#marc spector/gn!reader

[soft-girl-musings]

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for teasing, domestic fluff, author does not condone touching people's hair without permission, no use of Y/N

wc: 1,078

fic summary: Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

Marc Spector does not startle easily. So when he nearly falls from his perch beside the bathtub, you’re surprised you have to steady him.

“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Marc picks up the towel and small cardboard box he’d dropped because of your outburst.

Shifting your focus, you zero in on the latter: hair dye, just as you’d suspected.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m away?” You tut, cradling his temples and shaking your head. "What happened to you?" 

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

"-I wasn't talking to you," you sigh, resting your forehead against the crown of his head. "How long has he been treating you like this, you poor things?"

“Ha-ha.”

You release his face to study it. "But seriously, how long have you been dying your hair?”

 “... For a couple of years. Started to turn gray from stress a while back, and I guess it never stopped.” He fidgets with the loose edge of the container.. “You really never noticed?”

You take the box and set it beside him. “You hid it well.”

You’re not judging him for dying his hair, it’s just… surprising. Marc’s never been one to fuss over his appearance, as far as you could tell. When you first saw his closet, you’d half expected it to be lined with the same outfit ten times, like in a cartoon. Most days, “dressing up” means adding a jacket or blazer.

 “Since when do you care? About your hair, I mean.�� 

He shrugs. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, honey.”

“Neither am I.” You kiss the bridge of his nose. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Goes double for me, don’t you forget it.” Leaning in, Marc tries for another kiss, but you duck and grab the hair dye before turning away with a mischievous smirk.

“Gotta keep you honest,” you wink and dart out of the room before he can catch you.

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

"Might fall out if you keep playing with it like that.”

You’d been standing behind Steven for the past couple of minutes, meaning to check in on his preparations for his morning tour but had gotten distracted. Very distracted.

“Sorry,” you sigh, your fingers leaving the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. “It’s just… hm.”

Your conversation with Marc must have taken root: over the past few weeks, you’ve noticed the hair that had been dangerously close to another round of boxed dye abuse steadily turning lighter. A subtle blend of silver strands mix with the darker curls that frame his face, making his hair shine a bit brighter in the light of the desk lamp.

“It’s like starlight,” you finally state, leaning in to rest your head against his.

Steven sputters and puts his book aside. “Starli- that’s a bit much, yeah?” His brow furrows, but there’s no denying the smile tugging at his lips.

“Not if it’s true,” you contend. You adjust the reading glasses that had slid down his face and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “It’s a good look on you.”

There’s no denying the heat rising to his cheeks when you talk. “This– you don’t–” Steven caves and sets his book down, hopelessly flustered. “Either go away or get over here. Cheeky.”

He makes room for you to settle into his lap, which you giddily accept. Your hands sink back into his curls and he shivers as you scratch his scalp.

“Did I ever tell you I had a thing for my professor, once upon a time?”

“Oh my days–” 

You’re not sure who kisses who, but you’re certainly not complaining. Neither is he.

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

You check your phone for the fifth time this evening. They’ve been gone for what feels like months (it’s been weeks) handling some business in California, of all places. Marc said he’d call when they were on their way home, meaning no news is sad news.

You’re pulled from your pity party by a knock on the door. It’s late, and you’ve already signed for your dinner delivery. Slowly, you get up and grab the bat you keep by the entrance (with a sock slipped over the end per Jake’s advice).

The knocking continues, getting more urgent. You take a deep breath and look through the peephole. A large brown eye stares back and you yelp, dropping your bat. The unmistakable boom of Jake’s belly laughter mocks you from behind the door.

“You’re hilarious,” you groan, standing the bat back on its head and unlocking the door.

You’re ready to lay into him when you open the door, but you’re stunned into silence. Jake’s smile is highlighted by silvery stubble, dusted with black. He adjusts his cap as his dark eyebrows raise in mock surprise.

“What, no hello?”

You tear your eyes away from his jaw. “Hm? Oh. Hi.” You open the door wider for him to step in. “Marc said you’d call first.”

“No fun in that, is there? Besides, you looked ready to handle some trouble.” he shrugs off his coat as you lock the door behind him.

“Trouble, yes. Nuisance, debatable.” You sidle up to him and drape your arms around his waist. You place a kiss on his cheek; it’d be impossible for him to not notice how you let yours drag along the rough line of his jaw.

“I missed you too,” he laughs again. “But man, is it warm in here…”

He tosses his cap and it takes everything in him to not lose it when your eyes widen at the sight of his hair, now more gray than black and curls longer than you’ve seen them before. You’re too enraptured to be embarrassed at your obvious loss for words.

“Your hair…” You reach up to touch it, but Jake grabs your wrist.

“Tsk, tsk, you threaten and barely say a word to me, then go straight for the goods without so much as a ‘please’? What happened to decorum, hm?”

“You fucking tease,” you huff. “...please?”

“Well, since you asked nicely–” Jake can barely finish his thought before your lips are on his, your hand tangled in his starlit hair as soon as he lets go.

“I take it we should cancel Marc’s haircut?” he murmurs as you catch your breath.

Your free hand grazes the scruff on his cheek and you grin. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

_____________________

A/N: marvel you cowards give us gray-haired moon knight

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Steven acting all smug with Marc and Jake because the other night it accidentally escaped your lips that he was the best sex you ever had.

👀👀👀👀👀 just a thought you can do with it as you please

I AM WHEEZING AT THIS!!

The Title

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven is apparently the best.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, innuendo, sex mentions, bickering, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 315

“Shut the fuck up Steven.” Marc practically growls

Steven smiles at his reflection, raising his eyebrows as he brushes his hair. “I didn’t say anything, mate.” 

“You were going to.” 

Steven scoffs, but can’t hide how his grin widens. “I wasn’t.” 

“You fucking were.” 

“Being a bit sore today, aren’t we, Marc? Yes.” Steven taps the mirror with the end of his brush. 

“You’re the one fucking swanning about and rubbing it in!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re being paranoid. Silly even.” Steven beams at him, definitely rubbing it in. 

“Steven-”

“Best sex they’ve ever had, you know?” He gives Marc a little cheeky glance, waiting until Marc’s eyebrow furrows in a scowl before he mouths ‘best’ again. 

“Fuck off.”

Steven chuckles. 

“No, literally,” Marc sticks his middle fingers up. “Fuck off.”

“Best.”

“Fuck-”

“As in, better than anyone else.”

“-Off.”

“Which includes you.”

“Fuck-”

The sound of you coming in the front door echoes loudly, snapping at Marc’s and Steven’s attention. 

Steven goes to call out, and at the same moment, Marc tries to force himself to the front. For a brief moment, they both shove at each other, speaking rapidly so that neither can really hear what the other is saying. 

In the hasty chaos, Jake silently slips forward. He fronts so gently that neither Steven nor Marc notices until they hear his voice coming from their lips. 

“Hello, amor,” he smiles as he greets you, kissing your cheek. 

“Hello, Jake.” You beam, giggling as he helps you out of your jacket and lightly kisses your neck. “What’s got into you?” 

“Well, Steven has been regaling us with tales of last night.” 

You pause, heat running along your skin. “I…” 

“Apparently, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” He gives you a cheeky smile and raises his eyebrow. “I was wondering if you’d care to give me a shot at the title?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[mylittledelulucorner]

Unspoken Words - Marc Spector

Marc Spector x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Marc doesn't know how to express his feelings

Word count: 755

A/N: This is my first Moon Knight / Marc Spector fic

Warnings: English is not my first, second or third language, so sorry for any mistakes

Marc went through a lot, so when he met you, he decided that maybe, just maybe this time everything would work out for him, a chance to breathe, to live and not just survive. You had been together for a while now, but he never uttered the three words you always hoped to hear. He had been hurt by the world and by those who should’ve cared for him. He built a massive brick wall around his heart, walls that you are trying to tear down each day that passes. You gave him grace, you gave him time and space.

Today is beach day. No thoughts, no worries. Just you, your lover and the gentle waves of the sea. The beach was quiet, almost empty. What else would you expect on a Tuesday morning? You had it all to yourselves, a little piece of heaven just for you two.

As peaceful as the scenery looked, Marc didn’t quite know what to do with himself. The truth was, he had never experienced simple days like this. Days where there is no tension, no anxiety. Days where the demons of the past weren’t consuming his thoughts.

You made him want to open up, but he was still learning how. The relationship was in his opinion still new, still fragile. How much of himself could he show you? How much of his darkness would you accept? His mind clouded with insecurity until he looked up and saw you walking toward him, two ice creams in hand.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he shot back, but the look on his face betrayed him.

You gave him a knowing look. “Marc, I can literally see the gears turning. Love, relax. We are at the beach, let the sea carry your worries away. Let’s just enjoy today, okay?”

He exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. Took his ice cream and sat down beside you on the towel. Quietly watching the waves, breathing, simply existing in the now, in the present. Slowly, his head found its way onto your lap, and sleep took over. One of your hands held a book, while the other gently caressed his soft curls.

Finally, he rests, you thought.

The day passes by quietly. When the sun dipped low, you woke him up, gathered your things and headed back toward town.

“I’m sorry,” Marc murmured.

“For what?”

“Well… we came for a fun day at the beach and I ended up falling asleep. I should’ve stayed awa-”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss.

“We came to the beach to relax and for the first time in forever, you actually did. That’s all that matters to me.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

As you walked back home, you passed a little flower shop. Marc paused. “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing inside the small shop. When he came back, he was holding a small bouquet of red tulips.

“Marc? What’s the meaning of this?” you asked smiling.

He hesitantly handed them to you. “I might not say it out loud just yet, but I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Eum… well yeah…you can google the meaning of it.”

He stood there, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Watching how your fingers tapped the screen of your phone. Seeing the page load made his heart pound even faster in his chest. What if you are not impressed? What if this is not the right way to tell you… Stealing quick glances, waiting and hoping…

*Google search: Meaning of red tulips:

Result: Passion, love -> Their deep red hues evoke feelings of passion, love, and lust — making them an especially popular choice for new, younger couples. They can also mean “believe me” or “my feelings are true.” So, the next time you're trying to woo the person you admire, send them an alluring bouquet of red tulips.*

Your smile softened. There it is, the smile that calms the storm within him. The one that chases the cloudy days away.

“Love, come here,” you whispered, pulling him into the deepest hug you could give.

He might not have uttered the three words you longed to hear or translated his love into tangible, spoken words yet, but they were there. Lingering on the tip of his tongue and when he’s ready, you know he will repeat them every single day. You are his, and he loves you dearly.

_____________________

Posted this in this fun tag game and decided to post it as a stand alone fiction. Hope you enjoyed it!

@quiet-night-sky-writers-blog

[fun-k-board]

MARVEL RIVALS - Christmas time!!

Characters included: MAGNETO, SCARLET WITCH, LOKI, STORM, MOON KNIGHT.

Note(s): This includes a lot of headcanons because I'm not sure the full lore and characterisation of things like the X-Men, what version of Moon Knight they're going for, what have you. So, I'm doing it on what I prefer from various comic runs, movies, shows, etc over the years. Some are a little lackluster because of this.

MAX EISENHARDT / ERIK LEHNSHERR / MAGNETO

Erik personally doesn't celebrate Christmas, and that's due to the religious connotations of the holiday even if it's become less Christianity based over the years. But, he doesn't mind the excuse to give you a gift and spend time with his family if you do celebrate. Even if, at this point, the 'family' is just you and him.

He won't put up decorations if you're spending Christmas at his house or if you share a house, he won't wrap the gift, he won't have Christmas themed dinners or anything, but he'll always accept your gifts and give you one back if, as mentioned before, you happen to celebrate. If you don't, he most likely won't give you a gift or mention it as the holiday's existence will simply slip his mind. More of an afterthought than anything else.

Of course plenty of mutants on Krakoa celebrate, and plenty don't, and plenty have a weird in-between where they participate but don't really celebrate. So, it's not entirely out of sight out of mind. In all honesty, Erik is just happy mutants get a chance to have any holidays alive and happy with one another at all.

If you prefer to go all out for Christmas, as in all the things he wouldn't do that I mentioned before, Erik wouldn't mind. All he asks is that you leave both his room and the public parts of your home alone. Assuming you share a room, then he plainly asks that you don't decorate it, but if you must, to keep it at a minimum.

If you don't share a house and he's simply spending holiday time at your house then he politely comments on the decorations, maybe giving a bit of backhanded and passive aggressive sass if he thinks they're ugly. But, it's your home. It's not his place to say what goes and what doesn't.

Speaking of that situation, if you have family staying at your house for Christmas / you live with family, he's very awkward, and I don't believe he'd go at all if nobody in the house is a mutant. Erik doesn't doubt they know of him, it'd be strange if they didn't, so I think you two would give him a secret identity for your families safety. He'd be very silent and still during opening presents, with a dash of silent judgment.

I don't think he'd outright refuse to help you with decorations, he'd do that old man thing where he stares at you with a huffed look on his face until you ask him for help, in which case he mainly uses his powers if there's metal involved. Sometimes he'll say something like 'really my dear, did you truly need help or is this an excuse to spend time with me?' But hey, he's pretty tall so if you happen to not be tall, he's a great help!

I think he'd gift you something like jewellery, metal, but also with other things like, well, jewels. He wants something simple, but that shows heartfelt meaning. It's covered in intricate patterns, perhaps ones that reflect your place of origin to show that he loves you, even where you were born.

Erik's eyes tilt up, following your lingering gaze. He nearly lets out a laugh at the mistletoe hanging above you, but it comes out as a small huff. 'what a silly tradition.' he'd hum, before leaning close and giving your lips the most unsatisfactory peck he's ever given them. At your look, whether outwardly dissatisfied or with only a hint of disappointment in your eyes, he'll act like it wasn't purposeful, sighing as if this is some chore as he leans in for another. But you know him well, you know that hidden loving look in his eyes.

WANDA DJANGO MAXIMOFF / SCARLET WITCH

Wanda, for the reasons in Magneto's section, also doesn't celebrate Christmas. Although, I don't see her continuing on any holidays in general or family traditions, her broken connection to her father most likely created a fractured connection to anything associated with him. She just doesn't seem like a 'holiday' person to me.

However, if you two either happen to share a house or she's at yours in time for the holidays, she doesn't mind helping you put up decorations or helping you cook for Christmas. If you have family, she's doing a mix of doing what she can to impress them whilst refusing to do anything that makes her go past her comfort zone.

I absolutely think she's a good cook, and if she doesn't unintentionally hijack the kitchen, she will help whoever's in there. Whether that be you or your family. Any attempts to tell her that 'you're a guest' and 'you should be relaxing' are met with a wave of the hand and a small, awkward smile. As much as she does just love to help your family assuming they're sweet and accepting of her, she also is very peculiar with food. I think Wanda would make her own side dish just in case.

Honestly, I think she would invite Pietro and Lorna if you and them are close enough? She knows Christmas is a family event, and since that's her family, why not invite them, right? She hopes you see them as your family too, because they've spent too long without something stable. Even though deep down she does have some love for her father, although maybe not as deep down as she thinks, she doesn't want to and would never contact him for Christmas with you and especially not with your family.

Wanda loves to do that thing where she hugs you from behind, absolutely astounded that she has you. She's astounded that you love her, and that you appreciate her so much. Not many do, and she can't help but find so much comfort in that. I think she'd do it whenever she gets emotional but doesn't want to show it, a hug from behind to tell you that she's hurting, but you're helping her heal.

Wanda doesn't like the feeling she gets when opening presents in front of your family, especially if they've given her something. It's usually something they've got an idea from after asking you, so maybe a candle or something handmade, and as much as she appreciates and even loves the gifts she's given it's still a weird almost performance she needs to put on. The feeling isn't as uncomfortable as it is just a bit awkward.

I think she'd only give you a gift if she knows you're getting her one, through communication. She won't ask what it is or peek through your mind to find out, she doesn't really care what the gift is exactly, and she trusts you enough to gift her something she likes and would find useful. I think Wanda does love little mutual acts of affection, so she wouldn't miss out on an opportunity to give you something.

Her eyes flick up before yours do, and Wanda can't help but give you a small chuckle, the most amused look in her eyes that you've ever seen. 'oh? Isn't this convenient.' she purrs, her hand outstretches, capturing your own in a comforting embrace. She whispers, 'I can't believe I got so lucky, my love. You're wonderful.' before giving you a short but comfortable and loving kiss.

LOKI LAUFEYSON

Loki thinks your celebration is more than a little silly. I mean, who cares about this guy who gives presents to kids? Why not the adults? He does far more in a day than some snotty brat has done in their entire lifetime!

Oh- he's not real? Well, then where are his presents, mortal?!

He will say that even if you're not a mortal by the way. It's his personal way of saying 'you're under me and I'm perfect compared to you' without actually saying it.

He absolutely refuses to stay at your house for Christmas if you have family over, because he knows that he will cause mischief and you will get angry at him for it and he would rather you gift him your devotion than be under your wrath. Don't tell him he could kill you easily, he knows that, and he will if you keep pittering on. (He won't). Unless, perhaps, you don't have the best relationship with your family. Then he can probably convince you that it's fair game.

Loki will not invite Thor or Hela, don't even entertain the idea. He will leave.

I think he'd give you a dagger of some kind for a present, even if you're a regular Joe and don't have a use for weapons, you can always display it. And have an engraved stand that tells you your mighty lover, Loki, God of Mischief and notoriously handsome trickster, had gifted you it for your silly holiday.

He will not help you cook or put up decorations unless you literally beg him to, even then he can mainly do some pieces of meat at least decently well. It'd be best to have him do some parts of the cooking while you're preoccupied with the other. He tends to only help with the decorations he knows you'll struggle with, although he won't tell you that outright it's pretty obvious. Especially if you're shorter, less strong than he is, or have any kind of physical disability that could cause trouble with putting up decorations.

Will puff up his chest and grin when you compliment his efforts to help and or compliment his gift. He loudly proclaims that of course he'll give you something so beautiful, because he's beautiful and he very clearly has taste. But, you simply couldn't ignore the way his gaze softened a little when you were speaking. The way you could feel his eyes looking you up and down with adoration.

Loki raises a brow at your expectant look, slowly following your gaze until it reaches the mistletoe. Oh, you've explained this to him, the strange little kissing ritual you midgardians have. His expression twists into something different, his eyes sparkling with mirth, but he doesn't go right in for the kiss. Instead, he holds your chin in his hand, pulling you close until you can breathe in each other's air. 'what a silly mortal.' he mutters, making you tilt your head so he can kiss you. He doesn't intend it to be a small peck either, his kiss is as deep and passionate as you allow it to be.

ORORO MUNROE / STORM

Ororo finds amusement in your tradition, the decorations, the gifts, it makes her heart warm. It's a time for family, and she reminisces over the X-Men's past Christmas times. It's never dull, lots of mutations being used when they're not supposed to, frequent arguments and drama, it was perfect. Not to mention, always the best meals from Gambit and Rogue. She adores the look on the younger mutants faces when they receive something special.

And, in her personal opinion, she's the best gift giver in the X-Mansion.

Ororo would absolutely help make meals, and she jokes that she's not as good at it as Gambit or Rogue are, but she'll try her best. She then proceeds to make one of the best meals you've ever had. It's perfectly flavoured, the texture is just to your liking, it's absolutely delightful. And if you're spending time with family? Expect her to go all out.

Your family will adore her, no doubt about that. No matter what the situation is, whether you and Ororo share a house, you live on your own, you live with family, or you and your family visit the X-Mansion for the holidays. She charms them with her sternness and discipline, her strength unimaginable, but her warmth and friendliness is what truly seals the deal in their adoration for her.

Unwrapping presents tends to be a long process for the X-Mansion. There's a lot of people there, so it's normal to open them all at once and try to get it through as quickly as possible, cleaning as you go with trash bags at the ready to throw in any waste. With a whole family, or perhaps just you in the mix, it can be a bit awkward and even a little overstimulating if you're not acquainted with the X-Men. She's never felt the need to pretend, so she assures you that you don't need to be happy the entire evening because Logan isn't and everybody still loves him, you'll be fine.

The one thing Ororo loves to do most is listen to you. Whether it be generally your life, what you had for breakfast, a story from your childhood, it creates something easy where she can bounce off the conversation with something of her own. It continues the conversation until either of you end it, and causes the conversation to flourish where it would've died otherwise. She uses this to find out what present you'll want for Christmas, so it'll heavily depend on what you actually want.

It honestly doesn't matter what you get her, she'll be appreciative all the same. She knows just how hard it can be to afford things, to create from seemingly nothing, no matter how much effort you put in. To her, the fact you gave her a gift at all is something meaningful within itself. So, even if it's some poorly made easily breakable bracelet, she will wear it with pride.

When she finds herself under the mistletoe with you, her lips curl into the most amused smile and she'll use her powers to twirl the leaves, a teasing hint to her true might. 'was this your plan all along, my dear?' she'll ask, leaning closer, waiting for you to capture her lips. If you take too long, however, she'll raise a brow and mutter a teasing 'don't test my patience' before kissing you herself.

MARC SPECTOR / MOON KNIGHT

Marc is, well, he's not the most jolly guy, and it's been years since he's even bothered to tune into Christmas time when it happens. It's not like he has anybody to spend it with. He would much rather you spend Christmas with Steven or Jake, they're better at that kind of thing, and they're a lot more friendly, buddy buddy with you.

Of course Marc loves you, and if you really want to spend time with him for Christmas he will do it, but he isn't going to act differently for you. He will be the same edgy, broody man. He will absolutely say something like 'the Christmas lights are too bright, it ruins my outfit.' in the gruffest voice you've heard.

I think he'd be a good cook. Nothing that blows you away, but you can definitely eat enough to get full and be satisfied with it. Jake probably leaves some recipes around, and if it does end up becoming a disaster he can always take over and salvage the situation before the house burns down.

He doesn't mind the house being decorated, assuming it's either his or your shared one, as long as it's not like so many Christmas lights it's hard to see or so many decorations you get whacked on the face with them whenever you want to walk somewhere. He'd also help if you asked him to, but I don't think Marc would just hop on and help. He'd assume you have it all covered.

I don't think there are many universes where Marc would consider meeting and visiting your family for Christmas, especially not the Marvel Rivals one. If you're really insistent and passionate about it, he supposes he can. But don't expect him to stay for long if they're not accepting of you or him, he doesn't have any tolerance for that. Plus, he doesn't want to hear Khonshu complaining in his ear that he isn't committing murder while he's around your family, they don't get him or his Identity as Moon Knight like you do.

'Mistletoe, huh?' he muses, his voice would sound almost annoyed to anybody else, but you know him better than anybody else. Or, at least most other people. He crosses his arms as you look up and realise, clearly having forgotten at some point. With his expression a strange mix between a firm sternness and amusement, he pats his lips with his pointer finger twice. 'you put it up, you initiate.'

[marksbear2]

Hi, ive been rewatching moon knight, i did forget how fine is oscar isaac. So, can i request sub!bottom!moon boys x dom!top! reader. I just love them so much i want to care of them. Smut Headcanons?

🐼

Jake, Marc and Steven x top male reader

The smallest mention of Oscar Issac’s name make’s me rip my clothes off. Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy, 🐼.

⚠️Warnings. Dom/ top male reader, bottoms are the moon boys, edging, blowjobs, orgasm torture. Riding. And I might add more later on today!! And etc⚠️

— Both Jake and Marc watch Steven trying to take your cock as best he could. They’ll laugh and playfully mock him for struggling.

— All three of them being on their knees sucking and licking around your cock.

— Steven and Marc walking seeing you and Jake sharing a cigarette while fucking.

— Marc and Jake sitting on your left and right both sucking and nipping at your individual nipples while Steven is riding and bouncing on your cock.

— Having all three of them to edge themselves all, having their holes prepped and ready waiting for your turn.

— If any of the two get you annoyed or upset you’ll fuck the only one who didn’t irritate the hell out of you.

— You three making out very often.

— They’ll sit and take turns getting fucked by you. Marc will sometimes get impatient and would want your cock already.

— One of Jake’s kinks are getting chocked so whenever you were choking him while fucking deep inside him. Marc was watching and he seemed to be curious about it. And the next time you two had alone time he brought up wanting to try out being choked.

— For aftercare, you mostly clean and take care of them but sometimes the boys take individual turns to get the towels or to clean the sheets.

— Leaving hickeys on their bodies in unique places across their bodies leaving each boy with a different pattern of hickey’s.

— Fingering two of the boys while the other none is either sucking and deepthroating your cock or jerking it off while making out with you.

— They have this unspoken competition like rivalry to see who can pleasure you the best, or who can make you cum faster.

— They all are very needy with different wants and desires. You having to remember which individual boy likes or doesn’t like. For example gets really embarrassed and shy by dirty talk, but for Marc it turns him on and he wants to hear you talk rough and dirty to him.

— Sending videos to the main group chat of an individual for example like Steven. Spending a video of the Brit getting completely dicked down.

— Steven finding it so hot seeing you pass Jake a cigarette using your mouths. But when you try it with Steven he ends up coughing and wheezing.

— While they’ll tease and mock Steven they’ll talk him through it. Telling him what to do and guide him how to pleasure you and how to take it.

— But for Jake and Marc they’ll degrade each other.

— Fucking them after a long day. For Steven it’ll be for work while Marc would be fighting and just overall having a rough week while Jake just wants to be fucked merciless.

— Having alone time with an individual boy is common.

— All of you laying on the bed together just in the comfortable silence of your guys breathing in the room.

— Steven and Marc walking in seeing you Jake getting ready for some very kinky sex.

— Being on the one with any of the boys while your at work/ being busy hearing his heavy breathing and the muffled wet noises through the other side of the phone.

THE END

[deceasedream69]

Steven

Steven Grant was a great sweet guy, who always made your life better, he knew everything you like, and everything you don't, he will buy you flowers every week, appearing at your doorstep no matter the weather, or the time, he will never fail to keep his tradition. Sometimes he'd even add a coffee or dessert he knew you liked.

So imagine your surprise the week he didn't appear with flowers at your doorstep. You began to fill your mind with different thoughts. Was he tired of you? Did he have something more important this week, but he didn't tell me... He would've let me know if he did, did something happened to him...

I waited, texting to his phone the whole week, it was Sunday night already, and nothing.

Whatever, if this is the way he's breaking up with me... What can I do about it.

I've been completely ghosted.

I even went everyday to knock on his door, and nothing, so I guess I just didn't take the hint.

I was already preparing myself to sleep. It's honestly weird, like, as someone who has powers but has to keep them hidden, I never really had someone who liked me if it wasn't for them, that's why I moved away from all that life, and Steven... I never got to tell him, I was scared he'll take advantage of it or leave me, but I didn't even have to mention them for it to happen.

Whatever

I plopped into my bed, my lights were all off already, I turned to my side, unable to sleep from all the stress and thoughts.

Until I could.

Steven's pov

- Marc, come on, it's been enough time, don't we all get our time with the body.

He shut me completely out, trying not to hear my voice not even inside our own mind. He just kept saying "the mission is not over yet"

He never had this big of a mission before, it's been a week already and I haven't got the chance to visit y/n, she must be worried or thinking the worst, that's why I begged and plead just yo give me the body a couple hours and then it could be all his, but no, he didn't even sleep the whole week, that's how important the mission was.

But he promised we were already at the last part of it, I just had to be a little more patient.

I stayed at the back of Marc's thoughts, not even paying attention to all the bloody mess he did everytime he had a mission. I don't like that lifestyle, but I know it's what keeps us alive.

I was in my own mind when we arrived at a place I recognized too much.

Marc smoothly climbed a ladder and we found ourselves outside a window, he carefully cut a piece for us to come through it.

That's when I recognized the apartment.

- what- what- what are we... What? - maybe I was seeing wrong, everything was dark, my mind was just playing tricks cause I was thinking so much about y/n. And obviously, Marc didn't answer.

- Marc!

He swiftly walked through the apartment like he knew it, but he never stopped to look for something, he went straight to the main bedroom.

- Marc! For god's sake what are we doing here, you have to listen to me, is this y/n's apartment?!

No answer.

He got into the room, standing next to a sleeping body right in front of him.

I could recognize that hair anywhere.

- Marc-

--------

Steven was screaming inside Marc for an answer, and answer Marc wasn't going to give. Konshu was there just waiting for Marc to do the job, he got his daggers out and ready.

Steven tried with all his strength to gain at least some control to stop him, but he couldn't.

Marc took the dagger and placed it right at the back of the sleeping figure, took a deep breath and shove it all in.

Steven's screams just went louder, making Marc let go of the knife and cover his ears.

That's when the figure got up quickly, turning to look at the source of pain and quickly turning a lamp on.

Moon knight quickly walked back, trying to hide in the shadows. The girl took the knife out, her eyes glowing red when she turned to look at the figure in the corner of her room.

Steven didn't know about that, he was in shock too.

- I told you, only one chance, you blew it - Konshu scolded Marc in the other corner of the room.

- it's gonna take you more than that - y/n replied. Marc's eyes went wide, and Konshu's too, she could hear him?

She got up from the bed, levitating with two glowing red hands.

- now, I want to know what are you doing in my house, interrupting my sleep and trying to kill me.

She grabbed Konshu and threw him out the window, then pulled moon knight, taking him from the throat.

With her powers trying to take the mask off her assassin. But the second his eyes were uncovered... She could recognize those eyes, dropping him to the floor and then coming down herself.

- Steven... You... I thought you were different.

Marc laughed, shaking his head "no" while standing up slowly. Her eyes were red, but now from tears forming, and already falling to her cheeks, she backed away slowly, trying to process everything, trying to understand that the man she thought was good, was honest, was the love of her life... Wasn't any different from any other person she met before. Of course, how could she be so naive, how could she let her guard down, for stupid romantic gestures... That he was faking this whole time.

She grabbed her stomach and fell to the ground, sick of what she just discovered. Her face scrunched by anger and sadness. All this building up in her hands.

Moon knight stood up, covering his face completely again and trying to run away. But it was too late, she stood up, everything glowing red around them, he got trapped into this ball of power, and suddenly they were in a field she could control, his mind.

Everything was white, Marc turned around to see where she went, but he was alone, alone in this room full of emptiness.

- you're a sad person, Marc.

He turned around and there she was, they both started to walk in a circle, slowly.

He felt naked, he felt powerless, no suit here, just him completely exposed, and she was in full control.

Outside, they're bodies were floating in a ball of red power, power that konshu tried to break, but couldn't, she was too powerful, and now Marc was on his own.

Inside, they kept walking in circles, Marc was waiting for her to do something, anything, preferably just kill him. And she was trying to study him, get a better understanding.

- I thought Steven was the same - she stood straight - as every other person that has entered my life, but I knew deep down he wasn't, he's a good man, tainted by your shadow.

- he's a good man?! He's not even a man, I'm the owner of this system, he's just a guest.

- no, Marc, he's your good side, you're just the bottled up version of your worst self, but I can change that, I can give you the happiness Konshu promised you

- I'm not a traitor

- I'm not saying you are, but you surely aren't with him out of loyalty, I can smell the fear, the fear that you have for him, he's mean to you, making you overwork nonstop, not even a tinge of recognition for what you've done for him. You keep giving and giving, and you know... It'll never stop.

Marc ran his hands from his face to his hair, he hated being so vulnerable, so exposed, he couldn't hide anywhere here.

- you don't need to hide anymore, I care about Steven, and I want to protect both of you just to ensure he'll be fine.

He saw the honesty in her eyes, turning slowly to his side to reveal Steven behind him.

- Steven!

You both ran and hugged. He kissed her forehead, making her lift her head to then kiss her lips.

- I'm not like any of those people, I swear, darling, I- I always tried to give you the best, and I will continue to do so if you let me - he said holding both of her hands - I promise, cause you deserve that and more

- Steven... You deserve so much better than this life - she turned to look at Marc - you both do, I promise.

Marc just stood there, facing away from them while Steven and y/n filled each other with care and love.

It all started to fade black, the levitating bodies started to drop slowly to the ground. Waking up with a strange feeling.

- Marc! Get up, he have to go

Marc opened his eyes slowly, his mind still adjusting to what happened.

Konshu was standing above him, waiting for him to get up to just run away.

- come on - Konshu tried to hurry him before the girl got up, offering him a hand to stand up faster. Marc took his hand, and then pushed it away.

- go away

- I don't think you know what you're saying, Marc

- I'm saying go away, It'll never me enough for you, and I'm done

- this is not the deal, and you know it.

- I don't give a fuck about the deal, deal's over.

- that's not how things work, Marc - he said practically killing Marc slowly - if the deal's off you know what that means.

Marc groaned in pain, tears forming in his eyes but there was also a look of peace in knowing it was all coming to an end.

- hands off - she pushed Konshu out the window again, Marc fell and gasped for air, she pulled him near her, grabbing his face and shooting red to his temple, making Marc close his eyes.

Then he opened them again.

- oh... Bullocks, why am I out for this moment? - Steven said nervously

She grabbed his face and kissed him.

- don't worry, Stevie, I'm here to protect you, he can't do anything to you anymore.

Konshu laughed harshly as he floated outside the apartment.

- you really think you can defeat a God?

She kissed Steven's forehead and got up. Steven got up next to her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it for reassurance.

- I'm pretty sure we can defeat you - and with that, Steven's suit appeared.

[ivystoryweaver]

Still With You

A With You standalone sequel - can be read on its own

"Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink."

"...but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands."

based on this nonnie and this @purple-amaranthe request

Pairing: Marc, Steven, Jake x gn!reader || Word Count: 3.2k

Content: they're all trying hard ok, domestic life, self worth probs, mentions of alcoholism/drinking, angst-ish, domestic fluff, moon dads-to-be, romance, sensual content, but nothing explicit

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MARC

10:58 A.M.

Florescent lights flickered out an annoying buzz in the otherwise silent waiting room.

Thumbing through an outdated parenting magazine, you intermittently pointed out cute toys or outfits to your husband, who would grant you a curt nod each time.

Realizing you likely weren't helping the situation, you set the magazine aside and covered his hand with your own, if only to stop his fidgeting. "Almost time."

Marc squeezed your hand, grateful for your grounding touch. "You're sure we're not late?"

"We're right on time. It's still not even 11:00."

"Okay," he huffed out, his knee bouncing of its own accord. The cheap vinyl of his chair squeaked as he shifted, attempting to externally calm and internal storm.

You smiled at him sympathetically, remembering how far he'd come to even get to this point.

Just yesterday, he paced the floor half the evening, pushing his hands tormentedly through his curls over and over.

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"They'll never approve me," he lamented. "I'm not...they'll think I'm not ready."

"Baby, we've taken all the classes. We've passed the home inspection." You nodded around at your new bedroom, eyes landing on the salvaged and restored night table he presented to you a while back.

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Marc had taken on several projects since then, turning one bedroom of your new place into a workshop and the other into a nursery.

"Do you think she'll like girl colors?" He asked, flipping through paint swatches at the local hardware store.

"Uhh, what are 'girl colors'?" You smirked.

He swatted your nose with his finger. "I'm trying to pick out what color to paint that vintage toy chest I restored for Akeyla."

Your heart melted at the sound of your future daughter's name, not to mention the fact that Marc had put together nearly every piece in her nursery himself.

When he wasn't on a mission for Khonshu, he liked to keep his hands busy. Sometimes that meant his hands were all over you for "stress relief." Otherwise, he would drive around town in the old truck he bought, looking for unwanted and discarded furniture to fix up, repurpose for the house, or sell.

He still labeled himself unemployed, but he sold a few refurbished pieces a month, which more than paid for the hobby, his truck insurance and even left some spending money.

Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink.

"Maybe like...turquoise?" He prodded, tracing his fingers over a row of various blues and greens. When you neglected to answer what you assumed was a rhetorical question, he assumed it was a no.

"Or purple? Sweetheart?" The full intensity of the Marc Spector stare fell on you as he waited for the verdict.

"Sorry." You smiled at him, nodding toward the turquoise swatches. "Trust your instincts. You're always right." Leaning closer, you kissed him adoringly on the cheek.

"That's not what you said about the yellow bench," he chuckled, selecting a swatch labeled "Ebbtide".

"That's pretty, I like it."

Marc needed to hear your words. After a couple years of marriage, you knew this now more than ever. Whether telling him what you needed in bed, or giving your seal of approval for his newest restoration project, he valued your opinion more than anything and it meant so much to him to hear you voice it.

Akeyla's nursery had been ready for weeks. The vintage toy chest was the final touch. Marc found a rocking chair, a book case that Steven requested, and chest of drawers to restore. You drew the line at a creaky old toddler bed. Steven went with you to pick that out, brand new.

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It was finally here. Today was the day you would meet your little girl.

You weren't ready to take her home yet - that was longer process - but you would meet her and start visits. Very soon, she would enter your home through the foster system, and after a while, she would be yours forever, by adoption.

"What if they change their minds?" Marc urgently whispered, there in the waiting room, gripping your hand so tightly it hurt. "They'll want to put her somewhere without someone - "

"Marc," you reminded him, "they know all about us. It's okay."

"I know, but - what if they find out about Khon- "

"Hi, are you the Spectors?" a kindly voice interrupted Marc's fussing.

A smartly dressed young woman holding a tablet adjusted her glasses and smiled.

"Yes," you quickly answered, standing up and pulling Marc with you. "That's us. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She shook each of your hands. "Ready to meet her?"

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"What if I..." Marc whispered against your temple, holding you against him in bed the night before. "I want to be there to meet her, but if I'm not, it isn't because I..." He shifted restlessly, trying to explain.

"You know what I always say," you gently reminded him, raking one hand through the curls resting above his ear.

"It's our body," he repeated your words back to you. "Whoever's there is there. It's not a problem."

"Exactly," you remind him. "I know you want to meet Akeyla as much as Steven, Jake and I do. I know that."

"I do," he breathlessly repeated, and you realized it might be a long night, when he added, "I just don't want to scare her. What if she doesn't understand, you know, how we are?"

"Baby, come here," You pulled his head down to your chest, wrapping him up tightly, pressing soothing kisses along his hairline. He wasn't voicing any fears he hadn't already talked through a dozen times with you, his sponsor and his therapist, not to mention his alters.

"Sorry," he murmured against the smooth column of your neck. Shifting pleading eyes up to yours, he relaxed, as your soft smile soothed him. "I'm so nervous."

"I am too," you sympathized. "Believe me, Marc. I mean, we're meeting our daughter. I'm just as nervous as you are."

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Marc tangled his fingers with yours as you shuffled down the hallway toward the room that would change your lives forever.

The woman in front of you, who had identified herself as Elsie, paused before opening the door. "Ready?"

You glanced at your husband.

Sometimes he was so adorably terrified you were certain he forgot it was actually his idea to adopt.

Granting you a nod, he swallowed thickly. "Ready."

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STEVEN

9:22 P.M.

"So tense, mon cœur," your husband breathed against your neck, trailing tempting kisses over your damp skin. Strong forearms flexed against your abdomen, pulling your back closer to the slick heat of his bare chest.

Thick thighs surrounded you as you rested in your garden tub together, soaking in a bubble bath. Your head dropped to his shoulder as he whispered sensual French words on your ear. Long fingers traced down the shape of your abdomen, naughtily slipping between your legs.

"Steven, this is supposed to be a relaxing bath. Oh shit - " You moaned as touched you right where you craved. His other hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to his for a wet, hungry kiss. You went boneless in his embrace, completely at his mercy.

You should have known sweet Steven would seduce you during your "relaxing bath."

Later that evening, he sat beside you on the sofa, each of you working on a puzzle book from the "couch basket", enjoying a quiet evening in your new home.

“Got those pictures you wanted, love,” he commented. “The garden ones. Found another book too.”

You smiled adoringly at him, so excited to see them framed and hanging in Akeyla’s room. You had asked him to track down pictures of gardens from all over the world. Since Marc was in charge of furniture, Steven helped you pick out some unique decor.

He acquired a couple of first edition classic Children’s books as well. But you reminded him they would have to be stored way up high, away from the grabby hands of a toddler.

So he curated a brilliant little collection of toddler friendly board books for the lower shelves, as well as children’s books for her to grow into.

Steven had finished his bachelor's degree and was now working on a Masters of Anthropology. Already fluent in French, he was also studying Egyptian Arabic in an unofficial capacity, and toying with the idea of studying archaeology or linguistics as well. He just loved to learn and could never get enough.

After all was said and done, he'd probably end up teaching, which was a perfect idea because, in front of the right crowd, he was absolutely enthralling when he was passionate about something.

He still worked at the university library and thanked you almost daily for making most of the money for this little family, while he studied, and he, Jake and Marc worked part-time jobs.

You reminded Steven that their three part time jobs kind of added up to one job - plus as a student, you would give him a pass.

"Besides, you're going to be a sexy professor in another year or two, so I really see no downside," you'd tease him.

“Can’t wait to read to her every night,” Steven mused, pulling your mind back to the present.

Setting your puzzle book down, you snuggled up close to his side, wrapping your arms around his. “She’s always going to remember us reading to her. You’re going to be such a good dad, Steven.”

His throat bobbed. “You really think so?”

“I do. I know it.”

Gripping your hand almost as tightly as Marc had earlier in the afternoon, his head rested against yours. "Can't wait to meet her. Tell me again how she looked."

You warmly chuckled, nuzzling into his sleeve. "You've seen her picture a hundred times."

"I know, but...tell me again. What does her voice sound like?"

So you told Steven all about meeting your daughter for the first time, that afternoon, with Marc.

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JAKE

4:07 A.M.

The jangling of keys in the deadbolt dragged you from a foggy half slumber you'd managed in Steven's chair by the front door.

Jake had finally made it home after another night driving people around, and serving as Khonshu's fist of vengeance.

When he spotted you there, looking so adorably uncomfortable, he pulled his cap off his head and tossed it onto the entry way table with his keys.

Kneeling down in front of you, he smiled warmly. "What are you doing up, mi vida?"

"Mmm," you mumbled, relief surging through you at the sight of him. Leaning forward in the chair, you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." He held you for an indulgent moment before gently placing you back into the chair and standing to remove his jacket and gloves. Before you could whine out a protest, he helped you up just long enough to sit in the chair and pull you back down onto his lap.

Tucking you against his body, he reached for his jacket and draped it over you like a blanket. Jake knew you well enough. If he told you to go to bed, you would bristle and defy him, but if he held you like this, you would fall asleep in sixty seconds flat. Win win.

Your body settled against his and your breathing slowed, but you blinked up at him pleadingly. “Where have you been?”

Frowning in confusion, he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, underneath the jacket. “You know where, cariño.”

Looping your fingers around his tie, you coaxed his temping lips to yours for a lingering kiss. Jake shifted underneath you, sighing against your mouth as you held him there for an indulgent moment.

“I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

“I see you almost every night,” he volleyed back.

“You know what I mean.” Realizing you were tired and there was an edge in your tone, you touched your forehead to his. “I know you guys don’t exactly have a schedule. I just wanted to tell you about Akeyla.”

His eyes flickered away as his jaw clenched. You and Marc met your daughter yesterday. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

For a while, Jake had to be asked or reminded to participate in regular, daily things. Sometimes, you would go a week, only seeing him in your room at night, so you would ask him to eat dinner with you or take you out somewhere.

You started late night dates with Jake, just to build memories with him, in his world. It was never really your scene before, but you'd been to bars, out dancing, to late movies and your favorite - midnight bowling.

In fact, you all adjusted your schedules to fit the boys' night owl tendencies. You moved to second shift and Steven didn't take any more morning classes. You all slept in as late as possible, ate brunch or lunch and then got started on your day.

So it was not unheard of for you to wait up for Jake, but sleeping in Steven's chair until 4 A.M. was a bit unusual.

"I was busy tonight," he cryptically remarked, which tended to indicate he was probably doing Khonshu's bidding. "I wasn't trying to stay away."

"I'm not mad," you sleepily assured him, laying your head down on his shoulder. "I can't wait for you to meet her. And with her coming home soon, everything could change.”

"Change how?"

"Well for starters, I doubt a toddler will let us sleep in as late as we do. She'll probably climb all over our heads at like 5:30."

Jake was uncharacteristically quiet and you were half asleep.

"I'm not mad," you drowsily repeated, curling into him, murmuring "missed you" as you drifted off.

He rocked you gently, his heart burning with how he'd possibly disappointed you. Now that you were finally asleep, he didn't dare wake you, so he laid his head on the back of the chair, hoping to join you in slumber.

Jake had seen the horrors of this world, and of worlds adjacent. Terrifying, supernatural threats had met the crunch of his fist, and his vengeance.

But the thought of caring for a little girl shook him to his core, and in a different way than it did Marc.

Marc was always worried about his alcoholism, his past, the fact that they were a system, but he wanted Akeyla so badly. The whole thing was his idea in the first place. Steven was ready to show this kid the world, both metaphorically and literally.

Jake loved you, and he would love his child. Beyond that, he had no idea what to do, or how to contribute. The urge to not take time away from Marc or Steven was so strong it almost felt like instinct.

You, Steven and Marc had lovingly and rather expertly crafted her a dream-worthy nursery, but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands.

Unwilling to disturb you, he pondered how he could prove to you he was still in this with you.

Reaching into his the pocket of his jacket, which still covered the top half of your body, he pulled out his phone. Opening up a picture of Akeyla, he smiled, studying her cute, chubby cheeks, dark, round eyes and her tightly wound curls.

Tracing the shape of her face with his thumb, he wondered what he could possibly give his sweet angel, besides protection.

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Sleep came for a short while, but as the sun rose, so did you. Jake was asleep but his phone was playing a long playlist of videos. Hoping to not disturb him, you carefully removed the phone from his hand.

The video showed a young girl getting her hair styled. In fact the whole playlist was of dads styling their daughter's textured hair, including what products to try, and cute and useful clips, combs and the right brushes to help.

Chewing on you lip for a moment, you tapped on the search bar and saw that he had typed in, 'how to care for textured hair'.

Just the notion of Jake pulling off his gloves and styling your little girl's hair made your heart explode with love.

"Are these for Akeyla?" You whispered mainly to yourself, shifting your weight from one of his thighs to the other.

Jake groaned as circulation returned to that leg, making it tingle as he awakened from a very short nap.

"Sorry," you softly laughed. "I should let you get up, shouldn't I?"

The corner of Jake's mouth curled, but he nodded.

You helped him climb out of the chair and the two of you washed up. Jake slid into Steven's pajama pants and the two of you went to bed.

Already drifting back to sleep, Jake presented his small offering to you. Something to let you know he was all in.

"I think I could learn how to fix Akeyla's hair," he drowsily murmured, eyes already closed. "Watched a bunch of videos about it."

He couldn't build things and he wasn't book smart and he wasn't you. He wasn't even supposed to have a family. But you loved him so hard that he couldn't resist you and now he was about to gain everything he never knew he wanted.

Maybe the brutality of his hands could be used to do this tender thing for his daughter.

"I love you so much," you whispered, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

"Te amo," he whispered.

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ONE WEEK LATER…

“What’s your favorite color, Akeyla?” Marc asked on your next visit to with your soon-to-be-daughter. He sat beside her, adorably hunched with her at a child-sized table, coloring and drawing.

“Do you like red?” He asked, holding up a few choices of crayon.

“Fav-wit color wed!” She agreed, reaching for a yellow.

“Ohhh, you like yellow.” He winked at you, thinking of the yellow bench at home. “I like it too.”

“Yeh-yow,” Akeyla repeated, scribbling determinedly. Swinging her legs back and forth she repeated, “Yeh-yow, yeh-yow.”

“That’s right. We have a big yellow bench at home that I painted. We can sit on it together, just you and me. Is that okay?”

Akeyla seemed to ignore him, reaching over his arm to scribble yellow on his coloring sheet. Once she had saturated the paper to her satisfaction, she laughed out, amused with herself. “Yeh-yow bench. Okay, Dad-eee.”

Her nose scrunched as she showed him a silly toddler grin. Your heart completely melted as you watched them together.

“This is a good drawing,” Marc complimented, pointing to his paper she drew on. “Can I have it?”

Reaching out with chubby fingers, Akeyla scrunched the paper in her tiny grip, presenting it to Marc. “Here go. You hab it.”

“I can keep it?” He nodded hopefully. “Can I have a hug?”

She threw her arms around his neck. Lifting her up from the table, Marc offered one arm out to you and invited you into to this little family embrace.

Akeyla touched her forehead to yours, already a signature move for the two of you. Then she scrunched her nose and showed off that silly grin again.

"Want me to take your picture?" You offered. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a few selfies of you and Marc with Akeyla.

As soon as you were finished, she reached for your phone. "I watch Bluey."

And so it began.

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Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration || Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[cosmickid-inmotion]

Who the Hell is Moon Knight?

Marc Spector x gn!reader

Masterlist : Tag list

Summary: You were going to kill him.

Roommates to lovers.

Warnings: Blood, wounded Marc, roommate bickering

Written for the @the-oscar-isaac-collective zine which is free for download here!!

***

You were going to kill him. You were going to FUCKING KILL HIM. How many goddamn times had you had to tell Marc to turn off the kitchen light! Ideally, he wouldn’t turn it on at ALL at night because it shone directly into your room, but if he had to, absolutely HAD TOO, why couldn’t he turn it off when he was done? 

You didn’t know what he did coming home so late, or leaving so late for that matter and it wasn’t exactly your business, and you understood at a certain point you had to deal with some inconveniences when you lived with another person. So, sure, getting woken up when he turned the light on at 3 AM because he needs a sandwich after a long night of whoring himself, illegal cage fights, or snorting coke off some guy’s dick, that was something you’d put up with. For Marc, you put up with a lot, and he put up with a lot from you.

You never did the dishes because soggy food made you vomit. Marc never cooked because all he knew how to make were latkes. You asked him if he could maybe transfer that skill into frying literally anything else because you could not look at another fucking latke, he said, in pure Marc Spector poetry, “no.”

So sure, between your obsessive clipping your nails while watching TV like a nervous habit, the way your feet smelled absolutely rancid after a 12 hour shift or how you left the cabinet doors of the apartment you shared open, there were plenty of things you both did to annoy each other. But the kitchen light was about to be your 13th reason.

“MARC!” You tumble out of bed, not even bothering to put on your slippers, and burst open the door to your bedroom to go find him in his room, turn on his light and then walk away. 

But then you see him, grey tee shirt, grey hoodie and black sweats passed out of the floor. Yelling his name again, you run to his side and are relieved to find him breathing and responsive, muttering your name.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call an ambulance.”

But he shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t! Look at all this blood!” Perhaps freaking him out was not the best response, but when you see the man you lo- your roommate and friend passed out in blood you tend to panic.

He’s quiet, but speaking clearly now as he rouses. “I’ll heal, but I’d never financially recover from a hospital bill.” To your complete shock, he laughs. It’s dry and stilted, but a laugh. “Khonshu doesn’t pay for health insurance.”

You didn’t know who or what a Khonshu was, but you weren’t letting him die.

“Fuck off, we’ll pay for it the old American way.”

“A Gofundme and then letting it go to collections?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. ‘Murica. If you think you can do it, can we get you to my car? Save you 2000 in an ambulance at least.”

Infuriatingly, he shakes his head. “Look.” Marc lifts up his shirt, showing the spot where his blood clearly was coming out of all cleared up. Not even scratch, not even a scar.

You stare in shock. “Marc, what the fuck-”

“Ever heard of Spider-man?”

“EvEr HeArD Of- OF COURSE I KNOW WHO SPIDER-MAN IS! Marc, what is happening?”

Groaning, (and with your help) he sits up against the off-white oven. “I can explain better in the morning, but I’m an avatar for the Egyption god, Khonshu. That’s where I sneak off at night. Thieves, would-be rapists, I run the gambit. Something something… protector of travelers in the night, or whatever. The suit allows for healing, but, still lost a fuck ton of blood, which is why I passed out.”

This was honestly a lot to process but not unheard of. You lived in New York, so the avengers, DareDevil, Spider-Man, all that were constantly on the news.

“Okay… so, which guy are you?”

He’s looking better and better, color coming back into his pretty face. “Moon Knight.”

A pause as you rack your brain. “Who the hell is that?”

All the pain and disorientation on his face disappeared for annoyance. “You don’t know who Moon Knight is? C’mon!”

“Sorry! Is he the guy on the motorcycle?” You stand up. It was gonna be a long night, so you pressed start on the shitty and loud coffee pot.

Marc’s expression is aghast at this point. Agog, even. “That’s Ghost Rider! Come on, it’s in his name!” then he mumbles to himself. “Oh my fucking God, Robbie is gonna have a melt down…” Then back to you. “No, I’m the all white guy with the hood-” Marc watches your eyes go wide at the imagery. “NO NOT THAT THAT! Ah, Jesus fuck.” Then, in front of your very eyes, Marc turns into the Moon Knight gear.

“Holy shit! You're that guy!”

Back to normal clothing. “Yeah, I’m ‘that guy’. I can’t fuck’n believe you know who DareDevil is but not me. Honestly, kinda offensive.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Drink up.” You hand Marc a coffee, black, and sit down with yours (lots of cream and sugar). “So, my roommate’s a hero, huh?”

With that, Marc looks down at his cup, a funny look on his face you couldn’t decipher. “Wouldn’t say that. I’m tryna make my life a net positive though.” Still tired, he rests his head on your shoulder as he sips from the “DA BEARS!!” Mug you got for him. He didn’t even watch football, you just thought it was ugly and funny.

You knew he was thinking of his brother. You didn’t tell him it wasn’t his fault, he knew where you stood. Instead, you pat his thigh. “Pretty brave of you. I dunno if I’d wanna get stabbed all the time, even if I heal.”

Marc shrugged. “Eh, no big deal.” Because that was classic Marc. Nothing that ever happened to him was a big deal. His mom? No big deal. You grow frustrated with him, guiding his face up  to look at you, he’s precariously close to your face. “Marc, you passed out on our kitchen floor because you were out protecting people and you don’t even get health insurance for it. Not even dental. You’re a better man than you’ll ever know.”

It wasn’t the right time, probably. Marc’s face had blood on it, your neighbor pounded on the wall telling you to shut up, and the kitchen light was flickering enough to about give you a seizure, but you didn’t care. He’d scared you so badly, this idiot of a man you loved, and right now laying here with those droopy puppy dog eyes, you just needed him to know.

“I love you”

And to your absolute shock, it came out of his pretty pretty lips, not yours.

Shit, you hoped his lip wasn’t cut anymore because you dive right in, knocking your cup of coffee on the floor in your race to finally devour his stupid fucking face.

***

thanks for reading friends!!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ivystoryreader @miraclesabound

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

            (Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

            Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

            Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

            And then people turned to dust.

            Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

            Through (Y/N)’s torso.

            (Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

            And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

            (Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

            And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

            This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

            “It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

            (Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

            “I can feel your pain.”

            This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

            She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

            (Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

            The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

            “Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

            “I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

            “I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

            (Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

            “Yes.”

l

2023…

            (Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

            (Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

            After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

            (Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

            And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

            (Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

            (Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

            Which means it’ll be in his office.

            (Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

            The door was unlocked.

            Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

            Shick!

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

            “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

            “Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

            (Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

            “I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

            (Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

            “I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

            At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

            “You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

            “I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

            “That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

            “You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

            Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

            (Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

            “You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

            “I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

            Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

            “A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

            “Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

            “Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

            “They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

            “Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

            (Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

            If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

l

2025…

            “(Y/N).”

            The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

            “I have an important job for you.”

            (Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

            “I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

            “Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

            “You are.”

            (Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

            “You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

            Ammit.

            Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

            And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Sprinkles

about this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC SPECTOR (aka the love of my life). gn!reader. contents: a birthday fic, illusions to abuse/mental health issues, canon typical mentions of DID, internal angst, fluff, kissing. wc: 738. not beta’d.

moonknight masterlist

Marc wakes to the smell of something distinctly sweet, though he isn’t sure what it is. He is hit with that deep sadness that has rooted itself inside of him since he was just a little boy. Another year has passed— he’s made another trip around the sun. Another year to remember and forget, to fight his demons, to look in the mirror and be nothing but a grim reminder of his broken family.

But, then he hears a familiar tune, a whistle floating through the air that makes him feel light. Your whistle. A new reminder that he has a new family. That in some ways he created a new family within himself, one that you readily accept.

He turns to bury himself in your pillow, smothering the goofy grin on his face. He’s still growing used to this feeling, of being happily and safely in love.

There is the patter of your feet, the chatter of dishes, the sound of a tea kettle. When he finally sits up, there’s a card with his name scrawled across it on his bedside table, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

He laughs as he reads the card, though your sentiment is sweet and means a lot to him, given his tumultuous childhood with little joy.

For the man who has a sweet tooth that rivals a 7-year-old. You deserve every confection on this earth— none are sweeter than you. All my love.

Marc tucks the card into his drawer, along with a few other things you’ve gotten him, a watch from his father, and his old wedding band. Things with meaning. He picks up the box of chocolates and heads out to the kitchen where he knows he’ll be met with the happiest sight on earth— you.

“Mornin’,” He calls out to you, his voice still rough from sleep.

You whirl around, fixing him with a smile so wide and genuine it makes his cheeks warm. “Good morning, lovey. Sit sit, it’s almost done,” You gesture to the kitchen table.

Marc sits as instructed, watching patiently as you start to get everything ready. You set down in front of him: coffee that he knows will be perfectly made, two different stacks of what both seem to be funfetti pancakes, extra sprinkles, whipped cream, and syrup.

“Did you know that most funfetti pancake recipes don’t call for any actual funfetti cake batter? Seems fraudulent don’t you think?” You ask as you fix a plate for yourself and sit beside him.

He hums in agreement. “Hence the two different kinds?”

“Well I wanted to see which you liked better, a traditional recipe or mine,” You reason, stabbing a candle into both of his stacks so that you can light them. Leaning close you, brush your lips against his cheek as the flames flicker.

At this moment, Marc feels like the only people that exist are you and him. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and tenderness before you even speak another word. Marc wants to be alive. He wants to live with you, year after year. He wants to know who could be with you by his side.

As if you’ve read his mind, you whisper to him, “Happy birthday, Marc Spector. I hope for you, more love, more growth, more happiness, and contentment.”

Marc inhales shakily, his eyes growing wet with tears. He nods, reaching out to grasp your hand and squeeze, hoping that the gratitude he’s feeling is clear. You raise his hand, kissing it gently before gesturing towards the candles.

“Make a wish, Marc.”

He could. He lets his eyes flit around the space, his mind flitting through ideas as he takes in his surroundings. A loving light in your eyes. The sweet scent of funfetti pancakes. Coffee the color of dark caramel. The perfect box of chocolates. This place that you both call home. Marc realizes he loves things just the way they are right now. He closes his eyes and wishes that every day will hold even a fraction of the warmth it does right now.

He guides a hand to your chin, pulling you close by it so he can press a grateful kiss to your mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart, all of this is great. More than I could’ve asked for.”

“Get used to it, Spector,” You laugh, mouth brushing his.

“I’m working on it, but for right now, I think it’s time for me to try some pancakes.”

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts , @rmoonstoner, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi! This is a (kinda nsfw) request for the Moon Knight Boys or only Steven, whichever you’re comfortable with!

So, reader is usually loosely trimmed or has fully grown hair „down there”. One day she decides to surprise her vigilante boyfriends and shaves everything off or maybe leaves a cute little heart on top?? Either way I’d love to know how they’d react.

(I myself am female but please write for which gender you’re most comfortable with)

~Cherry Bomb Anon 💖💖💖

Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I realise now that I misread this!

Anyway, it's now Marc and Steven with the shaved heart.

Glue It Back On

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Warnings: This is just Marc and Steven having a conversation really, I'm so sorry, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 851

“They’re gonna hate it, they’re gonna hate it. Fuck.”

“Shit.” 

“Fuck.”

“Shit,” Steven chews his bottom lip, “what if we shave it all off?” 

“All of it?”  Marc answers from the bathroom mirror. 

Steven nods. “All of it, like,” he motions with his hands. “Gone.”

“Bald?” 

“No, not bald Marc, it wouldn’t be bald, our, our-”

“Our balls would be bald.” 

“I was thinking more like, we just shave the top… bit?” 

“And nothing else?” Marc frowns in thought. “Wouldn’t that look-”

“Weird, yeah.” Steven sighs defeatedly. “It would. Like we just stopped halfway, and if we do it like a really neat line that will look like, ‘woah, too much effort here’, and if we don’t it’ll look a mess.” 

Marc nods. “Look, I know this isn’t helpful, but I don’t want to shave it all off. Because, one,” he holds up his forefinger. “I think it’ll look weird, you know like in porn, hairless balls just make me think of turkey wattles.” 

Steven pauses. “Wattles?” 

“Like the turkey red neck flappy thing.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that it was called that.” He nods a little, then shakes his head, trying to stay focused. “You think shaved balls look like that?” 

“Kinda.”

“Kinda?” He says, unimpressed.

“Yeah, look, I’m not the vegan who gets freaked out by certain types of mushrooms-”

“We’ve been over this, I heard Michael say in the break room that mushrooms on pizza looked like slugs, and I can’t unsee it, it’s not fair to-”

Marc holds up his hands. “I’m sorry, okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that all up again like that.” 

Steven nods. 

“They just look weird to me.” 

Steven’s lip twitches in a smile and Marc braces himself for whatever is about to come. “Is that what you say to yourself to justify only watching lesbian porn?” 

“Don’t.”

“Is it?” Steven grins. 

“I don’t just watch lesiban porn.” 

Steven scoffs. “Firstly, you do. Second, what’s wrong with watching lesbian porn?” 

Marc gives him a glare. “You’re the one that brought this up!”

Steven grins, enjoying seeing Marc squirm a little. “I did. So, why do you only watch lesibian porn?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Steven chuckles. “Spoil sport.” 

“You’re a bully.” Marc smiles. 

“What was your second point anyway?” 

“What?” 

“You’re second point? First was our balls would look like a turkey if we shave them, what was the other?” 

“Oh, I think it’ll itch like hell when the hair starts to grow back if we use the razor.” 

Steven nods, thinking. “Yeah, I bet you’re right on that one.” He sighs again, his shoulders slumping. “But what are we gonna do?” 

“We could glue it back on?” Marc says, only half joking.

“Marc.” He gives him the disappointed teacher voice. “We are not glueing hair back onto our.. Our… area.” 

“Area?” 

“You’re worried about it itching growing back, what the fuck do you think it’s gonna feel like with glue?” 

“Area? Steven, are we fucking three?” 

Steven puts his hands on his hips. “Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” 

“Well, yeah? Area?” 

“What would you call it then? Hmm?” 

Marc opens his mouth and then pauses.

“See, see?” Steven gestures at Marc, “What the fuck is it?”

“It’s the bit above the dick.” 

“Yeah, but what is that called? Like the actual name?” 

Marc thinks and then frowns. “Steven, I don’t fucking know, why is this important?”

“You made it important.” Steven grabs his phone from the side.

“What are you doing?” Marc sighs.

“I’m looking it up.”

“Steven.” 

“I want to know.” 

“Steven.” 

“All I can think of is pubic mound, but is that like, the word for everyone?” 

Marc shakes his head slightly as he pulls a face. “For everyone? What do you mean?”

“Like for all genders.”

“Oh…” Marc thinks again. “Maybe…” He leans forward as if he could see Steven’s phone from his angle. 

“See? You’re interested now.” 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t get too excited about it.” He huffs.

Steven rolls his eyes, and then quickly reads. “Okay, it is the pubic mound for everyone.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’ve learnt something.” 

“Doesn’t really help with our current situation, does it?” 

Steven puts his phone down and rubs his eyes, “Ugggghhhh, what if we just say, ‘Love, I tried to shave a heart into my pubic hair because I thought it would be funny and sweet and now I’m like what the fuck have I done?’” 

You knock on the bathroom door and both Steven and Marc jump at the same time. 

“Erm,” Steven scrambles with the towel around his waist before he opens the door with a flourish. “I-”

“I got back about ten minutes ago.” You give him a soft smile. “I’ve been listening to your side of the conversion, with rapt attention.” You tease playfully. 

Steven closes his eyes and chuckles bashfully. 

“If it’s any help,” you give his cheek a quick kiss. “I think the heart sounds lovely.” 

“Show them!”

Steven rolls his eyes, turning his head to pull a face at Marc’s reflection. “You wanted to glue it back on a second ago.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[mylittledelulucorner]

Two Secrets One Truth

Jake Lockley x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jake thinks that he should shelter himself from the two other men who live within him. He should live a separate life from them. He is convinced that they will never accept him, so he has secrets, two big ones.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: I'm not a native English speaker and this has not been proofread so sorry for any mistakes.

Warnings: I canon that Jake loves jazz, it just makes sense to me. Wrong description of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). I used my own imagination, it doesn't work like that in reality. There's no real description of the reader; it's just a person.

He takes care of the body, he protects then disappears. Neither Steven nor Marc should notice his presence. Nothing in their lives should shift or stand out, which is why he is standing here. Every evening like clockwork, he brings the body back to the apartment, back to Steven’s sanctuary. He stumbles into the living room, flips the lights on and looks around. The familiar room in which he still feels like a guest greets him.

The apartment looks lived-in. Steven has his books, Marc his baseball collection. And Jake? No trace to be found, he’s a ghost. His presence is not meant to be noticed. The blind eye would think that he owns nothing personal. But if you look closely, beyond the obvious, you’ll notice that not every pile of books are actual books. In the forgotten corners where Steven’s eyes never wander, you can find small pieces of him. His belongings are meticulously preserved and wedged into the dusty corners.

Knocking over another stack of papers, he sighs and looks around. “Steven, hermano, learn how to throw shit away, not everything is important.” He takes the papers into his hands, analysing and flipping through them with indifference. If it were up to him, he would throw it all away, but he can’t. He can’t just throw things away, that would be suspicious… things that just disappear like that. Stevens' clutter must stay intact. Groaning, “why do they have so many mirrors?”

His muscles are sore, his head heavy. He needs to unwind before one of the guys makes an appearance. He can feel Marc on the surface, not really conscious, but close enough, he should hurry. Marc cannot catch him in the act.

With a little more urgency, he makes his way to the bedroom. Behind the wardrobe, there is a small cutout in the wall, one that he covered up with drywall. No one knows about this. Sliding the wardrobe to the side, he starts fumbling around, looking for the seam in the wall. His fingers find the little familiar dip. Toying around and pushing a little bit, the wall gives in and cracks open. In the small open space sits his guilty pleasure, his secret, staring back at him. His old vinyl player, shiny, almost glowing, sits there, ready to play the oh so sweet hymns of his favourite jazz songs. 

Secret one: What is life without jazz?

To Jake, jazz is everything. When the boys are unconscious and nowhere near making an appearance, he would indulge in it. Tonight is one of those nights. He can feel Marc, but he needs it. Just before going unconscious, he needs to feel a little relief. Khonshu’s mission was long, painful, gruesome and bloody. Today took a toll on the body, he needs to relax, even if it's just for 2 hours.

Nights like this are for him and him only. Dimming the lights, soft Art Blakey fills the apartment, not too loud, just enough for the notes to drift into the bathroom. The room is damp, the air is heavy with the scent of lavender soap. The heat thickens, the water is scorching hot, just the way he likes it. He can almost feel it wash the weight of being Khonshu’s puppet away. Hot showers are the only way to untie the knots in his back and loosen the tension that’s buried deep into his shoulders.

This feeling of relief is indescribable. He tips his head back under the stream, the warm water runs through his curls. It’s just marvellous, this is what he needed. Humming along to Moanin’, time vanishes, he could stand here for eternity.

Once the warm water has worked its magic, he steps out of the shower. Towel low on his hips, hair wet and curled, clinging to his forehead, blocking his vision. Steam curls against the mirror, blurring the reflection of a man who isn’t meant to be seen.

Wrapped in the safety of his hidden world, he returns to his collection. His latest addition, The Platinum Collection by Nat King Cole, rests in his hands. A masterpiece, one that deserves a place of its own. But where? He can’t showcase his vinyl the way he wants to, he needs to hide it somewhere. He turns the vinyl over and over, thinking. Steven mustn’t notice it. “I’ll find a place, I always do.” Whilst thinking, the door creaks open with a soft sound, letting him know that someone has entered the house.

Second secret: You

“Jake, amor? Are you home?”

“Si, mi cielo in the kitchen.”

You met in the jazz lounge.

You, a hobby singer, searching for something to do on quiet weekends.

He, a wounded soldier, searching for something to make him feel alive again. He found that something in your sultry voice. 

You enter the small kitchen, greeted by the scent of your lover. Warm and familiar like a never-ending hug, the smell envelops your whole being. “I missed you.” These three words were enough to make him crumble, enough to push Marc away for the evening and try to stay conscious as long as he could. “I missed you too, bizcochito”.

You scrunch your nose up at the nickname. “That’s a new one, speaking of bizcochitos, look what I brought.” You swing the bakery bag in front of him. “From your favourite spot.”

His eyes glisten and shine. “You didn’t have to, I mean, you’re here, the sweetest of them all. I could just eat you.” He softly places his hands on your hips, drawing you in. His skin still warm from the hot shower, eyes blown with lust and a playful smirk at the edge of his lips.

You know that look, he gives you the eyes. The eyes that lead to things.

Hard, warm, sticky, sweaty, hot, breathless things. Things that leave your legs weak, body sore and aching with love. Things that remind you exactly who he is and that he’s still yours.

You don’t always have your boyfriend for yourself. You have to share one body with two other individuals. You know about Marc and Steven, you never met them and Jake makes sure you never will.

You miss him when he’s gone, but you understand his life. You understand his condition. You also know what he has to endure, you know how hard his missions are and you know how much he puts his body on the line. The scars on his body can testify to it.

“Jake, you should eat first, get something in your system.” Pulling you fully into him, closing the small gap between the two of you.“I need it now, amor, I can feel Marc’s presence. I don’t have much time.”

One thing leads to another. The room is dimly lit, shadows of the two lovers stretch lazily across the walls. The night unfolds softly between the two lovers. Your soft legs entwined with his…

The only sounds are the soft crackle of the old vinyl player spinning. The crooning voice of his lover, soft, yet warm and sultry, wrapped around him like the softest of silks. Singing to him. The night stretches on, filled with jazz, no solitude, just peace. The kind of peace only found when one is lying next to their world. Unseen by his brothers, unknown to them, but fully seen by his lover and in this moment of passion, that’s all that matters to him.

The truth: If Jake took some time and looked deep into the mirror, he’d notice that his reflection doesn’t always mimic him. Sometimes the eyes staring back are familiar, but sometimes they don’t even look like his own. The man in the mirror is not always him. He thinks he’s hiding from Marc and Steven, but the truth is, he carries them with him, every step of the way. They’re always here, present. They never leave. They found out about his existence shortly after Egypt. On Steven’s advice, Marc let him live a “normal” life.

Jake’s doing his best, and maybe that’s all anyone can ask. He has his own life, his lover, routine, rhythm and passions. Being one of three can’t be easy. He has his role, he protects, fights and endures. He never asks for anything in return. The only thing we can do is give him space and respect his will. Maybe one day he’ll let us in. Maybe one day he’ll realise he doesn’t have to live in our shadows.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Thank you sooo much for reading my work! So sweet of you. I'm trying to get back in the zone I'm still rusty but I'll get there.

Meaning of words:

Mi cielo: my sky, my world, my love

Bizcochito / bizcochitos: literal meaning a small cookie/cake but here it's used as a form of endearment meaning my little sweetie

Mini taglist:

@quiet-night-sky-writers-blog @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ingoldthewizard

Want to be tagged? Let me know 💋

[bamboobooshark]

MARC SPECTOR X LITTLE!READER

⊹₊⟡⋆ CAN’T SLEEP : 640 WRDS

<RATING: PG, FLUFF & AGERE>

A/N : Long time no see y’all! I was gone for so long due to hospitalization but I am back and ready to write! Here’s a short and sweet something for Marc since I’ve never written a fic exclusively for him! Enjoyyy. WARNINGS: Momentary mention of whiskey.

<SFW INTERACTION ONLY, MDNI/18+ ONLY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED>

Lately, Marc has been struggling more than usual to fall asleep and stay asleep. Though he was able to use you as a sleep aid by holding you close and keeping you safe, he woke up at about two in the morning. He snuck away from your shared bed to go grab something to drink. He made his best attempt to quietly grab a bottle of whiskey and slowly pour some of it in a small glass. The second he heard the bed squeak, he snapped his head in your direction. Even though you had heard and felt him getting out of bed, you wanted to try and spy on him before actually getting out of bed. He kept staring at you, watching you like a hawk.

He sighed deeply after a few minutes passed, murmuring to himself as he went to go sit on the couch. Once he was relaxed, you got out of bed and shuffled to the arm of the couch that he rested his elbow on. “Why are you awake right now? You should be asleep, baby,” he questions while looking up at you. “But I don’t wanna be asleep,” you pouted. Marc chuckled as he noticed your regressed state. He gently patted the couch cushion next to him. “Come here, kid,” he said. You didn’t hesitate to walk in front of the couch and plop down next to Marc, shimmying so you could comfortably rest your head against him. He smiled and wrapped a hand around your bicep, running it up and down carefully.

“Dada, I wanna cuddle. Pretty please come cuddle with me! Please? I can’t go to bed with you,” you pleaded as you nudged your head against him like a cat. Marc chuckled softly as he took a small sip from his glass. He sighed softly and shook his head. “I know it, baby. I know it. I just can’t sleep tonight. I need you to go back to sleep, and I’ll take you to get breakfast in the morning,” he offered with all honesty. You shook your head no and pouted. Tears pricked your eyes as you huffed. Marc frowned slightly as you began to huff and sniffle. He squeezed your arm reassuringly. You nudged his hand away and crossed your arms against your chest. “No,” you grunted. He looked like he had just been thrown out like an old toy. “Please, kid. I need you to go back to sleep,” he told you with desperation in his voice. “I’ll only sleep if you come cuddle me. It makes me feel safe from the closet monsters,” you confess to him. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, resulting in a quiet giggle from you. God, there was nothing he loved more than hearing how safe he makes you feel.

He grunts and groans as he gets up and stretches once he’s on his feet. You look up at him curiously while tilting your head. “What are you doing, dada?” you asked anxiously. He snickered at your worried expression and pulled you up into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, my starlight,” he assured and kissed you gently. "Well, what are you doing then?” you demanded to know. “Shh. Calm down. I’m just taking you to bed. We can cuddle,” he tells you. He carefully walks over to your bed and sets you down on the mattress. He helps you to snuggle under the covers and gently tucks you in. “Look at your little self. You look snug as a bug,” he comments with his hands on his hips. You giggle and shake your head in response as Marc climbs into the bed with you. He gets himself comfortable before placing an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his torso. “There we go,” he sighed. “I won’t leave you again. I promise, baby.”

[starlight-writer]

Fighting

A)n: Heyyyy... I'm back :)

Warning: none, angst, yelling, arguing

Gn reader Masterlist

Steven

He doesn’t yell

But it’s that exactly that makes it worse

He refuses to yell, but he’ll be a sarcastic little shit

“Oh really? How lovely.”

“Oh my dearest apologies, my liege, I didn’t realize I had to agree with everything you had to say.”

Steven won’t back down, he’ll keep this energy until he’s done talking about it and then he’ll ignore you

He won’t ask how your day's been, he won't hug you, he won't even look at you

And it’ll drive you crazy

The only reason this started was because Steven missed a date and didn’t acknowledge that he would be late or wanted to cancel

He was working late for Donna again, but this time it just set off something in his head

Normally you wouldn’t be too upset about him missing a date, seeing as he’s got other people to take care of and he’s got a shitty boss, but when you asked him about the date, he blew up

“God, it was one date, why do you have to nag me about it?”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t trying to nag you, Steven, I just wanted to know what happened.”

“You’re not my bloody parent, you don’t need to know!”

“Take that back.”

“No.”

And now you're in your room and Steven's sleeping on the couch

That night will give him time to realize he was in the wrong and he'll feel super guilty

When he wakes up with a stiff back and sore neck, he'll think he deserves it

He'll wait until you come out to get up

And then he's following you around like a lost puppy

He won't say anything, but he'll look so sad and just be following you everywhere you go

It would be cute if you weren't upset with him

You'll have to be the one to start a conversation, but as soon as you say a single word to him, Steven's apologizing faster than you can process

"Love, I'm so so sorry. I was an absolute knob, I was so stressed and upset yesterday and I know that's not a reason to treat you so terribly, but it was such a bad day. I promise I'll make it up with 3, no, 5 dates! We can do whatever you want today and tomorrow and all week! Please forgive me, darling. I know I don't deserve it, but please just give me another chance."

He looks like he's about to burst into tears and kneel for you

(Which would be hot in a different setting)

Depending on how passionate you feel about this, it might take some time to forgive him, but he's there every second of the day

Or if you want him to leave you alone, he'll respect that

You'll find little notes of lovey poems around the flat and your favorite snacks littered around the living room

He honestly feels like a terrible partner so when you do decide to forgive him, just give him a kiss and hug him

He'll cry and apologize a bunch more so just pet his head and tell him it's ok

He'll genuinely sit you down and ask if there's something he can do to get his 'anger issues' under control

Poor baby doesn't have anger issues, he just has a shitty boss <3

Marc

He yells

He yells loud and painful things

He doesn’t care, he can’t bother to care

He’s angry and that’s all he feels

He can’t think past it, it’s like he sees red

He’ll shout until his throat is raw, but he’ll get as many insults and sarcastic comments he can before that happens

He knows what he’s doing is wrong, he knows the only reason you’re arguing is because of him

But he’s not backing down

He wants to hurt you and he does

And it makes everything worse for at least a week

Marc came home absolutely wreaked from a fight and refused your help, preferring to drink and just sit there

If you weren’t so upset at the fact he refused your help and instead wanted the help of alcohol, you’d yell at him about staining the couch with his blood

You’ll either have to deal with Marc breaking out into an argument after the initial one, or leave to stay somewhere else

If you come back the next day, Marc will still be upset

He won’t start yelling at you again, but he’ll ignore you

And it really just stops there

It’s the silent treatment for a week

He'll make dinner for you and all that, but he won't talk to you

He'll stare at you, wondering if you'll be the one to apologize

Or he'll be staring at you to see if you're watching him

You're not

He'll stay silent for an entire week, festering in his anger and guilt until it overflows

And when you come back home from work or being out late, he's waiting for you

And he looks like a kicked puppy

It was no surprise Marc had no idea how to apologize and admit/accept his feelings but at this moment, none of that mattered

His guilt and the feeling of missing you outweighed his discomfort of voicing his feelings

He'll start with an apology, saying how sorry he was and how terrible he felt

He didn't give any excuse or reason for his anger, he just apologized and stood there

He expects you to yell at him, leave him, insult him

Just gently take him in your arms and kiss his cheek

You don't even have to tell him anything, he'll promise to never yell at you like that again

"If I do, you can hit me as hard as you want."

Marc will say, though if you did actually hit him, he'd probably cry

He'll be so genuine with his words and.the nail in the coffin was the fact that he promised

Marc never makes promises, even if he knows he can fulfill them

But he swears up and down that he will never yell at you again

And he does everything in his power to reverse or heal the damage his words did to you

Even going out of his comfort zone

He loves you so much and he doesn't understand why you're still with him, but he thanks every God and Goddess that you are

Jake

He’s dangerously silent

He’ll stand there completely blanked face, eyes set in a slight glare as you argue about something that was definitely his fault

Maybe he missed a date and didn’t bother to let you know he wasn’t coming or wrote off your worry about a few injuries and called you ‘clingy’ and ‘overbearing’

Either way, he doesn’t respond to your anger, just standing there like he didn’t care

And it hurt

Once you were done explaining how you felt or what Jake did wrong, he’ll roll his eyes, pull out a cigarette and sit in the couch

He’ll play the baseball game he may have missed or just watch the news to really set in that something that boring was more interesting than your feelings

“Do you seriously find the news more important than our relationship?”

He won’t look at you

“I can’t believe this. If you care so fucking little, then why are you still here?”

“This is my house.”

“Then maybe I should go if it’s just your house.”

“You should.”

And you do

You go to a friends house, or a hotel, somewhere that you can rest for the night because you’re obviously not going to get anywhere with Jake and you can’t stand his attitude

The second you’re out of the room, Jake curses and throws the tv remote at the wall

He throws everything that he can without any worry of breaking something or getting a noise complaint

He'll throw bottles, plates, pillows, books

Once he's run out of steam, he'll shamefully clean up everything, throwing glass away and putting pillows back

That's give him the time he needs to realize 'oh shit, I fucked up'

He won't come out and admit it instantly, no

He'll fester in his guilt and figure out what exactly he should say

He'll even plan out when he should breathe during his apology

And when you get home, no matter when that is, Jake it waiting patiently with breakfast, lunch, or dinner

He'll give a nervous smile and walk up to you, giving you a hesitant kiss on your cheek before pulling you to the living room couch

Your plate of food is already made and somehow still warm despite Jake no knowing when you'd be back

He'll give an awkward apology, explaining how he's still not used to being something more than a protector for Marc and Steven, how he's still learning to let people in, how he loves you with all his heart despite being such a monster

He might start crying, but he'll try not to show you

He doesn't want to show vulnerability, but he knows it's important in a relationship

So he'll just ask very quietly if he can hug you

Is you say no, he'll nod in understanding as tears fall into his lap

He'll quietly mutter another apology and just sit there, unsure as to what to do

If you say yes, however, he'll gently wrap his arms around your waist and bury his head in your neck

He'll silently cry, muttering 'i love you' over and over again until you say it back

Just rub his back and kiss his head, tell him you forgive him or need time to forgive him and he'll understand either way

He loves you with his entire being, almost like he lives off of loving you

[deceasedream69]

Alien

Summary: He found you, you're not supposed to be here, what's he gonna do about it?

-

The concrete wet beneath my feet. It was raining a while ago but it stopped, the air was still cold. It was late, the only thing I could hear were my shoes, some drops and an ocassional passing car.

I felt alone for the most part of the walk, I just wanted to get home, put my pjs on, eat something and watch a movie until I fell asleep.

God, that sounded like such a good plan, I was already savouring it.

Until I felt like I wasn't alone anymore. But I didn`t want to make it obvious, so I didn't stop or turn around, instead, I tried to use the mirrors or windows I was passing by, but I didn't notice anything...

I didn't want to draw attention to myself but I already started to walk faster unconciously, my grip tight on my purse and my eyes scanning everything they could around me.

There was an emtpy alley, so I took the chance, it was a limited space where I could have more vision and control.

I walked normally again, trying to spike my senses, but I didn't feel anything or see anything anymore.

I sighed and kept walking with a tight grip on my purse and relief in my stomach.

I exited the alley and BAM.

Something hit me in the head. I fell, throwing my purse away from the impact. I fell on that dirty wet floor. I sat up, cleaning my hands on my jeans.

There was this tall guy in a white bandages suit, not far from him was this even taller bird like person, with a big reaper scythe. I looked up at the guy in front of me. He was looking directly at me with those white glowing eyes. In his hands he already had his daggers ready.

-what do you think you're doing here? - the bird like person said. I turned to look at him.

The guy turned to look at the bird and then at me, almost like in surprise.

-What do you fucking care? Am I doing something bad...? - I smiled - you think you're the hero now? saving the world from the bad guys? attacking from the root before they even have the chance of even thinking about doing something? - I stood up, the guy with the suit just backed away, not taking his eyes off of me, but not doing anything without the bird's instructions.

-Cause I know damn well walking on the street isn't something wrong.

-everything you do here is wrong, you don't belong here - he stood from the car he was sitting - you think you can just pick a universe to live on and everyone in it will acommodate? hm? silly witch

-sorry, God of this world, if you must... send me to hell then, but you - I pointed directly at him, my hand glowing read already - not your soldadito. (little soldier)

He was wearing a mask but I could still see the confusion and surprise on his face.

-Marc, finish her.

-such a pussy - I whispered to myself.

The bird man turned around and left us alone.

-I'm not going to fight you, I don't even know you, and I know you don't want to do this - I picked my purse from the floor and kept walking, trying to clean myself a little.

-great, now I also gotta shower.

WHAM

I felt the punch on my cheek but it was too late, I couldn't even use my hands. I hit myself against a car. I quuickly put myself together, looking everywhere.

He pushed me from behind, I tried to use my powers but he quickly kicked my hands and then my stomach.

I gasped for air.

I could see the bird man seeing everything from a rooftop.

I collected air again and stood up. Throwing a ball of enery to the guy, but he quickly dodge them. I took rocks and started throwing them on his way.

He got his daggers out and threw one at me, I quickly dodge it but it still managed to cut my cheek a little. I fell and took the dagger out, with my powers of course, and tried to pursue him with it. I made an ugly cut on his leg and he fell. I took my chance and started to run away.

But it didn't take long for him to be behind me again.

-fuck!

I stopped.

-look, please, let's just stop, okay? I don't want to create a scene, there's too much people here, I don't want to hurt or even fight you, please - I pleaded as I backed away.

Not even sure if he could answer, the suit covering his mouth entirely.

He walking towards me, slowly, like showing he wasn't going to stop. Until he came to a stop, really close to me. He looked at me, up and down, and got his dagger up, but when he got it down I stopped him with my powers.

-I tried.

I sent the dagger flying away and the picked him up, sending him through a closed store glass, and then throwing a car too.

Quickly flying away, falling on a rooftop and running and jumping, just trying to get away.

-hm - he smiled - I knew you weren't going to be an easy catch, but I believe I underestimated you.

-just let me go, I know I don't belong here, but I promise I won't cause any trouble.

-on the contrary, I think you're going to be very useful to me.

that's when I felt a needle on my neck, there's nothing else I could do.

-hours later-

Opening my eyes slowly, my head felt dizzy and my body numb. It was alredy day time, the sun was shining through the windows, white walls, pictures on them, this house seemed really cozy. I looked down, new clothes, clothes that weren't mine. I sighed in defeat.

-you woke up - a man said walking pass me, must be the suit guy.

-mhm - I barely replied.

He got closer.

-not talking hm? I made breakfast, but before we get to that part-

-don't misunterstand what I'm about to do, but I'm really uncomfortable.

He looked puzzle.

I used my powers and got myself off the table I was on and into the kitchen. There was a big buffet in there.

He laughed - that's what I was aout to say, but I guess it's better if I explain it while we're eating.

-at the table-

He wasn't so tall, but he seemed big, dark eyes and dark curly hair. He was wearing a loose shirt but I could tell he's strong.

-Konshu needs you, that's why we did what we did last night

-Konshu? the bird man?

He laughed and nodded - yeah, exactly him, the bird man. I'm Marc, and you? I don't really know your name, you just were a mission last night

-flattering, my name is y/n. Why does he need me?

-from what I can see, you're powerful, he doesn't like to see so much power and it not being on his side, so he needs to have control over it, immediatly.

He was eating fast, I suppose that's what he's trained for.

-what am I doing here? you could just tell me and send me home.

-you're here because I'm going to train you.

I laughed - I don't need training, do you even have powers like mine?

-I don't need to have them, I'll train you on hand to hand combat, you really need it - he stood up, his plate already finished.

-eat, shower, in the backyard at eight.

He said leaving the house.