow and stabilize the longer she laid there.

Professionalism be damned, Steve was scared. “What the hell is going on?” he shrieked.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glowered at him. “If you had let me speak earlier, I could have told you that when she changes positions too fast, she passes out. Sometimes she knocks out cold and sometimes, like now, it’s just dizziness that will turn into syncope if she doesn’t lay down.”

Steve looked at you with utter confusion, not totally understanding what you were saying. “What?”

You rolled your eyes and snorted. “You never were a bright one, were you, King Steve?”

Bewildered, Steve gawked. How in the hell did you know about his high school nickname. He stared at your face intently, trying to place you within the halls of Hawkins High School, but nothing clicked. “Do I know you?”

Again, you scoffed at him. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. I went to Hawkins until junior year. We were in O’Donell’s together? Sixth period? I was dating Billy? Billy Hargrove?”

Without thinking, Steve laughed. “All the girls thought they were dating Billy Har—“ Steve’s eyes widened as he looked over Marcy’s still figure. “—grove. Hargrove.” Steve turned to you and blinked, once again trying to find some familiarity in your face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t conjure up an image of you at all. Not in class, the cafeteria, underneath Billy’s stupid denim clad arm, not even at a par—

“Tina’s Halloween party!” Steve yelled, clapping his hands together as the realization hit him. “You were Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie!”

He remembered that costume in embarrassing detail. Nancy had just ripped him a new one in the bathroom and Steve came storming down the stairs, nearly knocking you over. He caught you by the wrist and was taken back by the exposed expense of your belly in the pink sheer costume. He thought about getting Nancy back. Maybe let her see him make out with Jeanine and show her that she’s the one that’s bullshit, but he didn’t. He tried not to be that guy anymore, and let you go with a half-assed apology.

You were clearly unimpressed at how long it took him to figure out who you were. “That’s all you remember about me?”

“Uh, yeah? I don’t think I saw you ever again,” he answered with a shrug.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed. “My mom moved us here when I got pregnant.”

Suddenly remembering there was a kid in the room, Steve’s eyes snapped back to Marcy. He didn’t exactly know Hargrove on a friendly level, and what Steve did know about him, he didn’t like at all. Max was terrified of him, he beat the shit out of Steve, went after Lucas, disrespected everyone and everything he came across. But even through all of that, Steve couldn’t hate the guy. He sacrificed himself to the Mindflayer and basically saved the entire town, Steve included.

Wordlessly, Steve mouthed, “Did he know you were pregnant?”

Shifting Your weight from one leg to the other, your mouth turned down into a frown. “Yes,” you mouthed back.

“Was he around?” Steve pressed.

You shook your head no, even though the words you said loud enough for Marcy to hear contradicted your movement. “Billy was with us until he came back home for the Fourth of July. I’m sure you heard what happened. So many people died in the fire.”

It took a second for Steve to catch on. He knew damn well Billy was still whoring around until the day he died. He finally understood what you were saying by the look of frustration you were giving him, nodding your head towards Marcy with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Steve gasped. Billy wasn’t there, but Marcy didn’t know that—thinking Billy was only gone because of his untimely death and not because he was, indeed, an asshole. “Yeah, I remember that. Horrible stuff..”

Marcy started to stir, flipping herself over and slowly sitting up. Steve cleared his throat and asked if she was okay.

“Fine,” she answered miserably. “Happens.”

“What do the doctors say about all this?” he questioned.

“They think I’m full of shit!” Marcy spat venomously.

“Marcy—!”

The angry preteen paid no attention to you. “They say they don’t know what it is! They think I’m lying! They say I don’t have enough muscle to support being double jointed because I’m lazy! That I pass out because I just want attention!” She hastily wiped away the tears of frustration from their path down her cheek. “They’re wrong! It’s real and it hurts and I hate it!”

Within a blink, you were sitting on the exam table and holding Marcy into your chest as she cried. You kissed the top of her head and whispered soothing words to her in an attempt to calm her down.

Steve was at a complete loss, unable to really process what was happening right in front of him. For the third time that day, he reviewed Marcy L. Hargrove’s chart for a clue as to what the hell he was supposed to do to help her. There was nothing more detailed than the very vague “unspecified joint instability” which made Steve scoff. Ori’s plan of care was to increase muscle mass through weights, resistance bands, and strengthening exercises. While Steve wasn’t as educated as Ori, he didn’t think fifty repetitions of leg presses were going to cure her with how lax her ligaments were.

Sighing deeply, he went to the cabinets and dug around until he found what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure this was going to work either, but it was worth a shot if it could stop Marcy from crying and feeling unheard.

“Have you tried either of these before?” Steve asked, holding up a roll of multicolored tape and a hinged knee brace.

Marcy pulled her tear stained face from your chest. “I’ve only used ace wraps, but they hurt after a while.”

“Alright, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” Steve began, resuming his spot on his rolling chair. “We were supposed to start with some exercises today, but we’ll settle for the fun stuff first.” He pulled off some sticky adhesive pads from under the table and placed them on both sides of each knee, making Marcy flinch at his touch. “It’s alright,” he reassured her. “I think you’ll like this.”

He untangled the wires from the behemoth of a machine tucked against the wall and plugged the pegs into the channels of the sticky pads. “This is an electrical stimulator. The electric pulses are gonna interrupt the pain signals to your brain. It’s gonna tingle, but it shouldn’t hurt. I usually do this after we finish our sessions, but you’re getting spoiled today, Hargrove.”

God, it felt so fucking weird to say that name again. Billy had been gone for almost ten years now, and Steve only spared him a second thought whenever Max brought it up once in a blue moon. He wondered if she knew about her niece.

As he looked at Marcy, he could see Billy plain as day. The blue eyes, the sharpness in her scowl, the shape of her chin. Never in a million years did Steve except to be treating the spawn of Billy Hargrove. He felt a little guilty for being the one to care for her when Billy couldn’t. Or wouldn’t even if he could by what you were hinting to earlier.

“I’m gonna turn it on now. I can keep raising the intensity until you tell me to stop. Remember, it’s supposed to tingle, not hurt, okay?” Steve turned on the machine and pressed the up button when Marcy nodded in agreement. He kept pressing the up button, waiting for her to tell him to stop. She seemed unphased and kept jerking her thumb up as a signal for him to keep going.

“We’re at 54. You’re sure you're okay?” Steve asked tentatively. He himself couldn’t take more than 62 hertz without crossing over into the threshold of pain.

“Keep going,” Marcy answered encouragingly.

He followed her lead until she told him to stop at 70 hertz. She let out a long sigh of content and smiled at you. “Feels good, mommy.”

You grinned. Genuinely, truly grinned at her. “It must if you’re calling me mommy instead of mom.”

Marcy sneered playfully at you before nestling further down into the exam table. “How long do I get to have this on?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Steve answered, mindlessly spinning around in circles on his rolling stool. “If you want me to turn it up or down just let me know. Then we’ll lather you up with MintFreeze, tape up your joints, and send you on your way.”

If Steve didn’t know any better, he would say Marcy was almost smiling at him as the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You knew my dad?”

Caught off guard by the question, Steve ceased his spinning with a loud stomp.

He wanted to tell her the truth about Billy, but the ghost of a smile on her face killed that train of thought. He quickly spared you a glance, silently asking what he should say to that, and received a wordless “Be Nice.” in return.

Steve didn’t see a reason to be nice, given that there was only one good thing he could say about the guy, but he legally couldn’t do that either.

“We were at school together,” Steve answered honestly. “He was in my gym class and used to beat me in basketball all the time.”

Marcy’s face lit up like a sunbeam. “What else? Were you friends?”

From the look of adoration on the girl’s face, Steve suddenly understood why you were lying to her about Billy’s true nature. The hope and unadulterated love sparkling in her eyes was almost too painful to look at. Billy Hargrove alive was an asshat. But Billy Hargrove’s ghost could be whatever you said he was, and to Marcy, he was a guy who loved her and was only away from her because he wasn’t among the living anymore.

“He had this really, really loud Camaro that he liked to show off. Drove it like a madman. You could hear him coming from two miles away. Two!”

They spent the rest of the time talking about the very limited knowledge Steve had about Billy. He didn’t have much to share, but that didn’t seem to matter to Marcy at all. She absorbed everything he said like her life depended on it. Steve didn’t think Billy being a lifeguard at the pool was particularly interesting, but it sent Marcy down a rabbit hole. “If Dad was a lifeguard, that meant he could swim, maybe even be a really good swimmer. Did he teach lessons? He probably taught little kids how to swim, too! And trained other lifeguards in CPR and stuff!”

Steve’s chest ached as he watched you smile at your daughter. While it was wide, it didn’t quite reach your eyes. There was a sadness there that even he, as emotionally stunted he was, could see.

Steve unhooked Marcy from the machine and asked her to tell him where she hurt. He applied a generous amount of the menthol based lotion to her knees, ankles, and elbows, making sure to be gentle around the spots that made her flinch whenever he ran his hand over it. She let out another happy sigh as the tingling of the cream soaked into her skin.

“Now this is kinetic tape. I’m gonna put it on your knees and elbows,” Steve announced. He cut off long strips of the multicolored tape and peeled the paper to reveal the adhesive. “This is going to act as extra support and help keep things where they’re supposed to be. It’s also been proven that the tape helps reduce swelling, so that could help with your pain, too.”

You watched him stretch the tape over Marcy’s knees, asking where such a thing could be purchased for future use. Steve listed a few special stores he ordered supplies from and recommended keeping the tape on for three days at a time.

“You can keep these on until we meet again on Wednesday,” Steve said, flattening the adhesive to secure Marcy’s elbow. “Ori has you down three times a week for the next six weeks, so save any tape you buy on your own for weekends if you need it.”

Satisfied with his work, Steve patted Marcy’s shoulder as a signal to get off the table. She winced and said that she could feel her shoulder start to give when he did that, and asked far too politely for a Hargrove to not do it again.

“You got it,” Steve agreed. He held up the hinged brace and raised his eyebrows at Marcy. “You should wear this at school or whenever you’re gonna be active just for extra security, but don’t wear it all the time. Braces stabilize, but they also let the muscles rest a little too much, and we’re trying to make you the next Kerri Strug, okay?”

Marcy nodded and carefully climbed off of the table. Steve tried not to react to the sickening crack of her ankles when she made it to the floor.

“Why don’t you go get a sucker or something from Alice at the front desk? I’ll put you on the schedule for Wednesday.”

Marcy smiled at you and took off towards the crochet old woman who snoozed on the job.

Steve turned to you and put his hands on his hips. “Look, if you’re gonna have me lie about what Billy was really like, you need to clue me in on what you’ve been telling her.”

Your eyes narrowed in disgust. “Are you judging me, Harrington?”

“Wha-? No!” Steve answered with exasperation. “I just don’t want to say something to confuse her. Like Max. Does she even know Billy has a sister?”

Clearly bringing up his redheaded friend was the wrong thing to do. Your lips twisted into a vicious scowl. “Billy didn’t have a sister.”

“See!” Steve exclaimed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! If you don’t tell me what to say, I’ll confuse her, and I really don’t think you want that.”

“Or, we could just not talk about him,” you offered rather unhelpfully. “You’re supposed to be working with her, not socializing.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on. You saw how she lit up thinking he was teaching kids how to swim when we both know he was probably drowning them to see if the fat ones could float.”

You peered at him through narrowed eyes with so much intensity that Steve thought you could see his bones like an x-ray.

He sighed in defeat and rubbed his palm over his forehead when you didn’t answer him after a while. “Fine. It’s not my business. We’ll just steer the conversation away from Billy if she asks, alright?”

You rocked onto the balls of your feet. “I get out of work at six tomorrow evening. Meet me at Fuji’s Bistro by 6:15 and we’ll talk,” you said uneasily.

“No, really, it’s fine,” Steve argued, walking towards the open gym door. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

You followed him. “I don’t. But I will.”

He nodded slowly. “Fuji’s. 6:15 tomorrow.”

“If you’re not there by 6:30 I’m bolting and we let it go—Eddie Munson as I live and breathe! It’s a damn Hawkins reunion here today!”

Steve snapped his neck in the direction of your gaze and saw Eddie grin and wave like an idiot at you.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a sideways one armed hug. “Like seeing a ghost!”

Steve felt like a bigger ass for not knowing who you were if even Eddie knew you from looks alone. “You know each other?”

“Pfft. Yeah,” Eddie chortled. “Spent a whole weekend together trying to keep Hargrove from climbing the walls on a bad trip. That kind of war experience creates a lifelong bond, Steve.“

“Like I don’t already know that,” Steve muttered to himself.

Eddie ignored Steve and pressed on. “What brings you to our neck of the woods after all the time?”

You leaned around Eddie to call Marcy over. When the young girl left her spot at the front desk, looking like maybe she was bending all the paper clips into straight lines and rendering them useless, she came to stand by you.

Eddie gasped as he eyed the last Hargrove. “No! Way!” He stared at you with an open mouth. “That’s why you moved!”

Steve felt even more annoyed that Eddie could spot the resemblance without being told when he couldn’t.

“Marcy, this is Eddie, Eddie this is my daughter Marcy,” you introduced them. “Eddie went to school with us.”

“You knew my dad, too?!” she squealed.

“Sure did, kid,” Eddie laughed. “I could tell you some stories, but I’m not sure your mom here would let me live if I did.”

You whacked Eddie in the chest with the back of your hand. “We’ve got to get going. It was really nice seeing you. We should catch up sometime.” You steered Marcy gently by the shoulders towards the lobby exit. “6:15, Harrington. Don’t be late,” you said with a final nod and disappeared into the hall.

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and collapsed onto the lobby couch. Of all the things he thought would happen today, Marcy Hargrove was not one of them.

Agatha: “My husband looks better in the dark”

the husband in question: 

Steven is so cute 🥹 I loved it!

𝘼𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭

𝘈𝘕: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦!! 𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘣𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴! 𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 :)

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2𝘬

“Hey, Dad. Just checking in.” Steven would recognize that voice anywhere. He heard it every morning when you would leave for work, exactly 7:30AM each and every day. You had lived in the flat right across from his for the better part of a year, and he’d never once had the pleasure of hearing that voice directed at him.

“Oh, no, everything’s fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while.” You called your father every morning, asking him about work or his garden or to talk about whatever book you were reading that week. Steven knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he loved hearing your hushed tone, the quiet laughs, as though you were afraid to wake everyone on the floor. He couldn’t help the smile it brought to his face.

One day, he told himself, he’d find the courage to step out of his flat while you were there, to say hello, to strike up a conversation. But each time his hand found the doorknob, you were already in the elevator. He would talk to you, one day. Just not today.

____________________________________________________________________________

You hummed quietly as you got ready for work. You had just taken a shower and threw on a pencil skirt you hadn’t even remembered buying. Even so, it was a nice change of pace from the slacks you typically wore. You searched through your closet for a decent blouse to match, finally opting for a navy blue button down. It was simple, sure, but you had no one to impress.

Gathering your things, you finally stepped out of your flat. Usually, you would give your father a call, but the sight of the man across the hall stopped you in your tracks. 

You had seen him before in passing, while checking the mail or rushing to catch the elevator, but never this close. Calling him stunning would be an understatement. He was taller than you, though not by much. His dark curls fell over his face in a messy pattern, nearly covering his deep brown eyes. You could definitely see yourself getting lost in them. Your eyes trailed down to his lips, plump and parted just slightly in surprise.

After a moment, you realized you had been ogling him. You cleared your throat slightly. “So sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out this early.” You flashed your teeth at him in a wide smile.

You waited for him to respond for a moment, or even to walk off, but there was nothing. He just stood, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Eventually, you raised a brow at him. “Right, no, right. ‘S fine. Fine.” He nodded, curls sweeping over his forehead. 

You eyed him curiously, brows furrowed slightly. “Alright. Well. Good morning.” Your grin lowered into an amused smirk as you walked toward the elevator. You heard the footsteps of the man behind you, moving over to allow him room. “Are you going down?”

The look on his face had you biting back a laugh. “S-Sorry, am I what?” He coughed, like he had just choked on air.

“Going down. In the elevator? To the first floor?” You chuckled. He was quite strange, you thought, but there was something endearing about the man standing beside you.

Once again, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That’s me. Going down.” You watched as he readjusted his bag, rocking back and forth on his feet. He looked nervous, never quite meeting your gaze. You pushed the button for the first floor, watching as the man beside you toyed with the strap of his bag. You weren’t sure what it was, perhaps it was his structured jaw, or the warm brown of his eyes, or the innocence that lurked beneath them. You couldn’t stop staring.

“I’m Steven, by the way.” His quiet voice broke the silence. “Steven with a V, that’s me.” He nodded, almost like he was reassuring himself of the fact. “N-Not that you asked. I just thought… you know, neighbors and all that. Might be useful.” The last few words trailed off. He seemed nervous, you thought, though you couldn’t wrap your head around why. You weren’t particularly frightening, were you?

You chuckled quietly, holding out your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Steven.” You offered your name as he took your hand. You were a bit taken aback by the roughness of his palms. He didn’t strike you as someone who was particularly active, given his physique was hidden behind a heavy jacket.

You broke your grasp on his hand as the elevator dinged, turning your attention to the doors as they opened. You sighed quietly as you stepped out. The way Steven followed you didn’t go unnoticed. You grinned over your shoulder at him. “Do you usually take the bus, Steven? I’m headed that way, maybe we could walk together.”

***********

Steven felt as though his heart would beat out of his chest. Here he was, talking to the girl he had dreamt about for weeks, and she was listening to every word he said like she was actually interested. Steven couldn’t help but stare as she threw her head back in a laugh at… whatever he had said. What did he say? Bollocks, he couldn’t remember.

She stood beside him on the bus, close enough that he could feel her arm bump his each time the vehicle stopped. He was sure the redness in his cheeks was painfully noticeable. All he could focus on was her presence. Her scent enveloped him, honey and vanilla, and he happily drowned in it.

Steven’s heart nearly stopped as the bus came to a screeching halt in front of the national gallery. “Right, well…” He cleared his throat. “This is me.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever sounded more melancholy.

He watched as your lips pulled downward in a soft frown. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss it away. “Oh, that’s a shame. It was lovely meeting you, Steven. We’ll have to do this again some time.” Steven’s chest tightened as you placed your hand over his. He was sure this time that his heart had stopped, that you had killed him with one single touch.

Steven nodded vigorously, mouth dry as he searched his brain for something, anything, to say. “Bye,” was all he could come up with before he scurried off of the bus. The feeling of your skin on his would haunt him the entire day.

____________________________________________________________________________

You were in the middle of preparing dinner for yourself when the knock on your door made you jump out of your skin. You set the stirring spoon down on the stove, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel before opening your door. Steven stood on the other side, eyes widening as you came into view.

You smiled as he lifted a hand in greeting. “Hiya. I, um… I came to see if you maybe wanted… if you weren’t doing anything a-and didn’t have any plans…” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from chuckling. You weren’t wanting to mock him, by any means, but he looked so cute as he twiddled his thumbs and stumbled over his words. “O-Oh, are you already making dinner? Smells lovely.”

You could tell he wanted to ask you out, but you weren’t sure he knew how. “Well, I am already making dinner.” Your heart sank as his gaze dropped to the floor. “But I’ve made quite a bit, and I’m not sure I can eat all of it myself. Would you like to join me?”

Immediately, the nervousness that you suspected was always a part of Steven returned. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I-I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if you were looking for a quiet evening in. I wouldn’t feel right about ruining-”

“Relax.” You chuckled. “You’d hardly be ruining anything. Seriously. Come in.” You stepped aside, allowing him through the threshold of your flat. “It’s not quite ready, but soon enough.” You flashed him a grin before returning to stirring the contents of the pan. “Oh, I should have mentioned. It’s vegan. Hope that’s alright.”

Steven nodded, standing just inside your doorway. You watched as his eyes bounced around your flat. It wasn’t much, really. The rooms all sort of blended together, and your bed sat against the wall in lieu of a sofa. It was comfortable and affordable, which was its biggest appeal. “Vegan, yeah, yeah. ‘S good.” His brows furrowed as his attention settled on you. “Are you vegan, then?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer before he started speaking again. “Nothing wrong with it! I’m vegan, too. Just… curious.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Oh, no. My dad is, though. He made this for me all the time as a kid, and its still my absolute favorite pasta dish. Here, come taste.” You lifted the wooden spoon as you beckoned him over. You smiled patiently as he hesitated, then watched as his lips curled around the end of the spoon. 

Steven broke out into a pleased smile of his own. “That’s amazing! You made that from scratch?”

You giggled, nodding. “Well, everything apart from the actual pasta. I’m not that talented.” You hummed as you set out two bowls, filling both. “Here you are. Dining table’s just behind you.”

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

Steven was convinced you were fake. This was all some strange dream his brain had crafted and any minute he would wake up, still strapped to the coldness of his bed. You were a talented cook, sweet as melted sugar, and were beautiful beyond belief.

Dinner with you had become a nightly routine. Somehow, he found himself in front of your door each and every night. He listened to your tales about work and you listened to his ramblings on ancient Egypt. You didn’t even seem to mind, he thought. Each time he looked at you, which was frequently, you were staring back at him with the same intrigued expression.

Tonight was no different. You sat across from him at your dining table, tracing the edge of your wine glass with the tip of your finger. The small movement had Steven completely entranced. His mind ran wild with thoughts of what your touch on him would be like. Would you be as gentle as you were with the glass? Would your fingers be as soft as they looked? Would you treat him with the same delicacy?

“Steven,” your voice broke him from his reverie. He hummed in response, eyes lifting to yours. His cheeks caught flame, as though he had just been caught in some act. Still, his nerves eased as you flashed a winning smile at him. “Would you like to stay over?” You must have noticed the panicked look in his eyes because you quickly added, “Nothing scary, I swear. I just thought we could watch a movie, lay in bed and veg. You know, good, old fashioned slumber party.” You shrugged, as though your words hadn’t forced an entirely new series of thoughts into his head.

As though he wasn’t imagining feeling your touch on an entirely new section of his skin.

Steven waited for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” Was he shaking? He was sure he was shaking. 

Then you grinned, and Steven wasn’t sure he would be able to focus on anything else. You had the most adorable smile. It was big enough that your eyes closed with the effort, your nose scrunching in response. It was brighter than any star in the sky. “Amazing! I’ll get this all cleaned up, then.

____________________________________________________________________________

The film had only been on for half an hour or so, and Steven could already feel his eyes getting heavy. Something about being in the same bed as you, your scent enveloping him and warmth radiating off of you, brought him some small amount of comfort. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this at ease.

You seemed to notice his exhausted state. Steven nearly jumped out of his skin as you set your hand on top of his. “You can lay down, if you’d like. I won’t be offended if you fall asleep.” The soft giggle that left your lips set him aflame. 

Steven wanted to protest. Truly, he did. As he opened his mouth to speak, a yawn left him instead. He turned to you, a soft pout on his lips. “I’m terrible company, I’m so sorry.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really, don’t worry about it.” You patted your lap twice, and Steven felt all the blood in his body rush anywhere that wasn’t his brain. “Here, come lay down. You deserve the rest.”

Steven wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion fogging his brain or something else, but he hardly hesitated to adjust his figure in the bed, letting his head rest in your lap. You hummed softly, and he was ready to jump up, afraid he’d done something wrong.

As your fingers swept a few curls away from his face, Steven could feel his eyes drifting closed. Every muscle in his body relaxed for what felt like the first time in years.

Steven was only awake long enough to hear you whisper, “I’m so glad to have met you, Steven Grant”, before he finally allowed the darkness of sleep take him. This time, in a realm where nightmares often consumed him, he saw only you.

Steven knew, in whatever capacity, he was glad to have met you, too.

I want to cuddle with Marc and do cafuné 😭😭

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it” with Marc🥺(can we send in more than one lmfao)

pairing: marc spector x reader

warnings: fluff!

a/n: yeees you can send in more if you want ;)) btw i also combined this with an anon's request for a head massage!

Night has fallen over the city. There’s a calmness to the air that makes you softly smile as you wait for your husband to finish washing up. You pass the time by reading a book in bed, ready to turn in for the evening soon. 

The chapter you’re currently on has you completely absorbed that you don’t hear the water in the shower shutting off or notice a shirtless Marc entering the room a short while later. It’s only when he snatches the book out of your grasp and sets it on the nightstand do you finally acknowledge him.

“Babe, I wasn’t done with that,” you huff as Marc crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Although, I guess it could probably wait…”

“Mhmm…” he hums in response, gazing up at you sweetly that it made you forget what you’ve read in the last fifteen minutes. “Hi, baby.”

“Hello to you, too,” you reply as Marc nuzzles his head in your stomach as if you’re a pillow. You feel him breathing in the scent of you, savoring the warmth of your body against his. 

Smiling, you thread your fingers through Marc’s dark, damp hair. “Your hair is really soft after you wash it.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles into you, voice thick with exhaustion. “I used your conditioner.”

You lightly chuckle as you twirl each silky curl around your finger. “I know. I’ve been smelling it for weeks now.”

“It’s a really good conditioner. Smells like strawberries, too.”

“It surely does,” you agree, gently drifting your nails through his locks. You then move your fingertips in circular motions on his scalp before moving to his temples, drawing out soft blissful groans from his parted lips. His breaths come out slow and even against your skin, and it’s quiet and peaceful and relaxing—

Then, Marc starts to snore softly, and you hold back the giggle trying to escape your lips, afraid that it’ll wake him from his slumber. Even though you’re beginning to feel pins and needles from where most of his weight is resting on you, you don’t have the heart to disturb him.

It’s rare seeing Marc this way. The usual deep furrow of his forehead and worry lines creasing his face is all gone, serenity now painting over his features. He melts into your hold; finds safety and comfort in the way a home does. Because that’s what you truly are to him— his home, his everything.

You take it all in, embrace the simple delicateness of this moment and let it etch itself into your memory for an eternity. 

Nights like this remind you of your abundance of love for him. And as you carefully brush Marc’s hair away from his forehead to press a kiss there, you wonder how life could be any more beautiful than this.

✨ send me an ask with a sentence + a character and i’ll write the next five ✨

Reblog if you’ve ever imagined yourself being interviewed with the avengers cast as if you were apart of the movie

I feel like this will get no reblogs because I’ve always felt like I’m the only person who does this haha :)

Perfect

Tattoo your name

A/N: A short idea that came to me while I was getting my first tattoo today, I wrote this in an hour so I apologies in advance for any mistakes.

Pairings: Jake Lockley x fem!reader, Marc Spector x fem!reader, Steven Grant x fem!reader, they all are married

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff and mention of sex

Summary: Y/N came home in pain. 

Words Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

Y/N entered the flat and smiled immediately when she heard footsteps. Marc walked up to her and kissed her cheek. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted, helping her pull off her clothes. Y/N put everything back on the cupboard and caught Marc's face in her hands. “Fucking hell, your hands are cold.” 

Marc moved his head away from her and she only laughed cheerfully. She smiled mischievously and then slipped her hands under his shirt. He immediately flinched, but finally put his arms around her. He pushed hard against her and she unexpectedly moaned quietly in pain. 

“What is it? What's going on?” He became concerned immediately. Y/N waved her hand dismissively and walked deeper into the flat and towards the kitchen to make herself something warm to drink. “Y/N?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” she confessed frankly, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I promise, you'll find out everything, but can I make myself a cup of tea first?”

“No, cariño,” he spoke up, but the change in his voice immediately made her realize that Jake had taken control. Lockley was probably the most stubborn of the three of them. “We can settle this the easy way or the hard way. You know that perfectly well. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the smile never left her face. She turned back to him and leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“Okay, I did something,” she said cheerfully, and Jake furrowed his eyebrows dangerously. 

“Did you kill someone? Because if you need to get rid of a body, you know I'll help you.” 

“What?” She laughed and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. By the way, it's good to know that you would help me cover up a murder.” 

“Anything for you” he replied confidently and walked closer. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her with anticipation. “So? What happened?”

“You have to promise me that none of you will laugh,” she asked immediately. Y/N nervously fiddled with the end of her jumper and her earlier certainty suddenly disappeared somewhere. 

When she was deciding on her little surprise, she forgot to actually analyse whether they would actually like it. 

“Have we ever laughed at you?” Jake replied, and she sent him a meaningful look. She had a slight blush on her face, but this time it wasn't just because of the cold. “Well, okay, sometimes,” he replied, but it didn't convince her. 

Jake saw that something was bothering her, so he immediately approached her. He caught her chin between his fingers and forced her to lift her gaze to him. “I'm just teasing you, cariño. I promise no one will laugh at you.” 

“Our wedding anniversary is coming up in a few days…”

“Five years, I know” he interrupted her with a smile and leaned his forehead against hers. “The best years of our lives.” 

Y/N blushed even more. As long as she had been able to be with them, she had the feeling that she would never be able to get used to their words of love. Especially from Jake's side. 

“As always, you love to interrupt me,” she laughed, and he snorted cheerfully. “This year I wanted to do something special for you and at first I thought it was a great idea, but now I don't know. I mean it's a bit late to change anything because it's happened, but…”

Y/N paused and bit her lower lip. She stared at Jake for a moment until she finally moved aside from him and pulled off her jumper first and then started to roll up her t-shirt. Lockley smiled broadly and his eyes definitely darkened. 

“If you want to have sex, you don’t have to do anything. One word from you and you're writhing beneath us in pleasure.”

“Jake! You're always thinking about only one thing.” 

“Don't be so innocent. We know perfectly well that you do too.” 

Y/N laughed nervously and then pulled her shirt up again. She only stopped the material after her shoulder, so that her breast was visible, and especially her left side right next to it. It was there that the plastic wrap could be seen, and underneath it a fresh tattoo. The drawing depicted a crescent moon, and around it were three letters - J, M and S - as a tribute to the names of each alter. Underneath the tattoo was also the short, ornate inscription loved by the moon.

“I wanted to have some part of you always with me,” she explained, but was unable to look at their initial reaction. “I know I could have arranged it with some pendant or other jewellery, but I wanted something permanent that I would never lose and would be with me for the rest of my life.” 

Jake didn't respond, and when she looked at him, she saw that he was looking at her with his mouth open. His posture changed slightly and she recognised immediately that control had been taken over by Steven, who was looking at her with silent adoration and love. 

“Love,” he whispered quietly, and in that one word she felt that he had given away all the emotions he felt for her. “This is…” 

However, Steven was not able to construct an entire sentence correctly. 

“Do you like it?” She asked with a smile. 

“Yes!” He replied straight away. “But love, that must have hurt. Why?”

“For you I would endure any kind of pain” Y/N smiled and caught his face in her hands. “Besides, it didn't hurt that much. I have to be careful for now, because the tattoo has to heal, but I wanted to do it. So you can consider it a little present for our anniversary.” 

“Wow! It's beautiful. I really like it.” 

“And what do Jake and Marc think of it?”

“Jake is honestly stunned, but hornier than ever” Y/N laughed and felt Steven put his hands on her hips. He ran one upwards closer to the tattoos, but so as not to touch this and cause her more pain. “And Marc... I'm not entirely sure about that because he went completely silent.” 

Y/N moved nervously and felt a tentative tightening in her stomach. She knew that none of them had any objections to body adornment. Besides, they had always told her that she wasn't their property and she had the only right to decide what she did with her body (except maybe what went on in the bedroom, because there they mostly took control). 

“Do you think he'll want to talk to me about it now?” She asked uncertainty. Early on in their relationship, they had all agreed that the key to making it all work out was shared communication. Their relationship was so complicated that if it hadn't been for the conversation, they would have split up so long ago. Meanwhile, they had seven years of relationship together including five of being married. 

Steven stroked her cheek and then his eyes rolled back and Marc was standing in front of her again. Y/N grabbed his hand and looked at him fearfully, afraid that what she was about to hear would be nothing pleasant. However, for a long moment Marc was unable to speak. All he did was stare at her with an unconcerned gaze, and, as always, she found it difficult to read the emotion on his face. She thought that over time she would be able to figure out his poker face, but over the years she had found out that it wasn't that easy. 

“Marc? What do you think about that?” 

“Y/N, I…” he started and lowered his gaze down. When he looked at her again, she saw tears shining in his eyes. “I don't know what to say. No one has ever done something like this for me.” 

“Oh, Marc” Y/N smiled and felt the tears gather under her eyelids herself. She caught his face in her hands and, gently running her thumbs over his cheeks, placed a brief but emotional kiss on his lips. Later, their foreheads rested against each other. “I love you, darling. All of you and it is the greatest happiness that I have you in my life. That you chose me to accompany you in all the good and bad moments.” 

“I love you, baby. And I like what you've done. But it makes me wonder why the moon?” 

“Because in the middle of the night, it's the brightest light that guides us. You, Jake and Steven are my light in the middle of the night,” she explained. “Also, you're Moon Knight. It all fits together.” 

Marc laughed happily, tilting his head back. Y/N looked at him as if enchanted, for she had the feeling that there was no more beautiful sound in the world than his laughter. She smiled and then drew his face to hers and brought their lips together again, this time in a stronger and more confident kiss. She entwined her fingers in his hair and gently tugged at the ends of the longer strands, which immediately caused him to give a quiet murmur of satisfaction. Marc slipped his hands under her t-shirt and she immediately felt him exploring her back thoroughly, occasionally hooking his hands on her belly until he finally stopped his hands on her breasts. 

She moaned in pleasure as he squeezed them tightly, but unexpectedly he froze into immobility. He moved his head away from her, and when she looked at his characteristically squinted eyebrows, she knew it was Jake again. 

“Did you show your sweet tits to some asshole?” He asked seriously and she parried merrily and quickly stole another kiss from his lips “That's not funny. They belong only to us and to no one else. No one has the right to even think about them, let alone see them.” 

“Don't worry,” she assured him quickly, running her fingers over his neck and nape. That always put all three of them at ease. “It was the girl who tattooed me. I know exactly how possessive you all are.” 

“It still doesn't change the fact that someone saw something that belongs to us. I think you need to be reminded of that.” 

“I think it's a perfect idea, Mr Lockley.” 

Jake smiled mischievously and then grabbed her and lifted her up. Y/N laughed briefly, but was quickly silenced when she felt hot kisses on her lips.