#Jake can still be brutal but not as much as Marc

[moonknightblog]

I don’t if this is an unpopular opinion or not- but it’s much prefer MCU Marc to be the more “violent and brutal” avatar over Jake.

[ivystoryweaver]

Still With You

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

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

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

based on this nonnie and this @purple-amaranthe request

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

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

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MARC

10:58 A.M.

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

Thumbing through an outdated parenting magazine, you intermittently pointed out cute toys or outfits to your husband, who would grant you a curt nod each time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink.

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

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

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

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

"That's pretty, I like it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at your husband.

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

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

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STEVEN

9:22 P.M.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His throat bobbed. “You really think so?”

“I do. I know it.”

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

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

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

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

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JAKE

4:07 A.M.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Change how?"

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

Jake was uncharacteristically quiet and you were half asleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Te amo," he whispered.

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ONE WEEK LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it began.

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

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[minispidey]

I need to hear your most out of pocket HC about your fav Oscar characters that there really isn’t much evidence for but you feel in your soul is right. Can be fluff or nsfw!

For example:

I think Nathan actually likes to be topped and degraded. Do I have any evidence for this? No. Do I know in my pussy gut that I am right? Yeah 😌💅

OUT OF POCKET HCS.

OSCAR ISAAC character headcanons

Content warning: just some real filthy shit. Uses female body descriptions. Breeding kink A LOT. Mentions cheating but doesn't get cheated on.

Characters: Nathan Bateman, Marc Spector, Jonathan Levy, Steven Grant, Miguel O'Hara.

Words: a lot.

Not beta read.

Requested by: @boredzillenial

Author's Note: i wish i could've written more bUT MY BRAIN IS JUST EXPLODING. Btw, thank you for requesting! Reblogs and comments are appreciated 💅❤️

MINORS DNI

I swear. Nathan Bateman's head... you know exactly what I mean. LISTEN YOU SAID OUT OF POCKET SO HERE'S THE FANTASY: just... just grinding on it, your clit getting stimulated by his shaved head— he's not completely bald so I'm saying that if you caress his head, it'll still feel prickly.

Oh but imagine... breeding kink Nathan (tbh just in general i think all oscar characters would have a breeding kink)

Slow strokes, in and out of you. Nathan holding you still— not even in bed, he just wanted to fuck you in his office while idk doing research, but you were just standing in the corner of his office doing god knows what and he's accusing you of seducing him. And now here he was, his research forgotten and fucking you on his seat.

"Hm? When are you gonna learn your lesson that you can't just strut into my office and expect me not fuck the shit out of you?"

"N-Nathan, I wasn't even doing anything-"

"Shh... this'll be your punishment, okay?"

But at the end of it, just cuddling while he worked... but cockwarming him.

"Keep my cum in. Don't wanna waste God's seed, right sweetie?"

"Nathan, just shut up."

The moment you told him to shut up, something awakens in him.

"Slap me."

"Are you crazy?"

"Love, sweetie, honey bunny... please slap me."

Lets you ride him in your own pace for once, and he tried to stop himself from grabbing your hips and slamming you down on his cock.

"Naughty naughty..."

"Sweetie, please... fuck, you're driving me crazy here."

"Aw, don't you wanna cum in me?"

"F-Fuck..."

He fucking whimpers.

"God's seed shouldn't be wasted, right?"

"I'm never letting you be on top again..."

Marc... oh my Marc. I have a mini series coming soon for the Moon Knight boys where Reader is has such a huge crush on Steven, and becomes his girlfriend after confessing. She meets Marc when he fronted, hates him so much and wants to punch him, but he has the face and body of her boyfriend and didn't want to hurt him. Maybe like an enemies to lovers with Marc and Reader, and Steven being happy that they're getting along. Jake will come later to me idk yet.

Imagine just going to bed in one of his shirts. Drives him CRAZY and the next thing you know, your sleepiness disappears as he fucks into you, just in a brutal pace. He loves groping you, breasts, thighs and all. If you're plus-sized/ chubby, he would hold your waist and giving you a squeeze here and there as he fucks you into oblivion.

Would top a lot but he loves it when you ride him and you get overwhelmed by his size.

"Come on, just a few more inches in."

"Marc... too big..."

Size kink applies to all the Moon boys. Well, because they share a body and uses one dick.

Marc just loves pressing against you. He's pretty experimental with the positions. Aftercare with Marc is just heavenly. Bubble bath, washing your body with a loofa. But then he gets turned on again and fucks you in the bath.

You could exist and just breathe, Marc will get turned on (like Nathan tbh).

Jonathan Levy... ugh dilf. An actual one. Expect a long one (tw: mentions mira)

Usually it's the teacher-student love affair with this guy (tbh real) but seriously you can treat him better than Mira.

Something about you keeps driving him crazy to the point that Episode 4 and 5 of the show didn't happen 💅💅

He sees that you're absolutely nothing like his ex wife. And he loves the breath of fresh air. You loved all the things Mira hated about him.

Jonathan loves it when you cup his face and just stare into his eyes. Loves it when you pack him his lunch and put in notes. Brags about it a lot with his co-workers.

Just imagine being in love with him since childhood, being broken hearted when he married Mira, but one drunken night he realized he shouldn't have been chasing after Mira and turned to look at you. You finally had him.

His daughter adores you. Jonathan sees you being so good with children and he immediately goes "I want one with you."

Breeding kink dude. This guy obviously has one. He loves children. (Personally i would give him a football team because he deserves it) when you do get pregnant, he would be so caring and attentive. You're pregnant with his baby so obviously he would spoil you non stop. He would just smile at you whenever you get mood swings and start to get annoyed when he chews too loud.

Just a lot of fucking. Shower, bed, walls, even inside closets. He just adores you. He couldn't believe he was so blind not to see how much you've loved him and he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you.

"Jon, too tired..."

"Need you so bad, hun... just a few more, please? Wanna cum in you again..."

Mira hates you, but since you're you, you always one-up her and you two may or may not have gotten into a fight and Jonathan found you more attractive since then.

You become possessive of Jonathan whenever Mira's around, but Jonathan actually finds it really hot. Expect more than one round of sex with him on those days.

He never cheats on you even if Mira keeps pushing it. You were one of a kind, Jonathan knew how broken-hearted you would be if he did. Jonathan would purposely treat you like a lady in front of Mira, 100 times more than he usually does (which is impossible he already treats you so well)

Just... you make him a better person. You got him on a leash. He's not going anywhere.

Also he definitely loves risky sex. House filled with guests and you two are in the bathroom. He would even make you moan loudly that it'll annoy Mira who is passing by the bathroom. You enjoyed it when Mira's pissed off. You just hate her so much.

Steven oh Steven. Just imagine trying to seduce Steven, and he's just clueless and continues to ramble on about Egyptian history and all, but you're trying to fuck him.

You want him to clear his table of books and just slam you on the table to fuck you. You go back to reality and he's smiling innocently at you as he kept talking.

You just hear nothing. His voice sounded muffled to you as your eyes scanned his face and stops on his nose... his nose.

Big noses. What Doja Cat said.

"Steven."

"Yes, love?"

"I want you to fuck me right now."

Soft sex with Steven. He doesn't want any position but missionary. He loves seeing your face.

Breeding kink? Yes. You all know this by now.

Falls silent when he cums, eyes rolling to the back of his head. It feels so overwhelming but so good. Loves filling you up to the brim.

Sometimes when you leave a pair of panties out, he would fight the urge to jack off to them. He just misses you so so much.

When you come back, he would push you against the wall and attack you with kisses and hickeys.

He also buys you a matching Koala plush keychain for your keys.

Sometimes you just want him to fuck you mercilessly, just slam you around and use you. UGH IM SCREAMING.

And back to the nose thing, he definitely let you grind on his nose at some point.

"C'mon, love... wanna taste you..."

Something about him nerding out just turns you on. You would suck his dick while he's talking. Even after cumming, you don't stop. You love seeing him overstimulated.

They say home is where the heart is. But god do you love the english 💅💅💅

Did he restrain you to his bed at some point? You told him to. And it unlocked a kink.

But do you know what kink Steven would have? Worship. Take it or leave it.

Messy kisses, his light colored shirts are stained with your lipstick. He ends up with his neck filled with hickeys. His back is scarred by your nails.

Risky sex? Fucking in the museum bathroom. Steven looked so hot behind the gift shop that you couldn't help it. Steven's dad material too, talks to kids really well.

So yeah that's when your breeding kink appeared. You wanted him to get you pregnant. He would be a great father.

"Cum inside me, Stevie. Fill me up."

Loves sucking on your tit while groping the other. He wants to make eye contact with you as much as he could while he does it.

Bree- *gunshots*

This one is obvious though. He has a breeding kink and wants to get you pregnant.

Let's pretend Gabriella's alive here and he sees how good you are with her. He wants to have a bigger family with you.

"Gabby said she wants a sibling..."

Yeah. That's when you know, non stop breeding. Even when you're not even ovulating, he just fills you up. He wants to get you pregnant and see how good you look pregnant.

When you start lactating even before you give birth, he'd suck them out. He didn't want to waste good milk.

He treats you like a gentleman but at the same time you want him to slam you down and fuck you.

He's an old fashioned lover boy, romantic dinner and flowers. Gabriella has a babysitter while you two go on a date. She thinks you two are really perfect for each other. She draws you two a lot and you put them on the fridge.

"Daddy, I saw mommy kissing Spider-Man."

You two choked on your breakfast. Miguel hasn't told her yet about him being Spider-Man. He looks at you and smirks.

"Oh, did she?"

Prepare for a long night of degradation. Pulling your hair and jackhammering into you.

"Such a slut, huh?"

"Dumbass, you're Spider-Man. You can't call me a slut for kissing my husband."

He just fucks you harder. Miguel does get tired easily and lets you ride him.

Just... yes. And yes, he does bite you.

[loki-hargreeves]

I made a "Moon Knight season 2 vibes maybe?" playlist and I kinda wanna explain my thought process and what I think should/could be included in 2 and why the songs give off those vibes

I can see clearly now by Johnny Nash - I can see S2 opening with Marc and Steven waking up and life seeming good for once. They're happy, working together, there's banter. Maybe they've found a job or are job hunting but it should start with them thinking they're gonna have a totally normal day and life

"I can see clearly now, the rain is gone I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright) Sun-shiny day"

2. Aline by Christophe - This screams romance to me. They should show early on that they're still with Layla but working through all the issues that were brought up in S2 (figuring out the divorce paper situation). Despite the hardships, this song shows how much they love her (don't we all?)

Just listen to this for two seconds and imagine Marc and Steven just looking at Layla like lovesick fools

3. The Bushman's Song by Stan Coster - New villain!! <3 I like how this sounds like a fun country song but it should play while showing that Bushman is back and has an old grudge to settle with Marc, in a brutal scene where he does something cold-blooded like it's nothing. Maybe a slowed-down scene of him walking through a bloody crime scene, smoking and looking at a recent picture/recording of Marc

4. Tonight You Belong to Me by Patience & Prudence - This would be perfect for a timelapse type of scene showing Jake Lockley doing Khonshu's bidding

"My honey, I know (I know) With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight you belong to me"

5. The Three of Us by Streetlight Manifesto

Marc and Steven aren't stupid, nor is Layla. They all know something is going on and I'm sure they want to find out who has been in control during their blackouts. S2 should include scenes where Steven and Marc talk about the blackouts and try to catch Jake somehow.

Once they finally do (which I can imagine happening in an action-packed scene, maybe in the middle of a fight) this song would be so good for it. I can picture it so clearly, this fight scene with the camera panning around them as they switch who's fronting and Marc and Steven being pissed because Jake is using mk powers, arguing while having to fight off their enemies

"There we were, the three of us The thief, the king and I Finally, we were forced to see We were equals in the night"

6. One by Three Dog Night - Speaking of Jake Lockley, I think S2 should show how lonely Jake really is, another side of him than just a fighter. How does he feel when Steven and Marc get to be with Layla and live normal lives, without knowing Khonshu is still on their asses? Jake must feel a horrible burden to protect them while also being all alone, probably thinking about how no one even broke him out of the sarcophagus in 1x05

7. Blood On My Name by The Brothers Bright - S2 should dive deeper into Marc's past, especially with Bushman. Show us more of what happened between them and why Bushman now is coming after Marc.

Can you imagine how terrifying it is for Marc and Steven when they think they're powerless and fucking Bushman is after them??

"It won't be long, 'til I'm dead and gone Watch the fires rise, burn through my skin Down to the bone, scorchin' my soul Nowhere to run"

8. Come Together by Laren O'Connell (specifically her version) - This is more fitting for a scene where Jake, Marc and Steven finally work together with mutual understanding. They are united against Khonshu, against Bushman and everyone else who gets in their way. This scene would be so beautiful 🥺 them taking their power back

"He roller-coaster, he got early warnin' He got muddy water, he one mojo filter He says, "One and one and one is three" Got to be good-looking, 'cause he's so hard to see

Come together right now Over me"

Basically the "we are moon knight" moment from the comics

9. Adoro by Armando Manzanero - Jake and Layla scene!!! He would be so whipped after she calls his ass out

"Adoro la forma en que sonríes Y el modo en que a veces me riñes - Eres mi luna y eres mi sol, eres mi noche de amor"

10. Parasite by Set It Off - This song is angry and to me, it gives off the vibes of an epic Moon Knight fight scene. Obviously, Khonshu is a Parasite to them but I also think they should show their rage and anger in season 2 and maybe give us a cool suiting-up scene

"If I'm such a wreck, then why so obsessive? Devil playing God Performative mess, just craving attention Taking what you want From me so you're not obsolete Sinking your teeth, I'll bleed But all you'll be is just a parasite!"

The playlist has even more songs but this post would be way too long if I included them all. But here's a few to feed the s2 waiting room delulu <3

[mrs-lockley]

Reach for the Moon | II. The Falling

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader but coded to be very feminine

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), mentions and discussions of food (cooking and baking), italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), brief mention of middle school and high school, so much yearning and fluff that you might get a toothache

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU. 

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART I. THE BREAKING

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The wall begins to crumble, revealing the White Knight waiting on the other side. You soon learn there is more to the man beneath the armor, and see the heart that lies within. 

TAGLIST: @soft-girl-musings, @venting402, @musing-magpie, @writefightandflightclub, @kezibear, @silverklaus, @badbishsblog, @marc-spectorr, @myhohastuff, @grumpyahjumma, @h4untedsp3ctor, @harv3sting

See end for author's notes

THE FALLING

The next couple of weeks were quiet, but eventful as the days grew shorter into the start of autumn. As the leaves changed from green to red and the air grew colder, you found solace in the change of seasons. A new season brought new beginnings, and life had a way of bringing you into unexpected places. 

Since the success of your cousin’s bakery (the Mochi Flower Bakery and Café, as you and your cousin affectionately named it) in Singapore, your family considered expanding the business to New York. You exchanged ideas and recipes over video calls with your cousin, aunt, and uncle as your parents researched possible places to open up shop. It was all new and exciting, and in hindsight, distracted you from the heartache of being left at the market that summer night. There was no better distraction than trying to perfect the recipe for the most delicious lemon ricotta cake. 

Marc texted you a few days later with an apology. He left you a voicemail as well (you were running errands when he called), and as you listened to his apology, you still could not find it in yourself to be upset with him for leaving you. How could you be angry with him when you still harbored an unrequited crush on him almost three years later? 

When he offered to meet with you to make amends, you politely declined with an excuse that you were visiting an old college friend from out of town, but in reality, you did not know if you could face him again. 

After that night, you carefully discarded the daffodils he had given you when he picked you up from the airport. Your heart was numb as you stared at the dried petals in the wastebasket, your eyes puffy and swollen for the next few nights. Could you truly mourn a loss if he was never yours?

You never told your parents or Steven the truth of the date, and you wondered if they knew. If they did, your parents never said anything, but your best friend —ever the perceptive man— seemed to know the truth, even when you tried to hide it from him. 

It was a Sunday night when Steven was with you in the kitchen. While your parents were watching a drama in the living room, you and Steven wore matching aprons as he helped you bake a vegan blueberry cake.

“In the middle of my tour, I was talking about the Egyptian mummification process when one of the girls interrupted me and asked if I knew what it was like to be rejected from the Field of Reeds,” Steven told you as you frosted the cake. “Honestly, middle school girls can be vicious, especially when some of her friends laughed with her.”

You looked over at him, your eyes soft as you placed a gentle hand over his. “Kids can be brutal, but they’re just kids. I was a middle school girl once, and we aren’t all bad. People change.”

Steven smiled softly with a sigh as you finished frosting the cake. You wanted to replicate a vintage cake with different shades of blue and ivory cream, and you hoped that you were not putting too much buttercream. As pretty as vintage cakes looked, you did not like wasting the cream when you knew most people do not eat all of it. You were more accustomed to your desserts being on the lighter side of the sweetness scale, and ever since your return from Singapore, you had a hard time stomaching American pastries.

“You’re right about that love,” Steven agreed. Once you set the piping bag aside, he moved to start decorating the top with blueberries. “They’re just kids, but they’ll change and grow. But I admit, I was feeling a little sassy too.”

You lowered your hands and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You narrowed your eyes at him, lightly swatting his hand as he sneakily tried to eat a few blueberries. “I just told her that the souls in the duat would try to claim anyone who fell in the sand, and that she better hope that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t be the first one to eat her.”

“Steven Grant!”

Your best friend chuckled as you scolded him, narrowly dodging your wooden spoon. “She was being rather nasty throughout the tour, so I had to give her a reality check.”

You let out a dejected sigh as he grabbed another handful of blueberries from the basket. You did not have the heart to tell him to stop since you already finished decorating the cake.

For as long as you have known Steven, he was quite a character. Smart and quick-witted, he always fired back in the most eloquent manner.

“Okay, maybe she deserved it,” you told him, trying not to roll your eyes as he grinned mischievously beside you. “But I’m not condoning it.”

You moved over to the stove to pour yourself, Steven, and your parents a cup of tea. Throughout your life, your parents always liked a cup of tea with their dessert, and through the years, you got Steven into that habit as well. 

Your best friend hummed quietly as he helped set the cups on the counter, his fingers lightly tracing the small teacup. It was one of your favorite sets, white with a dark blue floral design painted across the ceramic with a matching saucer and golden teaspoon. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen this set before,” Steven mused as you placed the kettle back onto the stove. “When did you get this?”

Heat licked at your cheeks, your heart pounding as you looked down at the cup. The warmth of the tea burned your fingers slightly as you held the teacup in your hands, and if you pulled away, you wondered if the flowers burned onto your skin like a brand that would never heal.

“Marc got it for me for my birthday before I went to Singapore,” you answered quietly, your voice low. “I don’t remember where he got it, but he said he knew someone who knew where to find tea sets.”

A dull ache grew in the depths of your chest as you remembered your last birthday before you left for Singapore. Your parents took you out of town to celebrate the Friday before your birthday, and that weekend, your mother cooked your favorite noodles (“for long life,” she would always say) and your father commissioned one of his coworkers to bake a special cake for you. You celebrated one day with your family, and another with your old childhood and college friends. It was a wonderful sendoff before your departure, but you could not help but feel nostalgic at the memory. 

One day, you lamented to Marc how much you wanted a matching tea set. A few times you traveled with your parents as a teenager to the Lion City where you admired your aunt’s tea sets that she displayed in their china cabinet. You remembered how much your mother pestered your father to buy any matching dinnerware whenever there was a sale at her favorite department store, especially when there were tea sets. While your family did not have much when they immigrated to the United States, your mother would tell you that her parents collected china and other sets as family heirlooms. She wished she could have taken it with her to New York, and you wanted to help her create a collection here. 

A few days before your birthday, Marc dropped by your place with a gift box wrapped beautifully with a navy blue bow on top. Your parents were in the kitchen eavesdropping as you opened the gift on the living room floor with Marc at your side. 

“Marc, it’s beautiful,” you told him. You held the ceramic delicately in your hands, sighing in awe as you turned it over. The dark blue floral design was nostalgic and intricate. “They look just like the ones that my aunt and uncle have back home.”

He smiled gently at you, his arms warm as you hugged him. “I’m glad you liked it. Happy birthday, kid.”

You placed your teacup down on the saucer and sighed. Out of all the tea sets you owned, you rarely used the blue one that Marc had given you. It was your favorite, and as much as your mother wanted to take it down from the china cabinet to use, you always told her that you wanted to save it for special occasions. 

But since that night, you brought it down from the cabinet. Your mother didn’t say anything when she watched you wash the set in the sink, and you wondered if she knew the real reason you brought it down.

He was quiet as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did Marc hurt you?”

You felt his eyes on you as you rolled the golden teaspoon between your fingers. You did not know if you had the courage to look at him.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. Steven sighed beside you, and you knew he did not believe you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Tears pricked your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. He still loves her, and I have to move on,” you answered as you turned to him with a weak smile. “I have to grow up and be a big girl now.”

His brown eyes softened, but full of worry as he looked at you. 

“Don’t blame yourself, love,” he comforted you. “He still cares about you.”

You knew that Marc still cared for you as a friend, but deep down, you knew he would never love you the way you loved him. 

“I know,” you whispered. You wiped at your eyes again and sighed, trying to get your mind off it. “Let’s cut the cake and bring the tea in the living room for my parents. They’re too engrossed in their drama to get off the couch.”

He chuckled softly, and you were grateful he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night. For the rest of the evening, you and Steven sat with your parents in the living room drinking tea and eating cake as they explained the romantic drama they were watching. It was a show that you remembered watching with your cousin in Singapore, and you could not help but smile as you saw how engrossed Steve became with the plot and characters. 

At the end of the night, you packed a few slices of the cake (with extra blueberries, per Steven’s request) for Steven to take home for Marc and Jake. As you walked him to the bus stop at the end of your street, he turned to you and pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and gentle. 

“I am always here for you, love,” he whispered, “whenever you need me.”

Your heart ached as he comforted you, and you pulled him tighter into your embrace. 

“Thank you.”

You sit in the kitchen with ink stained on your fingers as you look over the drawings of cakes, cupcakes, and different pastries in your sketchbook. Jake texted you earlier that afternoon if you wanted to join him in surprising his neighbor for her birthday. Taweret lived alone with the rest of her family back in Cairo, and she only had a couple friends with her in New York. There were a few times you encountered her whenever you visited his apartment (mainly to cook and exchange recipes with Steven), you became acquainted with the elderly lady. Whenever she saw you, she always requested to try whatever baked goods that you brought with you. Because of her, you always packed extra sweets, knowing how much she adored you and you, her.

Your parents were not too familiar with Jake, but they knew enough that he was quite old-fashioned and polite (and “reminiscent of the gentlemen of my youth,” your mother remarked to your father’s chagrin). You wondered if they were relieved that it was not Marc at the door when Jake dropped you off after your “date.” 

True to his word, he was around much more than before and met with you often. In the times that you two met, they were casual outings where you would grab a bite to eat or a drink at the local coffee shop. Other times, you asked him to tag along with you as you ran a few errands around town. It was during those times he offered to drive you, especially when you were grocery shopping for ingredients to try new recipes to add to a possible menu. He never accepted gas money from you (despite all the sneaky ways you tried to bribe him), but you compromised and treated him —and Steven and Marc— to any baked goods you created. 

Once you are satisfied with your revisions, you tuck your journal into your bag and take a seat at the kitchen island, your eyes locked on the oven window. While you are in charge of the cake, Jake is in charge of dinner, explaining he was going to try to make a traditional Egyptian dish. As he was already at the supermarket to pick up some groceries, he told you that he would pick you up since he would pass by your place on the way back. 

Different ingredients scatter the counter between the two of you as you organize your supplies. While you have your powdered sugar and tray on one side, Jake has his supplies and containers on the other, including a tupperware of cooked elbow macaroni, tomato sauce, and a bag of store-bought fried onions.

Jake stands at the stove with his back turned to you. Even on a casual Thursday night, he is dressed in his usual white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his warm tan skin. The only difference between his house clothes and outside clothes was the lack of his flat cap and tie, and his dress pants swapped with jeans and a plain apron to cover himself. 

Curiously, you stand beside him and watch as he stirs the lentils and rice together in a pot. The smell of coriander and pepper welcomes you, and your tummy grumbles at the smell and sight.

“What are you making?” 

“Koshari, I remember Taweret mentioning how much she misses eating it from back home. I watched a few tutorials and researched the recipe, and I hope I got it down,” he answers with a small smile. 

Then, he leans over to the side and pulls out a spoon from the drawer to hand to you. 

“Give it a try and let me know how it is, or if I’m missing anything. Once this is done, I just need to combine everything together.”

You grin as you dip the spoon into the pot. The tangy and spicy flavor fills your mouth in heat, but not too much that it would burn your tongue. It was enough spice to give the kick it needed. 

“It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy. It’s delicious,” you tell him with an encouraging smile. “I’ve always been curious to try your cooking. Steven says you’re the best cook between the three of you.”

He pauses slightly as he turns to you. His face is slightly flushed, his brown eyes wide in surprise at your words. “He said that?”

You smile with a nod of your head. “He did. When I visited him at the Smithsonian last week for lunch, he told me you made vegan shakshuka for him and he loved it. He said it was better than the shakshuka he normally makes.”

You remember sitting on the steps outside of the museum last week when you stopped by to see him during his lunch break. It was a beautiful autumn day where the museum was not too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, and his boss was kind enough to give him an extended break after doing several grade school tours that week. 

“I experimented and made some bagels last night, and I made a couple vegan ones for you,” you told him as you unwrapped the bagels on your lap. Your best friend smiled and thanked you as you handed it over to him. “I hope you like it, it’s my first time making bagels.”

“I know it’ll be great. Jake made a batch of vegan shakshuka for me and I think this would be a good match.” Steven opened his lunch and dipped the bread in his tupperware, even offering you a piece as you followed his instructions to dip your piece into the stew. “I don’t know how he did it, but he mastered it. I’ve been trying to make a decent version for months, and his version tastes better than all of my previous attempts. He’s the best cook out of all of us.”

As you look over at Jake, you are stunned to see his surprise. While you met Steven first and became friends with Marc second, it seemed that there were more layers to Jake than you realize. You knew that he was a private person who kept to himself, and you once believed he was an aloof individual who often kept people at arm’s length in the backseat of his car to keep his privacy. In the past, you only conversed with him from time to time, but over the past few months, you see that he is more sentimental than he appears to be. 

A knowing smile kisses your lips as he tries to hide his smile from you. You give him the privacy to cherish the moment as you turn back to the oven to watch the cake slowly rise.

“Can I say something?” You ask.

He hums slightly and nods as he turns off the stove. 

Wanting to help him, you reach for the bowl of chickpeas and heat them in the microwave. “You remind me of a tiramisu.”

He pauses for a moment with a soft chuckle, amused. “A tiramisu?”

You nod with a small smile. “Yes, a tiramisu. Before I got to know you, I used to think you were a bit detached with how private you are. I didn’t know much about you except from what Steven and Marc told me, and we only met a few times before I left for Singapore.”

At the beep of the microwave, Jake hands you the oven mitts to take the chickpeas out. You move closer to him as the two of you prepare to mix the lentils, rice, tomato sauce, pasta, and chickpeas together. 

“What changed your mind?” He asks quietly.

You think about his words as you plate the rice and lentils. “Spending time with you,” you answer. “The more time I spend with you, whether it’s you taking me to the bodega or the Asian supermarket, or even moments like these, you’ve shown me there’s more to you than people think. You’re private, but you’re also very kind.”

Jake steps closer to you to place the pasta and chickpeas on top. You could not read his expression. Did he find you weird and strange? Was he upset or offended?

As you move to hand him the tomato sauce, his hands reach for yours, helping you and quietly telling you to be careful since the bowl was still warm from when he cooked it earlier. 

His brown eyes flicker with amusement and curiosity as he glances up at you. 

“I still do not see how this pertains to me reminding you of tiramisu, conejita.”

You laugh softly as you look down at the koshari on the plate. 

“Tiramisu is like this dish,” you explain as he mixes everything together. “You may look a bit off-putting at first with how reserved and quiet you are, but that’s not a bad thing. The closer you look, there are different layers. They seem strange when they are all separated, but once you dig through the layers, you are very sweet like a tiramisu.”

Your eyes glance over at him, and you notice how his movements seem to slow as he waits for your next words.

“You made Steven shakshuka and you cooked Taweret’s favorite dish to surprise her for her birthday so she won’t be alone. You take care of people in a quiet way,” your voice grows softer as you speak, your heart aching slightly at the memories. “Twice, you found me crying and alone, and you were the one to bring me back home.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and for a moment, you are brought back to that summer evening when Marc left you at the night market. You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the pain in his eyes, and the fear in his voice when he left. He was in so much pain, and even with your heart breaking in front of him, you wished you could take his pain away from him. 

Since that night, Marc left you a voicemail with his apology and wished to meet with you again, and as much as it hurt you, you kept your distance. It pained you how quick you were able to think of another reason why you could not see him. Perhaps with each text, you could finally cut those heartstrings, be a big girl, and move on.

Yet, the ache remained. It splintered deep inside of you like a tree taking deep roots in your chest, leaving a scar that you feared would never heal. 

“How is he doing, by the way?” You ask quietly as your lips begin to quiver. “Is he alright?”

He does not say anything for a moment as his gaze washes over you, and you wonder if he knew about your feelings for Marc. If he did, he never showed it.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, his eyes soft. 

“Marc is doing just fine,” he answers. “Steven and I are looking after him.”

You want to believe him, but a part of you hesitates. While you did not know the relationship between the three men, you did know one thing. Marc was perceptive, and he would worry. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he hurt you— you knew he would never forgive himself if he believed it. 

To your surprise, Jake leans forward and moves closer to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You blink in surprise and take a step back at his sudden movement.

“You have flour on your face,” he whispers. “Hold on.”

Suddenly, you feel the world stop around you as his hand softly caresses your face. You hold still, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as his thumb brushes the flour off your cheek. His touch is gentle and light, and he holds you as if you are a delicate thing. This was the first time Jake touched you like this and for a reason you could not explain, it was electrifying. It is as if he lit a flame and you are melting like candle wax under his touch.

Your head is still spinning when he pulls away. Your throat constricts as he looks at you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. 

You do not know what has come over you. As his gaze meets yours, the two of you are quiet with the only sound of your flustered breath filling the silence. While he shared the same face as Marc and Steven, it is the first time you see him up close. 

His eyes are just as brown, but there is a different softness to them in the kitchen light. A certain warmth fills his gaze—although intense—there is a sense of safety and familiarity as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a whisper of a comforting smile. A dark stray curl rests on his forehead, and if you look close enough, you catch slivers of starlight dusting at his temples. 

You always believed Jake to be a handsome man, and in the past couple of months that you have gotten to know him, you see him differently. He is the kind of handsome that you read in your romance novels, the quiet gentleman who was always by the heroine’s side, and in that moment, you understand why people have always gravitated towards him.

You have looked at him many times before, but your heart begins to ache in your chest. He wiped away your tears before and has comforted you in your most heartbroken and vulnerable moments, so why would brushing flour away cause you to feel like you are sixteen again?

The sound of the timer interrupts your thoughts. You gasp softly and quickly turn away to grab the oven mitts, welcoming the distraction from your heated cheeks and your beating heart. 

As you pull the cake out of the oven, you hear Jake pull away from you and the sound of a utensil scraping against the bottom of the pan. You set the cake onto the counter and are grateful for this moment—you are not sure if you had the courage to look at him yet.

With a deep breath, you glance down at the cake. The cake baked into a beautiful summer yellow with the edges a golden brown. It was perfect and exactly how you envisioned it. 

His voice breaks your thoughts, and it takes everything in you to not look at him. 

“What kind of cake did you make?”

“Lemon ricotta,” you answer softly. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the strainer and powdered sugar from across the counter. You feel his eyes on you, and as much as you try to hide it, you still feel nervous in front of him. “I made a lemon ricotta cake once a few months ago and Taweret said she loved it, so I wanted to make it for her again.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the way your hands tremble and begin to sift the flour and powder the cake with a light dusting of sugar for decoration. The two of you quietly work on completing your dishes with only the sound of a soft ballad playing from his vinyl record player in the living room. 

Once you are finished, you set your tools aside and look down at the cake. Lemon ricotta was not your specialty as you only baked it a couple times, and you worried about how it looked. Would she even like the cake with how simple and plain it looked?

“I want it to be perfect for her,” you whisper softly. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His footsteps echo behind you. As he stands beside you, your head begins to spin. The warmth of his body radiates off him, and even as he stands a few inches beside you, the heat of his touch lingers on your skin. 

“That woman loves everything about you and adores you,” Jake assures you. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”

Warmth kisses your cheeks at his encouraging words. You never doubted your skills as a pastry chef, but hearing such praise from Jake strikes a chord in you. There were no words to describe your feelings at the moment. A foreign feeling tugged at your heart, reminiscent of butterflies that once fluttered in your tummy. 

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs as he gathers your supplies. “I’ll clean up. I already texted Taweret and she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

He smiles encouragingly at you, and you move to set the table. As you arrange the plates and utensils, you spare another look at Jake and watch him set the pots and pans in the dishwasher. You have spent countless days and afternoons in the kitchen with Steven and Marc in the past, but this is your first time to be in the kitchen with Jake. 

A few months ago when you returned from Singapore, you never would have thought that you would be baking by his side in the kitchen where you shared so many memories with his brothers. It was strange since you were not used to seeing Jake in such a domestic way, but it brings an odd comfort and warmth to you as he whistles in the kitchen. 

You smile to yourself as you look down at the golden cake sitting at the edge of the table. In the past, you baked mochi for your family, lemon ricotta cake for Taweret, blueberry cake for Steven, and rocky road for Marc. There were so many layers to who he is, and you hope one day, you could bake Jake a sweet tiramisu.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Jake opened the passenger door for you to take you home. Not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled like pearls of light above you. 

It truly was a beautiful evening. When Taweret arrived, her face lit up like the rising dawn. Without a second thought, she pulled you and Jake into her embrace. Your eyes began to mist when you felt a few drops of her tears fall onto your blouse, but you smiled warmly at her as Jake kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her. You have only known Taweret for a short amount of time, but you were already fond of her and looked up to her as a mother figure.

Smiles, laughter, and memories were shared over dinner. As the three of you finished his koshari, Taweret spoke about her favorite childhood memories. You listened intently as she recalled not only her childhood, but her “wild youth” from running around with her girlfriends in Cairo and arguing with the university boys and rival sorority sisters. The three of you laughed until your ribs ached, your cheeks sore from smiling, and your tummy full from the warmth and love poured into the food that was shared. 

And to your surprise, Taweret loved the lemon ricotta birthday cake. She patted your cheek affectionately as you served her the first slice with a gentle and warm smile on her face. 

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed, “you always make the sweetest cakes.”

As you are about to thank her, Jake leaned in beside her, a knowing smile and wink as he sung the highest praises for you. 

“She baked everything with love,” he told her, and your cheeks instantly heated at his kind words. “That’s her secret ingredient.”

Jake only smiled at you as you looked down at the yellow cake on your plate, hoping to find some solace on the finely dusted sugar sitting on top of your masterpiece. You barely heard them speak over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and the warmth kissing at your soft cheeks. This was not the first time Jake complimented your strengths, so why are you suddenly shy and bashful like a schoolgirl?

You vaguely recalled the last time you felt like this. Before you left for Singapore, you remembered sitting at a picnic bench with Marc as his way of bidding you bon voyage. He carried the picnic basket over to the bench and helped you arrange the pieces on the table. 

“Since I’m also helping out with their social media and marketing, I might as well start practicing how to take the best pictures and videos for advertising,” you remarked as you finished taking pictures of the set-up. You had a blanket draped over the table with minimal cutlery and accessories. “Don’t you think?”

Marc chuckled beside you as you put your phone in your bag. You would edit the photos when you get home and send them to your cousin later for her to critique. “I thought your generation was tech savvy and grew up on the internet?”

“I’m on the cusp and was fortunate that the internet was still starting out. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. Besides, I don’t have many social media handles for a reason,” you answered, “I don’t want people from high school finding me.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

“I closed that chapter in my life. When I go to my high school reunion years from now, I want everyone to be surprised to see how much I’ve matured and grown up,” you sighed wistfully, imagining a romantic moment in your future reunion. “If they have any difficulty in recognizing their classmate, then I shall be the most sophisticated woman in the high school gymnasium.”

Your high school days were not the worst, but they were not the greatest, either. Your teenage days were not that far behind you, but you still had so much to look forward to in the years to come. 

An amused smile shined on your friend’s face as he leaned forward and patted a piece of your hair. 

“You are already a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated young woman,” he complimented you with a playful tap on your nose. “You will be the belle of the ball.”

But the days and nights you spent with Marc were long gone. Deep down, you grieved the chapter of your life where you were by his side. You convinced yourself into thinking the two of you were fated to be together for the rest of your lives, but life had its own way of cutting that invisible string you deluded yourself was tied between your fingers. The dried daffodils in your wastebasket was the evidence to the end of your fantasies.

Yet, the universe had a strange way of bringing things full circle. As you bury the thoughts of Marc aside, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as hopeful as that night when Jake first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. It was odd to think that in the two years you spent away from home, Jake rarely passed your mind. 

Now, your thoughts gravitated towards him. The ghost of his touch lingered from when he brushed away the flour on your cheek, and his praise echoed in your ears like a distant lullaby. It was as if your heart would burst from your chest with each moment you replayed in your mind and you wondered if you could trust yourself to open up again. 

Before you could entertain that thought, the sound of his voice breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Jake glances over at you with a small smile, one gloved hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the rear view mirror. “I know it was a short notice.”

You smile reassuringly at him from the passenger side. “It was no problem, thank you for inviting me. I’m happy that we were able to celebrate her special day.”

You do not see Taweret often, but after tonight, you promise yourself that you would reach out to her more. She was such a character, and you make a note to give her extra delicacies you create in the future, especially if it involves lemon ricotta.

Jake grins at you as he stops at the stoplight, his voice light and airy. 

“She adores you and talks about you like you hung the moon.” He spares you a glance with a gentle smile. “And she loved every bit of your cake.”

“Oh—” your cheeks grow warm at his words. The thought of Taweret talking about you so sweetly made your heart swell, especially when you were so worried that her birthday cake was plain. 

He chuckles softly. “If it’s okay to ask, when did you start baking?”

You think for a moment as the two of you watch a few college students cross the street. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but growing up, I did not like American candy as much. It was always too sweet, and sometimes I felt like throwing up when I had cake. Nothing tasted like the snacks and sweets I would get from the Asian supermarket.”

You smile fondly as you remember your childhood. Growing up, there was not an Asian supermarket near your neighborhood. Most weekends, you dragged behind your parents as they bought their groceries at big retailers, and the only times you grew excited were when they either brought you to the local bodegas so you could pet the owner’s guard dogs (who were surprisingly gentle with children), or the Asian markets that were out of town. It was only until high school when they established one a few blocks away and within walking distance, and you were finally able to grab your favorite Meiji snacks. 

“I often had too much time on my hands during the summer breaks, so I experimented in the kitchen. My mom never liked baking, but I saved up to buy some supplies, watched tutorials on YouTube, and even chatted with my cousin for ideas,” you laugh lightly. “It started when I was in middle school when we had a bake sale for fundraising, and I fell in love with it since.”

The light turns green, and Jake nods as he follows along.

“What would you say is your favorite to bake? Or, what would you say is your specialty?”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his question. It is not often someone asks about your favorites, let alone your specialty. You are so used to taking requests and baking for others based on their favorites, but rarely did someone ask about yours. 

“Strawberry cake,” you answer, thinking about the colorful pink hue of the cakes you made in the past. “Especially with buttercream.”

“Like strawberry shortcake?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s easy to confuse the two based on their names, but strawberry shortcake is different since that’s shortbread with strawberries on top. Strawberry cake—”

“I know,” he laughs with a slight shake of his head. “I meant the character.”

Oh. Oh!

Heat envelopes your face at the thought. You adored Strawberry Shortcake as a little girl and collected the books, plushies, stickers, almost anything with your favorite freckled heroine. Even though she is in the arms of another child, you remember your Strawberry Shortcake doll  that you used to carry with you everywhere with her apron smelling just like freshly cut strawberries. 

When you did not respond, Jake immediately tried to correct himself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“No, not at all,” you laugh. “She was one of my favorites as a child. Being compared to her makes me happy, so thank you.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice him smile in relief. You look down at the plastic bag full of tupperwares on your lap. As you cleaned the dinner table, you did not realize that Jake prepared extra koshari for you to take home to your family in extra tupperwares. 

“And thank you for the food, too. I’ll have this for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, his voice soft. “You’re welcome.”

Life had a strange way of bringing things full circle. Filled with warmth, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as light as that night when he first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. Not once, but twice he found you heartbroken, but since you returned to New York, your nights were spent with him where you would watch him from the passenger side. The wall that separated you two had begun to crumble, revealing the man dressed in white knight armor. 

The fluttering of your heart confuses you when he parks in the driveway. Your pulse echoes in your ears as he opens your door with a gloved hand outstretched towards you, and your legs begin to shake with each step you take towards your front door. Why does the warmth of his glove burn your skin? Why does he suddenly make you skittish like a frightened deer?

It must be because he touched my face, you reason with yourself when you step inside. Your parents greet him with friendly smiles, and for unknown reasons, you feel a tug on your heartstrings when he lifts his hat at you. 

As he walks away, you are left standing in the kitchen with a cold tupperware of koshari in your hands. Your parents kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs, and with each kiss, you imagine what it would feel like if Jake’s lips kissed your cheeks goodnight.

The early afternoon sunlight streams through your curtains when you wake that morning. Downstairs, you hear your father playing his favorite old songs on his speaker, the foreign language bringing you comfort and a sense of nostalgia. It was finally the weekend.

With a yawn, you force yourself out of bed and walk down the stairs. The love ballads grow louder, and you find your mother seated at the kitchen table with breakfast leftovers covered with a napkin. 

“Good morning, baby,” she greets you as you smile sleepily at her. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and rub your eyes while taking a seat in front of her. Last night, you spent a few hours on Messenger talking to your cousin about the newest addition they added to the Mochi Flower Bakery and Cafe. While the Mochi Flower was best known for matcha mochi cake, your cousin wanted to expand the menu to keep up with their local competitors. She shared with you the different designs that were shared with the class that included floral prints and a few beloved childhood characters like Hello Kitty. A couple months ago, she took a class from a masterclass baker on how to add such delicate designs to a sponge cake, and she’s been in love with it ever since. 

Before you realized it, you were on Messenger for almost three hours. It was nearly three in the morning when you ended the call, your mind reeling from the designs she showed you. Both of your families considered opening a sister bakery in New York, and with each call you had with her over the spotty internet, the idea no longer felt like a dream, but a possibility. 

“I did,” you answer, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. You did not realize it was past noon. “I haven’t slept in like this since my last semester of college.”

Your mother laughs, and you laugh along with her. The twelve hour time difference was tough, and you were honestly surprised her internet lasted that long with minimal interruptions. 

At that moment, your father walks in and greets you good morning with a soft kiss to the top of your head as he places a bowl of cut strawberries in front of you. 

Your eyes widen slightly at the vibrant hue. “Papa, did you go to the grocery store this morning? When did we have strawberries?”

Your father shakes his head. “I didn’t buy them. Your driver friend dropped them off this morning.”

Driver friend? You wonder, knowing your father often forgets the names of your friends. Did he mean Jake? You have not talked to him in a couple weeks, not since Taweret’s birthday.

“The gentleman with the hat,” your mother clarifies. “He came by this morning and dropped off a box of strawberries that he got at the farmer’s market. He said it was for you.” 

Your heart skips a beat as she hands you a yellow post-it note. Across the page, you memorize the straight lines of Jake’s handwriting, softly tilted in black ink.

For your strawberry cake - J

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for your support! The idea of Conejita and White Knight!Jake has been floating around in my head for about a year, and with time, they finally came to fruition. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings for listening to my ideas and late night texts on Discord. My laptop has been out of commission as of late, so I was unfortunately unable to post this sooner, but it's finally here!

To be honest, this series started when I was quarantined with COVID (part 1 was written when I had it the first time, part 2 the second time I had COVID, go figure lol). It makes me so happy to see that you have grown fond of conejita as well. I am a slow writer, and I want to thank everyone of you for your patience and support.

Originally it was going to be a trilogy, but since I am notorious for writing long fics, this series will most likely be four parts instead! I have a couple more characters I want to introduce. If you want to continue being on the taglist, please let me know. Stay tuned for updates and any future fics! I have a few more I want to put out this summer 🤍

Love, Celeste

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Masking in the Duat

Or: Unmasking Marc Spector.

The biggest difference we are meant to see between Marc and Steven is the fact that Steven is so open and expressive. When we first meet Marc, he is glaring, stone faced, and so stiff. He is a rock and Steven is water.

In reality, Marc is sand. Slowly breaking down beneath the brutal winds that have been beating at him all his life.

As the show progresses, we see Marc have little breakthroughs of exasperation, irritation, stress, and anger. An eye roll, a twitch of the lips, and pulling away to reset.

We see his exhausted and extreme control to control everything about his emotions. We see him fidget. We see his fingers twitch. We see him sigh and run his hands over his hair.

Ticks or someone that has been taught not to stim. Not to draw attention. Not to show weakness.

When he was younger, he probably bounced his legs till he was chastised to stop. He probably would vocal stim till he was told his voice was too much. He probably excitedly flapped his hands over his favorite show until he started to get hit.

This right here? This is a reset. A lapse in control that he catches and controls. We see it the most around Layla.

The peaks behind the curtain. The way she moves her hands when he starts to close in on himself. His hands are together pressed so tightly in on himself. Look at the way she moves to touch his fingers rather than holding him still or clasping his hands into a cage. She does this while watching his face so intently. She knows. She is opening him up, encouraging him to stim. To touch her fingers. To move.

Even here, when we first see him, cold and trying his best to be intimidating while frustrated. He knows he fucked up here. He knows he fucked up real bad and he isn't smart enough to fix it.

It's the way he settles into that spot. The shift. It's a small shift in feet. A shift from someone that used to walk a little differently. Someone used to the off balance and toe step. A step that has been drilled out of them.

Even just his eyes, intimidating, but honestly a stare that is locked and scared. Look at his arms slowly settle into that "standing man" position he's so good at. He's halfway debating on trying to pretend to be Steven. You can see it in the way his face shifts JUST the smallest bit around the jaw.

Even here. He's in so much pain physically and emotionally. His lips are SO pulled tight. He's probably been tortured before. Used to pain. Used to being hit. Used to hiding how much something hurts. He's breathing through it and rembering his training.

But he's tired and his system stability has been compromised by this point and he's been fighting Steven up to this point (and probably Jake who probably has thoughts about this situation).

The way he goes from full grimace to exhale to a perfectly calm face. He knows how to mask to the extreme.

So what is this? And of course....

Marc is unable to mask in the Duat. Not just because of the extreme stress he is under or the fact that he is dead.

I have a few theories on why:

Being dead, he has no body and has lost the fine control he has gained over the years. Before he could feel the need to express himself and his muscles would shut it down automatically. A sort of self preservation and natural response he has honed over the years.

This of course means that in their head space, he is also unable to mask. Remember the first time he spoke to Steven? The frustration in his voice as he demanded that Steven stop looking? Even when he's seen in the reflections, you see more of Marc's expressions than when he has the body.

2. He is being judged on the boat and being prevented from masking. The duat is seeing his true self to balance on the scales. All those who pass through, might lose the ability to hide themselves. Those who are evil are more evil and easy to see. So here, Marc's true feelings are exposed. His worries, his frustrations, his confusion, his utter reliance on Steven to tend to his emotional state.

In the scene here, Marc's hand is fidgeting and twitching. Many times when Steven is explaining things to Marc in the Duat, we see Marc look to him with utter trust, adoration, and eagerness. He is unable to hide how he feels about Steven. Not the irritation or impatience he showed in the real world, but kindness and love.

Here, we see the real Marc Spector. The real reason why his scales balanced.

A theory on why he was suddenly worthy when Steven went over the edge? All of Marc's love for Steven was realized. It wasn't because he was suddenly 'whole' or 'singular'. But because he was seen to care for Steven. To do everything for Steven. He himself suddenly realized how much he needed Steven and depended on him. (just one of the theories that avoids the implied able-ism that could be taken away from the scene because I am hopeful and want to see the good in Marc and in why he was worthy).

3. He has been separated from his head-mates. Steven, who is his emotional protector is not there to help him reign in his extreme emotions. Jake, who is (in my headcannon) gate keeper and physical protector, is not there to save him and keep away the more harmful memories.

Not to say that Jake or Steven keep Marc masked, but more along the lines of they help Marc not get overwhelmed in certain situations.

4. Mirroring. This is an unfamiliar situation. He has lost his body. He has been separated from Jake and Steven as mentioned above. He is exhibiting the ultimate form of masking, by copying the energy of those around him. He has the same excitement that Steven has. The same open face and more so: When with Harrow, he shuts down and pushes out the same cool exterior while desperately trying to figure out what Harrow wants and how to please him so he can get out of the situation. Something he probably did a lot with his mother. What can he do and display to appease her so she won't hurt him.

Ironically, when Marc mirrors Steven, it shows his true side and we get to see who Marc really is under his gruff exterior: A kind and loving man.

A man that needs someone to see him. To really see him. Who has been afraid his whole life of people seeing the real him while also desperately wishing to be understood.

He still masks once resurrected and out of the Duat, but we see him smile, really smile, when he sees that Layla is alright. We hear the joy in his voice when talking to Steven. We see the fear when he doesn't understand what happened when Jake saved them.

We even see how his face twists and contorts when faced with killing Harrow with Layla and Steven there.

He is a man that does not have to be seen as the cold killer. He is starting to understand that he has found his safe people. People that maybe...just maybe... He can trust enough to be vulnerable and open around. People he can love.

[nowritingonthewall]

Absolutely loved your 👶 and 💍 headcannons for Steven, not to mention Marc’s marriage headcannons. If you don’t mind, could you do 👶 headcannons with Jake and Marc (and possibly 💍 for Jake)?

Hello lovely Nonnie, here comes part two 🥰

!Content warning for pregnancy, parenthood, and past trauma!

Please be aware that I am neither an expert on DID nor on trauma.

Angsty because it’s Marc, but also fluffy because he deserves it.

👶 Family headcanons with Marc Spector (x female reader)

- When you first find out that you are pregnant, Marc is absolutely terrified of the idea of becoming a father. No matter how far he may have come on his healing journey, a part of him is still grappling with the guilt of not being able to save his little brother, while another part keeps telling him that he wasn’t able to protect Steven the way that he should have.

How could he, Marc Spector, who ruins the life of everybody that he gets in contact with, be trusted with the responsibility of taking care of something as precious and fragile and helpless as a newborn child? And what about when they grow up? What will happen if his child witnesses him being triggered into a melt down, what kind of pain will he inflict upon them if he isn’t able to control his rage and aggression in front of them? And his nightmare of all nightmares: What if he turns into his mother?

- So, while Steven dives straight into learning everything possible there is to know about pregnancy and child birth, as Jake launches ‘Project mission impossible: making your flat child safe’,  Marc falls back on his instinct to retreat and let Steven and Jake be the fathers that your child deserves. Of course, neither you nor his alters are ready to accept that.

It’ll take a lot of love and patience to convince him how much he is worthy of being a father, but fortunately, he has got you and Steven and Jake to help and support him (and he doesn’t deserve any less).

- During the first few weeks of your pregnancy, he carefully avoids your bump as if he could hurt your unborn child just by touching it.

When his hand lands on your belly for the first time by pure accident and he can feel the little one reacting to him, it suddenly hits him in all its brutal force, the reality of it all and the small and precious little life growing inside of you. But before the rising panic can get a proper hold of him, you carefully lay a re-assuring hand over his, while you gently cup his face with your other hand and remind him how to breathe and that he wasn’t alone and that everything was going to be okay. When his breathing returns to normal, you ask him carefully whether he would like to see the first sonogram of his son. Not letting go of his hand, you wait until he nods ever so slightly before presenting him with the very first ultrasonic scan of your child. You can see a whole galaxy of emotions pass through his eyes before he looks back to you with a soft yet determined gentleness.

Marc is a protector. And while his unshakable need to protect the ones he loves may not erase his fears, it is certainly strong enough to pose a counterweight to be reckoned with. And you are there. And Steven. And Jake.

And maybe… just maybe… it is going to be okay…

- His protectiveness doesn’t only go through the roof; it flies right to the end of the universe and back again. You so much as think of lifting anything heavier than a cup of tea and he is at your side immediately, offering a helping hand. (He respects you way too much to simply take anything out of your hands, but he is always there to offer his help.)

At the slightest sign of you showing any discomfort, he’s there, with no need or wish of you being too ridiculous or too exhausting to fulfil. Even though he may struggle to put his feelings into words, his actions more than speak for themselves.

He would take all the pain from you, if only he could find a way to do so.

- Your sudden mood swings are particularly hard on him in the beginning. Every time you start to cry for no apparent reason, he defaults to assuming that he must have done something wrong. Even after Steven has had a long and detailed discussion with him about “those bleedin’ ‘ormones”.

Yet, no matter how much it may hurt himself to see you in discomfort and no matter how helpless he may feel upon having to watch you being in pain without being able to do anything to ease it, he swallows it all down, as he lies down with you, gently holding you and hugging you and stroking your back until you are feeling a little better.

- The first time that Marc finds himself completely alone with your son lying in front of him on the changing table, he struggles to fight against the all too familiar rising panic of doing something wrong.

As his son looks up at him with his bright and shining eyes, he can see Steven in them, his wonder and curiosity. He can see Roro in them, his innocence and admiration for his older brother. He remembers how his mother would shush him away harshly, whenever he wanted to help her take care of little Roro. As if he could hurt his little brother, simply by being there. And somehow it was always his fault whenever Roro started to cry.

But instead of starting to cry when Marc cradles his head with his warm protective hand ever so softly, his son squeals and kicks his little legs into the air, before trying to grab for Marc’s curls.

And then he can see himself. Innocent little Marc who never understood what he had done to deserve to be treated like that by his mother. Before he had given her a reason to hate him. And as his silent tears start to fall, Steven’s words are echoing through his mind, “It wasn’t your fault!”

With the excited babbling of his son bringing him back to the present, he begins to smile through his tears. One of those rare and real Marc smiles.

Placing the softest of kisses on his son’s forehead, he whispers, “Hey, little one. I am sorry that you’re stuck with me as your dad. But you’ve got the best mommy in the whole world and your other two dads are there to make sure that I don’t screw up, okay? And… I promise that I’m always gonna be there for you, little one!”

- In the beginning, Marc feels somewhat anxious about never knowing what to say to your little son (and later your daughter) and just chatter away like Steven would. He doesn’t really know any lullabies, either, because he can’t remember his parents ever singing to him and the memory of his mother singing to Roro is still too painful to explore. So at one point he starts to gently hum whatever melody comes to his mind and your little ones don’t seem to mind at all to be softly lulled to sleep by hard rock or metal melodies.

The first few times you catch him doing so, he immediately stops, all flustered and maybe even a little ashamed. So you start to listen from the next room, which may be a little sneaky, but you can’t resist that beautiful sound of his voice, gently floating through your flat like a soothing and nourishing balm for everything that is hurting in your mind and heart and soul.

One night, though, when the both of you are particularly exhausted and your son won’t stop crying, no matter how hard you try to soothe him, and you are fighting to get up again, Marc softly tells you to go back to sleep, even though he is hardly able to keep himself up on his own two feet himself. A few minutes later you find them on the coach, your little son curled up on Marc’s chest, his little fingers buried into the fabric of his dad’s shirt, slumbering peacefully as Marc keeps gently humming what happens to be your very favourite song. When he doesn’t stop upon noticing you standing in the doorway, you tiptoe over to them, carefully smooth a stray curl from his face and place a soft kiss to his forehead before whispering, “You’ve got a lovely voice, sweetie. May I join you?” Probably too tired to protest, he just smiles and nods, reaching out his arm for you to invite you to snuggle up to him. 

So now, whenever you are the one who can’t sleep or you are just yearning for a little peace of mind, you ask Marc whether he could hum a little tune for you with that beautifully soothing voice of his. And he is always happy to hold you tight while softly lulling you to sleep.

- Marc prefers structured baby carriers to buggies and strollers. With his kids safely secured to him, it’s so much easier to keep his hands free for fighting off villains and potential kidnapping attempts. Even while constantly scanning your surroundings, he keeps checking on your kids every few seconds, making sure that they are still comfortable and their head doesn’t loll into a weird position. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the warm feeling that caresses your heart whenever you see his eyes soften as he looks down at your children in complete awe, the little wonder so close to his heart.

- Marc never leaves your little ones to cry on their own. Especially after you have reassured him that it is literally impossible to love and comfort a baby too much.

As soon as he hears the tiniest of sobs in the next room, he needs to check on them. Always careful, never overwhelming them with his protective yet calm manners, but always there in case they might need him. And your little ones know that he’ll be their safe haven as soon as they reach out their little arms for him.

Now and then he has to stifle a sob over how trusting your children are towards him. And even though you always notice, he usually acts as if it was nothing. But he’ll still allow you to pull him into a hug and melts into you as you gently stroke over his hair, placing a loving and knowing kiss on top of his head.

With every reassuring word from you, the raging screams of his mother in his mind are fading a little more and every time that his kids are reaching out for him with nothing but endless trust in their eyes, another wound in his heart begins to heal.

- Marc doesn’t let loose easily. Even though his frown is turned upside down a lot more frequently ever since your children came into your life, it still takes a lot for him to let down his guard. So you are more than a little surprised when you come home during your kids’ very first mummy wrap game that quickly turned into a full blown toilet paper battle and it’s actually Marc fronting and laughing until is beautiful eye crinkles are sprinkled with tears of happiness.

Instead of stern looks or even screams reprimanding him, he is met with the delighted squeals and giggles of his children, which are soon accompanied by your wonderful laughter. So he doesn’t stop until every piece of toilet paper is destroyed and you are all lying on the floor cuddled together for official peace talks. The moment that he properly takes in the mess and the first signs of guilt start to creep up on his face, you pull him closer and cover his face in soft little kisses so that those nasty feelings immediately surrender and retreat to where they came from.  

- We know that Marc is the most ticklish one of your boys and he loves to draw those little giggles from your kids after finding out that gently tickling them is such a lovely way to make them smile again, whenever they seem close to crying (though he always goes through his little checklist to make sure that everything else is okay, first).

That is, until your kids become a little older and Jake sneakily teaches them how to tickle back. Your beloved cosy morning cuddle sessions with Marc and your little ones quickly turn into absolute mayhem after that.

- Marc has a hard time saying no to his children, unless there’s an immediate threat to their safety (and even then it breaks his heart to see their disappointed faces). Sometimes you come home to find him covered from head to toe in finger paint as your kids are discovering their artistic talents. Sometimes you find him with a hundred little tails and bows in his hair. And sometimes you just have to rescue him after being tied to a chair for hours.

- Marc used to love the original Star Wars trilogy when he was a kid. In fact, those were probably the only movies that came even close to rivalling his love for Tomb Buster. And despite all the pain that comes with remembering how he used to watch them with his little brother, re-discovering that universe with your children gives him a chance to balance those painful memories with more happy ones.

When your little family sits down in front of the tv to watch The Force Awakens for the very first time together, it doesn’t take long for your kids’ eyes to grow larger than the moon. As a certain dashingly handsome and brave flyboy appears on the screen, your son’s eyes dart to his dad. And he looks back at the screen. And he looks at his dad. And he looks back at the screen. And he looks at his dad. And he looks back at the screen. And he looks at his dad. And then he lowers his voice, whispering conspiratorially, “Dad, are you… are you a hero in disguise on a secret undercover mission?”

As you involuntarily snort into your tea, your daughter explains matter-of-factly, “Of course he’s a hero, dummy. That’s why there are never any monsters under our bed. Have you seen the size of the spider he caught in the kitchen yesterday?”

Needless to say who Marc has to disguise as for Halloween for the next couple of years. And your kids are very persistent in their opinion of believing that of all the boys, Marc is the one that resembles Poe the most. Even more so when you’re able to convince him to grow those poe-tic mini sideburns (which only takes, like, two days).

And after an exciting evening of guising (or trick-or-treating), he turns into an X-wing and carries his little rebels safely back home. 

- Marc gives the warmest, most comforting and reassuring hugs imaginable. And your children never completely outgrow their longing for being welcomed by his open arms. Whether they just need a shoulder to cry on or a moment of really basking in the warmth of feeling unconditionally loved and cared for, completely safe as if nothing in the universe could ever hurt them.

His hugs were really born from his endless need to protect and comfort his children, while at the same time being convinced that anything he might say would only make things worse. So he had just hoped that your children would be able to feel at least a fraction of the love and care that he put into each of his hugs.

When your daughter gets her heart broken by a boy for the very first time and you aren’t home yet, he sits with her for hours, desperately trying to ignore all the things that he would like to do to that bastard. Just holding her close to his heart, gently stroking up and down her back. Answering each of her sobs with a soft kiss to her temple. Hugging her a little tighter whenever a new wave of tears begins to fall.  

When her sobs begin to subside, she looks up at him, smiling through her tears, and gives him a heart-felt kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Dad!”

“What for, Sweetie?”

“For… well... you never try to talk me out of my shitty feelings. You just accept them and me, and… and… and are just there for me. And… I love you, Dad!”

Now it’s Marc that needs a hug. All this time he has thought that nothing he could try would ever be good enough. And now it looks like the parts of him that make him feel like failing his children the most are actually exactly what they seem to have needed all along.

He gets that hug and so much more when you find him on the couch that night, after having a long comforting session with your daughter yourself. And it seems like you know exactly what’s going through his mind. Somehow, you always know.

Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you slowly let your hands wander down his arms until your chin comes to rest on his shoulder and you can intertwine your hands with his.

“You’re a wonderful dad, Marc.”

“Yeah… because of Steven and Jake and you.”

“And you!” You gently cup his cheek and guide his head to make him look at you.

“Your children love you, Marc. We love you!”

Before his first sob can really break to the surface, you catch it with your wonderfully warm lips. Your own tears are threatening to fall when you can feel how easily he melts into your embrace. How readily he buries his face in the crook of your neck as if it was the most natural place for him to rest his head. How he completely trusts you to hold him and everything that he is carrying in his heart.

How so much of his pain and despair has turned into trust and love.

And maybe. Maybe it really is going to be okay.

[oddballwriter]

DWELLING IN THE NIGHT SAGA

*A Moon Knight x Reader Mini-Series*

Overall Summary: There's a new vigilante out on the city streets at night, but their brutal and disturbing methods of keeping crime off of the streets and in the alleys set off a few alarms in the Moon Knight system. Named The Silhouette, due to their constant cover of the dark corners of the alleyways they stalk, kill off criminals and scum by biting out their throats and drinking their blood before despairing into the shadows without a trace. Something that seems extremely threatening to the public by Marc and the rest of the system. However, on the handful of times that Moon Knight and Silhouette cross paths, the figure assures them that they need not worry because they both are doing the same work, just for different reasons. Meanwhile, the system learns of their new neighbor that Steven has been trying to, if not already, befriend. But none of them can deny that this new neighbor is a bit strange.

PART ONE

Summary: There's a new vigilante figure out on the streets at night. And there's also a new neighbor on the same floor as Steven and the rest of the boys.  

+++

PART TWO: Neck and Neck

Summary: The MoonKnight system continues to have run-ins with the shadowy figure that they've come to nickname The Silhouette, lurking and dealing with crime in the same area that they do. There's more communication between the two vigilantes but still no answered questions. Simply just a mutual respect for each other despite the different methods they use. A the same time, Steven tells more about their new neighbor Y/N, and even shows them a few things. However, it seems like the more Steven gets to know them, the stranger they seem. And Jake seems to be picking up on a few things in both cases.

+++

PART THREE: Ruined Meals

Summary: The run-ins with The Silhouette and the strange behaviors of their next-door neighbor continue on. However, it seems like the longer these happenings go on, the stranger it gets with The Silhouette acting more now annoyed with the run-ins with MoonKnight, and Steven's neighbor appearing a bit disheveled.

+++

PART FOUR: Just Know I'm Not the Sinister Type

Summary: Life, and un-life, goes on. Stevan and you get closer, despite your better judgment, and actually reach the level of friends. It's actually quite nice when you don't think about everything that might come when time keeps going on, leaving only one of you untouched. Meanwhile, an eventful night of hunting happens for you. One with what you thought was a close call that involved you not killing someone tonight out of sympathy. But unfortunately, for you, you don't have as keen of eyes as you think you do.

+++

PART FIVE: Connections

Summary: On a night of hunting, you come across someone, a stranger who knows who you are and claims that he knows two others that you do. Although the interaction is vaguely threatening, you find that all he wants is for you to be on your best behavior around the two. You think that that's the end of it, but as it turns out, they have keen eyes and keener ways when they leave you a gift and a note to go along with it. Meanwhile, Jake has been busy with some personal 'investigations' since coming across some information.

+++

PART SIX: Close Encounters

Summary: A close encounter with the last type of people you would want to run into leaves you shaken and makes you want to redo how you do things. On top of that it leads to other things that you don't like doing regarding a close friend. Your new means of life leads you to having to bid another friend goodbye, but that just ends up being another encounter without you fully realizing it.

+++

PART SEVEN: Special Delivery

Summary: Steven is caught up about the night that The Silhouette talked to him, thinking he was Marc, MoonKnight, but they sounded so much like his friend and neighbor YN. Steven spends nights and days thinking about it denying clear signs till Jake comes up and decides to let Steven in on a little secret.

+++

PART EIGHT: Change of Plan

Summary: While the system thinks about their latest discovery about you, another group of people talk about their own discoveries and assumptions on you as well.

to be continued...

[michinnyun]

Kinktober Day 21- Mirror sex

Kinktober list

You don’t understand how you keep getting yourself into these situations.

Your face is squished against the comforter, breaths coming out in heaving pants as Marc fucks you into the mattress. His palm comes down on your ass periodically as invisible hands stroke your hair, playing with your nipples. If you glance at the mirror, they’re there.

Steven. And Jake.

You didn’t realize the mirror thing would work like this. You can feel them, all of them. Touching you, filling you. Marc’s reflection couldn’t be seen by the naked eye, but now that you’ve entered your pact with Khonshu, all of his servants are visible.

When one of them pulls out, another is there to fill the empty space. Phantom sensation, nearly driving you to the breaking point as you watch yourself in the mirror while Jake and Marc have a dick measuring competition.

Steven is soothing tonight, not wanting you to get too overwhelmed. The feeling of his fingers brushing through your hair while the other two boys brutalize you is almost comical, but it’s a welcome feeling. Besides, he’ll have his turn soon enough.

You watch him watch you, all of them staring through their reflections as your body contorts and jiggles at their ministrations. It’s too much and not enough, your eyes pleading for more as Jake squeezes at your breast, mouth suckling at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

You mewl; you can feel Marc’s testicles tense up with an impending orgasm, and you don’t want it to end. You almost forgot that when he’s done, Steven gets control of the body- his patience finally rewarded.

“Good fucking girl,” Marc groans, a shudder running through his entire body as he comes, warmth filling your lower abdomen. His eyes roll back into his head, his cock staying hard and erect inside you as Steven takes control, eagerly running his hands over your sore ass.

“You alright, love?”

You nod slowly, watching Marc take Steven’s place in the mirror. He looks at you with dark eyes, satisfied, and yet still hungry.

Steven leans down, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, groaning at the wet slide.

“Fuck, he came a lot, didn’t he?”

You nod again, moaning softly as Steven pushes harder, pressing against your cervix and making you see stars.

He watches Jake in the reflection lick a stripe up the column of your spine, grinning deviously as he shoots him a wink. You shiver, so close to your third orgasm that you can feel the heat of it in your throat.

“Fuck, fuck Steven please,” you whimper, begging even as he hits that spot that nearly sends you over the edge.

His voice slips into Jake’s. “Come on, cariño, I know you can do it. Come for us,” he murmurs, catching you off guard.

“Jake,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as he bites down on the meat of your shoulder, grabbing your chin and forcing you to watch yourself orgasm in the mirror.

Your face contorts as you almost black out, cunt wet and messy with Marc and your own release. Jake grunts, unrelenting as he drills you into the bed, Steven’s jaw slack with pleasure while you come all over him in the reflection.

You find a second to catch your breath before it starts all over again, Marc petting your jaw in the reflection and tapping on your chin until you open wide, sliding his soft dick into your mouth.

You hold it there, completely at their mercy as they go on, bringing you to the edge over and over again. Without asking, you know it’s not over. It’s not anywhere close to being over.

[agirlwithachakram]

I think initially Steven will be like "okay, blackout brutal killer alter! we need to talk! even though you scare me so much!" but then smash cut to them sharing margaritas on the beach and fondly venting about Marc's many flaws while Marc is like NO NO NO i do NOT want to know anything about him, as long as I "don't know" then I can dodge responsibility for and knowledge of things that are too heavy, STOP being friends with him, Steven, I thought we were besties???

but when they find out Jake is still Moon Knight, Marc will be like...okay. I should've seen that coming. couldn't be that easy. oh well. at least now I don't have to keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. and steven will be SO BETRAYED and SO FURIOUS like EXCUSE ME? I got us out, I was a total badass for once in my life, I went toe to toe with a god to free us, and you just went. 'nah. fuck it. who cares what steven wants'?? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS.

[thevelominati]

Vengeance of the Moon Knight

Some written thoughts now, actually...

I was a little wary that Reese jumping into therapy with Andrea would feel a little contrived – it worked for Marc for obvious reasons, and as much as I’ve enjoyed Andrea as a character and how good she was for Marc, repeating her for Reese didn’t feel like it was going to be the most interesting move. I’m glad that’s not quite what it turned out to be come the end of the issue though, so Mackay’s once again proving himself as a thoroughly competent writer and I really need to stop kneejerk worrying about the directions he occasionally chooses to head in.

Aside: Reese still looks fucking awesome in the suit.

“Marc had two gods, neither of whom he was on good terms with.”

It’s a simple line, but I do appreciate it. I’ve said it before, but I’ve really enjoyed how Mackay has tried to pull through the battle with religion and identity (and Judaism/his upbringing) that was so present in the 80s run to the present, because it did feel like a lot of the 90s/00s dropped that in favour of specifically focusing on Marc’s issues and relationship with Khonshu which – yeah, interesting and dynamic, but it’s most interesting when you consider what it’s played off against. He’s not just a man with dubious mental health and dubious trauma processing skills who’s the avatar of an Egyptian god, he’s a Jewish man with all of the above and a contentious relationship with every god (and father…) figure he encounters!

Ben Grimm is so good, I love him. I love the fact that Jake played poker with him and Ben insisted on remaining a connection with Judaism for Moon Knight as a whole, regardless of Marc’s … everything.

I am interested in what kind of conversations Marc had about funerals/his death he did actually have with anyone else in the Mission though. How did it come up? Why did it come up? Did Reese and co strongarm him into having a discussion about ‘so, what the fuck actually happens if you die?’ because I’m not sure I can really buy him sitting down and having that conversation of his own free will.

I wondered if we were going to see Marlene and Diatrice, or Frenchie and co, but them not knowing Marc’s dead (unless it’s covered in the news and they find out that way, I guess) and no-one at the Mission having a way to get in touch with any of them makes sense. The only characters it doesn’t mentally make sense for IMO is Gena and Crawley – I can buy both of them (more Gena than Crawley) not wanting anything more to do with Marc and everything he brings into their lives, but I don’t think either of them would have moved away from NYC in the same way Marlene and Frenchie have evidently done so.

I do find it interesting to note that Marc apparently did speak about JP and the rest of them a little bit though, given the comment about “any of the old crew”.

I feel like there are probably some interesting thoughts to be had on how Marc viewed being MK as his debt, duty, and everything about his life, whilst Reese is very much ‘I’ve got a lot of (un)life ahead of me, this isn’t going to be what I do forever’ about it. Where Sterman expresses concern about how Reese is processing or not her grief, it feels like this is quite an IC way for Reese to process her grief.

Tigra! My beloved! I love the contrast between Reese and Tigra (also, Tigra’s arms, unf) and the reminder that Tigra can be very brutal herself. There’s a reason why Marc and Greer have always gotten along, after all! I also really appreciate how whilst Reese’s approach at this point is to try and reflect the way that Marc was, to an extent, trying to run the Midnight Mission, she’s not aware of how much Marc didn’t let her see his brutality and questionable methodology. She’s not necessarily got any illusions about the type of person Marc was, but she didn’t get the same type of exposure to how fucked up he could be and the amount of blood he could be willing to spill.

Which kind of brings us to her not recognising the ~~new Moon Knight. I am really excited for the potential of came back wrong! Marc and what that’ll mean for the Mission, but I don’t want to wait until Feb 14th…

(Also poor 8-Ball. Everyone forgets about him. Don’t worry Jeff, we love you…)

[ominoose]

Damn it, now I can stop thinking of Jake as a Jason Todd au, they recently got seperate bodies.

Instead of Jake dying because Marc and Steven wouldn't save them, he dies saving them, and they don't even know. They don't find out till later, when he comes back, vengeful and broken. A violent man they can't quite place but feels connected to them, that brutalizes villains, hell bent on avenging something.

They obviously try to stop the man, they're vigilantes, they've tried to err away from such brutality.

Then he confronts them, the mask pulling back. Broken nose, scared, unstable. Cussing them out, how could they not feel a piece of them missing, like he did? He'd spent his entire life protecting them, doing what they couldn't, he's still doing it, how could they vilify him now? He died alone, away from the system, taunted about how they abandoned him for each other, months trapped in the mental psych ward being tortured over and over again.

Marc and Steven would try reasoning with him, telling him they're sorry, they didn't know he existed, they'd sensed something but they were caught up with life, so much was going on. They can fix this together, it doesn't have to be like this. They can be a family.

It only angers him more. In his heart he'd always felt he'd never be equal to them, Marc would never treat him as dearly as he does Steven, and Steven would never cling to him as he does Marc. He knew he would be the monster, the scapegoat. But how could they not put aside their moral code, one they've never even consistently used, for him? He'd scarified his entire being, has so much blood on his hands, he only became a marine then a vigilante for Marc, to protect Steven, and yet they won't kill one villain for "family"?

Is it the pent up frustration, the years of tip toeing in shadows, trapped in mental prison, or the Lazarus pit, making Jake tremble with feverish, manic rage, he doesn't know. He can only feel. And underneath the pain, the indignation, the righteous anger, what he feels at his core is alone.

[melodygatesauthor]

Weekly Update

09/25/2023

----

For anyone who still even looks at these, I'm going to start doing them on Mondays from now on. I'm just too busy on the weekends to get them out by Sunday.

This one is just going to be a life update and general fic update so not as organized as my usual weekly update...

I know I've been a bit disconnected lately, so here's a quick update on where I'm at, and I'm just going to be brutally honest...

I'm having a hard time getting into the zone with some of my mini-series. I know a lot of you are waiting for the next chapters and I'm slowly working on them as I feel inspired, but I just haven't felt inspired lately. I'm really trying.

It's got a lot to do with real life stressors, changes in the fandom, and shit like that that's really getting to my mood, but it's going to be alright.

Thank you for being patient while I work through this slump, I'm not abandoning them, I would never do that, I'm just going to stop pressuring myself to work on them without feeling inspired to do so.

That being said...

There's a lot coming out in the next couple of weeks, and throughout October!

My NSFW art series is almost finished. I still have to touch up Jake and finish up Marc, but Steven has been done. You can see him here.

I have a special art series coming out for the month of October, yes it's Halloween themed! (With the Moon Boys ofc).

I also have a super special fic that I'm going to be announcing on Sunday Oct 1st! So stay tuned for that. It's going to be released throughout the month of October. I've been chipping away at it slowly, but that's where my primary focus is at the moment.

Literally all this to say, everything except that October fic, my Basil oneshot, and the drawings, is getting put on the backburner for October. I just have to not think about them for a bit.

I'm going to come back to them, and I hope I don't lose people for this, but I just can't bring myself to work on them and put out subpar work. I need to be inspired and I'm absolutely not inspired to work on those fics at the moment.

I love you all so much, and the support means so much to me. Stay tuned...

[caddy-crystal-queen]

Moon Knight and Daemons

So I'm losing sleep over something and I wanna hear honest opinions.

Been back on a moon knight kick as well as a His Dark Materials kick. That being said, I've started to wonder: what daemon(s) would the Moon Knight system have? Now I have no idea how someone with DID would work in the world of HDM, so I'm kinda going on a limb here and assume that a system's daemon would also have alters and alternate forms. I don't actually know if that's how it works, so please please please PLEASE do not take my word for it. I'm literally just doing this for fun.

So...what daemon would each alter have? Well, I'm glad you asked. Let's get into it

1. Steven Grant

Daemon: the Kestrel

This bird is small. Like really small. I believe it's actually the smallest of the raptors, but I could be wrong so don't quote me on that. Either way, the bird is small and folks tend to underestimate it, the same way Steven is rather underestimated by his peers as well as the system at first. The kestrel, despite its size, is still a bird of prey and important to the environment, just as Steven is still important to the moon knight system.

2. Marc Spector

Daemon: the Timber Wolf

Yeah I knew this one right off the bat. Marc's daemon is a wolf and no one can convince me otherwise. Here's why: wolves can function fine on their own, but they work best when in a pack (something we'll also see with Jake's, but we'll cross that bridge in a minute), which I feel is something Marc learns throughout the Moon Knight series. Wolves are also highly misunderstood animals, being depicted throughout history and lore as monsters and villains. Who else have been depicted in a similar way? People with DID unfortunately. These people aren't monsters, they're human beings who deserve to be loved and understood. And again, like the kestrel, wolves are important to the environment (they're actually a keystone species if I recall correctly), and Marc is, arguably, the most important personality in the moon knight system (a keystone, if you will).

3. Jake Lockley

Daemon: the Meerkat

Before you get your torches and pitchforks out, let me explain, as I had a REALLY hard time figuring this one out. Primarily because we haven't seen much of Jake at all in the series, and I personally have not read the comics. Please take it easy on me yall. So I chose the meerkat for one pretty big reason: they are the most murderous mammals on the planet aside from us, and Jake is the most bloody of the Moon Knight system (as far as we know). However this does not mean that he's not important to the system, or can't work well in a group. Like the wolf, a lone meerkat can, and often does, function well on its own but it eventually does need a mob. If you've seen Meerkat Manor, you're probably very familiar with meerkat society and how it functions, and just how brutal it can be. I feel that Jake, if we're ever gonna get a second season of Moon knight, is probably gonna go through a similar arc as Marc, where he learns to get along with the other two in the system rather than pushing them away like he seems to. Honestly I'm all for it, so bring it on Marvel (well, after the strike of course). And seriously, I just love the idea of seeing someone like Jake with something small and kind of adorable. I'm a sucker for that trope, and plus I think he'd find a meerkat to be pretty damn useful.

And those are the Daemons for the moon knight system. This was actually pretty fun to write but I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep now! Leave honest thoughts in the comments or reblog if you feel so inclined! Have fun ^.^

[normaltothemax]

The slamming of the shutting doors cuts through all the noise in his head, lights going red, alarms blaring. So much is happening all at once that Steven has a bit of trouble following, at first. But then he catches sight of the man in black and he can’t look away.

He’s called Batman, according to Jake, who’s all but swooning over the brutal way he takes down the gunmen. Marc is reluctantly impressed, but Steven is just grateful. Everything was getting too overwhelming, one of the others would’ve taken control of the body, and someone would’ve gotten hurt.

Jake and Marc don’t deserve any more innocent blood on their consciences.

The click of a cocking gun much too close to his head brings Steven back to the present. Makes him realize there’s only one gunman left, and he’s using them as a hostage. Lovely.

Steven has just seen how good Batman is at taking down criminals, and Khonshu has brought them back from the dead before, but he doesn’t know if Batman is that good, and he’d rather not risk finding out just how many times the god is willing to revive them.

He’d also rather not deal with the literal headache of it all.

So, Steven falls back and lets Marc surge forward. It takes a heartbeat or two, but his eyes harden, his stance grows more confident, and before the gunman knows what’s happening, Marc is disarming him. Shoving the gun upwards, in case he shoots in his surprise—he does, of course, and it leaves their ears ringing terribly—Marc wrenches the weapon out of the man’s hands and pistol whips him, knocking him out before the surprise ever leaves his eyes.

Gun in hand, he glares down at the disarmed man for a moment, considering his options. He’s not going to kill the jackass, not with so many witnesses, not without just cause, and having a complete personality flip in front of everyone isn’t great for laying low. And while his Steven impression is pretty damn good, there’s not much point in it when the other man is still hanging around.

A couple seconds later, Steven fronts again and his grip on the gun becomes far less confident. Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, he holds the weapon out to the hero in black, grimacing. Marc could have taken the thing apart and rendered it useless, but they’re going to have to use something like ‘self defense lessons’ to explain his actions away, and knowing guns well enough to take them apart with obvious ease simply wouldn’t line up with it.

“You, err…you can have that.” He’s sure Batman can properly dispose of the weapon. “I’m not much of a fan of them, either.”

These sort of things are never a surprise ─ where expensive things go, desperate men follow. And THE BAT has been at this game long enough to know how to spot the players a mile away. So he’d just been waiting, keeping an eye out for the first sign of alarm, and the moment i thots the frequencies, he was off. Slipping through the shadow and darkness ; however much of it he could afford given the time of day and that it was a particularly well lit establishment. But he knows how to adapt, to move around until even the light can think he is one of them. 

And once he’s inside, it becomes a game of checkers. Jump over one and take another. They’re many, well prepared for the bounty they were meant to take home. But not on his watch. And not at the expense of more than a handful of innocent patrons that had just gone into the museum thinking they were going to have a good day. So while he’d secured the perimeter without alarming them in the main room, there were still a significant group of men with guns aimed at the heads of innocent civilians. He clung to the crevice for a few moments longer, planning his next move, until opportunity presents itself in one of said captives, threatening them with warnings about the artifacts they were hoping to take home. 

[1] Now or never, Bruce. 

With a command to ORACLE, the lights turn red and the alarms go off. And it’s no longer just a room of armed men trapping civilians. It was now a room where they were trapped with him. And as the doors close and the flickering lights go stable in red, a collective sound of pops explode from their guns being deactivated by a few well aimed disruptors. And that easily meant that when he lands, all he has to do is knock them out one by one. 

He takes down one with a knee to his groin and an elbow to the back of his head. The next he catches the knife between his gauntlet guards and steals it to use the butt of the handle to break his nose and stab it into his shoulder. The seizing pain encapsulated by the scream draws the rest of their attention on him and he kicks him again to knock him out fully. And the rest seem to swarm on him like animals, threatening to cover and push him down by overwhelming him by sheer force without consideration for the tricks up his sleeves. And that proximity is all he needs to activate the suit’s electrical charge and distribute it to knock them all out in one blast. 

And when he pushes them all off him, he’s left staring at the one man with the gun on Steven’s head, pulling him from his kneeling position on the floor and holding a handgun to his temple. A hail mary. One innocent bargaining chip. 

With smoke still coming off him and his eyes glowing a sinister red, he walked towards them. 

“ Do you know how much I hate guns? “ He asked, practically growled it, the threatening voice bouncing from wall to wall enough to make the man tremble but not lose his grip as the next step makes the man’s pull on the hammer exceptionally loud to his ears. 

“ One more step and he’s dead, Bats. You really want to risk it? “

[lunadei]

Hard to Sleep

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warnings: explicit (18+ MDNI) P in V smut, oral (m receiving), begging, fluff combined with angst

Summary: In a world of chaos, you are the one source of peace in Steven’s life. He doesn’t want to fall asleep, terrified that he might not wake up as himself and risk everything you’ve built together. You attempt to ease Steven’s mind. 

Inspiration: Hard to Sleep - Gracie Abrams (actually sobbed listening to this and immediately had to write some angsty smut).

Steven gazed at your sleeping figure, admiring the sliver of moonlight that cast an iridescent glow across your skin. Your features, usually twisted in concern in his presence, were relaxed and innocent - peaceful. Steven couldn’t recall the last time he had witnessed such peace, such blissful calm in his absurdly chaotic life. He reached out a gentle palm to caress your side before thinking better of it. Absurd as it was, he didn’t want to sully the moment with his touch - as if you were a mirage that would dissipate, returning him to his pitiful reality. 

You were the only aspect of Steven’s life that remained pure, untouched by the brutality of his secret life. Marc and Jake were still unknown to you, as was the Moon Knight. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Your teasing words startled Steven from his trance. His lips curled into a bashful smile, a small flush accenting his cheeks in a way that made your heart swell. 

“Sorry, darling, did I wake you? I didn’t mean to, truly.” He sighed, eyes fluttering as you reached to brush the messy curls from his forehead. 

“Having trouble sleeping again?” Your concerned tone caused warmth to spread throughout Steven’s chest. Though he wanted to shake his head, deny his intended insomnia to prevent you from worrying, he couldn’t lie to you. Not when your eyes bore into his very soul with such genuine compassion. 

“I just don’t want to lose this moment,” he whispered, avoiding your gaze. The true weight of his confession was lost on you, though his somber words stirred something deep within you. You curled your fingers beneath his jaw, lifting him slightly to look at you. 

“Steven,” you paused, briefly captivated by the vulnerability exposed in his now glassy eyes. “You always think too much about what you might lose. Nothing is guaranteed, so why not focus on creating something to remember instead?” You reached for his hand, guiding him to slowly lower the sheet covering your bare form. His fingers danced across your side, exploring your skin as though it were the first and last time he might experience it. 

Steven whispered your name, breathless, both adoration and desire heavy in his tone. With some prompting he shifted to rest his body above you. Warmth pooled in your abdomen, and though your desire was unquestionable, this was more than lust spurred by his achingly beautiful figure. Your chest ached with unparalleled passion as he held you. You couldn’t recall the last time you had felt such affection for someone - had you ever felt this way for anyone else? 

No, you decided. Steven, for all his fumbling and half-truths, was the only one who could make you feel this way. 

“Can I, I mean, would you be okay if -” 

Your lips were on his before he could finish, muffling his satisfied groan. His hands, once hesitant, now roamed your sides with an eagerness that consumed you. You parted only briefly to remove his shirt, wasting no time removing his sweatpants with the same urgency. Your kisses became all tongue and clinking teeth, and god, was it endearing.

Pushing against his chest, you shifted beneath him in a poor attempt to flip him over. Panic swept across his face, and before he could second-guess your actions, you breathed against his lips, “I want to take care of you, let me take care of you.” 

“Are - are you sure?” Hesitant but willing, Steven allowed you to swap positions, gazing at you intently with half-lidded eyes. You trailed kisses down his chest in response, drinking in his unabashed moans. He was already hard, his cock glistening with pre-cum. The knowledge that you caused Steven Grant to come undone before even touching him served to only further turn you on. 

“May I?” You felt him shudder beneath you, nodding frantically as though he could hardly contain his need. 

“Yes - yes, please, Y/n.” You licked a strip slowly from his base to tip before guiding him into your mouth, relishing in the unrestrained moan he released. Steven was always so vocal, so needy in a way that made thighs ache. You rewarded by increasing your tender pace, adding your hand to engulf him fully in the way you knew made him melt. His hips arched of their own accord, extending his length further into your mouth. The vibrations of your own muffled moan caused him to grip your hair, holding onto you as though his life depended on it. You felt his hips sputter beneath you, his breath growing shallow as he cried out for you, signaling that he was approaching the edge. 

“Bloody hell, Y/n, I’m not going to last.” He allowed himself one more moment of pleasure before removing you from him. “Love, that feels - hell, it feels amazing, more than amazing, incredible, really. But, I don’t want to finish inside your mouth. I want, I want...” He trailed off, ever the gentleman, still too nervous to speak his desires regardless of the circumstances. 

“What do you want, Steven?” You beckoned, leaning to place a kiss against his tip as you peered at him through your lashes. “I want you to tell me what you want.” 

“Fuck,” Steven swearing was rare, truly a sight to behold, and you couldn’t help but feel pleased at how quickly you had dismantled his composure. “I want to be inside of you, I want to make you feel as good as you make me. Please, Y/n.” Perhaps another time you would have dragged out his desperation, admired his pleading for just a moment longer. 

Not tonight. You needed him now. 

Bracing one hand on his chest, you guided him to your entrance before slowly sinking down. Allowing him to bottom-out, you paused for a moment, your core fluttering around him as you observed his head thrown back in ecstasy. Fingers clenched your waist, sure to leave purple marks in their wake. You rolled your hips, setting a languid pace that made your toes curl. Riding him you could feel how perfectly he filled you, how every inch of him seemed to be made for you. 

“Oh, dove, you’re so perfect, so beautiful.” The desperation in his gaze further stoked the fire within you. Chasing his pleasure, Steven’s hips thrust to meet your pace, eliciting a wanton cry from your lips as he hit the sensitive spot within you. As if you weren’t already high enough, nearly on the brink of complete and utter destruction, Steven’s hand glided down your stomach - thumb brushing over your clit as he began to draw lazy circles. 

“Is this alright, dove?” You moan in response, coherent words slipping from your mind as the coil within you tightens dramatically. Your pace is brutal, stars exploding beneath your closed eyes as you tighten around him. You’re close, teetering on the edge. Though part of you never wants to this end, preferring to spend eternity with him deep within you, moaning your name. 

“Y/n, love, look at me,” Steven beckons, his thumb flicking your sensitive bud. “I want to see you when you cum on me.” Your breath catches in your throat at that, eyes peering open. His hair hangs in unruly curls against his forehead, sweat glistening against his tanned skin. But his eyes, oh his eyes - a tantalizing, sexed-out gaze encompassed in those chocolate hues that destroys any semblance of control you had left. 

His moans are growing more desperate, pushing you closer to the brink as the coil within you threatens to snap. You’re so close, clenching around him, desperate to take everything he has. 

“God, Y/N, fuck. I’m going to cum,” Feeling his hips stutter, the knowledge of his impending release is enough to throw you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your core, legs overtaken by violent tremors as you all but collapse on his chest. You feel Steven still within you, reaching his own release deep within you as you continue to grind your hips against him. 

“I love you Steven,” the words escape your lips quicker than you can comprehend, still delirious with the aftershock of your orgasm. Your relationship was still so new, so uncertain, and neither of you had yet to mention love in any context. Still, you knew it wasn’t just the post orgasmic haze clouding your judgement. You were madly in love with Steven, utterly entranced by every absurd little quirk, every gentle, questioning kiss, the sleepless nights. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, and for a moment you consider that perhaps you frightened him away. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -” He lifts your chin to place a chaste kiss on your lips, effectively chasing away any doubts. 

“I love you, Y/n, a thousand times over, in a thousand life times.” He peppers soft kisses across your face, his whispers of ‘I love you’ settling deep within your chest. He’s still inside you, lips pressed against your forehead, unwilling to part. 

For the first night in as long as he can remember, Steven sleeps peacefully, free of dreams, free of the Moon Knight, with you wrapped in his embrace.