#and of course he recognizes marc

[kingofthering]

thinking about Valentino being a cat lover and Marc being so cat-coded and the possibilities of those AUs were people can turn into animals when they’re stressed/anxious/injured/tired

[age-of-moonknight]

“Secret Histories: Part One,” Secret Avengers (Vol. 1/2010), #1.

Writer: Ed Brubaker; Penciler and Inker: Mike Deodato Jr.; Colorist: Rain Beredo; Letterer: Dave Lanpheare

[milaisreading]

hiii!! I've been reading your latest updates and I really loved your the toddler ones, can you please make one where the manager was with their nephew and the child looks like a mix of them and Sae, and Sae meet them while they were out and went with them throughout the day and even went to the zoo acting like the parents, and then came the paparazzi posting the news that their already married with a kid. I really want to see the boys reactions since their overseas

Author: Lmao the idea took me to out! LOVED IT! Here u go and I hope u like it! Thanks for the request 🩷

Warnings ⚠️: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

One thing (Y/n) cherished a lot was her time off, not only will she have time to recharge and do whatever she wants, but also will have time to visit her older step-brother and his family. Ever since he left Japan to work in Portugal and got married there, (Y/n) only saw him during the holidays. They were pretty close growing up and it stayed that way to this day. So the 2 weeks break she got from the Bastard München team she used to fly out to Lisbon and spend her time with her brother, sister-in-law and her little nephew. Today (Y/n) took the little boy out and planned a zoo trip, some arcade games and dinner.

"Aunty! Can we please get ice cream after this?!" The red-haired boy asked (Y/n), who tightly held his hand as they walked through the crowd of people.

"Huh? Sure thing, Marc but you have to listen to me and not let my hand go, alright?" (Y/n) asked as the little boy nodded his head quickly. The older smiled at the redhead and finally got to the less crowded part of the sidewalk.

"Will we see lions there?"

"If course! A big, big family of lions!" (Y/n) grinned as Marc cheered. The girl smiled at the 4-year-olds reaction, but it was soon wiped off of her face as she felt someone grab her shoulder.

"What the?!" (Y/n) turned around and hid Marc behind herself as she looked at the person in front of her.

"Hey, sorry for scaring you. I didn't want to yell across the street and get unwanted attention."

Recognizing the voice, (Y/n) sighed in relief as Sae took of his mask and gave her a small nod.

"Sae-san, I didn't expect seeing you in Portugal of all places." The girl said, relaxing as Marc looked up at the redhead.

"Wah! You are Sae Itoshi! I am a huge fan!" The little boy exclaimed as he ran to hug Sae's leg.

"Marc, don't do that! It's rude to hug people out of nowhere." (Y/n) started scolding the boy, but Sae interrupted her as he crouched down to look the boy in the eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Marc. Do you want to be a football player too?"

"Yeah! I want to play forward like you! My dad will enroll me in a club in two years!" Marc cheered, excited to that one of his idols was standing in front of him.

"Really? Do you have a favorite club?"

"Bastard München!" Marc said, causing Sae to raise his eyebrow.

"And why that?"

Marc grinned and grabbed (Y/n)'s leg while puffing out his chest.

"Because my aunty is their manager!" The said girl blushed a little and picked Marc up and Sae stood up straight.

"Ahh... that shouldn't really be your sole reason, Marc." (Y/n) told the redhead.

"Why? It's a good reason!" The boy pouted as Sae spoke up again.

"He is right, the reasoning is pretty good."

"What?" The girl wondered as Sae moved closer.

"I mean, you as a manager in Bastard is enough of a reason to like the club. I will tell you a secret, Marc. I am a fan of Bastard too, thanks to your aunty." Sae said, pretending to whisper it as Marc cheered. (Y/n) was meanwhile blushing a little from those words.

"A-ah... you flatter me too much, Sae-san."

"Not enough, in my opinion."

'Why is he so nonchalant?!' She thought as Marc waved her hand around, catching both of their attention.

"Can Sae-san please come with us today? Please, aunty." The boy gave the girl his usual puppy eyes and (Y/n) groaned.

"Marc, I am sure Sae-san has better things to do-"

"I really don't." Sae interrupted, getting the attention of the duo.

"I just finished an interview and am pretty much free for the rest of the day. Where are you two going?" Marc cheered at that, saying how they plan on going to the zoo.

"Are you sure we won't be a bother?" (Y/n) asked as Sae nodded his head.

"Yeah, let's go then. The zoo might get crowded again." The redhead told her calmly and she nodded her head. Putting Marc down, the boy hugged Sae's leg again. Before (Y/n) could scold him tho, the football player took the boy's hand.

"Shall we go?" Sae asked and (Y/n) nodded her head.

'I need to tell my manager to cancel those interviews for today.' Sae thought as he took his phone out.

'He is really good with kids and always so relaxed.' (Y/n) thought, smiling a little.

"I have unbelievable news! No sir, this is for the headliners!" The man who interviewed Sae just mere minutes ago said as he saw the interaction between the football player, (Y/n) and Marc.

"Yes, it's about THE Sae Itoshi. Listen, I will bring you the pictures and you will see what I mean." The man said, quickly following after them.

"Giraffes! Look!" Marc yelled excitedly as Sae lifted him up to get a better look at the animal. (Y/n) smiled and took a picture of the two, making sure the animal was in it too.

"They are really cute, Marc. There is even a baby over there." (Y/n) pointed excitedly as the boy turned to look at it.

"You want to take another picture?" Sae asked as (Y/n) shook her head.

"You probably had enough of that for the day-"

"I don't mind. Just take a picture." Sae said gently and she thought over it for a moment.

"Don't think too much about it, I am fine with you taking pictures."

"A-alright." (Y/n) answered, flustered with how he worded it. She took the picture and Sae put Marc down and she approached them.

"Do you want to see the lions next?" (Y/n) asked Marc and he nodded his head, grabbing the girl's hand.

"Let's go!"

Chuckling Sae followed after them, neither noticing the same reporter taking pictures of them. But aside from the reporter, a few football fans recognized Sae from the distance. Both shocked at the sight of the player with a redhaired kid and the Bastard München manager.

"Are they dating?"

"They could be married too. Look at the kid." The boy said to his friend, who inspected Marc's hair.

"Oh shit! It looks eerily similar to Sae's..."

"Maybe that dating rumor from a year ago had some truth to it..." The two said in sync.

"So, where do you want to go and eat?" Sae asked as they left the zoo while he held one of Marc's hand and (Y/n) held the other.

"I think there is a nice restaurant nearby, based on my research. They also have a cute playground for kids." Marc's eyes lightened up at that and Sae nodded his head.

"Did you have a weird feeling that we are being watched?" (Y/n) asked as Sae looked around in confusion, shaking his head.

"Not really. But enough of that, did you think about the offer?" (Y/n)'s breath hitched and she looked at Sae, who was sporting a serious expression.

"About that... I don't know..."

Sae sighed and nodded his head.

"Alright."

'I will wait, even if it takes years.'

"Say, I will be leaving for Madrid tomorrow evening. Want to meet up for breakfast?" Sae asked as (Y/n) thought the offer over and nodded her head.

"Sure. The hotel I am staying has a restaurant, the food is pretty good, we can meet up there." She suggested. The older Itoshi said nothing as he nodded his head, satisfied with how the day was ending.

The next day Sae arrived at the said hotel and immediately felt like something was off. Everyone at the reception was looking at him oddly and were whispering when (Y/n) joined him. While both were used to those things, due to their club connections, this was pretty off.

"Am I wearing my clothes the wrong way?" (Y/n) asked Sae as they waited for their meal. Sae took a sip from his coffee and shook his head.

"No, but it is weird how many people are looking at us..."

Just then, a waitress approached the two, clearly nervous as she held onto her phone.

"E-Excuse me..." She said.

"Yes?" (Y/n) said calmly, nudging Sae who still held his stoic look.

"Can... we were asked to take a picture of you two? It's not really everyday we have guests of your status here."

"Our status?" (Y/n) raised her eyebrow.

"Sure, but please make it quick." Sae sighed as the waitress quickly nodded her head and snapped 2 pictures.

"Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi. By the way, you son is really adorable." The girl said as (Y/n) spat out her drink back into the cup. Flabbergasted, Sae watched the girl walk off and both were left to look at each other weirdly.

"What was that about?" Sae wondered as (Y/n)'s phone rang. Recovering from her shock she took the phone and looked down at the display.

'Ness? Why is he calling?' (Y/n) thought as she took the call.

"H-hello-"

"Where is he?! Where is the bastard unable to use a condom?!" Kaiser's loud yelling boomed through the phone and (Y/n) flinched a little.

"What? Who? And why are you using Ness' phone, Kaiser? Where is he?" Sae furrowed his eyebrows as he observed the scene.

"Ness is currently passed out thanks to your beloved hubby." Kasier growled.

"Hubby? Who? I didn't even have a boyfriend yet-"

"Ja ja, now where is he?"

"Who?"

Kaiser sighed from the other side and tried to speak up more calmly.

"Sae Itoshi, where is he?"

"Sae-san? He is here-"

"Give him the phone. And you will have a talk with the PR team for this once you come back."

"About what?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened and she nervously looked at Sae.

"You secretly marrying Sae and him not being able to control himself. Or better yet, wear a condom. The news about you two having a lovey-dovey time with your son yesterday is all over Germany." (Y/n) chocked on her spit and Sae got up from his seat to check on her.

"Are you alright? Give me the phone?" The redhead said.

"Kaiser, that was my nephew-"

"Is that Itoshi?! Give him to me!"

(Y/n) let out a groan as Sae took the phone from her and she put her head in her hands.

"Everything will be alright. Calm down." Sae said calmly as he kept on ignoring Kaiser's yelling.

Bastard München...

"Why is Kaiser yelling on the phone? And what even happened to Ness?" Isagi asked Noel, who was on the phone texting someone.

"Yukimiya, come help me lift him up." Kunigami called the brunette over.

"Kaiser is yelling at Sae right now and Ness passed out when we got a call from our PR team."

"What even happened? It can't be bad enough for Ness to pass out." Hiori comments as Kurona stared at Kaiser, who was switching from English to German.

"And what does Sae have to do with this?"

"Apparently Sae and (Y/n) are married and have a kid. A reporter in Portugal caught them yesterday." Noel explained as he showed Isagi an article. Kunigami and Yukimiya froze in their spots, causing Ness to fall on the ground again.

"What?!" The two exclaimed as Isagi went to grab Kaiser's phone and talk with Sae himself. Hiori and Kurona had completely opposite reactions. Kurona went completely numb while Hiori went to throw up in a nearby trash can.

"What's with all this yelling?" Gagamaru raised his eyebrow while walking into the locker room.

Barcha....

"Now... I know you two are mad..."  Lavinho said from the other side of the locked door, flinching as Otoya tried to kick it open again.

"We are not mad~" Bachira answered and Lavinho rolled his eyes.

"Listen, shit happens. So what if Sae married (Y/n) and they have a kid together-"

Lavinho cut himself off as Otoya kicked the door harder.

"At least he took responsibility-"

"He should have stayed away, simple." Otoya said back in malice, and Lavinho could only imagine the expression he had on his face.

"Please let us out, Lavinho. We won't do anything."

"Bachira... you went into rage and nearly kicked someone unconscious."

"So what?!"

Lavinho facepalmed, already knowing that the match between Barcha and Madrid will be even more hostile than needed to be.

Ubers...

"No Oliver, you can not drop kick Sae. I already told you that."  Snuffy said as he glared at his 4 Japanese players.

"Great, then I can-"

"No Baro, also not kick a ball to his face. Can you stop crying, Niko? So what if (Y/n) gave birth to Sae's kid-"

"Don't even finish that sentence! We are grieving!" Aryu said, now crying along with Niko. Snuffy rolled his eyes as Lorenzo kept Oliver and Baro from escaping.

"We should honestly forbid you 4 from leaving Italy." The coach commented.

"He touched our manager, we are allowed to beat him up for that!" Baro argued.

"Well, he didn't do anything illegal. Sae is her husband now-"

"Lorenzo, shut the hell up! Don't say such blasphemy!" Oliver cried out as he fell on the grass field.

Manshine...

"I am kind of offended they didn't tell us anything. Their child looks cute tho!" Chris grinned as Chigiri cried into the table.

"I agree with you, Chigiri. You think they will invite us to their anniversary? Oh, I have so many decoration ideas."

"I rather you break my right leg. What's the point of playing anymore? What's the point of living?" Chigiri cried out.

Meanwhile in the medical room Nagi was slowly waking up from his slumber while Reo was calling someone.

"What happened? What day is it? Did we win the World Cup?" Nagi asked as he sat up. Reo looked over at his friend and shook his head.

"Today is Friday, we didn't win the World Cup yet and an article came out of (Y/n) and Sae being married and having a child." Reo explained as Nagi nodded his head.

"(Y/n) and... Sae have a... child?" The albino asked as his eyes slowly widened. Reo nodded his head and watched as Nagi fainted again.

'This is like the 3rd time...' The purple-haired boy thought.

"Hello, Reo what did you need?" A woman's voice was heard from the other side.

"Hey mom, I have a question for you."

"What is it?" The woman yawned.

"How would you feel if I married a widow with a child?" Reo asked, sounding serious as ever.

"What?!"

"Just asking, hypothetically."

PXG...

"Shidou, give me my phone back!" Karasu sighed as he put his pants on, watching as the younger Itoshi chased Shidou around, who held his phone as he laughed.

'This is like kindergarten.' Karasu thought as the phone in question started ringing.

Shidou looked at the display and grinned.

"Oh! It's your mom, Rinnie!"

"Give me my phone, you imbecile!" Rin yelled as Shidou shook his head.

"Nah, this is what you get for not passing even one ball to me." The blonde sighed and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"What?! Rin, is that you?!" The boy bit back a groan and chose to answer as Karasu and Shidou watched the scene in amusement.

"Sorry mom, what did you need?" Rin asked.

"I need you to pick the next possible flight to Portugal!"

"Why Portugal?"

"We are going to meet your nephew and our grandson!" His mom's words nearly caused Shidou to drop the phone as all three stared at it in shock.

"Nephew?! Did Sae knock someone up?!" Rin asked as Karasu held back a gasp.

"Not someone! It turns out my baby got married without even telling us and has a child with the girl. Your father is trying to reach him but he isn't picking up."

"Married?! Who?!" Shidou yelled, quickly covering up his mouth after that.

"Who?!" Rin repeated.

"Remember your manager in Blue Lock, (L/n) (Y/n) was it? Well her! Oh! They look so adorable! And the child even has Sae's hair color!" His mom gushed as Karasu's jaw dropped along with Shidou's. Rin's body meanwhile shook with rage as he calmly took back his phone and went to take his stuff.

"Yeah... I am on my way there." Rin said as he held back a scream.

"Good! Give Sae a hug from us! We will be there as soon as possible too." With that his mom ended the call and he walked out of the locker room, leaving his two shocked teammates behind.

"I sure will... it will leave him breathless." Rin murmured, hitting a nearby wall.

[oddballwriter]

Moon Boys w/ Reader who is on their Period

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Warnings: Mentions of periods, cramps, and other period symptoms (of course). Reader is kept gender neutral for all my he/hims and they/thems who still have their periods. Mention of Layla, I know that’s not really anything but whatever.

Author’s Snip: Guess who’s on his period! Me! So might as well use this as something to help fill out my MoonKnight masterlist.

Notes: There is no dysphoria talk in here but if anyone wants that they can request it.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven Grant

Steven of course knows what a period is but he’s never actually been with someone long enough to come to the part were they would get their period or see them while on their period

He’s great support though

If you have any issues while on your period like bad cramps or fatigue he’s right there to help

Steven actually reads up and researches as much as he can about periods and menstrual cycles to actually understand what’s happening and how to help you

If you hold up fine on your own then he respects that but if you need something he’s on it

Literally nothing is too big of a task for him. If you want a specific snack then he’s going to go get it and some extra things

He’s had a cashers look at him after noticing all the stuff he’s buying and say “You’re a good man.” or just give him a knowing look

Steven does get a little scared if your moody because he doesn’t like feeling like you’re mad at him. But he understands.

I mean you’re bleeding against your will for several days and can sometimes be in pain and still have to go on with your day like you’re not. That’s defiantly not comfortable. He’d be a bit snappy if he had to go through that. 

Steven is a huge cuddle bug so if you want him to hold you while you sit through a cramp he’s right there and holding your heating pad for you

He’s just a sweetie the whole time

Marc Spector

He was married to Layla

He knows how it goes

Marc isn’t doting like Steven (very much) is, but he’s not going to tell you to walk it off either

If you’re stuck in bed because your period isn’t going easy on you he’ll get you what you need, but he’s still very much Marc about it

“Alright. Think of what you need because I’m not gonna walk back and forth repeatedly.” 

For the most part he leaves you alone and lets you come to him since he doesn’t want to get in your space and bother you

Marc memorizes and remembers when you usually get your period and so he’s able to prepare for it so that you don’t have to worry about running out of pad/tampons or painkillers

Again he’s not going to treat you like your sick and dying but he still very much cares about you and wants to make sure you’re okay

You can twist his harm into getting you a specific snack if you do puppy dog eyes and hit him with the “pretty please”

Is he aware that you use that against him? Yes. Is he mad that it gets him every time? Yes. Is he still going to drive all the way to the store? Also yes.

Jake Lockley

“Beba, I’m in the period aisle. What pussy size you wear.” energy

You know he would. Jake’s the type of man to do that. Don’t argue with me

So all the boys know your cycle and what time frame you get your period. But Jake is able to be most on the dot

It’s kind of creepy because he knows exactly when you’ll get it but Jake’s just used to being observant and so he just recognizes it more than the rest of them

This also leads to him telling when you’re really going through it with your cramps and just trying to keep a brave face

When he sees that he just picks you up and puts you on the couch with your heating pad, pills, and a blanket

Whatever you were doing before doesn’t matter, he’ll do it. You go ahead and just lay there and relax as best you can

To all my Mexicans and hispanics reading this, if you’re cramps are bad then he puts his hand on your stomach and does “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana” to help you feel better and also make you laugh if you know what it is

For context to any non hispanics, “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana” is a rhyme that parents will do while rubbing where their child got hurt or feels pain

[scullycockstrap]

i love how steven takes upon himself the duty to negotiate the terms of their arrangement with khonshu after witnessing how it happened in the first place.

my take is that steven had finally understood his purpose within the system — which wasn't having a normal, simple, happy life — but be able to deal with what marc could not. steven saw marc's trauma (it's their trauma, but he wasn't the one who lived throught it, so he didn't carry the same scarring from it) and the way it influenced marc's perception of himself and his decision making, and how shitty both were.

even mortally wounded, marc's guilty was so great he was about to take himself out of his mysery before khonshu spoke and, even after listening to his offer, marc wasn't sure if he wanted to live. of course the instinct to live kicked in, but i think the promise of reparation was what convinced him. for a man who killed his brother and who was responsible for innocent people's death, maybe the idea of becoming the "final word against the evildoers", as khonshu said himself, looked like a way to redemption.

steven immediately recognized the god's manipulative discourse and how he used it against marc, so he put himself between them as a shield.

for what i could gather, as an alter, steven had been serving the system in a way to give marc some sort of respite. when they were kids, where marc believed to be bad, difficult, unworthy and careless, steven was organized, smart, cautious and pliant. their mother's ressentment didn't diminish when steven was fronting, but i bet his behavior placated her enough to protect them from her outbursts (the memory depicted on the show aside, i don't think steven's fond memories of their mother are fabricated, not that she treated him with love, but with less cruelty)

maybe when marc left home, steven went dormant, only to be awakened again years later, at the funeral.

but now, at the present moment, conscious of who he is and what he is a part of, as an alter, steven assumes the protector role — as a fighter too — but mostly as a form to shelter marc's deep self-hatred and malignant self-shame from the world. he wouldn't let khonshu or anybody else exploit marc's wounds anymore. and, by doing it, he's giving marc time and space to heal.

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 8

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You and Steven talk and you make a decision. Or alternatively: You spill the beans and things get messy.

Content: 'tis be an angsty one! anxiety, panic attacks, tears, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 6,400

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

The door to Steven’s flat has never looked as intimidating as it does right now. The frame is taller than you remembered, and the ornate black panelling seems to have an almost gothic undertone. You can’t help but feel like a supplicant come to receive judgement. 

Trying to calm your racing heart, you smooth a hand over Marc’s jacket where it’s carefully folded and draped over your arm, all the identifying bits of collar and zipper and pockets turned inward. You’re not sure if Steven would even recognize the tan canvas jacket—you’ve never seen him wear it—but it still feels like you’re carrying a red flashing neon sign announcing your deception to everyone who sees it.

One last check to make sure you’re presentable, one last deep breath, then you raise a hand to knock on the door. The sound echoes loudly in the quiet of the hallway. You hear the thump and creak of feet approaching the door and then the metallic sound of locks being undone before the door is jerked open. Steven appears in the opening, staring at you with wild eyes and even wilder hair. 

“You’re here,” he says, and his eyes soften, relief bleeding into his features. “Thanks. Sorry. Sorry, I–” A renegade curl falls into his eyes, and his hand reaches up to smooth it back against his forehead before he gestures you inside. “Come in, please. I need you to– I have to ask you something.”

Your stomach lurches, certain that you’ve been found out, even if you don’t know what for yet.  

You follow him in, hyper-aware of Marc’s jacket. It seems to burn into the skin of your forearm, even through the sleeve of your jumper. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the fish tank, eyes skirting around it even as you search for a place you can divest yourself of the jacket, somewhere where Steven won’t immediately notice. 

But it’s too late, Steven’s already guiding you to his bed, so you go, taking a seat and setting the jacket down carefully behind you while he’s facing the other way. Maybe you can contrive to push it off the head of the bed somehow? Surely Steven won’t notice in all the mess.

“So Gus’ fin grew back,” Steven says, and your heart stops, all thoughts skittering away from your brain as your eyes fly up in panic to meet Steven’s. He hesitates, turning to look at the fish tank where the imposter fish is swimming in all his incriminating two-finned glory and then back at you, “and I feel like that’s not quite… normal, yeah?”

And there it is.

Your heart, previously lodged in your throat, sinks to the pit of your stomach.  

Your ploy with Marc was always inevitably going to come back and haunt you, wasn’t it? Steven isn't stupid. As frazzled as he often seems, perpetually sleep deprived and forgetful, he's clever. One of the most intelligent people you've ever met. Of course this man—this brilliant, observant man—was going to notice that his goldfish had magically regrown a fin overnight. 

“I– I don’t–” The words freeze in your throat as Steven turns to stare at you, brows furrowed, gaze piercing in a way that’s so very unlike him, (but very like someone else you know), and your chest clenches.

“It's not just me, right? Gus has– had only one fin. He had one fin yesterday, but today he has two.” 

Oh god. You don’t know what to say. 

Do you pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about? Agree that it must have grown back? Make up some excuse about how you never paid much attention to Gus’ fins anyway? 

You’re so bloody tired of making excuses.

“You think I'm mad don't you? That I've lost it completely?” Steven says it quietly, a small sad smile on his face, and your heart aches.

You still don’t have an answer for him

Why couldn't Marc have cut one fin off like you told him to? Why couldn't he have just left Gus’ corpse where he found it? Easier to explain a dead fish than a live one that’s suddenly regrown a limb!

In front of you, Steven’s shoulders sag, and you can feel your loyalties wavering. The deep-rooted love you have for this man warring with your promises to the man who came to your door because you’re the only one he had, the only person he could trust.

Steven doesn't say another word, and you bite your lip as you watch him trudge over to a chair and slump down into it. Back curling, he bends over until his elbows are on his knees and stares blindly at the fish tank.

“Maybe you're right, maybe I have gone mad. Fish don't magically regrow fins overnight, do they? No. No, they definitely do not. Oh god.” His fingers dig into his hair, gripping it hard. It hurts just to look at him, and you worry that if he doesn't ease up he's going to end up ripping it out by the roots. 

It physically pains you to see him like this, doubting his own sense of reality. The guilt is screaming inside you until you feel it burrowing into the marrow of your bones. You have done this to him. 

You're gaslighting the man you love, and for what? 

This is such a mess, of first Marc’s and now your making. You had somehow convinced yourself that you were staying mum to protect Steven, but keeping things secret has only made everything worse.

You desperately want to tell Steven the truth. But if you tell him about the truth about Gus, you’ll have to tell him the truth about Marc. You’ll have to tell him that all this time—months and months—you've kept that secret from him. Lied to him.

He's going to hate you. 

For just a moment, you get a flash of memory. Of those beautiful brown eyes pinning you down as you stood inside the lift, fleeing from this very flat the first night you spent together. Of the look in them that said you meant nothing to him. 

You don't know if you can survive seeing that look in Steven’s eyes when he’s only ever looked at you with love. You feel like you might vomit at the very thought of losing him, but… it’s not for you to decide is it? 

The words you once threw at Marc during one of your very first conversations echo back to you: He deserves to know.

You’ve got to tell Steven the truth. All of it. Even if it earns you his anger or his hatred. And if he breaks up with you over it, well… that’s his decision, isn’t it? 

Steven deserves to know the truth. Even if it means you lose him forever. 

Misery, resolve and resignation solidify into a lead weight in your chest, and you rise to your feet, ignoring how wobbly they feel. It’s as if you're walking on sinking sand instead of the firm wooden floorboards as you make your way over to him, standing close enough that your knees touch.

Raising your hand to his shoulder, you rub the tense muscle to comfort him. It doesn't help, he's still rigid and unresponsive. 

“Steven,” you call out softly, and you can feel his body respond to your voice, the tension softening underneath your fingers.  “You've not gone mad. You’re right. Gus only had one fin, this fish has two. You're not imagining things, I promise.”

He's still quiet, and you lean down cupping your hands on each side of his cheeks to tilt his face up. He meets your gaze, wide-eyed and trusting, and you pause for just a moment, fixing this instant in your memory because you don’t know if he’ll ever look at you like this again. 

Then you take a deep breath and do what must be done.

“You're not mad,” you repeat, then quickly before you can change your mind or Marc can interrupt, you blurt out, “you have D.I.D.”

“D-I– …D?” Steven repeats slowly, “I– I don’t understand?” 

“Dissociative Identity Disorder,” you clarify. 

He just stares at you blankly, so you continue, despite your trembling nerves and the near certainty that you are doing and saying this entirely wrong.

“I don’t think it’s a sleeping disorder that’s causing your problems, Steven. I think you have Dissociative Identity Disorder. I’m– I’m pretty sure.”

There’s a moment of absolute silence. So quiet you can hear the fish tank filter buzzing away, and you force yourself to meet Steven’s gaze as he gapes at you in disbelief.

“You think I have–” Steven trails off, then forces an incredulous laugh, “What, like in Split or Psycho!?”

“Oh god no! Those are awful representation of– No. Look, it's nothing like that.” 

“Why would you–” His brows draw together in a frown, and his eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again before they focus in on you. “Why do you think I have D.I.D?”

“Well, I’ve… um…,” It’s been ages since you’ve thought about how this conversation might go, and you feel vastly underprepared, cringing at the clumsiness of your words even as you say them, “I’ve sort of… seen it?”

“What do you mean you’ve seen–? Oh. Oh God,” his pupils blow wide, and you can almost see the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place for him, the paradigm shift as Steven’s perception of reality crumbles before your eyes. “You’ve met one of them then. Haven’t you?”

“I–” You don’t even get the word out before he’s barrelling on.

“You must’ve. That’s what happened that first night at my flat, isn’t it?” His voice is loud and sharp, almost accusatory, and your stomach twists and knots into itself as he turns away from you and shoves one hand into his hair, yanking at it. “That’s why you were so upset. Why you left. Why you didn’t want to talk about it or spend the night with me.”

“Oh god,” He whirls back to you suddenly, eyes wide with fear, “What happened that night? What did I– Are you all right!?”

“Nothing. Nothing bad happened, Steven, I promise. I’m all right. Everything’s all right.” Another lie on your tally. You’re not sure things are ever going to be all right between the two of you again after this.

“Oh god. You really are sure, aren't you? I can’t–” he turns away again to pace the length of the floor in front of the fish tank, and your heart breaks at how upset he sounds.

“All this time,” he mutters in agitation, “All the times I’ve blacked out. Lost track of time. Woken up somewhere odd. It’s all been that, hasn’t it? Them. Another person inside of me.” He pauses then, “All the mornings you were gone when I woke up…”

It hurts you to hear him like this. You let things go on too long. You should’ve told him earlier.

Without forewarning, he stops, shoulders drawn back into a painfully straight line. You hold your breath for several heart-stopping moments, and then he turns slowly, rounding on you.  

“If you knew…” he begins quietly, eyes meeting yours again, but where there was fear before, they are now sharp and guarded, fear replaced with caution.  “Why didn't you tell me?”

You take a deep breath. The moment drags out, and you wish you could hold your breath for an eternity so you’d never have to answer, never have to risk losing Steven, but reality doesn’t work that way. You owe him this. The whole truth, even if it breaks things between you.  

“He asked me not to.”

His eyes narrow, nose flaring. For the first time since you’ve met him, you watch Steven’s soft brown eyes turn hard and steely, and you have to fight back the tears that prickle at your own.  Even though you knew full well that your confession might earn you his anger, it still hurts to see him look at you this way.

“He… asked you?” His voice is so much lower than what you are used to, murky and dark, dripping with tar, and it makes your heart race several notches faster in alarm to hear it. 

“You spoke to him?” he presses, “What did you two–” The accusation is raw in his voice, and your neck prickles with anxiety. He pauses. “Did he– Did he threaten you?”

“What? No, Steven, I don’t–?” You’re bewildered by the sudden change of direction.

“Did he hurt you?” he interrupts you to demand again, “Did he harm or threaten you in any way?” His eyes are desperate, wild. And you suddenly understand that he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at Marc. 

God, you’re really buggering this up right properly, aren’t you? Now you’ve managed to ruin Steven’s relationship with Marc before it’s even had a chance to start.

“No. No, Steven,” you hurry to reassure him, trying to undo as much of the damage that you've already done. Trying desperately to explain. “He didn't hurt me. He would never.”

“If he had– If... I had hurt you–” Steven’s anger breaks, along with his voice as he continues, “God, I could have hurt you, and I wouldn’t even have known. I-I-I need help. Need to be locked away to keep people around me safe.  I can't–”  

He backs away from you as he speaks as if he fears just being near you might somehow cause you physical harm. You had thought his anger was the worst thing you might have to face. But this—watching his raw pain and fear at the thought that he might have hurt you, might be dangerous—is an incomparable hell that you could never have imagined. 

“No, Steven. No! You’d never hurt anyone–”

Shaking his head at you, he continues to retreat, backing up until his back hits the bookshelf with a solid thud, and he winces at the impact. 

You reach out for him, wanting to soothe his pain and distress and make sure he’s not harmed.

“Don’t!” he shouts, and you flinch, immediately yanking your hand back as his words sear your fingertips. 

“I can't–” He turns sharply away from you to resume pacing. 

You watch him pace, swallowing down the stab of pain of his rejection because it’s only what you deserve, isn’t it? You should have told him sooner. Should never have lied to him in the first place.

“Something’s wrong,” Steven pants out, “This doesn’t– This doesn’t feel right.” His physical agitation is visible. He's breathing heavily, all hunched in on himself, and stops to brace himself against the side of the fishtank. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

You raise a hand, but you don’t quite dare reach out again; open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know what to say. Your eyes sting with tears, and you feel helpless. Hopeless. You don’t know what to do to help him.

“I think– Think I’m having a p-panic attack. I think–” he stutters out, those soft hands clutching at his chest like it hurts him, “Oh god. I can't– Can’t breathe. I can’t–” 

You’re just beginning to realise what’s happening, when Steven slumps over, dropping to his knees on the floor, body going stiff and rigid.

“Steven!” You scramble forward to grab his shoulders, crouching down to brace yourself in case you need to catch him.

His eyes roll back, and for a horrifying moment, all you can see is the whites of them under his fluttering eyelids. 

Oh God, is he having a seizure?! Fuck, no no no no!

Suddenly his whole body stills. Those brown eyes open slowly in a suddenly calm face, and he raises one eyebrow, regarding you sardonically. 

This isn’t Steven anymore. 

“You just had to tell him, didn’t you?” are the first words out of Marc’s mouth. 

Your face burns. Your throat closes up. Any ounce of composure left in you has been worn paper thin, tearing at the seams. 

You can't take any more of this. After everything that's happened in the clusterfuck that is the last 24 hours of your life—your blunder of an almost kiss, the sleepless night, your mortifying sex-dream in the Uber, your confrontation with Steven, seeing him so upset—this is the last straw. It’s all just too much. 

Something gives way inside of you, and you fall to your knees. The tiny pain from your kneecaps impacting the hardwood is lost in the hurricane of emotions building in your chest. Misery, humiliation, shame, fear, regret—all the feelings you’ve pushed down for god knows how long are roiling together, cracking against your ribs and climbing your throat like bile, no longer willing to be contained or ignored. Tears sting your eyes. You try to fight them back, but it’s no use. You’re crying, and it feels like just one more miserable indignancy. 

God, you’re pathetic.

Across from you, Marc’s stern expression shifts. Steel-cut eyes, fading into something softer, sadder, even as the line of his mouth tightens.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises a tentative hand to your shoulder. When you don’t flinch or pull away, it presses there more firmly before sliding down across your shoulder blade to the small of your back.

The comforting gesture overwhelms your last desperate hold on your composure, and you collapse forward against him, burying your face in his chest. He still smells faintly of clean linens blended with the soap you’re used to on Steven, just like he did when you were pressed against him on the DLR. That was only twenty four hours ago, and yet it feels like a different lifetime entirely.

His arms come up to surround you in a gentle hug, and you’re struck all over again by how warm and solid he is. The thought barely has time to sink in before the guilt and shame floods you all anew. 

This is not the time. This is not the right person. You shouldn’t be feeling anything for Marc right now, and you can’t help but descend into full ugly sobbing.

Marc’s arms squeeze tight where they’re wrapped around you, then gravity shifts as he sits back, dragging you down into his lap. He settles you there against him, one large hand running slowly up and down your spine, and holds you while you cry.

It’s embarrassing and pathetic and exactly what you need right now, and you sob your heart out there against his chest, trying not to get too much snot all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you eventually manage to choke out through your tears,  “I-I shouldn't have told him like that. Should have done it better. Sooner.”  Every word comes out stuttering, garbled with thick mucus and gasping sobs. 

Marc merely hums and continues to stroke your back. You wonder if he can understand a word you’re saying, or if he’s being polite so you won’t descend deeper into hysteria.

After a long moment, the force of the sobs pushing against your diaphragm start to fade a little, settling into more sedate tears and the occasional hiccup, and Marc pulls back slightly, shifting you to one side. You watch, puzzled, as he uses one hand to tug the end of his sleeve down over the other. 

Understanding dawns when he lifts it to your face, using the softworn cotton fabric to wipe your soggy, tear-soaked cheeks. You’re stunned by the gentle gesture. Your skin burns where he touches you, but you’re not sure if it's the scrape of the damp material over irritated flesh or the physical proximity of the man in front of you. 

“Why does he never get clothes that fit?” Marc mutters, grouching like an old man at Steven’s sartorial choices. 

That forces a choked laugh out of you, disrupting the pressure in your chest and throat long enough that you can finally catch a full breath. 

When you look back at Marc, there's the faint hint of a pleased smile there at the curve of his lips. It might be the softest expression you’ve ever seen him wear. It reminds you of Steven, and your heart breaks all over again, more tears pushing up behind your eyelids.

“I should never have lied,” you choke out on a strained, ugly sob, “I should have told him from the start, should never have allowed it to go on for as long as it did. And oh God, he was so upset there at the end. Scared and angry and– And it’s all my fault. I did that. I broke him.”

“You didn't break anything. He’s not broken. Maybe we need some help, yeah. But nothing’s broken.”

You nod and sniffle, trying to take some comfort from his words. To your surprise, Marc continues to speak.

“Steven will get through this. You too. You'll be fine.”

And that's.... that’s good, isn’t it? That’s what you want, but…. 

But there's some small horrible part of you that's selfishly worried about if you and Steven will be able to get through this together. If there will even be a ‘you and Steven’ anymore, once you see him again. 

“He'll never be able to forgive me,” you whisper, giving voice to your worst fear. The words are hoarse as you continue, spewing out the worry and self-contempt you’re drowning in, “And he shouldn't! He should hate me.”

“He’s not gonna hate you.” Marc's voice is gruff and impatient, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or scold you. 

“But I lied to him—for months! What kind of partner does that? I’m despicable. Steven must think that I'm a monster.”

“He doesn’t think that. Trust me, Steven doesn’t hate you.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know,” he counters, implacable. “How can you possibly know!?” you demand in despair, your throat is scratched raw and clogged with tears. 

“We share a body. Steven may not know what happens when he’s not in the driver’s seat, but I do. Words. Feelings. It's all there. Just distorted.”

That gives you pause.

“‘Distorted’ how?” 

You’d never considered that Marc might remember when Steven didn’t. But he does—of course he does. How else would he have known about you in the first place?

“Like– Like being a fly on the wall. I don’t have control, but I see what’s happening. I feel what he’s feeling.”

“Wait…” You tense in his arms as a horrifying thought occurs to you, a montage of every intimate moment you and Steven have shared playing out in mortifying technicolour behind your eyes. “You've been in there watching this whole time!?”

Marc must sense what you're thinking because he shakes his head, looking away briefly. “Not the whole time. Sometimes. Enough. Enough to know how Steven feels about you.”

Despite his reassurance, you’re not convinced, and Marc must see it. His hand comes up, running haphazardly over his hair before he looks up at the ceiling, the hand smoothing across his mouth in a gesture of frustration as he tries to find his words. 

“Steven... likes you. Likes you so much that it feels like his heartbeat is about to burst out of his chest when you’re around. He likes being with you. Sitting with you. Spending time with you. It doesn't matter what you do. You don’t even have to be talking. If you’re there, he’s happy. You make him happy.”

“Steven makes me happy too," you whisper. 

An image of Steven sitting at a restaurant table with flowers and chocolate, his whole face lit up with excitement at your arrival forms in your mind's eye, and you find yourself smiling through your tears.

“He’s so thoughtful. And smart. And… and… awkward sometimes,” you continue with a small wet laugh, wiping your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, “but only because he cares so much. He just has this way about him, you know? Where he always gives one hundred per cent of himself to… well… everything, really.” 

Marc nods sympathetically. You know you’re rambling, but you don’t seem to be able to stop. Marc shows no signs of stopping you either, so you keep nattering on, pouring out the things you love about Steven. The things you wish you’d said to him when you had the chance.

“If he’s happy or enthusiastic about something, there’s no hiding it, is there? Not when his smile lights up the whole bloody room.” Your chest squeezes tightly into itself until it’s hard to speak, “I just…”

“I just love him.” The words are squeaky and ragged from being choked out past the rising lump in your throat, and you can feel tears beginning to well up anew. “And it hurts so much to see him struggling with something he can’t understand. He doesn’t deserve that. I just… I just wanted him to be able to have a happy, normal life. For us to have a happy, normal life together.

“You’re not wrong to want that,” Marc says quietly. He sounds distant, almost introspective. “You deserve it. So does he.”

“But now I’ve gone and buggered it all up, haven’t I? We’ll never get to have that now.”

For the first time tonight, there’s no answer, no response from Marc, and when you look up at him, you find him staring off over your shoulder, eyes dull, mouth set in a grim line.

“Marc…?” “Yeah.” His voice is faint, hoarse as his gaze turns towards you slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a trance. It grows stronger, more determined once he meets your eyes, “Yeah, no. You’re gonna get to have that. You and Steven are gonna get to have a normal, happy life together. The one you deserve.” “I don’t– I don’t know if Steven will forgive me for lying to him, Marc.” Your throat tightens, bile burning the lining of your stomach as you try to make peace with that truth, “That will have to be his choice.”

“He’ll forgive you. I’m gonna take care of it. I’ll fix everything. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”

You desperately want to believe him. And looking at the determination in Marc’s eyes, the resolved set to his jaw, you almost do. This is a man who would move heaven and earth to keep his promises. But as much as you trust him, some things are out of his hands. There’s only so much Marc can “fix.” He can’t control Steven’s feelings or undo your decision to lie to him in the first place.

Still, the fact that Marc is trying so hard to comfort you warms you. You observe the stubborn set of his jaw with fondness, and you can feel yourself relaxing, just the tiniest bit.

“Marc, I–” you pause, struggling with what to say before settling on, “Thank you. For… for taking care of me.” You barely get the last word out before being overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn, the tiredness you’ve been keeping at bay all evening rising up to overwhelm you.

“You should go home,” Marc says, not unkindly, “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

Dragging your eyes to the clock on the wall, you realise that it’s nearly half-eleven. After barely catching any sleep last night (and what you did catch was hardly restful), it’s no wonder your nerves are shot. 

You’re physically exhausted, head aching from all the crying, and when you think of the commute home, you want to weep all over again. You’re just so tired. You can’t imagine how you’re going to drag yourself up off the floor, much less down to the tube, but you’re bloody well not getting into another taxi or Uber right now.

“Can I… um… Would it be all right if I stayed and slept here?” 

“Yeah. That’s fine. C’mon.” He helps you to your feet and gently guides you to your side of the bed. 

You climb in, dragging the covers haphazardly up over your legs as you lay back against the blissfully welcoming pillows. 

Seemingly unsatisfied, Marc takes over. Reaching down and grabbing the edge of the quilt, he pulls it the rest of the way up and over you until he can tuck it in snugly around your shoulders. The floorboards creak as he rises to stand, and you’re seized by a sudden fear that if he leaves now it might be the last you see of him or Steven.

“Wait!”

Marc pauses, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“Could you...”  You look down, embarrassed by what you want to ask, but really, after every other mortifying thing you’ve done in front of him recently, what’s one more? “Could you stay with me?” 

You drag your eyes back up to his face just in time to see that inquiring eyebrow hitch higher still, so you rush on, “Just until I fall asleep. Please? I’d rather not be by myself right now.” 

Marc hesitates, shoulders tensing up, and you're gearing yourself up for his refusal when he sighs and acquiesces with a nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll stay.”

You’re so grateful you feel like you could cry all over again, but you’ve put Marc through quite enough of that already tonight. Instead, you give him a small tired smile and scoot over to make room, rolling onto your side to face him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

He sits turned slightly towards you and watches you tuck your hands under your chin, trying to get comfortable. 

After you settle, he lifts one hand towards your face, and for a moment you almost expect him to cup your cheek like Steven would, but then his hand hesitates, stilling briefly in mid-air before coming to rest onto your shoulder.  Right, of course, how silly of you. Of course Marc isn’t going to touch your face. 

You gaze up at him, taking in the easy way he watches you, his expression open, shoulders more relaxed than you’ve ever seen them. You do your best to take in every detail and micro expression, wanting to etch every inch of that handsome face into your permanent memory just in case it all goes to shit after this. It’s Marc’s face, but also Steven’s, and even if there are distinct differences between the two of them, it is undeniably the very same face of the man you love.  

Marc’s gaze doesn’t waver from you, and his attention is comforting. The heavy weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you feel safe, and your eyelids feel equally heavy. You can barely keep them open. 

His dark eyes are the last thing you see before sleep claims you.

You wake to an empty bed. 

Steven’s side of the mattress is cold, and for once there's no gentle symphony of cooking noises from the kitchen in place of his weight next to you. 

Opening your eyes, all you see is the white sheets, the wrinkled pillow and… your handbag? There’s no pile of folded clothes next to you, and it's not until you sit up, clutching the quilt to your already-clothed chest out of habit, that you remember why things are different.

You look out over the empty space and realise that you’re alone. It's eerily quiet in the flat. London should not be this quiet. It feels wrong to be here without Steven or Marc, like you’re an intruder, trespassing where you don’t belong.

The flat looks different without them as well. The clutter of books, scribbled notebooks and knick-knacks usually make the vast space feel homely and lived in. But now, without Steven sitting at his desk pouring over books or Marc standing by the kitchen counter cleaning up crumbs, the mess just makes the space look derelict and unattended. It feels so empty that it might as well be abandoned. 

Reaching for your handbag, you realise belatedly that Marc’s jacket is missing. It’s not there where you left it on the bed or lost somewhere under the covers, and when you scramble up to peer over the edge of the mattress, it’s not on the floor either. Marc must have taken it with him. 

It feels stupid to miss something you’ve barely been able to look at the last few days, but there it is. Not knowing what else to do, you fish your phone out of your bag. When the screen lights up, you find a text from Marc, sent hours ago, waiting for you in your notifications. 

Marc I have to leave again. You won't be able to reach me. Steven will be back. Don't worry. 

You settle into a seated position, still groggy from sleep, and start typing out a response. 

You Thank you for letting me know.  Please be careful and come back safe.  Both of you.

Marc leaves you on read. 

It's been a long time since that's happened, and it leaves you feeling odd. The whole situation feels odd, and it leaves an unsettling bitter clump in your throat, even as you try to tell yourself there's nothing to worry about. 

Days go by without communication from Marc or Steven, and an uncanny sense of deja vu starts to creep up on you. It's like you're transported back to the early days right after Marc “officially” introduced himself. When he'd taken Steven and disappeared on you, leaving only a string of numbers written in pen on the palm of your hand. 

The difference between then and now is that you know Marc now. You trust him.  

There's no mad panic this time. No fear that Steven's disappeared on you forever and you’ll never see him again. No mountain of crumpled up paper and sticky notes on your desk, no crazy conspiracy theories or attempts to crack some secret code. Marc said he'd bring Steven back safe, and so he will. It's as simple as that. 

Life just… goes on. You go to work and come home. You eat dinner, watch the telly for a bit and then go to bed. In the morning, you rinse and repeat. 

It’s a bit like having a phone call put on hold—Marc’s text filling the role of that polite automated voice on the other end telling you that you’re a valued customer and they’ll take your call as soon as they can, no indication of how long you might be left to wait.

That’s not to say that you don’t worry. You may not be worried about Steven not coming back, but you are worried about what will happen once he does. 

Marc said he'd “fix everything,” but some things aren't fixable. He can't turn back time or change what's already been done. You behaved badly, lied to Steven for months, and even if your decision to do so came from a place of love and worry for him, that doesn't mean Steven will be okay with it. 

You just wish you had some indication of how he felt about everything.

You do your best to not wallow in that uncertainty. But in the quiet evenings, even the loud noise of the telly isn't enough to drown out your thoughts, it always comes back to you. 

In those hours, against your own better judgement, you always end up painting elaborate scenarios of the moment Steven returns to you.  It's that itch you should leave alone, swelling only getting worse every time you scratch until it becomes an infected wound, and still, you can't stop yourself. 

In one version he's angry, disappointed in another, and in the worst one: hurt. He's always asking you the very question that you've repeatedly asked yourself. ‘How could you?’

In every scenario, you're unable to give any explanation that could possibly vindicate you. All you can think to say is: “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” You hope it’ll be enough.

Some things aren't fixable. You can only pray your relationship with Steven isn't one of them.

It's another Saturday night, and you're on the sofa, eating Chinese take-out straight from the box. The telly is blasting out an old rerun of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, the swear-filled hollering of the chef almost comforting in how loud it is. It's drowning out both your own thoughts and all other background noise with bleeped-out expletives on maximum volume. 

You're picking escaped bits of noodle out of the sofa cushions, when you think you hear three gentle taps on your door.

It's so quiet that you think at first it's just your imagination playing tricks on you. Or perhaps your neighbours banging around. Something pinches at your chest, and you look up at the clock on your wall. Almost midnight. No one would knock on your door at this hour, least of all– 

But... what if it is him? 

Reaching forward, you grab the remote and turn off the telly. You hold your breath, you strain your ears, listening for any break in the sudden silence. 

The knocking repeats. It's a quiet noise, almost patient and polite, but this time you can tell it's definitely coming from your door. There's only one person in the world who knocks on your door instead of using the bell because he knows it always startles you. 

Anticipation hums in your chest, and you throw yourself off the sofa so fast you go lightheaded from getting up so suddenly. You dash towards the door, narrowly missing your ottoman—honestly you have no idea why you keep the bloody thing—and hurry down the short hall. A sudden attack of nerves makes your fingers clumsy, and you fumble with the lock, your thumb slipping against the latch. 

What if it's not him?  

What if it's just some inappropriate door salesman? Or what if it is him, and he's really angry with you? What if– You finally get the bloody thing undone and throw the door open with enough force to rip it off its hinges. 

He stands there at the threshold of your door, one hand still lifted as if to knock again. 

You stop dead, your heart pounding like it’s trying to beat its way out of your chest. The two of you stare at each other, and it feels as if the whole world is holding its breath.  Finally, you manage to kick your frozen body back into working order long enough to breathe out a single word—

“Steven.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Author's note: Phew! When I said this chapter gave us trouble, you guys don't even know the half of it. My poor (encouraging and supportive) writer friends has heard me screech and moan and cry about this one so much that they get PTSD flashbacks when they hear the term "Red Flags" now.

Dedication

There isn't enough credit and dedication and kudos that exists in the world to do @thirstworldproblemss justice or adequately describe how she spearheaded this chapter. She picked this story up when I was unable to take it further and polished it and shined it and fixed it and turned it into the absolute diamond that it is. I cannot tell you the number of times we've hit a snaffu in writing this series, where I felt that I couldn't see left from right in the fog as thick as Silent Hill 2, where I felt the quality was just not there. And she comes with her keyboard and magic wand and like a fairy godmother make it all pretty and right and perfect and good.

But more importantly than that, TWP you held my hand when I was being an insufferable Titanic ship of a wreck of a human being after I hit the iceberg of exhaustion. This story would not exist without you. I would not be on tumblr still without you. You mean the whole friggin' world to me. I adore you xx

[winniethewife]

Chain around my neck. (Moon knight system x reader)

I did one thing right. (Marc)

Words: 526

She waited at the coffee shop at the end of the street, Marc was going to meet her there. She was fidgeting with the pendant around her neck, a golden bar, on three of the four sides are engraved the initials of her boyfriends, M.S. Marc Spector, S.G Steven Grant, J.L Jake Lockley. It had been a gift for their first anniversary and she’s worn it every day since. She looks up and she sees him in the distance, His head is down, his hands in his pockets, but she’d recognize those curls from miles away. She smiles as he looks up and sees her, he returns the smile with one of his own and picks up the pace. He walks up to her and puts his hands on her hips, a short kiss on the lips.

“Hey Baby.” His gruff American accent tickles her ears.

“Hey yourself.” She chuckles as she looks up into his chocolate eyes, his hair slicked back, the musky smell that hit her senses is the last conformation that this is Marc.

“Ready to head in?” Marc asked motioning to the coffee shop. She nods and they head inside. After ordering their drinks they sit down, the comfortable silence between them as she intertwines her fingers with his, is very familiar. She looks up at him a small smile on her face.

“Can…Can I talk to you about something?” Marc asks hesitantly, his face looking conflicted.

“Of course Marc, you can always talk to me.” She looks concerned as he says this. Marc hardly ever talked about what was going on with him, it was usually a struggle to get him to open up, and so this was either progress or something really bad. Marc notices the look on her face right away and squeezes his hand.

“Hey…its nothing bad…I promise” He reassures her. “It’s um… I’ve been trying to figure out what is going on with me recently and I think I’m starting to get it…I think, I’m…Happy?” He was trying really hard to say this the right way, he takes a drink of his coffee before continuing

“My whole life, has been a series of tragedy and heartbreak. I’ve spent more time just trying to survive more than anything. But recently I noticed…I’m not doing that anymore. I’m just…happy.” He looks into her eyes. She feels the heat in her face and a smile on her face.

“I’m really happy for you Marc. That’s really great, but…I feel like there’s more to it.” She leans in a little closer to him. He chuckles

“You’re not wrong. We’ve talked about it and…we want you to move in with us…if you want.” Marc smiles at her glancing in the reflection of the window possibly to reassure or get reissuance from his alters.

“Wait… really?” She asked excitedly

“Yeah really. So will you?”

“Yes of course I will!” She leans across the table and kisses him, not caring about the looks they were getting, Marc smiles into the kiss and as they part he smiles.

“Of all the things I’ve done wrong in my life, at least I did one thing right.”

~

Part 2

Series Masterlist

[m00nsbaby]

Violent things.

Steven Grant + Marc Spector + Jake Lockley x F! reader. Part I. (Out of 3.)

Tags & warnings. Lots of talks about death, violence, abuse. Inspired by Moon Knight's 5 episode x Corpse Bride. (+ this one is for my delulu girls since the reader is a bit delulu lol.)

Word count. 6.2k

Summary.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. Hah, he did that too. "I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else. "Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Each person had a different 'other side.'

Except you. Or well, technically, you had it, but it had been a long time since you'd been in it. In fact, apart from the bright colors, you couldn't remember much of it.

You'd been in excessively bright representations of what people imagine as 'heaven,' parties with mead, and you'd even tried candies that would have turned your tongue green if you'd eaten them in life.

Although, of course, that's how the most common ones looked; there were stranger ones too. People seeing themselves in their tiny cat-filled apartment or wandering the halls of their old school. Either way, it was fine because it was only temporary while they reached their destination.

Everyone except you.

And a few others who had the misfortune of lacking emotional intelligence even in death.

Literally.

It's okay, though. Over the years, you got used to this 'life' and the idea that you would never see him again, although getting used to it didn't mean you stopped missing him.

Stopped thinking about him.

Stopped wanting him back.

Anyway, work kept you busy because, yes, even in death, you couldn't escape the damn bureaucracy. You didn't have a real name for your boss because she also looked different to each person; to you, her face was very similar to that of an old friend, even though you couldn't specify which one.

She took pity on you somehow. She explained your situation, although it took you a lot of energy and time to understand it. She did everything possible to keep you from becoming one of those lost souls who simply roamed around here. She also pulled you back onto the path when you began to stray.

"There are 3."

You frowned.

"What do you mean, there are 3?"

"There are 3." she shrugged as you walked through the corridors of the psychiatric void. This was a new scenario, and your clothes were different too. Something more modern, you didn't recognize it as something from your time.

Yes, a few years weren't that long, but fashion moved disgustingly fast in the world of the living.

"Do you think you can handle them?" Should you mention to the boss that she looks like a chatty hippo, or is that the kind of thing you keep quiet to maintain good working relations?

You bit your lip and then nodded.

"Good luck." Her mocking smile was never a good sign.

Before you could object, she had disappeared. You took a deep breath; those were funny expressions that had stuck with you even now that you didn't have to breathe for real.

Your shoes echoed in the empty halls as you headed for what you assumed was the main entrance.

The door opened by itself.

Or rather, it opened before you even extended your hand.

"Whoa." You muttered, your eyes widening at the guy in front of you.

A rebellious curl fell over his forehead, and his huge brown eyes were even wider in surprise. He was dressed appropriately for the situation; it looked like a uniform for a psychiatric ward patient, and although it was loose-fitting, you would swear you could see his muscles from miles away.

And he, on the other hand, practically screamed in your face.

"Shit!" He jumped in place, bringing a hand to his chest as he laughed in disbelief.

Oh yeah, there was a bloodstain right on his chest. Nothing to worry about, not anymore at least; once you died, you technically couldn't die twice.

Although finding a functional washing machine in any of the many 'beyonds' was trickier than it seemed. If this Marc Spector guy was in the same situation as you, it was quite likely that he would spend the rest of eternity with that stain on his clothes.

Unless the boss offered him a job.

It would be wonderful to have him here forever.

Were you overthinking? Probably.

"Oh man!" What an interesting accent. "Wow, these meds are really amazing," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

Hah, he did that too.

"I thought I was dead." He hadn't even looked at you properly; he was just suddenly relieved to be in the presence of someone else.

"Oh, no," you cleared your throat. "You are dead."

Your voice sent shivers down his spine, and when he finally bothered to look at you more closely, you could see a touch of fear in his expression.

You were used to it by now, so why did it hurt this time?

"You're joking."

"Maybe if there was someone else to see me lying to you, it would be more fun, don't you think?" You tried to joke, but the poor guy seemed on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

That was a good sign; maybe you could keep him after all.

Marc pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Do you expect me to believe this is the afterlife?"

"No, not the afterlife, an afterlife. This one is yours, well, for now, this is the path."

He fell silent, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if his body still needed oxygen.

You waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But he never said anything, so you caught his attention by clearing your throat.

"Welcome, dear… traveler," you murmured as you clumsily searched for your notes in your pockets.

Ah, there they are.

"I will be in charge of…" You continued reading. "Guiding you on your way to…" How could you call this? Heaven? Valhalla? Mictlan? "What comes next."

Marc looked at you as if you were crazy, and you had no choice but to continue.

"It's a place that's difficult for the human mind to comprehend, so for you, it's something more…" You looked around with a furrowed brow. "Familiar."

He scoffed, his tone full of irony.

"I really am crazy," he muttered in a whisper.

"Together, we will traverse the 10 steps that will lead you to eternal rest." Your arm moved awkwardly up and down. What a stupid choreography your boss had given you. "Although," you stepped out of character. "Sometimes they are doors, and it seems that will be the case this time."

"Who are you?" He asked out of nowhere, and you swallowed hard.

"Your guide."

"Are you some kind of… Goddess? Are you God?"

You laughed, partly embarrassed, partly genuinely amused.

"I'm just your guide."

Marc had to settle for your answer.

"Are you ready?"

"Can one be ready for something like this?"

You shook your head but gave him a resigned smile. You felt sorry for him, as well as for all those who passed through your hands, but at least you did your part by taking them to what you would never know.

You offered him your hand, and hesitantly, he took it.

The contact with his skin made you swear that your heart was beating again.

You took a slow step through the corridors of the psychiatric ward with him behind you, his fingers gradually clinging to you. This was the first time in a long time that Marc allowed himself to be afraid, even when his thoughts were divided between his desire to cling to life and, on the other hand, that 'finally' feeling that had been intoxicating him for the past 10 years, ever since Roro left.

A few minutes of walking, and you knew by pure intuition which was the first door.

Unfinished business.

The first scene was… Something.

No one likes to witness the way they died, but much less what happens afterward. Have you ever heard that the last sense you lose is your hearing? Marc could clearly hear Layla scream his name just after the gunshot.

Or at least, his body managed to register the sound because he didn't remember it, but you could clearly see the scene at this moment.

"You left something unfinished." Your voice was as gentle as you could make it as you surrounded his body on the ground.

A strange feeling overcame you as you watched the curly-haired girl kneel beside him.

Holding him, begging him to come back.

Not sadness or pity, as it usually happened; you felt… uncomfortable? Annoyed?

Marc released your hand to get closer, appreciating the scene up close, and you knew how much he wished to touch Layla when his hand moved in her direction, trying to get her attention.

"Layla?" He whispered, his voice broken, his attention focused solely on her. He didn't even look at his body, which was slowly giving in. He didn't realize how she cradled him between her cheeks and kissed his lips one last time just now.

Your stomach churned; fortunately, you had already forgotten when was the last time you had ingested something.

"Baby?" He asked louder, and you knew it was time to intervene.

"She can't hear you," you whispered from behind, only able to observe Marc's back. The way his body contracted and suffered from small spasms due to crying.

Isn't it curious how all those things become muscle memory? Your breathing shouldn't be a problem when you weren't in your physical body, yet these things still happened.

"What were you doing here?" Your gaze wandered through the darkness inside the pyramid, your steps careful as you approached the open tomb of God knows who. A disgusted expression appeared on your lips at the sight of the mummified corpse.

Everything was better when you pretended that maybe you didn't really look like this.

Marc gave an ironic laugh, still crying, but you decided to give him space.

"I was trying to save the world."

You scoffed. 'Well, to each their own,' you thought as your fingers traced the edge of the tomb.

Hopefully, they buried you in something nice and expensive too.

"This might hold you here; we still don't know what will happen next because it's very recent."

"No." He interrupted, still kneeling in front of himself.

It turns out that the last thing his body registered was the way Layla grabbed his chest, taking something that rested on it afterward. The girl stood up, still with a broken heart but doing her best not to collapse.

You recognized that expression quite well.

"She'll take care of it."

Everything around him became blurry, apparently, that was the point at which he stopped fighting.

Marc slowly got to his feet, his eyes red, and he sniffed repeatedly. If you had the chance, maybe you'd tell him that he didn't need to do that, nothing would come out of his nose.

He looked good, though, even after getting shot, he still seemed attractive.

The good thing is that you still had 9 different opportunities to make him stay with you, but there was still one question. What did the boss mean when she said there were 3? An administrative error or something like that?

"She'll figure it out," he sounded sure as he pressed his nose bridge and took deep breaths. "She'll fix it."

"Then this is closed." You shrugged. Over time, you learned which dead ones to trust and which not to. Maybe Marc wasn't so wrong.

Nine opportunities.

"Congratulations." You offered him your hand, and he took it again.

That had to mean something, right?

You didn't pay much attention to the way he looked back, as if that would give him one last look at Layla. She had been gone for a while now. In fact, in the world of the living, this had probably happened hours ago.

The good thing (for him) is that apparently, she hadn't died yet.

Well, for you too, so you wouldn't find her wandering around. Romances that not even death could separate were the worst.

No more was said as you guided him through the passageways of the old pyramids as if you were an expert archaeologist, or perhaps an amateur with a lot of free time. One step forward from both of you, and everything around him looked different.

Vengeance.

"I have to tell you now." The cold streets of New York made you feel alive, especially in the short skirt you were wearing. The breeze cooled your legs and tousled your hair.

This seemed more common, even in the seedy side of the city. Apparently, Marc had been a normal person occasionally in his life, not someone who went on pyramid expeditions for fun.

"You won't be able to get revenge on anyone by being here." You walked ahead, trying to find the next door. It wasn't worth wasting time on this. "Sometimes divine justice serves in your favor and takes care of them, but it's not worth staying for a trivial matter."

And you knew it well.

When Marc's silence seemed suspicious, you looked back.

His clothes had also changed; he was wearing a leather jacket and a rather peculiar cap. It was gray, and it fit him ridiculously well.

He looked at you with wide eyes, his hand still holding yours.

"Cariño?" That accent was new. Did Marc like to play someone else occasionally at night? It wouldn't surprise you from someone like him.

Weird, like you.

Different, perhaps.

"What am I doing here?"

"Oh no, are you one of those?" You confronted him, one hand still holding his, and the other going straight to his face. You opened one of his eyes wider with your fingers, and he stayed still.

Had he drunk too much the night before or something? Jake didn't experience these things, never.

He didn't lose track of time; he didn't dissociate or lose control of his body; he didn't forget, and he didn't sleep.

This didn't make sense, at least not for him.

"You are dead, Marc," your words made his stomach churn. "I'm guiding you, we're only on the second level." Vapor came out of your mouth as if it were freezing, and your body still had that natural warmth that one emits when they are alive.

He furrowed his brow, looking at you as if he were seeing a ghost.

Well, that's what he was doing, but when you're dead, you don't have the right to see other dead people like this.

"I'm not… I'm not Marc."

Oh.

The boss's words made a bit more sense now. So, were they really brothers? Twins perhaps? Or whatever they were called when they were three.

The poor guy seemed about to have a crisis, very similar to Marc when you first found him.

"Jake Lockley." Your mind clicked, as it always did when you had these encounters with the souls you guided. A hazard of the job, there were things you knew and things you didn't.

He nodded slowly.

"Listen, sweetheart." He slowly released your hand, and the gesture didn't please you. I mean, if you couldn't keep Marc, maybe it could be one of the other two.

"I don't know what kind of joke you're playing," he walked past you while searching in his pocket for what seemed to be keys. "You're beautiful, and maybe we had a pretty fun night, but it's likely that what we have won't work, especially when you're calling me by another name and trying to play those little mind games with me, which, by the way, don't affect me in the least…"

Jake bumped into someone as he moved away from you clumsily.

"Sorry," he muttered, still confused. The other person ignored him, but when he looked back, his eyes widened in surprise. "¿Qué mierda?" You heard him mumble as he stumbled, sitting on the pavement.

Turns out Jake had bumped into himself.

And you suppressed the 'I told you so' smile.

"See?" You watched him pass you as well, and after a few seconds, you decided to approach him, extending your hand.

He looked at it in silence before taking it and getting to his feet.

"You're not playing, right?"

"Nope," you let go of his hand as you inspected his face. He looked so similar to Marc, yet so different at the same time.

"Are we dead?"

"I'm a little deader than you, but yes."

He bit his lower lip, and you saw him take off his cap and run a hand through his disheveled curls, more out of desperation than aesthetics.

He took a deep breath several times, more than you could count, and looked back. You saw the other Jake moving away in the crowd, and without saying anything, you turned to follow him without losing track.

Jake had to snap out of his crisis to follow you.

And him.

"Is that it? Are you not going to give me an explanation?" He hurriedly walked, doing his best not to bump into anyone until he realized that no one seemed to be affected by his shoves, not even moving them.

"We can't lose sight of you."

"This has to be a bad dream."

Maybe you liked Marc more than him.

"It's not a dream, Jake." You let out a deep sigh as you continued walking behind him. "You died, Marc did too, and…"

"Steven?"

"Right."

You finally turned to look at him when Jake from his memory stopped in front of a car.

It was a nice car.

"I still don't know what happened to you and Steven, but Marc got shot right…" You touched the center of his chest, and he didn't show how your touch made him shiver. "Here."

He wasn't sure if it was worth explaining to you right now that if Marc died, he would drag them both down with him.

"And who are you?"

"Your guide." You gave up; you would have to go through this again.

"Are you a product of my imagination?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Why do you look like one of my one-night stands?"

"I look like this all the time, actually," you looked down; this outfit was terribly uncomfortable. "Except for the criminally short skirt."

The sound of the door made you look forward. Apparently, the other Jake got into the car when you were distracted.

You opened the rear door of the car and looked at the confused guy in front of you.

"Get in."

And he obeyed; you got in afterward.

They were silent for most of the way, neither of you knew exactly where you were going because Jake had vague memories of this particular memory, if that made sense.

He had traveled this same road so many times for the same purpose that this could be any day of his life.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Your voice broke the silence, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I was interrogating some guys in Cairo."

Ah, well, it seemed that he was just as strange as Marc.

"I see."

Jake somehow saw himself as the most stable of the three; he had learned to deal with the blows of life that he was forced to take to protect Marc and Steven from them.

But nothing had prepared him for the idea of failing them.

For failing them so horribly.

If he kept thinking, he'd go crazy. Even more.

You didn't know how long you had been here; everything seemed more tedious when Jake decided he didn't want to chat with you, or anyone, for that matter.

You assumed it was shock or something similar, and as for what this scenario meant, you understood why revenge wouldn't retain him.

Because Jake got rid of everyone who got in his way. To him or to Marc.

Both of you watched him drive, dispose of bodies, clean his clothes, and repeat as many times as necessary.

Well, he observed with a disgusted expression, and he took the liberty of covering your eyes with his hand. Well, it wasn't anything you hadn't seen before; apparently, the innocent face always gave the wrong impression.

The night ended with him crawling heavily to his apartment, tired, regretful, and often injured.

You looked at him beside you. Why did he seem so distraught by his own actions?

"So, can we cross revenge off your list?" You tried to joke when the expression on his face weighed on your chest. He didn't hear you; he kept looking at the path he had taken to the apartment.

If this was a divine way to make him regret his actions in life, it was quite functional, to be honest.

"And now?" His eyes fixed on you.

And you looked back at him.

"Do you still have the keys?" You pointed to the car.

He searched his pockets, and the keys jingled. Without saying anything, he opened the front passenger door for you to get in.

The gesture made you bite your lower lip to avoid smiling.

He got in afterward.

"Where are we going?" He started the car, and the roar of the engine added an extra note to the pain he was carrying at the moment.

He wasn't going to drive his car ever again?

Driving was the only thing that brought him peace, and the car was the only thing that belonged to him and only him. In fact, the vehicle was in his name, as was his driver's license. They were the only legal documents with Jake's name on them, even if it had cost him a fortune to bribe those in charge to get them without having to present any other proof that there was nothing suspicious behind them.

They were the only proof that Jake was real.

"I don't know, you'll feel it when we get there," you murmured without bothering to roll up the window; you just let the breeze hit you as the car started moving.

He didn't believe you, but apparently you weren't lying, his instinct was guiding him through the empty and dark streets of New York.

His home.

After a few minutes, Jake took a moment to look at you while you seemed completely absorbed in the detailed memories of Jake, who seemed to have even memorized the signs that adorned the streets he was driving through.

"What are you?" The question sounded a bit more offensive than he would have liked.

"Your guide."

"Are you sure you're not some kind of fantasy of mine?"

Was he flirting with you or insulting you? Either way, you smiled.

"None of that," you cleared your throat and finally looked at him. "I'm at the point where you are right now, and I'm staying here."

Should he inquire further, or were manners no longer as necessary when you were dead?

"For how long?"

"Huh?"

"You seem to know a lot about this; how long have you been like this?"

The way you shrugged was enough of an answer for him.

You had to close your eyes for a few seconds when you realized the effect the question had on you. You usually didn't talk about yourself, especially not with the people you guided. They were always more concerned about themselves, and with good reason; the boss knew well what had happened to you, but having someone directly ask about the situation left a disgusting taste in your mouth.

"My dear."

"Huh?" You looked at him immediately, furrowing your brow.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

"I didn't say anything." The most similar you came to a normal conversation began when Jake released the wheel for a few seconds, raising both hands to declare himself innocent of whatever you were accusing him of.

"I heard you."

"I didn't say anything, I swear on my… death, I guess." He ran a hand through his chest, furrowing his brow.

Even with a bad feeling, you smiled.

And he did too.

Things were more fun when you collected as many jokes as you could about being dead.

"Alright." Your head returned to its position against the seat, and your gaze returned to the outside.

Jake looked at you for a few extra seconds; he knew that smile well.

"I think I can get us out of here," he thought, hoping that Marc and Steven could hear him.

Strong emotions or feelings.

The movement of the car eventually stopped, and you could no longer feel the leather under your fingers; you recognized the grass immediately.

Your eyes were forced open when a couple of children ran past you, laughing and pushing each other. You were beginning to feel tired, even though you were less than halfway there.

You sighed, your body feeling heavy as you stood up.

A couple was enjoying a homemade BBQ, even though the clouds seemed threatening to ruin it.

"Jake? Marc?" You looked around.

Ah, there he was.

Near the children's mother, looking closely at her with a radiant smile. It wasn't difficult to guess that he was Steven; his messy hair and tired eyes didn't resemble the features of Marc or Jake. Well, they did, but not really. Does that make sense?

Finally, one of the three didn't look at you in fear or confusion.

"Oh Gods, hiya!" His accent made you smile, and you waved back in greeting, approaching him as he was only a few steps away.

"You must be Steven."

"And you must be my guide." As if it were a friendly arrangement, he extended his hand, and you shook it gently, enjoying the contact. "Jake explained to me."

Was there a gap between door and door that you didn't witness for them to have a chance to talk? Well, you'd ask later.

"You seem calm."

"I'm totally freaking out on the inside."

You laughed again and nodded. You liked Steven, you liked him more than the other two.

"What level is this?"

"Third." Your attention shifted to the couple next to you, the woman's huge brown eyes told you in seconds that she was the mother of the three.

That was something they had in common, those lost-puppy eyes.

"Strong emotions or feelings." You took a step closer to her, your eyes scanning her face for more familiarities among the triplets and her.

The little wrinkles at the edges of their eyes when they smiled also seemed to come from her. And the curls definitely came from their father.

"Well, I love my mom." He seemed just as distracted by the scene as you were.

You didn't mention that love, at this point, wasn't one of the emotions that could retain you.

The situation wasn't new to you; there was almost always a familiar memory here. You didn't count friends separately because time had shown you that friends were the family you chose; the lines blended easily in those cases.

Maybe this was the reason why you would stay with one of them, and with just 5 minutes exchanged, Steven seemed like a good choice.

The children ran by your side again, and Steven's attention was completely stolen by them. You tilted your head to the side with tenderness and a slight curiosity.

"They're not ready yet; you can go play for a while, understood?" The taller boy nodded, stopping right in front of his brother, who ended up crashing into him.

Both laughed.

"Is it you?" You pointed to the younger one.

Steven seemed as distant from the situation as you. He shook his head slowly before looking at you as if he wanted an explanation. It took him a few seconds to be able to murmur.

"I don't… I don't remember."

"Marc?" The woman called, causing an amusing scene between the two children, Steven, and you since everyone turned to look at her expectantly. "Take care of Roro, please."

Roro?

"Do you have another brother?" Your voice came out so low that not even poor Steven could hear it.

It was a silent agreement in the way you followed him while he continued to follow the children with his mind in a tangle of thoughts. Was this what Marc had been hiding so eagerly?

You could swear a shiver ran through you from head to toe when your eyes settled on the cave the two children were heading towards, and the thunderclap sealed the deal on the bad omens.

You had witnessed these scenes before. When someone was about to die, it always felt like this. Being sensitive to death was one of the quirks that came with the job.

"Steven?"

He didn't even look at you.

"Lads?"

No answer, obviously.

"It's… It's dangerous, they shouldn't…" He seemed to have lost his breath. "They are going to..."

And you nodded slowly.

"I know."

The small steps were only a few meters away from you as the rain intensified. Both you and Steven were getting wet.

"Let me…" He was never able to form a complete sentence. "I know I can…"

You knew he couldn't, but you still followed him into the cave.

You walked in darkness for a very short time, with "I want my mommy" echoing in your ears over and over again.

The cave seemed to end in the living room of what you guessed was their house. Both of you arrived dripping wet, Steven with red eyes after what he had just witnessed.

You were still wondering what role he played in all of this.

Had Marc's emotional burden somehow reached him? After all, he was also their brother, or at least it seemed like it.

You stopped abruptly when both encountered Steven's mother, hands on her hips, her cheeks red with anger. Steven jerked when she yelled the words, "This is all your fault."

Everything was happening too fast, even for you, who had learned the art of controlling the emotions of the moment. It was usually the boss who handled these kinds of situations.

You were never strong enough.

You moved past the scene, your hand learned to Steven's wrist as you directed him upstairs. He couldn't stop looking as he moved awkwardly, stumbling over his own feet.

"It's this way," you whispered, leading him into the room.

You sighed calmly when finally the silence enveloped you. Inside, one of the children was playing alone. The scene tugged at your heartstrings a little more, but hey, at least there was no one screaming.

"I must be remembering wrong," he whispered as a last hope while he sat on the floor, defeated. He took a seat in front of the child. "It must be Marc's doing."

You pursed your lips, deciding not to say anything as you watched his hands tremble. This kind of thing wasn't in the manual.

"Maybe so," you gave him false hope before knocks on the door diverted both of your attention.

"Open the damn door, Marc!"

Another shiver, as horrible as the first one.

"It's not my mom, it's not my mom," the child whispered, covering his hands. Steven and you could do nothing but watch.

"Open this door!" More loud pounding.

More knocks, more panic, more fear.

Until the voice of the kid made you look again.

"Bloody hell! Look at the state of this place." His little eyes focused on a bunch of Legos in front of him. They weren't even scattered. "Better sort it out before mum sees it." His accent was the same as… Steven's.

"Marc! Open this door right now!"

Witnessing that was enough to clear your doubts; you weren't foolish. After your death, no one could really receit you. Your brain easily connected the dots, and apparently, Steven's did too; he had more clues than you did up to that point.

They weren't brothers.

Marc, Steven, and Jake shared the same body.

"When danger is near," Steven narrowed his eyes as he read from the poster on the wall above the child, "Steven Grant has no fear."

He took a deep breath through his mouth with heaviness.

"He made me up." That was the next thing he said, and you couldn't help but watch the child as he organized his Legos.

The door burst open with a shove, and that was your next cue; it was time to get out of there.

"Steven?"

Wendy, whom you had been referring to as 'the mother,' entered the room, her eyes red, and an aroma of alcohol that even you could sense.

"You are going to learn…" She took Marc's belt, the one that hung next to his toys. It was a horrible parallel, and you could swear your chest hurt. "to listen."

Her steps were slow as she coiled the belt in her hand.

"Steven?" You whispered, pushing him in the chest. He stood on tiptoe to get a better view of the scene.

"I wanna see what she did." He mumbled with difficulty.

You gave him another push with all your might.

"Steven, we have to go."

"Let me see what she did." That was the last thing he said before you slammed the door shut, muffling the poor child's cries of pain inside the room.

"I don't hate her." It was the only thing he could say after what seemed like hours. The sun seemed to have set.

You nodded slowly, your head resting against the door just like his.

"I know."

"She was sad."

You had to swallow the urge to tell him that it didn't justify what she did, but you chose to nod and offer him some peace.

"She was."

There were a few more seconds of silence before you murmured, "We have to go."

He nodded and was the first to stand up, intending to offer you his hand, just as you had done with Jake a while ago. You took his hand and stood up, but you didn't let go of his hand.

You descended the stairs slowly; the house suddenly seemed filled with people. Apparently, this wasn't over yet, and you started to seriously think that Steven wouldn't get out of here. How much more could his heart take?

Everything seemed blurry, although of course, you didn't know that the reason behind it was that Marc had never entered the house that day; the memory was clouded by a window in between.

"What happened here?" He whispered behind you.

"Your mom, Steven."

Her photo was on one of the tables, behind two long candles.

"Don't talk nonsense." He took a few steps forward to see what you were seeing. "My mom and I already sorted this out; it must have been something that ha- happened." They were all wearing black clothes around him. "in the past." He completed in a whisper.

You looked at him again, his eyes filled with tears as he shook his head.

"No, no, this can't…" He swallowed hard, making your own throat ache in response. "Marc would have told me."

You doubted it, but it wasn't the time to remind him that Marc seemed to be hiding many things from him.

"No, this can't be happening." He mumbled, again losing his ability to string sentences together.

Breaking your heart once again. The front door of the house opened in front of both of you, and you understood that it was time to move on.

Without saying anything, you tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. You pointed to Marc outside the house, just a few meters away, drinking from his flask with teary eyes.

"Marc?" He whispered to himself as he moved awkwardly and quickly towards him, leaving the house with you behind.

You decided to give him space; his memory allowed you to stroll through a couple of nearby gardens, and you waited on the grass while Steven processed the moment when Marc finally broke down.

Kneeling on the pavement, his body tense until the English accent of the other became noticeable in the way he spoke to himself.

The place was getting darker, and after a few hours, you sat on the sidewalk, watching the scene from afar. Steven had the opportunity to digest the situation as much as he could, and although for any normal person this would have been the end, you knew this wasn't the point for Steven.

He was understanding, strong within his sensitivity, and he knew how to deal with things that Marc couldn't.

You finally understood the feeling he was facing and what he was releasing.

Grief.

The grief of losing his mother as a child, and the grief of losing her again as an adult. His brother, his father.

The grief of losing himself while trying to understand that he wasn't 'the original' but Marc.

Meanwhile, as the crying finally subsided, Steven was talking to himself. Or so it seemed, because no one else (meaning you) could hear the voices of Jake and Marc arguing with him. "I know how to get us out of here." "Jake, we're not going to harm her." They didn't have to say more for Steven to understand that they were referring to you. "I'm just saying it might be an easy job." "Are you suggesting we kill someone who's already dead? You've truly outdone yourself." "At least I'm looking for a solution, unlike you, Mr. 'resigned.'" "We can't leave Layla alone," Steven whispered, his gaze fixed on you in the distance. "See? Steven's on my side." Marc rolled his eyes. "And what do you want to do?" "I'm just saying… if there's a way out of here, she's the one who knows it."

Meanwhile, when the imaginary crickets began to resonate through Marc's blurry memory, Steven returned to you.

"Hey?" You looked at him, who knows how long you had had your eyes closed. "Can we continue?"

You nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Let's move on."

Mk's tag list :)@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Cuff(ed) It

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: You and Steven attend his department holiday party 

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!!

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, background Jake x afab!reader, and Marc x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Spice-O-Meter: 🌶🌶🌶 (Rated Explicit, Minors DNI!)

Word Count: 3.8k 

CW/TW: Tonight we’re pleased to offer Steven’s students being thirsty for him, talk of meddling in one’s marriage (nothing serious though), tipsy (but still very consensual) sex, exhibitionism, f!receiving fingering, mirror!sex, doggy!style, mentions of pregnancy and conceiving, breeding kink, lactation kink and breastplay, dirty talk, tooth-rotting sappiness over little bebes at the end 

A/N: THE FINAL PROMPT FILL! WOOOOO ONLY TOOK ME A SHORT QUICK THREE-ODD MONTHS TO GET THROUGH THEM ALL 😝 This fic? Gonna be honest, she’s a bit chaotic, but in the best way I hope. I started writing it, felt stuck, opened a new document and this poured out. Translations at the bottom of the post! 

“You know, I never noticed it until tonight, but you know who’s actually quite fit?”

“Who?”

“Doctor Grant.”

“Oh girl I knowwwwwww. At school he slouches and wears those dorky shirts, but at stuff like this, when he’s in a suit and his wife’s with him, I always remember how sneaky-hot he is.”

“Oh my god, exactly!”

“It’s like a department rite-of-passage to fancy Doctor Grant a bit, if I’m honest, especially after the holiday party or a fundraiser for the school or something when we all remember how bloody handsome he is.”

“I thought it was just me!” the first girl (a graduate student was your educated guess) giggled.

“No, it’s definitely a thing,” her friend confirmed.

You stood paralyzed in the restroom stall as the conversation unfolded on the other side. You’d already peed, should you leave the little cubicle and inevitably interrupt them?

Would they recognize you? You didn’t want to embarrass them. They were right after all, Doctor Grant was really quite fit, though you were admittedly biased.

Plus a craven, vain, possessive part of you wanted to hear more. With a six-month-old at home, your husband in the midst of three careers, and just the sheer amount of time you’d been together, sometimes the melee of life could make you forget just how well you’d done in the spouse department. It was nice to be reminded.

“What’s the tea on his wife, hm? How did Mrs. Grant cuff that?” The first girl prodded.

Her question was a sentence to stay in the stall. They definitely would recognize you if you emerged now.

“No idea honestly,” her companion answered, “I mean, she’s definitely pretty. They told Dean they met through a friend, and on their first date he took her to an exhibit of her favorite artist and like did all this research to impress her.”

“He had to impress her?” she echoed, her tone tinged with disbelief. Your brow furrowed. Yes, your husband was a fox, but you weren’t totally out of his league, were you? You were certainly worthy of being courted a bit, even if you did jump into bed with Marc on the first date. “I’d be on my knees every night for a guy who looked like Doctor G and was so romantic.”

They both burst more giggles. To be fair, you did spend a fair amount of time on your knees. Especially since you’d started dating Marc first, who unlike Steven, had his fair share of bedmates and exuded more inherent confidence. It intimidated you. So when you started sleeping together, you’d concocted a self-imposed need to prove to Marc that you were up to par, if not capable of exceeding, his former lovers. It was why when you learned his ex-wife was The (stupidly stunning) Scarlet Scarab, you wholly lost your shit. How does one compete with a gorgeous superhero?

“I bet she’s on them a fair bit,” Miss Know-It-All divulged, “Doctor Burke did her doctorate along with him and they didn’t start seeing each other until his last year of the course. And now they’re married and just had a baby. Bitch worked quick.”

“Honestly, can’t knock it,” the first girl conceded.

Thank you, you thought. A part of you wanted to interject that Nyla had been unexpectedly conceived on your honeymoon and you’d dated Marc for a year, then him and his alters for another year after that before getting engaged. The pair of you also weren’t literal babies like these girls currently gossiping a meter away from you. You were both adults, your husband was in his forties for heaven's sake.

“I bet the baby’s cute,” she mused further.

“Oh my goodness, he hasn’t showed you? All Doctor G does is bang on about Nyla. It’s literally either coursework or his kid if you talk to him.”

Your heart swelled. This wasn’t the first time you’d heard from Steven’s colleagues what a proud papa he was to your little girl. Hearing it from strangers, and completely unprompted, was extra special though.

“I’ve never really had a reason to talk to him, and now I don’t know if I can actually without looking like a total idiot.”

“No, he’s really sweet, he’s the type of fit guy who doesn’t know he’s fit. And he’s like scary clever. You can ask him literally anything about ancient Egypt and he knows it. But he’s also not an arsehole about it you know? I’m applying to be his TA next semester.”

“Are you?” she gasped. “Really?”

“Ummm yeah, why wouldn’t I want a dishy, brilliant thesis advisor?” Miss Know-It-All countered. “He should be at Oxford or Cambridge really. You know Sam Miller babysits for them?”

“They do?!” Her friend exclaimed. “Don’t know if I’d want that gig for the inside scoop or if it’d be too much pressure. Their kid is still a baby right?”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s worth it to suss out if Doctor G and her are open to…let’s say, ‘featured players’ in the bedroom.”

“Stop Emma, you’re terrible!”

“She came to one of his lectures once with the baby and Dean thought he heard them fucking in his office.”

Fuck, you swore internally. Steven had sworn the offices would be empty! You’d kept quiet!

“Noooo! Doctor G is hot I’ll give you that, but he dresses like my grandpa. There’s no way he’s that kinky.”

“Maybe he’s not, but she could be,” Emma pointed out. “Only one way to find out.”

“You are such a slag,” Emma’s friend accused her playfully. “Come on, we need to get back, I want another drink.”

You heard two pairs of heels shuffle to the door, then it open and close behind them, and at last the coast was clear. Finally exiting the stall, you robotically washed your hands and touched up your lipstick, moving to check that your hair still looked decent afterwards.

Your gaze lingered in the mirror to give yourself a once-over. You’d chosen a flattering, but pretty conservative dress for Steven’s UCL holiday party. Sure, there wasn’t much you could do about the size your tits had swollen up to while you were breastfeeding, but they weren’t necessarily on display tonight either. Your currently huge boobs were for your husband’s eyes (plus hands, mouth, and sometimes cock) only.

Despite your attempts to leave the eavesdropped chat between Emma and her friend in the loo where it belonged, it became obvious fairly quickly that you failed spectacularly at doing so.

“You alright?” Steven inquired, his features creased with concern. “You were in the toilets for ten minutes and have barely said a word since. Something wrong?”

“I’m fine, sorry honey,” you dispelled the worry from his face. “Just overheard an interesting conversation in there that I haven’t been able to shake.”

You grabbed a fresh glass of wine from a passing server while Steven asked “What about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Mmmhmm,” you confirmed, taking a swig of cabernet. “It’s apparently a UCL Ancient Civ rite-of-passage to have a crush on you.”

Your husband looked at you like you’d sprouted another head. His incredulity made you burst into laughter.

“What? I’m not surprised! You’re a very good-looking, intelligent, kind man! I’ve been telling you this since we first met, after all this time—“ you leaned in and lowered your voice to add “—and all the ways I’ve let you fuck me, do you really believe that us getting married and having Nyla was just some cosmic fluke?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Baby—“

Steven averted his gaze and shrugged, offering “Marc was always the handsome one…” as his explanation.

That line. It made you want to whip your wine glass across the room. You restrained yourself and instead growled through gritted teeth, “It feels silly for me to have to remind you as much as I do that you two share the exact same face and body.”

“But still—“

“No more buts anymore Steven! You have co-eds hot for you, you’re officially sexy independent of Marc,” you teased. “And you ought to feel lucky that we’re secure enough in our marriage that I’m not bothered by it. Especially since one of them wants to be your TA and replace Sam as our sitter to see if we’re into threesomes. Which I guess is better than trying to steal you from me outright, to be fair.”

Another gaping incredulous stare from Steven. “Who?”

“I didn’t get her name,” you lied. Truth was, Emma didn’t have a popsicle’s chance in hell at interfering in your marriage. Never mind that you and Steven were deeply in love and had a child together, she hadn’t a clue about the D.I.D, Marc’s past life as a mercenary, his ex-wife, not to mention the service to the Egyptian god of the moon which led to a stint as a superhero. You two had shared and been through too much for a horny twenty-something to impact what you had. “But apparently Dean heard us when we…um, had ‘parental time’ in your office a couple months ago.”

“Bollocks.”

“We knew we were being naughty,” you shrugged.

“Because it was your idea,” he muttered.

“Oh don’t start with me, Doctor Grant. You’re the one who told me not to use the nursing apron,” you fired back. “Didn’t you want to say hi to the department’s Director of Education? There he is.”

***

The rest of the evening unfolded uneventfully, though Emma and her friend, who you learned was named Marnie, did stop by for a quick chat. You were content to clam up and just watch the interaction unfold. They were perfectly polite, unlike their prattling in the bathroom, though they very much fit the trope of a pair of giggling schoolgirls. Steven, of course, was oblivious.

Blame it on the wine, the rare baby-less outing, and being emboldened by strangers raving about how hot your husband was, but when Dean insisted that you and Steven come to the after-party at a pub nearby, you insisted on going. Steven was only one of the professors in attendance, because he was one of the younger, cooler ones, therefore the vibe was much more relaxed and festive than the one at the official university get-together.

You’d had Dean over for dinner (a takeaway dinner that you had to constantly get up from the table because Nyla had started teething that week, but dinner still) so spending time with him was easy and delightful while Steven mingled with his other colleagues.

You also liked to privately touch base with him about Steven’s professional wellbeing. Your husband was tight-lipped about any office woes, and while Dean wasn’t privy to your husband’s D.I.D., you knew that sometimes aspects of it could manifest in your husband’s workplace. The last thing you wanted to do was interfere, but Steven truly loved what he did, and as his wife with a tendency to fret, you liked to keep a tab or two to ensure nothing jeopardized his passion.

“I’m impressed,” Dean remarked as you two huddled outside the pub while he had smoke. “You haven’t batted an eye at all the little first-year masters students throwing themselves at him.”

You laughed. Steven’s hot professor status was really department-wide thing it seemed. “I can’t blame them. He’s very dreamy, but I baby-trapped him so…”

Dean cackled when you punctuated your response with a shrug. “No flies on you, darling. Cheers.”

You and your husband gracefully bowed out when mentions of moving to a club began to take hold. Too tipsy and tired for the Tube, Steven flagged a cab for the both of you, even though it meant that he’d have Jake backseat-driving in his head the whole ride back to Brixton.

Once inside, you rested your head on your husband’s shoulder, hoping to maybe doze off for a few minutes in case Nyla was up when you got home. Steven automatically pressed a kiss to your temple. He was so solid and warm, so safe, you couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him and place a hand over his knee.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, you look pretty as a present tonight,” he murmured into your ear.

You don't know what it was about his compliment, perhaps it was the way he said it, or the way you’d had four glasses of wine, but Steven's soft words of adoration set your body alight.

“Hmm, thank you darling,” The hand that was on his knee traveled towards his inseam to squeeze the meat of his thigh. “Wanna unwrap me? Or maybe just take off the bow? I’d let you slip my knickers aside and play with your present right now if you wanted.”

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, both at your filthy offer and the fact that you’d dragged your hand to cup him through his trousers. “Babe, he’ll see.”

The cabbie had airbuds in (a personal pet peeve of Jake’s) and eyes trained on the road. You shook your head imperceptibly. “Not if we’re careful about it.”

To prove your point, you subtly shifted to drape your thigh over Steven’s leg so he could do just as you suggested. It seemed that your fondling of your husband’s package, steadily but insistently coaxing him to hardness, was able to convince him to follow suit. He tucked his hand under your skirt, mimicking your approach, dragging his palm slowly up your leg. Next, his nimble fingers nudged the dampened crotch of your knickers aside and delved between your folds.

You could feel Steven’s length jump and swell when he made contact with your pussy. It prompted you to rub at him a little harder, biting your lip when one of his digits penetrated you.

“My saucy exhibitionist minx,” he purred into your ear.

“Says the man who screws me in cafe loos,” you shot back without any real heat. How could you be snarky when Steven was slowly, torturously finger-fucking you and his hot, hard manhood was pulsing under your palm?

“Mmmm, I always get a stiffy when we eat there now,” Steven confessed in a whisper about your neighborhood cafe. “That was insane, sucking at your titties and riding my cock like that in the middle of the day.”

“I know daddy,” you sighed, clenching around his digit at the thought. “So naughty, but so good.”

The remainder of the ride home passed in a labored silence between you two, both trying to enjoy each other’s ministrations, but not so much that you clued in the driver. There was one close call when Steven had the gall to sneak another finger inside of you. You nearly drew blood biting your lip to stifle moaning at the intrusion, since it meant you could get straight to fucking once you arrived home.

Tonight wasn’t the first date night you’d come chomping at the bit to make love, so thankfully you two had a pre-established routine. Steven used his coat to cover his groin and went straight to the nursery to check on Nyla while you paid and said goodnight to Sam (your desire was easier to conceal after all). Once Nyla was confirmed to be asleep and Sam had left, you met in your bedroom and tore each other’s clothes off.

The wine warped the edges of your perception, making the clash of teeth and tongues between you and Steven blur into a buzz of arousal, until next thing you knew you were naked, on your hands and knees and your husband was pushing his thick erection inside of you in one determined, smooth shove. You almost moaned the wrong name, nearly keening “Jake” when he entered you, because the position wasn’t one in Steven’s usual rotation. He much preferred for you to ride him, or for you to be on your back - any position where he could sink into your cunt and suckle at your nipples simultaneously.

You weren’t complaining however, and happily pushed back into his thrusts. It wasn’t until Steven angled his hips just right to hit your g-spot, and you threw your head back that you realized it. “We’re in front of the mirror.”

“Mmmhmm,” Steven confirmed, “like to see your tits swing and…ungh, they’ve been watching since you started groping me in the taxi.”

The revelation that Marc and Jake were privy to your coupling had a fresh wave of heat racing down your spine and pooling in your core as Steven continued to rail you.

“Was just so horny for you baby,” you explained, “everyone was eyeing you, but you’re mine and you know you’re mine and I know you’re mine, but I just wanted to feel it. I…I couldn't wait. ”

“You have us now,” he assured you. “Can’t count how many times we’ve seen people checking you out and you’re none the wiser. They can look, but you belong to us, don't you?”

“Yesssss daddy,” you mewled, now equally drunk off the alcohol and your arousal. “Keep giving me your big prick, feels so good.”

“Vamos, Steven, let’s give her more of this big prick she wants so badly,” Jake’s voice growled from behind you. His broad arms moved from your hips to encase your waist and pulled you upright, “Te gusta nena? Like being impaled on our cock like this?”

Your answer was non-verbal, but unmistakably emphatic.

“I think she likes it,” Marc’s American accent chuckled darkly from behind you.  

You whined the increase in fullness the change in position brought about, paired with the image you all made in the mirror together. You were first drawn to your husband’s determined expression, so set on his objective to make you see stars that his face was twisted into a snarl. Next, you glimpsed your large breasts heaving with every snap of his hips, and your cunt speared open on his massive erection. The sheer depravity of your reflection made you tilt your head back onto your husband’s broad shoulder and screw your eyes shut.

You knew Steven had wrestled back control of the body when his two large hands found your tits and began to pluck at your nipples. “Love you so much darling, want more kids together. Want Nyla to be just the first.”

His words made your channel flutter around his length at the thought.

“Would you let me? Maybe not tonight, but I want to fill you up with every last drop of my cum, keep these titties big and leaking for me, watch your belly grow again with another gorgeous child.”

“Ohhh fuck Steven,” you gasped, “I want that too.”

“Yeah? You want me to pump you full again?” He urged you, one hand leaving your nipple to suck his soaked fingertip into his mouth for a taste of your milk.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted. You didn’t want another kid right away, but seeing what excellent fathers your husband made definitely meant you wanted more babies eventually. “For now though, will you just make me cum?”

“‘Course darling,” he rumbled, his hand dropping to your clit to push you over the edge. You’d been simmering with yearning all night, so it didn’t take much more than Steven’s hand on your clit, his other on your breast, and his length hammering into you from behind to drown you in ecstasy.

You crumpled back against Steven’s chest while your orgasm coursed through you, too overwhelmed with pleasure to support yourself. Your husband buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply and reveling in the beauty of your release that was unfolding in his arms.

You’d barely floated back down to earth before Steven manhandled you back onto your elbows while he chased his respective climax. The relentless pistoning of his cock into your spent hole emptied every thought from your head that wasn’t “yes”, “good” , or “full”. It wasn’t long before you felt your husband’s seed painting your inner walls and collapsing on top of you.

The late hour and the alcohol made you both slower in extracting yourselves from one another, and after exchanging some sated, passionate kisses, you made a beeline to relieve yourself and wash off your makeup. Steven joined you a moment later in the en-suite to begin his respective nighttime regimen. You two readied for bed in companionable silence. Then:

“It was Emma and Marnie, wasn’t it?”

“Yup,” you replied, popping the p as you dotted on moisturizer, “Don’t hold it against them though, I think Emma’s going to apply to be your TA. It was all harmless in the loo, I promise.”

“Alright,” he surrendered. Despite still feeling buzzed, you clocked a momentary conversation between Steven and an alter in the mirror above the sink. Whatever they said to one another, it prompted Steven to add, “You’re very confident about having us all wrapped around your little finger, aren't you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you parried, meeting your husband’s gaze in the mirror. “Especially when I still probably have some of your cum inside me.”

“Esposita está tan descarada esta noche,” Jake pushed forward to remark.

“Soy--no...estoy un poco borracha todavía,” you confessed. As if your husband needed more proof the wine continued to affect you, you announced out of seemingly nowhere, “I need to say night-night to Ny-Ny.”

Steven intervened, catching you when you tried to bolt from the bathroom. “Darling, you can see her on the monitor. Don't wake her up.”

“Don’t tell me when I can see my baby,” you countered with sudden defensiveness that only surfaces when one’s a bit blitzed. You wriggled out of his grasp, “I’ll be quiet.”

You tipsily tip-toed down the hall to Nyla’s nursery, making good on your promise and not causing your daughter to stir at all as you crept to watch her slumber.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to pick her up or play with her, you just couldn’t fathom going to bed without bidding Nyla goodnight. Your eyes studied the little miracle before you. Her plump little feet that you could never pepper with enough kisses, the curve of her lips that must have been painted on her face by a Renaissance master, those insanely long, dark eyelashes she inherited from her father. There were no words, and never would be, to accurately describe the love you had for your daughter.

You silently blew a kiss in her direction, and found Steven in the doorway when you turned to retreat. While you were kind of peeved that he felt the need to supervise you, you weren't that drunk (you were), you pressed yourself into his warm, sturdy side as you both returned to your bedroom.

“She’s just more beautiful than I ever dreamed she’d be,” you whispered reverently.

“I know,” Steven agreed in a murmur as he guided you back to bed. “We’re the two luckiest people alive. Now let’s go to sleep, love.”

A/N: Yayyy we made it! True life: I’m Emma and Marnie IRL. Also are long, sappy afterglows my thing now? Can’t thank everyone enough for getting me to 500, playing with me and requesting these fics, waiting the approximately 98 years it took for me to fill them!! 

ESPECIALLY since in the meantime, I now have over 900 followers which is just bonkers!!!!! BONKERS I TELL YOU! I don’t think I’ll do another prompt celebration like I did for 500 if I reach 1k, but something special will come down the pipeline for sure! Love you all so much and again, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! 

Translations: 

Vamos - Let’s go/Come on  

Te gusta nena? - You like it babe? 

Esposita está tan descarada esta noche - Wifey is so cheeky tonight 

Estoy un poco borracha todavía - I’m still a little drunk 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi​, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo​, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake​

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Battle Of The Knights pt. 1: May The Best Knight Win

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: I mean none really there's a gun at some point but no one gets hurt

Genre: kinda fluff

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

You met Marc first. He was charming and quick on his feet. It made you fast friends. Though he was guarded and you knew there were things he would probably never tell you. It didn't stop you from embracing a friendship with him. One filled with movie nights and playful insults. It was Steven you met next. You'd seen him getting off a bus and excitedly ran over to who you thought was your friend only to have a confused Brit staring back at you. You probably should've realized it wasn't Marc when he didn't respond to you calling him but it didn't occur to you until after you grabbed his arm.

"Dude, did you not hear me calling you?" You had said once you caught up to him but he backed away from you as if you'd grown another head.

"I- I'm sorry, have we met?" He asked.

"Marc come on, this has got to be your lamest joke yet." You'd rolled your eyes. "The accent too?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Drop it Spector, you're no good at this."

"I believe you've got me confused with someone else, I'm Steven. Steven Grant." He'd shook his head adamantly and for a moment you really thought it was someone else.

"Wow you're- really sticking to this."

"Yes because it's true? And if you'll excuse me, I'm late for work so, bye." Steven scurried away and you hadn't known what to make of that interaction. 

The next time you saw Marc you weren't sure if he'd recognize you or not which had him demanding an explanation when you walked passed him without a word. Of course, when you told him you saw him days ago and he literally didn't recognize you, he reluctantly explained to you that he has an identity disorder. Trauma he wouldn't get into, causing a fracturing of his mind that resulted in three, not two, separate consciousnesses sharing one body. You didn't know much about Dissociative Identity Disorder but you cared about Marc and so you did your research, and asked questions when you had them, trying to be a good friend to him and eventually Steven as well. 

Between the two of them, you learned pretty quickly they didn't like talking about the third consciousness, alters you learned they were called, and as a result, you knew next to nothing about him. You didn't know his name or what he was like, he was a mystery, but you knew he was there. It was a door you let stay closed, in fact, you don't even think he wanted to meet you that day you finally encountered the third member of your friend's fractured mind.

It had been Steven's birthday and you wanted to surprise him with a cake. So, using the key they gave you, you'd gone to their apartment while you knew they'd be out to set up the cake. Unfortunately for you, it wasn't Steven who came strolling into their flat that afternoon and you didn't realize it until too late. The whistling should've clued you in honestly, Steven doesn't whistle, but you were excited and so when the door creaked open you didn't hesitate before speaking.

"Happy birthda- oh my god you have a gun!" Your hands shot up when the man pulled out a firearm quicker than you could finish saying birthday.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" You're so frazzled by the weapon pointed at you that you don't immediately notice the accent in his words but then it dawns on you.

"Oh. That makes three." You say quietly.

"I asked you a question."

"My name is y/n. I'm a friend of Steven's and Marc's. It's Steven's birthday so I brought him a cake." You tell him.

"You're a friend of Steven's?"

"And Marc's. Can you please put the gun down?"

"They told you about us?"

"Technically only because they had to. I was Marc's friend first but then I saw Steven one day and when he didn't recognize me Marc had to explain why. He told me there were three of you but they don't really answer any questions about you." You explain quickly. There's a moment of silence and you almost miss the switch between one alter and another. The gun is tossed to the ground with faint disgust and you're certain Steven has taken over.

"Y/n, Gods, I'm sorry about Jake. He's protective. It's, kind of his job." Steven says.

"Happy birthday." You breathe out quietly, relieved you're no longer at the business end of a revolver.

"He didn't hurt you did he?" He walks over to you carefully.

"No. No, I'm not hurt, a little spooked but I'm fine. I just- I wanted to surprise you for your birthday."

"Yeah sorry about that. Surprises are tricky."

"Oh trust me I will not be doing that again any time soon." You say with a chuckle.

"You baked me a cake."

"I did, I didn't get around to lighting the candles before Jake came in but it's vegan. I know it can be hard to find good vegan stuff."

"Thank you! Seriously, I- I really appreciate it."

"Of course Steven." You say. "I can't believe you guys have a gun." You shake your head as you cut Steven a slice of his cake.

"I didn't even know we had one and I'm- really sorry about Jake, he's- not the friendliest guy."

"Don't be sorry and he doesn't have to be friendly. I'm very aware that you're all different personalities. Sure you've all got the same face but I think that's where about 80% of your similarities begin and end, I mean I'm sure there are others but, the point is, you deciding to be my friend after we met does not mean I'd expect the same from Jake. He doesn't have to be my friend, he doesn't even have to talk to me if he doesn't want to. The only thing is if I do run into him again I'd appreciate him not pointing a weapon at me." You shrug.

"You are- so wonderfully understanding." He breathes.

"I mean from what I've read I imagine DID can be pretty disruptive I don't want to make it any more complicated for you. I'm not doing much just, being supportive, trying to help however I can. Like an external carer for your system." You say with a smile. There's a very sudden, very quick, change in Steven's demeanor, shoulders squared as his eyes narrow into a glare.

"They don't need you. I take care of this system." He grits out and you know immediately the new stranger has returned.

"Jake, I'm assuming. Hi again. I didn't say they needed me. I'm sure they're very capable, I'm sure you are very capable, but I'm their friend, so I'm here as support. That's what friends are for. Even for you if you ever decide you want it. Just, try not to point any more weapons at me."

"There is not a thing that you could do for me."

"Never say never, Jake. Look can you bring Steven back so he can actually eat the cake I made for him? I'd offer you a slice but it's vegan and something tells me the guy who carries a handgun to run errands doesn't give a rat's ass about that sort of thing."

"You don't know me. Don't pretend that you do."

"It was an educated guess. I don't have to know you to make a guess based on what I've already observed. Steven's vegan but Marc isn't. I can't see a reason you would be but don't get me mixed up I'm not pretending to know you. I know exactly 2 things about you, your name is Jake, and you carry a gun, I'd guess regularly. Oh, and I think you speak Spanish, based on the way you speak English but that's another guess."

"What are you doing?"

"At this point just pissing you off I'm sure. I know you have no interest in being friends with me Jake and that's fine, I just want Steven back so we can keep doing this back and forth where you get progressively more annoyed with me or you can let him front again." You say with a calm look on your face. You can see the muscles in Jake's jaw work as he glares at you as if he'll be able to set you on fire if he only thinks about it hard enough, then, there's a switch. Wide eyes look at you with confusion.

"What did you do?" Steven asks.

"Nothing." You shake your head blinking innocently at him.

"He's muttering angrily in Spanish."

"All I did was say I don't think he's vegan." You shrug and Steven laughs so hard he has to sit down.

"All you did was say you didn't think he wasn't vegan? He's not!" Steven chuckles.

"Well- I also may have implied that he's not as complex as he thinks he is and while I didn't mean it as a negative I can see how someone like him might take it the wrong way."

"Someone like him?"

"Jake seems like the type who makes a point to maintain a level of emotional distance between himself and anyone he comes in contact with. Perhaps it's his way of ensuring he's an effective protector, I don't know I'd have to talk to him more to find out but I think he values that ability to keep people at arm's length and I think he doesn't like that I can read him in any capacity even though it's mostly surface level information I've gathered. The implication that I can figure anything out without him telling me the thing- I don't think he took that well."

"Then- he's going to hate when Marc tells you pretty much everything about him."

"He doesn't have to. Marc I mean. I don't need him to tell me about Jake." You shake your head.

"I know, so does he. He still will. Because you've met him. And he likes having someone other than us to talk to about our situation. I- like it too."

"Oh- well in that case either of you can talk to me about anything. Always." You said to them and you meant it. You still do. You care about them so much, and it took a while but Jake did eventually open up to you. He still tries to maintain his mystery but his tricks don't really work on you the way he thinks they do.

You like to think that at this point you know them all pretty well, which is why this conversation feels very out of character from basically the start.

"Y/n, we have a confession to make." Steven says, avoiding looking at you.

"I hate when you guys do that because it's never something serious. You don't keep serious secrets from me." You say walking into your kitchen to grab water.

"Never say never princessa." Jake's wry smile when you look at him makes your brow furrow.

"Wait did Steven bow out of this so called confession?" You ask.

"Sí, although I think Marc should be the one to tell you this in the first place."

"Well have Marc come out here then, someone start talking before I start getting anxious." You say. Jake nods and blinks.

"We- you are really important to us. Basically the most important person to us besides, you know each other." Marc says.

"I know. That's not exactly a confession though, I've known that for ages." You frown.

"I know, I know, it's just- we've developed romantic feelings for you and we're unsure how to proceed at this point."

"We? As in all of you? Independently of each other, you all have romantic feelings for me?" You ask.

"Yes." He nods.

"And I take it you're telling me because you've known me the longest."

"Also yes." He nods again.

"Okay." You cross your arms.

"Jake suggested we each take you on a date, you know without the others involved- that way you can make an informed decision on being with one of us. The others, of course, will respect whatever choice you make after."

"Each of you- wait a second, what?" You blink at him.

"Well usually when you're with us, we're all so used to you that it's easy for us to just switch in and out as wanted I mean even just now you spoke to all three of us in like ten minutes but we figure if you should experience each of us without the others looming." Marc explains.

"I'm sorry are you trying to Bachelorette me?"

"It seemed like the most efficient way to solve the problem." He nods.

"What problem?"

"We all have feelings for you. It's not like we can decide for you who to be with so we thought this would help you decide. You can set any rules or limits that you feel would make this easier for you of course. The only one we have is that the others are not allowed to butt in under any circumstances." Marc explains.

"So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

"Yes exactly." He nods.

"Good god." You breathe out.

"So- are you on board?"

"You're all insane, you know that?"

"Are you with it or not?" Marc asks.

"I think this is ridiculous, but I know how you get. So if this is what you've decided you need, fine." You say. "Steven goes first. Then Jake. Then you. I'll give each of you one week, during which you can pick any day for your date. I won't be sleeping with any of you. I also won't discuss my date with one with the others. And don't discuss them with each other. I know you guys are competitive and the only way I'm going to allow this madness is if it stays friendly. The moment you start fighting it ends because you're family and I'm not dealing with that." You say.

"What are our weeks?" Marc asks.

"I'll text you."

"What?"

"Two days before, I'll text you to let you know your week is going to start. To clarify, on a Friday I'll text you and you'll have that Sunday to the following Sunday." You say.

"That's- short notice."

"Well if I assign you your weeks now, Steven gets less time than Jake who gets less time than you- it's fairer to do it this way." You shrug.

"Okay. Your rules." He nods. There's a moment of silence before Marc speaks again, from the look on his face you'd guess there's discussion in his head. "We're gonna quit while we're ahead. We'll be waiting for your text messages. Goodnight." Marc says sharply and exits your apartment. You chuckle just a little at his abrupt exit but he's definitely right to leave. Back at their own apartment, the trio is in discussion as soon as the door shuts.

"I can't believe she's on board." Marc says.

I can't believe we even presented that to her. Marc sees Steven frowning from the reflection in the fish tank.

"You had no problem with the idea when Jake originally suggested it."

Well the other suggestions were way worse, lesser of evils and all that. Did you see the look on her face? I think we may have actually convinced her that we are completely off our collective rocker.

Honestly, hermano what would you have suggested in place of this? Jake's voice rings in Marc's head, tired and mildly annoyed as is his standard disposition.

I have no idea I'm just saying she thinks we're insane. Also, what is our course of action for when she doesn't pick any of us?

"When? That's pessimistic." Marc frowns.

Did you hear what she said? 'You're family I won't deal with fighting' Do you honestly think there's anything we could say that would convince her that choosing one of us over the other two wouldn't result in chaos among us? She's always made a point to not make any of us feel more favored than the other. She's not going to change that.

"We told her we'd respect her decision-"

Sure we did but anyone can say they'd react favorably to a situation they haven't been in. We don't know for sure that we will be okay if things change. I know that I would put her happiness above mine but you and Jake? I mean Jake would kill for her and even if she doesn't know that it goes that far, she's likely not going to take the chance.

"You don't know that. It's in her hands now. Stop trying to figure out what she's gonna do and worry about your part in this. Or don't. Your choice." Marc walks away from the fish tank, effectively ending the conversation between him and his alters. Maybe this is a crazy plan, but nobody said romance made sense.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012

[youdontneedhenry]

It's been a whirlwind day for fans of this show, and it's clearly been a better day for some more than others. I do want to acknowledge that I see and hear and understand the disappointment fans are experiencing.

I would like to speak to my own feelings, which are ones of excitement and cautious optimism because the parts of the show I enjoy the most are still intact for Season 5. I am really excited to see where this show goes. I'll put the rest below the fold so as to be respectful to the variety of emotions.

I enjoyed the episodes that didn't feature the Duke for a variety of reasons. He often talked down to Eliza, or tried to knock bring her down in a variety of ways, and so he seemed to be fundamentally incompatible for her. By the end of season 3, I started to wonder how they could course correct to make William/Eliza believable and work for me. I just couldn't see it because I didn't like how the core issue with Eliza's ambition. That's not something I could get behind.

My favorite parts of the show were always Eliza working with partners who respected her- partners like Nash and Moses. I really missed Moses in Season 4, and one thing I hope we see more of is the diversity of Victorian London that we got to see in earlier seasons.

Look, I am obviously a hardcore #ScarNash shipper. I have loved the character of Patrick Nash since his introduction in season 2. The romantic possibility was there in season 2, and then by episode 3 of season 3 (Hotel St Marc), the chemistry was rather distracting! I liked how he respected her talents and enjoyed having her take the lead.

By the end of Season 4, it was clear to me that Patrick Nash and Eliza Scarlet made the most sense. They were equals, and he recognized her talent from the beginning. Eliza's character seemed to have more growth through her interactions with Nash while her relationship with William had grown stale. The flashback episode really solidified that for me- they hadn't changed in personality in a decade, why would they ever? I forgot to mention the constant mirroring of WIlliam/Eliza romance with Patrick/Eliza's relationship. Talking about wanting to receive a present in a bow with a box to William and then having Nash give her exactly that in an area she wanted- a boost to her career. The way Nash always wanted her to work for him when William only reluctantly hired her. The way Nash acted in the entire Jewel of the North episode, including being there for Eliza when her office was trashed. And that's not even Season 4 where Eliza flat out says he's the only person who's ever had any faith in her!

I know what the writers have said about platonic relationships. And a Season 5 renewal with no Duke doesn't mean we automatically get ScarNash. But a girl can dream. They writers are SO lucky to have these actors with this amount of chemistry and a relationship that has developed over THREE seasons. There's been a satisfying arc with Patrick and Eliza. Rivals to friends to lovers would be satisfying. We've watched them grow individually and together. It would make sense.

My wishlist for season 5 certainly includes: a female friend for Eliza that isn't Ivy, for Moses to come back (I know this is not happening lol) and for ScarNash to be canon. I think it would be incredible, and I hope others can come around.

As a side note, it's been absolutely delightful to share this news with ScarNash fans and to find NEW people who have quietly shipped ScarNash. I sometimes felt like there were only a few of us, but truly there's so many people that love the idea of them. So while I think it's not at all guaranteed that it'll be canon, I certainly continue to hope this has opened the door to it. We'll wait and see! I'm looking forward to the new season with more excitement than I've had for any piece of media in awhile.

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: ITH STORY IS HERE! CLAP FOR ME MEETING MY DEADLINES! It's like 5 minutes before midnight here!

Pairings: Yukimiya Kenyu x Manager!Yn (Post-Blue lock)

Warnings: Reader uses she/her

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

🎄Dec 17th🎄

"Marc! You can't run away like that! You give me a heart attack whenever I can't find you!" (Y/n) scolded the 10 years old boy, who pouted up at his aunt.

"Buuut~ I am so excited to see Santa again! Please, I don't want to be late." The boy said as he earned a sigh from the older.

"I understand, but please understand me too. Munich is a big place, and these Christmas markets are always so crowded, you can easily get lost. Especially when you don't know the language, Marc."

The boy pouted a little more before eventually nodding his head, albeit very slowly.

"I promise, we will see Santa tonight, we just need to wait for a friend of mine. He really wanted to join us."

"Who?!" The boy asked, his eyes brightened from curiosity.

"You know him, he plays for Bastard. Yukimiya Kenyu."

"The pretty player?! Uwah! He will really spend the night with us?!" Marc asked in excitement as (Y/n) chuckled and nodded her head at his eagerness.

"Of course. Now, let's go back to the entrance of the market. Yukimiya said he will meet us there." Marc nodded his head, grabbing her hand tightly as she dragged him along.

"I can't believe I got to meet so many pros! Your job must be exciting! Working with them and all."

(Y/n) smiled softly at Marc, shrugging her shoulders as she thought over his words.

"Well, they are my friends first of all, so I don't see it much as a job.  But yeah, I kind of am lucky knowing such great players." (Y/n) laughed as they finally approached the entrance. To her relief, Yukimiya wasn't there, yet.

"Now, be patient while waiting."

"I will! I will! I can't wait to meet Yukimiya! I want to ask him so many questions! Mainly how he plays so well and how he developed those skills."

(Y/n) looked at Marc, nodding along as she thought of the brunette.

'I wonder how Marc will feel after he hears our announcement later this week.'

☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄

1 month prior...

"So, when do you think we should tell our families we are engaged? My mom will probably faint from those news." Yukimiya chuckled as the two left for their apartment after another day of paperwork and training. (Y/n) hummed, looking at the night sky and back at Yukimiya.

"I don't know yet, Kenyu. I really want to tell it to the whole world, to be honest with you. But I don't know how to approach this with my dad and big bro." Yukimiya chuckled at her words, trying not to move closer, just in case someone recognized either of them.

"Come on, I am sure they will love me. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? Them telling me they will break my bones if I hurt you?" He said it in a very joking manner that (Y/n) felt bad for dragging him into all of this.

'If you knew.' She chuckled nervously, looking up at Yukimiya again.

"How... how about next month? Both of our families will be here for the holidays. We can invite them all to a dinner and rip off the band aid, you know?" (Y/n) suggested, in the back of her mind already prepared to see her dad and brother faint. Yukimiya hummed thinking the plan over.

"Not a bad idea. Our families can meet each other and the engagement can be announced that way. I like the idea, actually." Yukimiya agreed as (Y/n) sighed in relief.

"Good. Now, enough of that. What should we make for dinner?"

"I don't know. I feel like eating out or ordering tonight. How about some pizza? A new pizzeria opened not too far away from out apartment." Yukimiya suggested.

Afterwards, the couple talked about different things from today's work and plans on how to host their families.

☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄

Present time...

As (Y/n) kept on listening to Marc's rambling, she felt a soft tap on her shoulder, causing her to look back at the person.

"Ah~ Kenyu, you are here. Was it hard to get here?"

The brunette smiles softly and fixed his glasses as Marc grew quiet, staring up in awe at the man.

"Well, it was. The traffic is crazy, and with all the snow that fell it made it even harder." Yukimiya admitted.

"But, I am here now! What are the plans?" The footballer asked as (Y/n) placed Marc in front of her.

"Marc here wanted to see Santa first, afterwards we could walk around a little and get food at the end. My treat-"

"Nope! I'll be paying." Yukimiya quickly interrupted her, then got down to Marc's level.

"Hello there, I am Yukimiya Kenyu. Your aunt told me a lot about you. Is it true you want to be a pro footballer?"

"Yes!" Marc exclaimed, letting go of (Y/n)'s hand trove closer to Yukimiya.

"I am also a huge fan of yours!"

"Really? Your aunt forgot to say that." Yukimiya laughed, glancing at a flustered (Y/n).

"I am! I am! I really enjoyed watching your last play! That goal you made with Hiori's assistance was so spectacular."

As (Y/n) watched the duo interact like they are close friends, she felt like some weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

'Hmmm...' She chuckled and smiled softly at them.

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

"Marc, look over here." (Y/n) said, taking a picture of the boy while he sat on Santa's lap. Yukimiya quietly watched them, waiting for (Y/n) to return to talking to him.

"He is a really sweet kid." Yukimiya said to (Y/n), who looked away from her phone and up at him.

"He is." She nodded.

"He also likes you a lot."

"Well, I took care of him a lot when he was younger and my bro and sister-in-law would visit Japan. I think that's why he is so close to me, and I love him, too." (Y/n) admitted, discreetly moving closer to Yukimiya as Marc talked to Santa.

"And he likes you a lot, too, Kenyu." The words surprised the brunette and he looked over at her.

"Really? But, he just met me."

"Doesn't matter. He really looks up to you and your passion for the sport."

"Well, he will be over the moon to have such a handsome and talented uncle, soon." Yukimiya said, faking a smug look as (Y/n) hit his arm softly.

"You just had to go there." She rolled her eyes as Yukimiya laughed a little.

"You love it, don't lie."

"True." (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders. The brunette smiled in victory, but then his face turned serious.

"So, do you feel a little easier about the dinner in 2 days?" Yukimiya wondered, moving his hand to grab hers, making sure nobody saw it. (Y/n) took a deep breath. For a moment she watched Marc get up from his spot and saying his goodbye to Santa.

"I felt like throwing up the whole day, but now that I see how well you and Marc get along, I feel a lot much better." (Y/n) sent a soft smile towards Yukimiya.

"I am glad. If it continues bothering you, just tell me, ok?" Yukimiya said seriously, earning a nod from (Y/n).

"Aunt (Y/n)! Yukimiya! Can we go and eat now?!" Marc yelled as he ran up to them.

"Sure!"

"Yeah, let's eat now." The two adults agreed, letting go of each other's hands before anyone could see them.

[fdelopera]

Moon Knight thoughts for Sukkot...

this week is Sukkot ... and naturally, thoughts have turned to MK System, and their relationship to it.

Sukkot commemorates a time during the Jewish people's wandering, after our escape from Egypt... when we left Egypt, we wandered in the desert, and G-d told the Jewish people to build and live in sukkot, or temporary huts, to shelter from the elements.

(of course, the escape from "Egypt" commemorates the escape from any oppressive system, since the Exodus story isn't literal -- it's more a Jewish cultural memory of the late Bronze Age collapse. it also relates to the Jewish people's experience of enslavement and captivity in the 500s BCE during the Babylonian Exile, right before the Persian empire conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem to build the 2nd Temple... but that's a whole other discussion...)

perhaps Marc would connect to the impermanence of the sukkah. it echoes his rootlessness, his wandering... after all, he escaped his own "Pharaoh" when he ran from his family's abuse... maybe he would draw a parallel to the (nearly) forty years that he has been trying to find a home...

Sukkot is also a harvest festival, and Jews collect four distinct species of vegetation, and put them together.

the species are an etrog (a yellow citrus fruit that looks like a giant lemon), as well as a palm branch, myrtle branches, and willow branches (the branches are all assembled together to create the lulav).

it's traditional to stand in the sukkah and shake the lulav and etrog together, and recite the blessing: Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al netilat lulav.

well ... the etrog, palm, willow and myrtle each have many different meanings. you can learn more about their symbolism here.

but one of their meanings relates to the body.

specifically, the etrog relates to the heart/wisdom. also, the palm is the spine/uprightness. myrtle is the eyes/perception. and willow is the lips/speech.

but back to the etrog. the heart.

a thought came the other day, of Marc and Steven in the Duat, wrapping their hands around their heart as they finally start to communicate... as Marc recognizes their connection as their superpower... except, it's not a stone heart they're holding.

they're holding a yellow etrog.

it probably wasn't intentional ... but their heart even looks like an etrog in the "you're the only real superpower i ever had" scene.

and as they hold the etrog together, they're able to begin their personal Sh'mot -- their exodus from "Egypt" -- escaping the emotional chains of guilt and rage that have bound Marc to Khonshu.

Steven in this way feels similar to Moshe -- the unlikely, emergent leader who shows Marc that "Egypt" is holding him captive. the one who leads them out, away from that servitude.

now we just need Season 2 so that Jake, like Aaron, can let go of the false security of their old ways of protection, and connect with Steven as he leads them to a more unified future...

[starkwlkr]

ii. i’ve got my eye on you

sorry anon who was asking about a new chapter, i finished writing it early so here you go :)

Clara had said her goodbyes to Valentino Rossi while her father continued his conversation with the Italian man. Several photographers had taken pictures of the King and Princess with Valentino. She waved and smiled as she was taught. It became a routine for her.

“I’m late?” She heard a voice from behind her causing her to turn around. She saw Marc, who she immediately recognized.

She chuckled at his nervousness and shook her head. “Not really. Just don’t tell my father about it, he gets annoyed when I’m late.”

“Oh. Uh, how are you liking it so far? Is it too loud?” Marc asked. He had no idea what to talk about with the literal princess of spain. They didn’t have anything in common as far as he knew. Maybe they both liked the same food or a show? He just felt a bit overwhelmed by a princess.

“You’re asking me if it’s too loud? We’re surrounded by motorcycles. It’s fine, Marc. I am definitely enjoying myself. It’s been a rough couple of days, but this is a great distraction.” Clara smiled.

“How come? Is being a princess hard? It doesn’t seem like it in the movies.” Marc joked. Being busy with motogp, he had no idea of what had happened with Clara and Lorenzo.

“It’s definitely not like the movies. I think I would much prefer being a princess in the movies than in real life. It looks like they have it easy—”

“Marc! There’s the world champion!” King Felipe interrupted.

“Your majesty, I hope you’re enjoying yourself.” Marc smiled at the king.

“The day has been great. I’m sure you’ll make our country proud like you always do.”

Talk about pressure.

Clara could sense Marc had become more nervous. Not only did he have the eyes of fans on him, but he had the king and princess of his home country counting on him.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Marc nodded. “I was just about to ask the princess if she would like some kind of souvenir to remember this day—”

“Lead the way, Marc.” Clara said. She loved her father, but he always had the worst timing.

“Clara!” King Felipe called out.

Marc felt like he was going to get banned from his home country for leaving the king by himself, but Princess Clara had dragged him away.

“Shouldn’t we—”

“Just pretend you’re giving me a tour. It’s nice to not have a microphone or camera in your face.”

So that’s how Marc and Clara ended up in his motorhome. He showed the inside and saw how her face lit up just by the simple motorhome.

“It’s cozy. I’m jealous.” She said as she sat on the sofa.

“Of this dirty unorganized thing?” Marc joked.

“It’s tiny and quiet. It feels nice in here.”

Marc nodded. Maybe the movies didn’t represent the royal life all too well. “Do you think your father likes me after this? He might think wrong. I don’t want to be on his bad side, he’s the king.” Marc sat beside her.

“If you want, we can go back. But you did promise some kind of souvenir.” She teased.

“Here.” Marc took off his hat and placed it on her lap.

“What? No autograph?” Pretended to be upset.

“The princess wants my autograph? I would be honored,” Marc played along and took out a permanent marker from his back pocket and signed the hat. “So do princesses have a complicated schedule or do I have to make some calls just so I can see you again?”

“You want to see me again?” Clara couldn’t believe it. Maybe this was some kind of prank and she was the victim of it.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

It was clear that Marc couldn’t keep his eyes off of the princess. He didn’t believe in love at first sight until he finally met Clara then he realized how quickly she had stolen his heart.

[kingofthering]

@moonshynecybin I was about to send you an ask but then it got long and tumblr was all about characters limit and whatever, so, making this a text post.

I was having thoughts about the insanity that must be going on inside of Marc's brain in the forced to come out AU and then I saw your "last Rosquez sex pre-Sepang" ask and it gave me even more thoughts.

In my head, Marc is unable to have meaningless or hate sex meanwhile Valentino can go for it easily (or so he thinks until our protagonist meets Marc, anyway) so obviously, Valentino is the one who guides them into sleeping together again in 2016 (can't decide if it's as early as the tests or if maybe Barcelona makes his last reserve break or something but— details). And if he promised himself in October of 2015, that this was the last time he was having sex with Marc, but then he lets them be together again and that leads them to being caught? Well, I am not an expert in Valentino & guilt but that sure is something interesting to consider.

Do I believe that Valentino is agreeing to the fake dating plan out of guilt? Maybe just a tiny bit. For the most part it's because he cares about Marc and can't stand to see him go through this alone/in the worst way possible (not that he can recognize that at the beginning, of course, but you know).

I loved that you mentioned the idea of Yamaha telling Valentino he could deal with this alone/didn't have to go with the plan with Marc (and it would of course be easier for him). There is a part of me that wants to push things and say the photos identify Marc very clearly but like, there could be ~reasonable doubts about Vale (not to take things too far and make him too much of a "hero" here but, that's an option, I guess).

Anyway, back to what this was originally supposed to be about : Marc's brain. All considerings, things went like this :

the man he idolized all his life became his friend and then they started having sex and Marc thought they at least were friends and understood each other in the fields that mattered to him

same man betrayed him in front of the whole world and basically called him a dangerous rider that he doesn't want to share tracks with him [and obviously this leads to all the backlash Marc had to go through but I think what stung the most, at the end of the day, was the realization that Valentino thought of him like that]

at the end of the day, I don't think Marc is one to hold grudges [or I am projecting my own self here, my bad] and if Valentino comes up to him and wants him in some kind of way? of course Marc is going to take what he can have, even if he quickly realizes Valentino is not open to the two of them talking

Valentino agreeing to the two of them fake dating? it makes absolutely zero sense, there is a part of Marc that sees this as a sign of hope and it's bad because the last time Marc hoped they had a good thing going on, Valentino destroyed him in public without any kind of warning

"Risk Management is new to the Marc Marquez system" is a quote that I absolutely adore and that he let out into the world in 2023 but I can see home boy showing some kind of self-preservation in this scenario [and Marc initially struggling to be close to Vale (like you showed so well in your short post) is part Marc not being a good actor/feeling uncomfortable demonstrating PDA in public and part Marc trying to protect himself from his own feelings for Vale] [is Marc aware of the extent of his feelings? of course not, but still]

also, like, let's be real, this is the whole fantasy Marc never really allowed himself to think about and to "live" it in those conditions? yeah, not exactly easy on the heart and brain

I have no idea where I was going with all that but in any case, I know they have a fight one day where Valentino is like "Marc, you need to put in more efforts" and "I'm doing this for you" [he didn't mean for those words to come out but oops] and that has Marc calling him out on his hypocrisy.

On a very unrelated note, I'm very curious about when they have sex again in this AU (or even when they kiss, will have to think about that).

[multific]

Love You the Same

Marc Spector/Jake Lockley/Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Marc went through a lot already, good and bad, mainly bad, but with you came all the good.

  Your pregnancy shook up Marc better than anything before. He never felt such anxiety as he did when you showed him that pregnancy test, and it was positive.

He was switching between himself and Steven a lot. Which you noted was due to his nerves getting the best of him. And just when you were about to feel bad about the whole thing, Steven calmed you, saying this was the best thing to ever happen to him and Marc.

Marc felt guilty for not being out more than he should have. He felt like he was leaving you all alone in this. And even if you said you don't mind seeing Steven more and Steven did help a lot, Marc wanted to be there for you.

There were weeks, even a month when he didn't even see you, it was all Steven.

"Marc, it's okay honestly. It's not like I don't have anyone with me. Steven's here and the baby." you always told him, trying to calm him, but it barely worked. He was not convinced Steven could protect you if needed, it also didn’t help that Khonshu often asked Marc to go on missions.

Steven on the other hand enjoyed seeing you, he was scared, yes, but he was there to help and even went to the doctors with you. You often caught him talking to a mirror, hearing him tell Marc what happened while he was in control. He often showed Marc the pictures the doctors gave you, Steven even went to the lengths to show Marc your papers, stating everything was in order with the baby.

Then as your belly got rounder, Steven smiled a lot more, he touched your baby bump a lot more, begging to feel the little one move.

One morning something strange happened.

It wasn't Steven and it was for sure not Marc either.

"Okay, looks like you know a lot about me, but I haven't seen you, who are you?" you asked the man sitting in front of you drinking the coffee you made as he was talking about a cab or something.

“My name is Jake." He did look a bit offended, perhaps by the fact that you didn’t recognize him?

"Nice to meet you Jake." you smiled. "I wonder..."

“You have seen me before, Babe, I mainly get in control during nights when you are already asleep. But we have been to the shopping centre together, usually I’m the one driving." Now it all made sense why Marc didn’t remember driving you all those times, you thought he was just joking.

"You're the one leaving the flowers right? Steven just takes the credit for them."

"Exactly, and you are pregnant, its ours right?" he asked so casually, so he knew he was one of Marc’s alters, but Marc didn’t know about him.

"Of course," you showed the ring on your finger then pointed to his. "We got married last year." you had a feeling Steven and Marc didn't know about him.

"I remember, we danced. I don't remember the baby-making though." you were a bit confused as to what did he see or when was he present.

"Living with three different people is challenging even for me. Not even I'm sure who I was with during that time, but it doesn't matter."

He smiled and nodded. "That is true, the baby is ours, and you are our wife." He turned his attention back to the meal in front of him

"Do you love me?" you asked suddenly.

"I do. You are always kind and you keep me calm. You are also stunning, Babe, pregnancy looks amazing on you. We should have more children." You smiled and believed him, being with someone who has two other identities is strange, but there was something exciting about it as well.

“Let me push out this one first. Then the four of us can talk about another.” You said as you got his plate and started doing the dishes.

It was like, the same eyes looking at you, yet they were all so different. Marc, Steven and Jake. You wondered how it will all work out once you have the baby.

Jake looked like the kind to get things done, like he was to do the things Marc rather not. Jake would be amazing to have in the room when you give birth, he was even calmer and more collected than Marc.

But somehow, you loved them equally. They were all so different, yet the same.

They were all so gentle, kind and kept you safe.

Marc always promised to fight off whoever decided to even look you the wrong way. Steven made you tea and brought you snacks when you needed anything. And Jake, Jake brought you to places, driving you around, showing you around London, bringing you to parks.

They were all so different, yet they all loved you the same.

And you just knew, they will be amazing father’s for your little one.

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~Masterlist~

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