#Marc Spector x female oc

[justafandomgvrl]

The Blood Lake

Chapter Three

A second chance. Violence.

Previous ~~ Next

Masterlist

Marc did something stupid.

Chasina hummed to herself as she stepped over the threshold of her cabin, symbols lighting up all over her walls. She watched each one fade into nothing as she closed the door behind her. One symbol was still glowing when she turned back to her wall and she frowned, walking closer to it. Intruder. She pulled her mask back over her head and pulled her sword free. Her other hand began to glow and the energy once again spiked from her hand to the ground, creating a perfect image in her mind of her surroundings. The silhouette of Moon Knight came into her ‘vision’ and she sighed.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, not bothering to ask how he found her after him learning who she was.

“You threatened me last time I saw you. And right after I rescued you.” His voice was harsher than usual and she rolled her eyes. “I can’t let you arrest me. I’ll be executed and I can’t let that happen, I can’t let what I’m trying to do fail.”

“You sound exactly like Harrow, you realise that? You’re not going to make the world better, you’re going to destroy it.” Her voice was softer than she expected and it made him stumble back.

“I am nothing like Harrow. He wants to cleanse the world. We’re trying to fix it.” He hissed, though his voice sounded different. Chasina removed her mask, putting the sword back in her scabbard. He appeared to have changed, his posture was less certain, his hands were fidgeting, his gaze was darting across the room.

“Leave. This is the only time I will ask. If I have to ask again, I will be taking you down and taking you in. You get one chance to go peacefully, because I really don’t want to have to clean blood off my floor and my walls, and I feel that something has changed in the last sixty seconds.” The masked man nodded, vanishing and she frowned at his retreating figure. Something had definitely changed.

“Look, Steven, you can’t take over like that. We should’ve taken out the threat there and then.” Marc hissed at his reflection in the lake. Steven was glowering at him and Jake was shaking his head with barely constrained laughter. We were at her home, Marc. Did you not see all the symbols on the walls when she stepped through the door? We would’ve been obliterated. Steven argued. He’s right. She’d have killed us if we didn’t back down, and we know for a fact that you wouldn’t have backed down. Marc glared at them both, crouching down closer to the water. “We can’t fix this doomed world if she doesn’t give us space to do that and she insists on stop-” Marc. You’re the one who was taken aback by her softness and gave enough space for Steven to take over. Jake interrupted, a shiteating grin spreading across his face. Marc’s glare somehow got even deeper. Steven shrugged. The real question is why did she let us go? Marc hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. We’re behind schedule.” He huffed, reforming his armour around his body, setting off deeper into the forest.

Jake was in control by the time they arrived at the sorceress’s hut. He knocked once, twice, three times on the old wooden structure and the door swung open, revealing the woman he’d met in a tavern a long time ago.

“It’s really you… I didn’t think you were ever coming.” Sabrina whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped back, letting him in and he smiled under the mask. “How have you lived this long?”

“I’m lucky.” She nodded, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she glanced to the side behind him. His eyes narrowed but he said nothing. “Do you have it?” He asked, brushing past her and her breath hitched in her throat as his mask vanished.

“Oh! Of course! I said I’d hold onto it for you.” She stumbled over her words and her feet as she rushed to find the jewel he had been looking for. “The only true blood diamond that was owned by the Wild Hunt.” She confirmed as she passed it to him. “So, is that all you came for?” She asked and he shook his head absentmindedly, examining the diamond. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, stepping back as she created a portal and he sighed, tucking the diamond into his sleeve.

“No, Sabrina, you’re not. But you’re about to be.” Jake said, turning to face her with a disapproving frown plastered on his face. He pulled the crescent shape blade loose from the chest piece of his armour and he was in front of her before she could step into the portal, slashing her cheek. She cried out, dropping to the floor in shock as she clutched at her face. He chuckled, almost enjoying seeing her beneath him. “Unfortunately, Sabrina, sorceresses are part of the plague that is destroying this world, as you just proved. We were just having a friendly exchange and you threatened me.” He tutted, crouching down to eye level. “Why did you have to do that, Sabrina?” She stifled a sob as she tried to scurry away from him, footsteps running into the hut and Jake sighed again. “What a pity.” He stood, stamping on her ankle to still her as she screamed in pain and he turned to see three village boys. “We don’t have to do this.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m just here for the sorceress.”

“You can’t hurt her and get away with it!” The bravest of the lads said, his voice shaking. Jake chuckled, unaware of Sabrina reaching for something and tapping a symbol on the floor.

“Let’s get this over with, boys.”

Chasina sprinted through the forest, not having bothered with her mask. She ran as fast as she could, ignoring the howls surrounding her. The light of the full moon lit her way as she tore through the undergrowth, clearing a lake with a single jump. By the time she made it to the hut, there were three dead men, a portal flickering, Sabrina on the floor, and Moon Knight, unmasked. Her eyes narrowed.

“Back away from her.” His shoulders tensed, turning to face her with shock written across his features clear as day. She blinked, not having expected the face that she saw looking back at her.

“I wouldn’t step any closer unless you want to die, parajito.” the man snapped. His voice was different, a look of calculated cruelty in his eyes that would’ve scared her on a more dangerous man. Chasina tilted her head, taking another step forward.

“Let Sabrina go.” Her voice was empty as she pulled her sword free and manoeuvred until she was between him and the sorceress. He watched every move she made, trying to figure out what she would do next as the tip of her sword pressed against the underside of his chin.

“¿Estás tratando de obtener una reacción de mi parte?” He whispered, a dangerous glint in his eyes. She narrowed her gaze as Sabrina began to crawl towards the portal.

“No. But I am distracting you, aren’t I?” Chasina asked with a small smile as she realised his breathing pattern had changed, ever so slightly. The portal fizzed shut and the smile dropped as she picked up her foot and slammed it into his knee.

“Fuck!” The tip of her sword nicked his chin as he stumbled back, dropping his leg out from under him. “That’s not fair, parajito.” He snapped. Chasina shrugged, moving her sword into a defensive hold as she watched him regain his balance.

“All is fair in war, Moon Knight.”

“I think you forget part of that phrase on purpose, parajito.” He lunged, slamming his elbow into her wrist and her sword slipped from her grasp. He threw punch after punch, all of which Chasina evaded as though she was stepping through a dance. How many times have we done this? Steven wondered. Too many. End the threat. Marc snapped and Jake rolled his eyes. Chasina hesitated for a split second but it was long enough. A blow caught the centre of her chest and she flew backwards, coughing and wheezing. Before she could stand his fingers were wrapped around her throat, lifting her into the air and slamming her against the wall. “Hoy te toca perder.” He whispered.

Chasina stared at him, golden defiance burning in her eyes. Jake stared back, entranced by the change in colour, as her fingers inched closer to his hand even as her lungs began to burn. Jake. Jake watch o- Chasina smiled, gripping his wrist as her hand began to glow and heat poured from her skin to his. He shrieked in pain, letting go of her and she smiled as she landed on her feet. Before he could recover she drew a quick symbol in the air that he didn’t recognise and he found it was impossible to move.

“I’ve never lost to you. And I don’t intend to start now.” She whispered, binding him and lifting him as though he weighed nothing. Her fingers pressed into his neck and his vision turned dark.

“Fuck!” Marc mumbled as he woke up, surrounded by 3 grey walls and a metal door. “Fuck!” He yelled, making everyone else in the cell turn to him in displeasure.

“Shut it, or the guard’ll come back and take our food from us.” One of them hissed and Marc glared at him.

“That won’t be my problem for long.” Marc grumbled, analysing the structure of the cell as he began to pace.

~~

Translation - ¿Estás tratando de obtener una reacción de mi parte? - are you trying get a reaction out of me?

Parajito - little bird

[fantasyqueen502]

I want to put my work there more, but I can't decide on one solid platform to use. I guess I'll continue using them all (Wattpad, Tumblr, Quotev) I also wanna get into AO3.

Here's a little taste

His eyes danced about the titles plucking a book piling them into her waiting arms. Taking their pile of research to a table he sits with her even going over some of the corrections and mistakes the books have.

"Why are they depicted as animals, but in our form?" She asks.

"Very good question." he praises with a lopsided smile. "Animals are sacred..." he begins. "Perhaps it is a simple way for us to understand a higher power."

"We could be facing a second coming of gods today." she says drawing his eye. "Spiderman, Antman, Falcon, Hawkeye. Black widow." she references.

"That's a unique way of thinking." he chuckles. "Maybe you're right."

At the check out desk. "Thank you..." she trails off realizing she didn't get his name. Glancing at his nametag. "...Steven." she smiles, catching his eyes. "You make Egyptian lore very..." she trails off for the right word.

"Boring. I'm sorry I must have talked your ear off." He apologizes, continuing to scan her books.

"Entertaining." She chirps. "I was going to say entertaining." taking the receipt, "I hope to learn more in the future if you don't mind." She flutters her lashes collecting her bags.

"Y-Yeah. Of course." He stutters.

"See you 'round, Steven with a V."

"Bye, Levii." Returning with a stiff wave handing back her library card. "With two I's." he watches her leave, staring at the doors a few moments more.

"Quit it." Steven grumbles.

"Quit what?" Marc asks his reflection shrugs with a cocked brow in the computer monitor's screen.

"I can feel your eyes. Judging me." Steven grumbles.

"Levii with two I's." He repeats.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

The More The Merrier - Part One

Set in The Shape of Youniverse

Summary: Doctor Strange’s wedding gift allows you and your husband to fulfill your wildest fantasies 

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

Word Count: 3.3k 

Rating: Mature (for now!)

CW/TW: Mentions of pregnancy, reader experiences anxiety and mild body insecurity, Marc is ~protective~ and not afraid to threaten violence to protect his fam, discussions of group sex, making out  

A/N: Okay y’all! Everyone loved Group Effort so I thought there was no better way to celebrate 1000 followers than to write a follow up! I am currently burnt to a crisp creatively, HOWEVER I figure if I post what I have so far this lovely community’s support and reactions may just invigorate me to get the rest of this naughtiness out! 

Translations at the end of the fic as usual!

You thought you were dreaming. You must have been, because why else would Doctor Strange be in your living room talking to your husband? The sound of voices had awoken you, and when you saw that Marc’s side of the bed was empty, you followed the hushed but heated voices to their source. 

You could hear Marc insisting lowly, “I told you I can’t…”

“And I told you his new avatar is miss–”

“Honey?” You interrupted, your voice raspy from sleep, “What’s going on?”

You’d rubbed just enough sleep from your eyes to be able to take in the sight before you. Marc, in his pajamas, mid-argument with Doctor Strange, red cape and all. 

You blinked furiously. Up until that very moment, all of Marc’s stories about being the white knight dude–Moon Knight, he told you he’d been called, were just that. Stories. You liked it that way. That way, there was plausible deniability. Seeing him talking to an Avenger in your flat made things startlingly real. 

“Go back to bed sweetheart,” your husband urged you, trying and failing to keep his mounting frustration from bleeding into his tone. 

Like hell you were going back to sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Marc answered immediately. His pointed look to the Avenger meant that Strange wasn’t going to divulge anything either. 

“Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Spector,” the sorcerer offered instead. 

“I’m not going anywhere until one of you tells me why he’s here in the middle of the night,” you informed both men plainly. It was perplexing to think that the men in charge of your planet’s safety, like Doctor Strange and your husband, were such shit liars.

“It’s Khonshu--” Strange began. 

“He’s retired,” you interjected. Your husband resuming his superhero activities, especially when you’d just found out you were pregnant a few weeks ago, was your worst nightmare. 

“I know,” he assured you, “I had a question for Marc, that’s all.” 

“And I told him that I can’t be involved with any of this shit, in any capacity,” your husband fumed, “Twice now.” 

“Well excuse me,” the sorcerer snarked, “and here I thought you’d become a consultant.” 

You couldn't stifle the giggle that Strange’s comment brought forth. Marc bristled, “Please sweetie, will you wait for me in the bedroom? I’ll show Stephen out.” 

Hearing that your husband was on a first-name basis with an Avenger made your head swim. You nodded, but didn’t completely comply, going only so far as the hallway so you could eavesdrop on them unseen.

“Did I just get you into trouble?” Strange inquired. 

“Yes,” your husband confirmed. “Out of everything wrong with me, her only hang-ups are my ex-wife and the avatar shit, so summon one of those portal things before I have to kick you out myself.” 

“Wow, okay, so Steven’s the one with the manners then,” he noted wryly. 

Marc sighed so deeply you could hear it from across the flat. “How many times do I have to say–”

“Congratulations by the way.” 

Your heart dropped. Did he know? He couldn’t know. You were nowhere near showing, how on earth could he know? Doctor Strange flew and did magic and traversed the multiverse, but there was no way he could tell that you were pregnant, was there?

“I’ll tear you limb from limb and rent your stupid cloak out for birthday parties,” Marc threatened in a snarl, “I didn’t want anyone knowing that we're together, let alone that we’re expecting. If that information leaves your lips, so help me–”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Strange promised him, “though it explains why I can’t convince you.” 

“Use that forgetting spell on yourself,” your husband ordered. 

“I’ll do you one better,” the sorcerer offered, “I’ll put you two under the protection of the London Sanctum. It’ll keep her safe while we sort all of this out…though it’d go a lot quicker if you–”

“Want me to re-introduce you to Jake?” Marc growled. 

Now it was Strange’s turn to sigh. “You realize you don’t have the suit anymore, right?”

“Nunca lo necesité,” the man in question interceded, “Disfrutaría el desafío.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” the Avenger observed. 

“She’s the reason I left Khonshu,” Marc confessed. After observing him so tight-lipped and protective about your relationship to Strange just now, your husband’s candor shocked you. 

“I’d say you traded up,” the sorcerer remarked archly. 

 Marc stood firm. “Yeah, and I’m not looking to downgrade anytime soon.”

“Can’t blame you. Well Marc, it’s always a…time.”

The faint hum of what you assumed was the magic he conjured for the portals Strange used alerted you to scamper back to the bed and dive under the covers, so that when Marc returned you could convincingly feign sleep. Moments later, you felt the mattress dip under his weight and his arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

“Are you mad at me?” came his timid question, murmured into your hair.  

You didn’t open your eyes. “That you told Doctor Strange to fuck off for the sake of our marriage? For our family? No, hun.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized anyway, “I hate how that this part of my past won’t let me go.” 

“This wasn’t your fault and you didn't get involved,” you pointed out, implicitly urging him to let it go. “Can we go back to sleep? Need to rest up for my inevitable morning vomit sesh.” 

Marc held your tighter and pressed a kiss to a notch of your spine. “‘Course baby.”

You weren’t exactly proud of how quick you were to brush the encounter off, but being a newlywed and a surprise pregnancy meant you had enough on your plate. There wasn’t any mental or emotional space to entertain the thought of your ex-avatar husband having to risk his life to ensure your, your unborn baby, and Earth’s safety, because if you did, the Hulk would look like a teddy bear in comparison to the state it’d send you in.  

Luckily, Marc was even better at sweeping uncomfortable moments under the rug than you were. You didn’t give the late-night meeting with Doctor Strange a second thought until a few weeks later when you glimpsed a headline about another global calamity averted emblazoned across a fellow Tube passenger’s copy of The Guardian. Your first trimester made you incredibly motion sick, so you had to look away and deep breathe at once, since the last thing anyone wanted on their morning commute was a woman spewing all over the car. 

Work served as the perfect distraction, until you received a particularly cryptic and distressing text from your husband mid-afternoon.

From: Hubby 

Can you come home please? 

From me:

Now? Are you alright?!

From Hubby: 

Yes, I’m fine. Just need you to come home right away. 

You huffed. That answered absolutely nothing and only made you more anxious. The periods at the ends of his sentences were a dead giveaway as to which alter you were texting with, so you pressed: 

From me:

What’s wrong Marc? 

From Hubby:

Everything’s fine, I promise. 

From me: 

Are you sick? 

The three dots appeared that he was typing, but you’d already sprung from your desk chair at that point. You hurried over to a superior’s office to let them know you were leaving early, claiming a spousal emergency, and you didn’t even wait for a proper response from your boss before you returned to your office, collected your things, and dashed for the door. 

From me: 

Just told Graham I’m heading home. I’ll be there soon!! Do I need to call 999? Harry? Dr. Moorhead???? 

Marc never asked for help. He'd rather eat all ten toes. It was a point of contention in your relationship, something you were working through, so the fact he’d texted you in the middle of the afternoon asking you to come home freaked you the fuck out. You’d just gotten into a taxi - it’d be faster than the Tube this time of day - when he finally responded. 

From Hubby:

No. See you soon. 

You slammed your fist, still wrapped around the rectangle of your phone, down against the upholstered seat in the cab. If Marc was alive when you got home, you were going to kill him. 

After one of the most fraught cab rides of your life, you breathlessly burst through the door of your flat. “MARC?! Jake?! Steven?! You okay?” 

Your husband sat on the couch, appearing to be perfectly well. “Hi baby.” 

You rushed to him, instantly putting the back of your hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “What’s wrong? God, would it kill you to tell me what’s going on? I nearly gave myself an ulcer on the way here.” 

Marc caught your hand and brought your palm to his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” into the skin there.

“Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is happening here?” you demanded. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay baby,” he tried to soothe you. 

“Then why did you send me those vague bloody texts telling me to come home ASAP?” 

A sound from the bedroom momentarily distracted you before Marc captured your other hand in his grasp and gently tugged you to take a seat next to him. He continued to apologize, “I’m sorry, so sorry baby. We didn’t know how else to do it, plus we wanted it to be a surprise.”

You regarded him warily. “For what to be a surprise?” 

“Remember when Stephen – well, Doctor Strange came here?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Well, he um…he knew you were pregnant–I didn’t tell him, he just…I don’t know he mystically sensed it or something–and he felt bad about implicating you in our business. I ended up helping him–nothing really, just told him some stuff he wanted to know about my time as Khonshu’s avatar, and he wanted to thank me–well us, I guess? He said to consider it a belated wedding or early–”

“Ay…I think I’ve missed a birthday with how long you’re taking!” 

This was it. Forget your husband’s mental health struggles, you’d officially had a psychotic break. Because Jake had interrupted your conversation by walking into the room. In a separate body. 

“Fucking hell!! You couldn’t wait thirty more seconds?!” Marc snapped at him. 

Thank goodness you were already sitting down. The room swam. Your husband – wait, husbands?-- kept bickering with each other while you stared at them, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“No voy a perder otro segundo teniendo que escucharte un parloteo. No tenemos todo el día aquí.”

“What the fuck is going on?” you asked yourself in an awestruck whisper. 

“Honey?” Marc turned to you, “you’re okay.”

“Todo esta bien,” Jake added, rushing to your other side. 

You were grateful that there were two of them, otherwise you would’ve collapsed. The thought made you laugh. Wow, you’d lost your mind with a stunning efficiency it seemed. 

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Marc’s eyes searched yours, desperate for you to focus. 

“Uh huh.” 

“What este pendejo was trying to say,” Jake interjected, “is that el doctor did a spell where we all get our own body for twenty-four hours.” 

“He can do that?” It was a stupid question, given that you were surrounded by two of your husbands, but your brain was all but fried. 

“See! This is why I wanted to do it like this! We needed to ease her in!!” Marc lamented. 

“Where’s Steven?” you asked. He had to be here somewhere too, right? 

“You can come out now!” Marc hollered toward the kitchen, and lo and behold, the last third of your husband shuffled into view, complete with his individual body as well.  

“Why am I always the only one who follows the plan?” Steven complained, then after taking one look at your ashen face, joined his counterparts tending to you. “Oh darling, are you alright? Sorry, I know this all must come as a terrible shock. You want me to put the kettle on? Make you a cuppa?”

“The only thing that could help me right now is a stiff drink, which I obviously can’t have because of…” you trailed off and gestured to your midsection. 

“Right, sorry. Marc and I wanted to do this differently, but leave it to Jake to muck things up, as per usual,” he groused. 

“Oye, vete a la mierda pequeño–”

Marc tried to stop them. “Shut up, both of you, this isn’t hel–”

“Oh my God is this what the inside of your head is like?” you wondered aloud, unable to squash a delirious chuckle. 

“Yes,” Steven confirmed, trying to maintain composure, “a small sampling of it, I’m afraid.” 

Your chuckling escalated to full-on unhinged laughter. What else were you to do when each of your husbands were given their own body and argued in front of you?

“Am I high? Or at the very least awake?” 

“No and yes,” Marc replied. 

“So this is why I had to come home early,” you surmised. 

“Sí, we only have twenty-four hours, and we weren’t going to waste anymore on waiting when we could–”

“We could what?” 

“Well, with the baby coming, naturally our sex life is going to take a hit,” Marc said, “so, this seemed like a perfect, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity to um…fulfill some fantasies.”

“You faked an emergency and made me ditch work so we could all have group sex?” 

Steven groaned, “It sounds so tawdry when you put it like that.” 

Marc buried his head in his hands, but Jake puffed up his chest. “Por qué no? Vas a trabajar cada día, ¡pero tal vez nunca volvamos a estar así!”

“No one is touching me…” you protested, heaving a labored breath as overwhelmed tears brimmed in your eyes. “No one is touching me until you all apologize! Properly! You scared the shit out of me just now! You can’t…you can't keep me in the dark like that…I can’t take the stress between your past and the baby and work…it’s too much! So guess what? The last thing I want to do right now is have sex!” 

Three flummoxed faces of concern stared back at you as they each realized they’d severely miscalculated the reveal. Apparently you looked so pathetic it dispelled any of their urges to argue about it, the reminder that you were pregnant seemingly enough to shut them up and send them straight to contrition. Plus, they were probably still hopeful they could get some action later if they apologized right away. 

“I’m sorry baby,” Marc began, pulling you to his chest, “We wanted this to be fun, but…”

“Somos estúpidos,” Jake finished for him, “Even with separate bodies, we all think with the head between our legs.”   

Steven spoke next, “Take all the time you need, my love. We don’t even have to…do anything naughty. We just want to be with you like…as…as us.” 

“Uh, no. We have to fuck,” Jake disagreed. 

Before you could snipe back at Jake, you remembered something Marc had told you about the last time they were separated. Their entire journey through the Duat, Jake had been trapped in a sarcophagus. Despite being married to them, you couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to share your body, your life, with two other people the way they did. 

So of course having a body of your own, especially if there was a clock on it, would be a momentous occasion, and it warmed your heart in a funny, roundabout way that Jake wanted to share this precious time with you as intimately as possible. 

Therefore, you found yourself cackling at his remark. The three of them watched you dumbstruck. 

“I think we broke her,” Marc muttered under his breath. 

When you finally regained your breath and a modicum of your senses back, you proposed, “How about this…we make an early dinner to fuel up for um…the night ahead, shall we say? It’ll give me some time to adjust. Deal?”

It took about an hour, but you did calibrate to having multiple husbands in your flat. Jake and Marc were parked on the couch flipping between games on the telly and arguing over scores, players, and stats while Steven and you camped in the kitchen. 

Steven had volunteered to make dinner, and you instantly offered to assist him, figuring that keeping your hands busy would help quiet your racing mind. The pair of you chopped vegetables and, in everyone but Steven’s case, chicken, to make a soup that would be hearty enough to sustain any physical exertion later but light enough so as not to hinder it. 

“This is bizarre, innit?” Steven asked while he stirred the broth. 

“Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it,” you confessed. “I mean, I know crazy superhero magic shit like this happens, but never to me.”

“When Marc first told me he served Khonshu, I thought it was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard.” 

You laughed at Steven’s frankness. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he echoed, his face splitting into a beatific grin. The two of you leaned across the stove to kiss each other. Neither of you hurried to break it. In fact, Steven slipped his tongue between the seam of your lips, while you turned to wrap your arms around him properly. 

You nearly forgot the other two men were there until you were both startled apart by Jake whistling and crowing, “Ey! Save it for later!” 

“Entonces vas a ayudarnos con la comida?” you shot back at him without any real heat.  

Several moments transpired while you ate in which you lapsed into an astonished silence. Though you were no stranger to your husband being co-conscious, there was something even more wondrous about all three of them having to interrupt each other to speak, though despite their separate bodies, each man tended to talk over the other still. 

Marc and Jake were put on cleanup duty, and Steven captured you in his arms once again. He dotted kisses from your clavicle, up the length of your neck, culminating at the extra sensitive spot behind your right ear. “How do you want to do this?” 

You mewled at the pressure of his lips on your skin. “Mmmm, I wanna take a shower and primp a bit. Marc had a point earlier, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, might as well make the most of it, right?” 

“Whatever you want,” he rumbled into your ear. You could feel Steven’s cock stir as he pressed himself into you. 

A devilish smirk danced across your lips. “Wanna look extra fuckable for all of you.” 

“Bloody hell, babe,” Steven’s hips stuttered against your leg. He leaned in to kiss you more, but you dodged him, instead scampering away toward the bathroom and throwing a cheeky look over your shoulder. 

Beyond the fact that you knew that Jake would want to fuck you in the ass and you needed to prepare accordingly, it occurred to you that your insistence on getting dolled up was just as much for your benefit as it was for your partners. You were about to be more vulnerable than you’d ever been in a sexual situation, and though it was with the people you loved and trusted most in the world, sometimes confidence was best found from the outside-in. So you shaved your legs, styled your hair, made up your face, and slipped into the lingerie that you’d grabbed from your dresser before you retreated into the en-suite. 

You examined the finished product of your efforts in the mirror. Your bump wasn’t quite a bump yet at just over twelve weeks, you just looked perennially bloated. You tried to smooth the frown from your face, reminding yourself that you weren’t fat, but instead growing a little life inside of you, the culmination of you and your husband’s love. Nevertheless, you adjusted the straps of the microscopic thong you’d squeezed yourself into to try and create a more flattering shape. After fluffing your hair one more time, you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be.

READ PART TWO 

A/N: Eh? We like? Y’all are always so encouraging but if you feel compelled to leave any feedback I could really use it this time around!!! 

Translations:

Nunca lo necesité - I never needed it

Disfrutaría el desafío - I will enjoy the challenge

No voy a perder otro segundo teniendo que escucharte un parloteo. No tenemos todo el día aquí - I'm not going to waste another second having to listen to you babble. We don't have all day here

Todo esta bien - Everything is ok

Este pendejo - This asshole

Oye, vete a la mierda pequeño - Hey, look here you little shit

Por qué no? Vas a trabajar cada día, ¡pero tal vez nunca volvamos a estar así! - Why not? You go to work every day, but we may never be like this again!

Somos estupidos - We’re stupid

Entonces vas a ayudarnos con la comida - Then are you going to help us with the food?

Taglist:

@twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo​, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth​ @welcometostayingawake​ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction​, @thatgirlshady​

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

You Cannot Run From Your Past Pt. 3

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

“Do you think this will work? That we can finally get rid of him?” You had always dreamt of killing James but given how powerful he was it was simply a suicide mission.

A/N:here we are! there's going to be one part before the big finale! same warnings as always, mentions of abuse, violence, blood, smut

“They won’t be staying, James needs to find a way to get me back from Simon. I’ve seen it happen before.” The jealousy was pouring off of him in waves, nearly drowning you in it.

“How can you be so sure? Why not just kill us when we’re least expecting and take you back that way?” Price wasn’t looking at the bigger picture.

“Because that leaves too much space for things to go wrong. Natasha’s one of the best stealth killers I’ve ever met, but going into something without a solid plan gets you killed. James hasn’t personally gotten his hands dirty in a while, he’s not going to start now.” No, he’d have his henchmen do all the dirty work for him while he sat at home.

Price wanted to argue with that statement, sure James didn’t have the manpower but if Natasha was as strong as you claimed they could get away with it. However he started to analyze everything and you were right, the only way they’d be able to get Price, Soap, and Gaz without alerting you and Simon would be with knives. And knives were not always the easiest weapon to work with.

“Alright, what do you suggest we do?” Price was willing to do whatever it took to ensure yours and everyone else's safety.

“I’ve been in contact with his best friend Steve, he’s willing to talk to me and stop James from killing anyone else.” Maybe that wasn’t the full truth, but you’d discuss that somewhere more privately.

“Let’s get back to the house, better to talk there.” Price left enough money to cover the bill along with a hefty tip.

You headed back out to the limo with everyone else, sliding into the back with Simon close behind. Soap kept an eye out until everyone was inside safely, sliding in last and shutting the door. It was definitely obvious that James had already left, the only people that were looking seemed to be tourists. The drive back was quiet, Price typing away on his phone to someone before it began to ring with a call. He sighed softly before answering.

“Laswell, long time no talk.” Price was relaxed, so whoever he was speaking with wasn’t an enemy.

“Price, any particular reason you’re looking to come visit me in New York this time of year?” Kate wasn’t shocked that Price had a sudden interest, but there was a reason.

“James Barnes made a visit to us, I need to make sure it’s not going to happen again.” He could hear her soft intake of breath. This was a personal matter.

“I’ll make sure there’s no issues when you fly over, remember to be safe.” Kate hung up before he could reply, though he didn’t blame her, he’d asked for a big favor.

The boys would end up packing everything when they got back, making sure to keep any weapons hidden and discreet. You would all be in enemy territory, worst case scenario was word getting back to James the moment you landed. If all went well you would be able to land in New York and meet up with Steve before James even found out you’d left England.

“So, the plan is we head out tonight, I’ve got intel that James won’t be able to fly out until tomorrow morning.” Price slipped his phone into his pocket, full attention back on everyone else.

“I’ll let Steve know when we’ll be landing, he’s been under James’ radar for this long, I’d rather not ruin his life.” Steve had been a silent godsend for you, he’d helped you escape and was willing to take the heat if needed.

You’d contact Steve first and foremost, letting him in on the plan to make sure that he even felt comfortable joining you. If all went well you’d call Tony, god knows the man deserved to get his revenge once and for all. Alex pulled into the garage after what felt like mere minutes, pulling you back down to earth as you went over the plan in your head once more. Price headed into his office right away, making all the calls that would be necessary. Gaz and Soap headed off to their rooms to pack.

Simon led you back to your bedroom, fingers grazing the skin on your back softly as if he was suddenly afraid to touch you. You wanted to assure him that things were fine and you would gladly accept his touch in any way he was willing to give it. You stepped into the room slowly, reaching down to take off your heels now that you were home.

“Finally, hate wearing those damn things.” Your feet were sore from the few times you’d had to walk around.

“I would’ve carried you if you needed darling.” Simon pulled off his jacket, loosening the tie around his neck.

“Had we been out for longer I would’ve taken you up on the offer.” You slipped the straps down and off your arms, the top of the dress pooling around your waist.

Simon watched you undress slowly, hands working on autopilot as he pulled off his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. The lace of your panties began to peek out from the dress as you pushed it off entirely, your breasts shining in the setting sun. Simon would lie to anyone who asked how he reacted in that moment, not wanting them to live through the memories he’d store away forever. Without hesitation he threw off his shirt, letting it fall carelessly to the floor as his arms wrapped around your waist. You traced your nails along the tattoos adorning his arm, finding out just a little bit more about your new husband.

“Now darling, why don’t you be a good girl and get on the bed for me.” Simon pressed his hips against you, reveling in the way your body heat melded with his own.

“Mmm, yes sir.” You pulled away from him gently, sliding your thumbs beneath the waist of your panties and sliding them off onto the floor.

Simon was hard in an instant, gently palming himself as he watched you crawl seductively overtop of the sheets. You turned to lay on your back, body fully on display for Simon to do as he pleased, with your permission of course. Simon may have done bad things in his life, but he’d never touch someone without their full consent.

“God, look how delicious you are.” Simon unbuckled his belt, sliding the thick leather from his slacks and tossing it to the side.

“Why don’t you come over and have a taste yourself.” You spread your legs slowly, your thighs glistening with the sweet nectar he was so desperate to taste.

Simon nearly tore off his slacks, along with his boxer briefs and socks so that he was naked as the day he was born. Your eyes drifted down his torso before landing on his fully erect cock, your heart began to race with the realization of how big he was. How the hell was he going to fit? Pushing all the insecurities you had you crooked your finger in a “come here” motion. Simon smirked and stalked over to you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

“How badly do you want this sweetheart?” Simon wanted you to beg, to hear you whimper his name.

“Please, Simon, don’t tease.” You gripped the sheets harshly, back arching slightly as he grazed his hands up your calves.

“So polite.” Simon pressed kisses along your inner thighs, each kiss getting closer to where you so desperately needed him.

Each time he would reach your sex he’d pull away, listening to the way you’d whine loudly, begging for his touch. He could feel the heat from your body, legs quivering beside his head as he dipped down slowly. You hadn’t expected his lips to wrap around your clit, suckling softly to warm you up. You reached down to grip his hair, pushing his face closer to your dripping sex as you begged for more. Simon groaned into the soft flesh, slipping down to savor the slick that was pouring from your body. 

You’d tasted sweeter than any honey he could ever imagine, a divine treat that he would savor every chance he could get. Tasting you from his fingers had not done you justice, and now he was simply addicted. Your moans echoed throughout the room as his tongue slipped inside of you, curling up to bring you the utmost pleasure. Simon began to grind his hips against the bed slowly, hands gripping onto your waist to keep you from pulling away.

Heaven, that was the only way you could begin to describe the way that one Simon Riley ate pussy. He savored you as if you were his final meal on earth before he descended to heaven, leaving no area left ignored. One hand abandoned your hip to slide down to your opening, two fingers sliding in as he flicked his tongue over your clit. You screamed into the air as your orgasm crashed over you, soaking Simon’s face.

You had been so blissed out that you’d completely forgotten how long it had been since you shaved at all, clearly Simon didn’t care. Another tally for Simon, he was starting to seem like the perfect man to you right now.

“Think you can keep going?” Simon pushed himself up slowly, fisting his cock slowly to help alleviate the ache.

“If you don’t put that inside me I may just cry.” Maybe it was a little dramatic, but the man could clearly fuck and you weren’t waiting a second longer.

Simon chuckled, grabbing your legs and pulling your hips flush to his own. Your body slid down the bed, head barely resting on the pillows that sat at the top. He groaned softly, cock sliding between your folds as he slowly grinded against you. The tip of his cock hit your clit just right, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Simon, please!” Your legs were shaking slightly, back arched harshly as you tried, and failed, to get him inside.

“As you wish.” He grabbed the base of his cock, placing himself at your entrance before pushing in slowly.

The only way that Simon could describe it would be euphoric, your body pulled him in like a warm tight hug. He wanted nothing more than to slam his cock inside you but given his size he knew it wouldn’t be pleasurable for you. Simon waited until your hips bumped gently, his cock nestled in you to the hilt before taking another breath. His chest shuddered at the way you enveloped him, if he moved too soon this would be over before it could start.

“Hold on sweetheart.” Simon smirked down at you, hoisting your legs up until your calves were resting on his shoulders.

It felt as if his cock had nestled itself all the way in your throat with how deep he was. His hips pulled back before slamming forward, a guttural moan slipping through your lips. Simon barely gave you a moment to breathe before his hips were slamming into yours over, and over. The sounds of your coupling were encompassing everything. You were thankful that Simon had at least tried to prepare you for his cock.

“Look at you sweetheart, taking my cock like such a good girl.” Simon moaned as he watched you take his cock like you were made for him.

His hand slipped up your body, palm resting gently against the base of your throat. He didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t comfortable with, but when your cunt tightened around his aching cock, he was done for.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” You could hardly catch your breath, eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Simon became determined to bury his cock into your cervix.

“You gonna give me a baby, let me fill this pussy full til you’re dripping?” Your pussy tightened over his cock even more, legs quivering as your release began to creep up on you.

“Yes! Fill me up!” You would agree to absolutely anything that Simon said in that moment, as long as he didn’t leave.

He tightened his hand around your throat, cutting off the airflow to your lungs. Your back arched harshly, hands grabbing onto his arms to keep yourself stable. Simon’s thrusts didn’t falter as he continued to pound you into the mattress, the sounds of your coupling surrounding you both. His grip on your throat was suddenly gone, both hands sliding to wrap around your middle. You were sure you’d gotten whiplash with how quickly Simon had you suddenly straddling his lap.

“Fuck, look how much prettier you look sweetheart.” He kept one hand on your waist, the other reaching up to grope your breast.

You threw your head back, a flood of slick pouring from your body at the new sensation, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot over and over. His hands were surely going to leave bruises on you, ones that everyone would be able to see. He wanted the world to know that you were his and only his. You slid your hands up to grip the back of his neck, your right hand gripping his hair to help ground you.

“Fuck, Simon, m’gonna cum.” You could barely string together a coherent thought, let alone focus on just one thing that Simon was doing to you.

His lips trailed along your collarbone, suckling gently at the skin, teeth nipping higher and higher until it reached the base of your throat. Your moans sounded like the most gorgeous music as he ravished your body. 

“C’mon sweetheart, cum all over my cock.” It took one, two, three more thrusts before your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, body locking up as the blinding white pleasure took over.

Simon gritted his teeth at how tight you were, hips slamming against your one last time as his orgasm took over all his senses. You mewled softly at the warmth filling you up, body exhausted from the intense pleasure that Simon had given you. He panted, carefully laying you down onto the bed to make sure that he hadn’t hurt you. Besides the delicious ache between your legs, you had never felt better in your life. He pulled out slowly, catching your slight wince as he tried to be gentle.

“Sorry, forgot how sore you’d probably be.” Simon scooted off the bed, heading into the en suite to get a cloth to help clean you up.

“Mmm, a good sore though.” You could barely move your legs, or your arms, okay maybe it was your entire body.

Simon dampened a cloth with warm water before heading back into the bedroom, gently prying your legs open he cleaned up any of your slick and cum that had managed to slip out. You could barely put up a fight as Simon started his aftercare. Shit, you had to pack a bag and leave in a few hours, how the hell were you going to manage?

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pack a bag for both of us.” Simon would gladly buy you an entirely new wardrobe over in New York if it meant keeping you comfortable.

“Thank you.” Your eyes slid closed, breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Simon couldn’t help but watch you sleep for a few moments, heart racing as all the feelings he’d always tried to deny came rushing to the surface. He barely even knew you and yet he wanted to protect you with everything he could. Pulling the comforter over your sleeping figure, Simon made sure you hadn’t woken up before pulling on his briefs. He’d let you nap while he packed, he had plenty of energy to do so as it was.

The halls were silent as he made his way to his room, grabbing two different suitcases. He packed his clothes meticulously, making sure nothing would get wrinkled. Once half of the suitcase was filled he zipped it shut to leave space for your own things. Then it came time to pack his knives, and guns. Knives would be preferable if he wanted to take anyone out without leaving too much of a trace. Wasn’t always doable, but he’d manage if needed.

“Hey, boss wants to make sure you’ll be ready to go in an hour.” Gaz was standing in his doorway, fully ignoring the state of undress that Simon was in.

“Yeah, just need to finish packing first.” He slid one of his favorite knives into its holster, he’d never gone without it.

“I’ll let him know, thanks.” Gaz knew not to make a total scene over how Simon looked, it was obvious the two of you had hooked up, who was he to judge?

Simon pulled out one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you to borrow on the plane ride over, you’d need all the sleep you could get, and why not be comfortable at the same time? He shook his head slowly, he’d only known you for such a small amount of time and yet he felt the need to protect you. You weren’t truly his wife, so why did any of this matter in the first place when once James was taken care of you could just leave?

No, he wouldn’t let his thoughts go down that path, it wasn’t worth getting caught up in feelings when there were bigger fish to fry right now. Heading back to your room with the clothes in his hand Simon couldn’t help the rush that washed over him. You were a goddess sent down for him and he was so ready to just throw you away before. How could he possibly be even thinking like that?

“Sweetheart, time to get up.” Simon wanted to do anything he could except for wake you, but Price would be on your ass quicker than he could protest.

“Five more minutes, please.” You rolled onto your side, back facing Simon as you tried to hold onto those few precious minutes.

“Nope, you need to get dressed so we can get going.” Simon rubbed your back gently, plopping down beside you on the bed.

You groaned before pushing yourself up, it was obvious you weren’t going to be allowed to sleep before the flight. Maybe you could get some sleep then and worry about everything when you landed back in New York. Simon shyly held up the clothes in his hand, gesturing for you to take them. Once you realized exactly what was in his hands your cheeks warmed, he was really letting you wear his clothes around everyone? Shit, you were definitely falling in love and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Thank you, are you going to get dressed too?” You pulled on the shirt first, forgoing a bra entirely. The fabric would do a good enough job hiding your chest, why bother wearing something uncomfortable when you didn’t need to.

“I wanted to make sure you were awake first, I’ll get your stuff packed and then we can head down.” Simon pressed a kiss before sliding off the bed, heading over to your closet to grab enough clothes to last at least a few days.

You copied him quickly, rushing over to your drawer to grab a clean pair of panties. Simon chuckled at the way you wiggled your hips as you pulled them up your legs. Simon wasn’t someone who found joy in much of anything anymore, not after working for Price for so long. It was nice to be able to laugh and smile so carefree without worrying for once. 

“Get your pants and some shoes on while I finish packing, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Simon laid your clothes over one arm, being careful of any delicates.

“Yes sir.” You weakly saluted him, laughing when he rolled his eyes and headed out of your room.

The pants were a challenge to get on in general, since Simon was so much bigger than you were they pooled at your ankles. You tied the drawstrings as much as you could, hoping they wouldn’t accidentally fall down when you started walking. Deciding that you could only do so much with your current predicament you headed down to Simon’s room. The faint sound of Soap’s laughter began to get louder with each step.

“You can’t keep your hands off one anotha it seems.” Soap had dressed down to a comfortable sweater and a pair of jeans, Simon dressed in something similar.

“The feelings are very much mutual.” Simon folded the last piece of clothing, setting it into the suitcase, zipping it closed as you stepped into the room.

“There she is!” Soap walked over to you, wrapping you up into a tight hug.

You laughed lightly, a little confused as to why Soap was being so affectionate all of a sudden, what in the world had Simon told him before you arrived? Simon merely shook his head, if to gesture not to ask or that he wasn’t sure of Soap’s affections you weren’t entirely sure.

“Now don’t you look awfully pretty there.” Soap pulled back, keeping his arms on the top of your shoulders.

“Soap, let go of her so we can finish packing please.” Simon was exasperated, wanting nothing more than for Soap to leave you be.

The Scot threw up his hands, heading out and leaving you and Simon to continue packing in what you hoped would be a peaceful silence. Your body was still overstimulated from Simon’s amazing lovemaking. There would be moments you’d surely slip up in front of everyone, pressing into Simon’s side like a cat.

“Do you think this will work? That we can finally get rid of him?” You had always dreamt of killing James but given how powerful he was it was simply a suicide mission.

“I do, I believe in the men I work with and I trust them with my life.” Simon hadn’t trusted many people in his life, but they were his family now.

“I trust you, Simon.” It was a long shot, taking down one of the most dangerous men, but you had faith they could do it.

Simon grabbed both suitcases before facing you, his expression was determined, and by god did that turn you on even more than before. Simon was a man on a mission, and he would do whatever it took to ensure everyone’s safety.

“Let’s go, the faster we can leave the better.” He pressed a soft kiss to your hair before heading down to the garage.

Gaz, Soap, and Price had been discussing the details amongst themselves, deciding on the best course of action when you landed. First and foremost you would contact Steve Rogers and see if he would be willing to help. If Steve was willing to help you’d get into contact with Tony and figure out the next steps. However if he wasn’t willing to help you’d need Price to call Tony and see if he would help do the dirty work.

It was now or never, you would make sure that James Barnes couldn’t harm a single person in one of his angry tirades ever again.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Forbidden Fruit: Masterlist

Jack Russell x Female Reader

Alistair (OC) x Female Reader

Summary: Jack saves you from a vicious vampire attack and you discover you might be more entangled than you thought.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Mature Content, NSFW, Love Triangle, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Bondage, Vampires, Werewolves, Blood, Gore, Injury, Torture, Sniffing, Kissing, Biting, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Female Orgasm, Kidnapping, Dubious Consent, Jealousy, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Hand Holding, Face Holding, Domestic Jack

Special Guest Star: Moon Knight

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

[bigbadripley]

Normal People - Prologue

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

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

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

Words: 1.8K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marc Spector

Son ~ Protector ~ Friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have to go."

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

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

Nearing Moni's birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

" Marc ? How are you alive?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jennahbreakers]

MoonKnight request is up on Ao3 for my request series!

[terracottaheart26]

Ya Amar

Chapter 3

Pairings : Marc Spector x Female!oc, Steven Grant xFemale!oc, Jake Lockleyx Female!oc

Genre: Fluff (angst and smut later on)

Summary: About 6 years ago, Marc Spector had a small whirlwind romance fling with a young woman after leaving home, though he fears attachment and leaves her behind. When he finally meets her again after 6 years, with a few surprises, could he bear to face her and reveal his truth?

Kid……kids……his kids? Marc couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know how to react. Terra had sat there, a little tense herself, waiting to see what he would do. He breathed a little faster, hands tense on his lap. It looked like he was close to crying, maybe close to screaming. Then just every so softly she placed her hand atop of his.

“Marc, breathe, it’s okay……”

Marc took a breath, the others in the headspace listening in,waiting to see what would happen. So they sat there a bit, her hand closed around his while he relaxed and finally held onto her own hand. Not too strongly but enough that she knew he was going to be okay. It gave her some peace of mind.

“Look…..I’m sorry….I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…..” she starts with a soft sigh. “Well, honestly, I couldn’t even find you after you left, you didn’t give me anything other than your name” Terra gives a lighthearted laugh. Watching her babies play and mold things out of the dirt and sand from the ground. It had been close to six years but she wouldn’t trade all the hardships for the world. Their laughter the one thing that made her day.

Marc staying silent.

“Listen, you don’t have to do anything.”

That shocked him. What did she say? Was she saying he wouldn’t be able to handle this news? Handle their kids? Huh……

“Marc, you have children! They’re adorable! No wonder that boy looked familiar, he reminds me of…..of Randall”

“Marc, I’m not saying you won’t be able to care for them…” Did she read his mind? “Far from it! And you seem like you’d be good with them..” If he could have a chance maybe? “In no way I’d want you to have to be all ‘I need to be a father and do my part’ kind of deal”

Jake was wary of Terra, how she seemed to rush into inviting them over, but seeing how she got every single thought and insecurity right was actually interesting to watch. At least from the reflection anyway. It was amusing to watch Steven hang on her every word. Not like he wasn’t paying attention too. Just making sure for Marc’s sake that she was as she said she was.

“Marc…..I just…..” Terra looks over at the two kids, and deciding to calm the situation. “The girl, her name is Leia and the boy is Luke….I know I know, I’m a Star Wars nerd, sorry” That got a chuckle out of him at the very least. “Leia is so much like you, super passionate, has a lot of energy, she’s the oldest of the two. Luke is the younger one by two minutes, but he’s super aware, likes to build things. Both super adventurous”

Marc sniffles a bit, red round his eyes. Siblings. That sounded so much like his own childhood he’d lost so long ago. He could see the shine in their eyes, so much like Randall. The brother he’d lost so long ago. He’d felt soft hands cradle his face, wanting to fight it, walk away from showing any emotion, but he’d slowly let her turn his head towards her own. Forehead resting against his.

“Marc, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she insists, using her thumbs to wipe away the stray tears that had fallen and giving him a soft smile in return. “If anything, if you want, you can be a part of their lives……I just don’t wanna force you to be with me, you probably have a life all your own me I don’t wanna make you drop everything”

“Why are you crying mister?”

Marc sniffles, wiping his tears with his hand and finding the small child, Leia, gazing up at him. No longer in a defensive stance like the other day, but with curiosity and empathy. Her small hand raised up with a small daisy. “Please don’t cry”

“Baby, he’s just feeling some emotions, he’ll be okay.” Terra defends, knowing how empathetic the twins were. And just as she finished, she spotted Luke wiping his hands on his shorts, and grabbing a set of tissues from his pocket. Walking over to hand them over to Marc.

“Here mister, this wipe them away” Luke says quietly with small smile. Opening the packet and raising up on tippy toes to dry the tears that had stained Marc’s cheeks.

Leia ever observant, looked at her mother with concern. “Mommy? Is this a friend of yours?”

What could she say? Yes she knew him, but her children weren’t one to ask questions unless they were really curious about something. At least they could read the room. “Well, this is Marc, he’s a long time friend of mommy’s, we just haven’t seen each other in a while”

Marc was glad that was what she was going with for now. It hurt a bit she didn’t tell them straight out, but hearing Steven’s voice in the headspace. ‘It’d confuse them! Let’s be patient for now mate! That’d be the best option’ ‘I kinda agree amigo, we can wait a bit’

“Hi, I’m Marc, nice to meet you” he hated his croaky voice, he must look awful as he felt the sting in his eyes. But they accepted his hand. Leia giving a huge grin, missing a front tooth. Luke was wary but gives a handshake back with a smile of his own.

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

It was only a few hours after that he left. Seeing their small hands wave goodbye from the front door. Marc let Steven take over for the rest of the way home, exhausted, but a bit happy. Terra even handed them her contact information so he could come visit again. If he wanted to, she still held up that he didn’t have an obligation, but he’d wanted to try. Wanted to try for her, for the twins.

“Mate, those two were so adorable! Luke seemed so smart, Leia has her mothers spirit! Jake agrees, and don’t lie, you seemed to like them too”

Jake didn’t want to admit it but he was amused with how Marc tried handling the kids, though like always he worried for Marc and Stevens safety. Though it seemed sitting there he felt an unknown calmness that hadn’t been there before. The stress and fear having melted away. He’s never seen Marc this awkward yet happy.

“We’ll see them again won’t we? Those little buggers seemed attached to to Marc already, wouldn’t be a bad thing would it?”

“Steven, it could work, but maybe it wouldn’t, those kids are cute but……”

“Terra, she didn’t reject me, she should have been upset that I left, that I left her all alone. What kind of woman doesn’t get angry like that? I’d be mad at myself” Marc sighs, raking his hands through his hair and pacing in the headspace. He had fun with the kids, hearing their made up stories and playing their games, but would it be too much too soon to be involved in their lives?

“Uh…..chaps…..I just remembered, did she say she was only here for two months?”

That’s what made him stop in his tracks, looking at the piece of paper in Steven's hands from the giant fish tank. This might be a long shot but he wasn’t going to walk out of her life again. Didn’t want to lose contact with the twins. He wasn’t going to lose her again.

Not this time.

[bobahwrites]

Another Roleplay request post!

My Roleplays have fallen through more often than not and I’m looking for some long terms :)

A lot of these will be OC x OC because that’s where I can keep my muse!

• I write only on Discord!

• Please be 18+! I am 28, so preferably 21+!

• I prefer Literate to Advanced! Quantity over Quality. If you only give me one to two lines, I will lost interest.

• I adore OOC chatter, Pinterest boards and playlists(!)

Here are the pairings I would love!

• Tangerine(Bullet Train) x OC(I would write the OC)

• Marc Spector/MoonKnight x OC(I would write the OC)

• ACOTAR(OCxOC only please. I have an OC that is very well fleshed out.)

• Jake Seresin(Top Gun) x OC(I would write the OC)

• Bradley Bradshaw(Top Gun) x OC(I would write the OC)

• Captain Price/Ghost/Keegan(CoD) x OC(I would write the OC, but am willing to double!)

• Dabi x OC(I would write the OC and would be happy to write Hawks for your OC!)

• OC x OC!! I can write Male or Female roles! I have an entire collection of characters and would love to write something with soldiers/assassins, vampires, anything dark and twisted!

[justafandomgvrl]

The Blood Lake

Chapter Two

An escape. A reveal. A lot of italics.

Blood Lake masterlist

Previous ~~ Next

Chasina was moving on pure instinct, hearing her armour call out to her, begging for her to find it. She knew that Moon Knight was following her, but she had no idea why he was helping her. It didn’t matter. She had to get out. She could hear the blood pumping through her veins, could feel her strength returning as she grew closer and closer to her armour and her weapons.

“And where are you sneaking off to?” Chasina looked over her shoulder to see Kenneth and she smiled. “I’ve got something for you from the Master.”

“If it’s more of the Ammitryne, I’ll have to decline. But thanks for the offer.��� Kenneth chuckled mirthlessly as he stalked closer, syringe in hand and Chasina eyed him wearily.

“I’m thinking you blowing the door off your cell and breaking your cuffs was all the Chaos you managed to regain control of, otherwise you’d already be gone.” Kenneth sneered, his lip curling up into a smirk. “So you should really behave, little songbird, and then we can all go about this much easier. What do you say?”

“I say that you underestimate me.” Chasina snapped. “But also that you’re assuming that I did those things. Who’s to say there isn’t a traitor in your midst? Someone who slipped through the cracks, or someone who was forced to help you.” Kenneth paused, his smirk faltering and Chasina smiled. She moved in close and slammed her elbow into his nose, the shock making him drop the syringe. She caught it and plunged it into his thigh, pushing the dose into his veins as he sank to the ground, wisps of fire dying his hand as the purple liquid took effect. “Sweet dreams, Kenneth.” She said, gently laying him down. She paused, tilting her head until she heard the song of her armour again and she darted down another hallway. She couldn’t hear Moon Knight’s footsteps but she knew he was close behind her.

You were wrong, Steven. She doesn’t need any help at all. Marc nodded in agreement with Jake, though he disapproved of the amount of admiration Jake had in his voice, as Chasina disappeared around another corner. We should still make sure she definitely leaves. Just because she could take one person doesn’t mean she can’t be overwhelmed. “Yeah, yeah, Steven, I’m making sure she leaves. Even if it means we don’t get Harrow.” Marc grumbled as he finally caught up to her. She was tightening the straps on her armour as he froze, staring at her mask. “No, no, no, no, no.” He mumbled, unable to tear his gaze from her as she attached her scabbard to her belt “No, no, no, no, no!” He huffed and she turned to stare at him.

“Thank you, Moon Knight. Next time I see you, I’m arresting you. But as a thank you, I’ll let you go this time.” Chasina - the Songbird of Bastet, Steven corrected- smiled, vanishing out the nearest window. He ran over and leaned out to see that she had already disappeared from sight.

Did we just help the one person who insists on doing their job properly and arresting us? Yeah… sorry. Marc swore as he heard running footsteps and he jumped through the window, using his cape to stick the landing and he ran for the treeline.

Chasina paused, leaning against a wall as she panted for breath. The sun had long since set and despite her blessed armour, she was beginning to feel the cold of the night. She couldn’t risk lighting a fire. Not yet. Not less than a day’s ride from Harrow’s apparent fortress. She sighed and tugged her mask from her face, clutching it to her chest as her hair tumbled free and she tucked it behind her ears. She stared up at the moon and stars, wondering if the gods were watching, her vision blurry from being obscured by the mask for so long. She almost felt bad that she had deceived Moon Knight to get herself free but she knew what would’ve happened if he’d known who she was the whole time. The only downfall was that now he knew what she looked like and her name. “Fuck.” She mumbled, running her hand over her face and up to push her hair back.

You have to keep moving. Chasina nodded, shoving her mask back over her head and tucking her hair in it properly as she began to run again, releasing a flash of energy from her hand to the ground to keep ‘sight’ of her surroundings. Don’t lose focus or you’ll lose your ‘sight’. Stay aware of your surroundings. “That’s a lot easier if you’re not nattering at me!” Chasina huffed in between breaths as she sprinted, leaping over roots and rocks and rivers.

Soft white flakes began to float through the trees, landing in her hair. A howl hung heavy in the air and she smiled. A job. Another howl sounded, louder, to the west of her. Chasina slid her silver sword from the scabbard on her hip, stalking the sound with a small smile. She walked atop the snow without a trace, making no noise and leaving no prints. She whistled a single note and it reverberated around her, echoing through the trees. She followed the soundwaves, listening to how they echoed off the trunks, the branches, the ground. A flash of energy cascaded from her hand to the floor and created a perfect image of her surroundings within her mind. Ash trees, snow at least four inches thick beneath her boots, silver leaves, and a clearing straight ahead of her. In the centre of the clearing stood a minotaur. Through the arcane image, it looked nine feet tall, broad shouldered, covered in brown shaggy hair.

“The little songbird.” The beast managed to growl out. “Lot of people looking for you.” It grunted and Chasina tilted her head. “We in the forests hear things.”

“Thank you for the tip.” Chasina murmured, her sword resting easy in her grip. “The blood that’s matted in your fur. I take it some of it is yours? What does the rest belong to?” She asked, the stench of human corpses being carried to her on the wind. The minotaur hesitated. “Did you know that each species decomposes slightly differently? I say you’ve got less than a day before your den is overrun with ghouls, based on the smell of human corpses.” The minotaur’s nostrils flared and it lunged for her. She smiled under the mask as she ducked the flailing limbs and sliced up the beast’s stomach to its throat. She sighed, pulling a piece of cloth from her armour and wiping the blood off of her mask, shoving the cloth back in place. She pulled her mask over her head and blinked until her vision came back into focus, wiping her sword clean on the snow. The black blood of the minotaur continued to spill from its body and she sighed, shaking her head. “It’s truly a shame.” She murmured as she crouched down and reached out, closing its eyes.

Steven sighed as he took control of the body, the Moon Knight suit vanishing as he tumbled to his knees in the doorway of the room they were renting for the next few nights.

“Had a few too many?” Shut the fuck up! What the fuck would you know? Steven chuckled and shook his head at the passerby, ignoring Jake entirely as he stood and closed the door.

“Jake, mate, come on, you’ve gotta relax. We’re safe for a bit, you know that Layla spelled this place so that nobody who had ill intent toward any of us could get in. That includes the Songbird of Bastet, and Harrow.” He said quietly, staring into the mirror. Jake was glaring at him, but Marc was barely paying attention. “Marc?” I don’t trust Layla to have done it properly. Not since - since you broke her heart? Steven sighed, putting his face in his palm. “Layla is still our friend. She’s moved on, Marc.” But- “No. Layla has moved on. The room is protected. No buts, mate.” Marc sighed and Steven turned from the mirror, flopping down face first on the bed. Now that he had stopped running, he could feel how tired the body was, how the muscles ached, and he wasn’t going to put up with it any longer. It didn’t take long for sleep to take over his senses, and he hoped that Jake wouldn’t let Marc do anything stupid.

[murdocksgavel]

The lunar eclispe

Part one of the eclipse series

Rating: explicit

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: an old friend of marc Spector's shows up out of nowhere to find his alter steven grant living his own life until she comes into the picture and changes everything, but is it really for the good?.

Warnings: mega angst, some fluff, violence, half nakedness, blood, swearing, flirting, spoilers for moonknight ep 1, depections of DID, IED, and insomnia. Grumpy khonshu, mentions of a pet dying, marc and steven agreeing oc is hot, eventual smut, hinting at the gods osiris, and ra, and grammar mistakes. (Lmk if i missed any!)

A/N: I'm so excited for this series, moonknight has been a favorite of mine for a while, pls don't be afraid to critique kindly. I've done research on both IED, and DID so i hope i get it right. My DID portrayal will sort of follow the show, BUT OTHER THAN THAT ENJOY!.

"𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲" continuous, playback, repeat, stay awake, don't fall asleep, repeat, repeat, morning. Steven grant shoots up from his bed, ankle still chained, sand in tact, tape on the door, and everything was alright he could finally start his day. He had to pratically rush to the museum almost falling asleep again on the bus, but pushed himself awake and made it off the bus in time, at least he hoped so. Rushing into the museum, but was stopped by donna. His body was turned in her direction, but his eyes landed on a woman near the tiny pyramid of giza, "stevie are you even paying attention" donna snapped her fingers in front of his face bringing him back to reality, or a reality he didn't want to be in. "This one time okay, go help that girl, shew go before I change my mind", and with that Steven was off, he didn't need to be told twice. Steven sort of ran towards her wanting to get to her before she left, and he did, that's when he watched her gingerly pick up a piece of trash, and sigh which made him smile sort of. "They do realize that the pyrmiad of giza is pratically the most famous ancient wonder in the world right", her voice was like silk, but her voice felt weirdly familar, shaking his head and returning his attention to the beautiful woman. "They don't understand the high importance, can't blame them for living in the new world can you", steven replied just as gingerly as she had picked up the trash, but when her hazel eyes met his he saw something in them spark, and become sort of...panicked and paranoid.

"I totally forgot to introduce myself I'm-um" she hesitated, Steven noticed, but shook the thought of his mind, because oddly he felt as if they were being watched by someone other than donna. "Sorry, I'm khepri, khepri omar", (𝐇𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡) she tensed, but held her hand out towards steven, and he gently shook it with a lopsided smile, "it's nice to meet you khepri, where are you from- oh I- I didn't mean it like to sound creepy, it's just I've never seen you around here- and I'm- i'm still holding your hand I'm so sorry" steven backed away wiping his sweaty palm on his jacket, but all "khepri" did was laugh. "Don't worry, it was cute, I was born in giza actually, lived there till my parents died, and moved to new york, I'm- I'm visting a friend" again another hesitation at the friend part steven noticed, but he was to in awe to notice, that he did. "That's amazing, not that your parents died, very tragic, but how long did you stay in giza", and with that he started following her like a puppy on a leash when she walked into the other part of the museum, "27 years, my parents died when i turned 27, didn't have a reason to stay, I also lost a few people very close too me as well" (𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐞? 𝐓𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐬𝐤), her head had turned back to him, almost like she was studying him very closely, like she could see right through him, but before steven ever got the chance to speak she turned away from him, and looked back at the paiting of the sun god re (ra).

"You know Egyptian mythology has to be the most complex mythology out there, it's just so beautifully complex, I've always wanted to know more, it's just indescribable" steven noticed the way her eyes shined when she spoke, steven studied her quietly, her wavy black hair that looked like it had been recently dyed though he could see hints of brown still, the way goosebumps erupted on her arm even if she was wearing a green sweater that was rolled up on one of her arms, her bottom teeth being slightly crooked compared to the top, but they still looked perfect, her beautiful olive brown skin that was slightly darker in some places. "Khepri" snapped her fingers in front of his face, and Steven's eyes pratically popped from their sockets, "you okay?", but before he could say anything that crude bitch who called him stevie walked over to them, "stevie you need to get to work, the day's almost over, no offense to honeybun here unless you wanna buy something i suggest you let him do his job", "khepri" scoffed at the woman, and pulled steven just a tad closer so she could whisper, "don't worry I'll buy something just in case", and with that steven looked down at her realizing just how close they now were, and he was now mentally panicking at the proximity they were in, "you definitely don't have too", but again she just laughed, and followed him to his little workplace.

"I want something to remember this day by, so why don't you pick it out?" "Khepri" grinned leaning on the cool counter with her arms folded until another woman came up in front of them, her eyes never meeting hers which made her straighten up slightly, "best steakhouse huh?, she's cute" her voice wavered, and she sounded tense until steven turned around with a tiny osiris cat plushie in his hands. "That is possibly the second cutest thing I've seen all day!" "Khepri" practically squealed, very different from her normal deep, rich talking voice, "what's, what's the first thing then?" Steven sounded genuinely curious internally hoping she wasn't going to say the picture of ammit because it would definitely not have been a first for him. "Definitely you" jesus christ she said it so confidently, and without any regret it caused his legs to pratically turn to jelly, and he had to step back to keep his balance. He straightened up when he noticed her staring at him again with a concerned look on her face, "sorry, that was a little forward on my part, but-" he cut her off, and now it was her turn to look confused until he grabbed her wrist, and led her to the back, (shit he figured me out, he knows, someone told him, what do i do?). He didn't know why he had grabbed her wrist, or drug her to the back, or slammed the door, OR EVEN LOCKED IT?, steven was very confused, and apparently so was she.

"Steven what the hell are you doing", his body practically twisted around when she said..his name, he never gave her his name, and he never put on his nametag, "how do you- how do you know my name" his voice now lower than usual, the accent thickening as he stares at the woman before him who seems to be breathing slightly harder, and shaking almost, not filled with fear, but adrenaline, and anger. "Just, calm down I'll explain everything soon, but you need to move before I make you" her voice was dangerously low, but something was telling steven to go near her; backing her into the wall behind her, she was breathless now, almost pained, her breaths were wheezy like her chest had tightened, and her hands were shaking almost like she was holding something back. "You need to back the fuck up right now" this time it was a low growl coming from her, and steven, poor Steven felt like he had no control over his own movements, or body for that matter, but pushing all he can aside he stepped away from her, and the anger he saw before, sort of slowly faded away despite her hands still trembling. She tried walking away, and steven tried letting her, but his hand shot out, and grabbed her wrist. "Khepri" got pissed, not like she wasn't already but this just set her off, and poor steven didn't see it coming at all. She literally flipped him over her shoulder and onto the hard ground knocking the wind out of him, and then landed a hard punch right next to his head, but something was entirely off with her, he could barely make it out, but her former dark brown eyes, were now a bright golden color "Stay out of my way marc, steven, jake, all of you, or else understand?", and with that he blacked out.

Wake up, wake up, damnit WAKE UP, Steven pratically shot awake like a bullet from it's gun, but when he noticed his surrondings he was back in his own bed like it was all a dream, but his body said otherwise, he ached everywhere, there was a bruise on his shoulder, a cut along his jaw, and a matching one on his forehead, but what made him even more terrified was the ominous extreme supply of papers surronding him with what he believed to be a name, and it read "nailah amir". Nailah stumbled into the flat she was currently renting, yes she had come to london to find him, well marc, but her mind was racing with a trillion thoughts, and shit her head ached like the rest of her body, a much greater ache then when she fought the punisher that one time, even if she lowkey missed his bullshit."I'm going to kill him" nailah angrily muttered under her breath, walking in front of her body mirror, nailah was fucking beat. Her shoulder was out of socket, her lip was split open, her jaw had a bruise forming, and her ribs were definitely bruised, all of which would be gone in like 2 hours except for her shoulder of course, and it was one of those rare times she was thankful for being superhuman. Steven was pacing still holding the paper in his hand, was nailah, khepri?, or was khepri, nailah? He had so many questions, and none of them were being answered that was until he saw an address on the note, and stupidly enough he decided to go to said address, he didn't know why, but he felt a pull, a tug of some sort, and he was going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

Nailah was now standing in the middle of her living room her torn sweater flung on her couch, body mirror in the living room, standing just in her sports bra and gray sweats as she tried to uncomfortably stich a wound that was stinging, and practically streching every angle when she attempted to clean it. "This is fucking bullshit, he better be fucking happy I can't scar anymore" nailah grumbled, that was until there was a knock on her door which caused to jump, and her to press down slightly harder than what she wanted to do, "fuck!, one second" nailah yelled out, and limped over to the door not bothering to look through the peephole. Her eyes were fixated on the ground before they flickered to meet his eyes, "no, absolutely not", and she slammed the door in his face. Steven's hand shot out before the door could close fully, and he stepped into the room holding up his hands as nailah whipped around and gave him a nasty glare. "You really should start listening to people when they give you death threats" Nailah gritted out, and he was about to reply with some witty comment, but finally took in his surroundings, and his eyes traveled up her body, and steven noticed everything, the tattoo that placed itself in the center of her chest, it was the ankh, an Egyptian symbol obviously, and he wondered if she had more that was until he met her eyes, and he thought he saw them soften almost, it was so close, but she put her guard back up, and created more space between them, but he wanted to go near her; it was almost like he couldn't stay away, and it confused him, and he just wanted some fucking answers.

Nailah was cautious, and paranoid because now they were just staring at each other; him in his casual work attire, nailah in her sports bra, and sweats and the current wound now healing slowly thanks to him, or well marc. "It's getting dark you should leave" her voice had dropped from its dangerous tone, to a low numb tone, but he didn't; finally gaining the courage to speak up, "i just need answers please, i- i don't know why i did that, or-or what happened when I blacked out, but please, please nailah I just need some bloody answers" his voice broke when he finished his sentence, and his eyes started to water, and he just was so tired, and confused, and just wanted some answers and sleep. His knees gave out beneath him, (steven you're being dramatic) the voice in his head spoke, but nailah didn't seem to think so, and her persona she had going on just melted away, like a switch had been flipped, and she walked closer to him, and without warning he just wrapped his arms around her lower half, and rested his head against her abdomen. She visibly tensed, and steven was going to pull away until she crouched down on her knees in front of him and pulled him into a hug. It felt all too familar for the both of them, like this wasn't the first time they've hugged like this, but steven buried his face in her neck pratically clinging onto her, as she gently ran her hand through his messy curls, "I'm so sorry, I just, I need answers please", and with that she only pulled him closer, but with that nailah sighed, "you'll get them soon enough, and steven I'm so sorry", Steven's heart fell to his feet at her voice, but spoke "for what?", "for this", nailah then harshly grabbed his hair, and slammed his head against the wooden floor beneath them.

Steven awoke again, but this time he was on the ground in a grass field and his jaw was disloacted, "oh my god, this is weird", he popped his jaw back into place until he heard another person groaning, and panting. "What the bloody hell is going on" steven yelled out in the person's direction, and he heard them groan again this time annoyance laced in their tone. "Just duck and run", steven slowly stood, and, fucking nailah, he was really starting to not like this girl, but bloody hell he just couldn't stay away. Steven faced a sort of castle like structure with a guy hanging out, and he could literally hear nailah face palm as she stood behind him. "Hi, hiya" steven waved up at the guy still really confused until another one came into frame, and started shooting at them which sent steve off running along with nailah in his direction. "Hi? really steven, you fucking said hi" nailah yelled out at him, "well you aren't the most charming person either" steven yelled back, both very frantic, but nailah pulled steven into a alley way, pratically pulling his entire body against hers, "I find myself to be quite charming actually" nailah whispered looking around them, and then at him, her eyes flickering from his own eyes, to his lips? (𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮),and back to his eyes. "What do we do now?" Steven whispered back too her, slowly letting his shaky hands rest on her waist but still tense, which made her tense, but she seemed to shake it off "follow the crowd, don't let anyone get the scarab or he'll kill all of us", nailah huffed out, out of breath like she was flushed, but she pushed steven off of her, and grabbed his hand without thinking leading him into the crowd.

They followed the crowd to the center of town, her hand still in his, and he guessed she just did it absent mindedly, but he still blushed at the gesture, "keep your head down, and we'll make it out of this alive, hopefully" her whisper close to his ear made goosebumps erupt along his body, and that's when their attention was split to a man walking up in front of the crowd, and he could quite literally feel nailah tense up behind him at the sight of this man. "Are you- are you okay?" Steven whispered, but she didn't respond just tensed even more, now he was thinking she had more issues than him. Nailah stared practical icy holes into the man in front of them, more so his scales tattoo, "ammit" nailah whispered, and before she could say anything else the scale man yelled something in what he guessed was anciet Egyptian, and everyone else got on one knee, but nailah and steven both faltered to do so, "bollocks", "fuck" each one of them muttered when the scales man came near them. "We need to leave now" steven looked towards nailah who was now being crowded by henchmen but her eyes were pratically glued to him, (𝗼𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱, 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯 𝗼𝗿 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂). "Steven don't" nailah warned as he attempted to hold the scarab towards scales man, but his body twisted and started walking off all by itself and he wasn't even doing it, it stopped abruptly when his frantic eyes landed on nailah who was currently being held tightly by the arms, and shoulders by very scary looking men.

Thats when it happened before his own eyes, nailah stopped thrashing, and blue almost what seemed like mummy wraps engulfed her entire body, it was the color of a lapis stone, but that wasn't it, the colors were of blue, gold, black, and white, it wrapped around her all the way up to her neck covering her entire body, a train ending at her ankles where black pants ended as well. Nailah extended her hand and a golden staff appeared slowly, and when steven looked up at her, her eyes were a molten gold color. "What the bloody fuck is going on" steven yelled out as he was being carried off by some footmen. Nailah was absolutely demolishing the men around her all by herself, but steven, poor Steven was at the mercy of henchmen until he blacked out. He was shaking when his eyes came back into frame, Steven was surrounded by bloody dead bodies, and blood was on his hands, his ears were ringing, but something, or someone was calling his name, he was staring into a void until he felt warm hands on his face holding it gently which if he wasn't tense already, he definitely was now. "Steven, steven look at me, we have to leave right now come on", nailah, but she was in a really really gorgeous fighting suit, and her eyes, her eyes that were golden are now brown again, and she was bloody, there was blood on her face, along her arm, and forehead, and steven backed up, but she just followed him, and that staff, the one she was holding was gone, "steven we need to leave now, I'm fine okay?, the guys are all dead, but we need to go, neither of us can stay here anymore so let's go" nailah's tone was soft, but frantic, and Steven, jesus christ Poor steven followed blindly. What the absolute fucking shit.

They fumbled into an icecream truck, it was the only one they had okay. "We're gonna die, we're gonna die" steven kept muttering under his breath as nailah was practically panting in the chair next to him until she looked over at him "we're not going to die, just make sure they don't get the scarab, and don't get shot" nailah yelled out, and extended her arm behind her and the staff she was using earlier appeared again , "yeah thanks very bloody helpful" steven yelled back, and nailah flipped him off. (𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗜𝗗𝗜𝗢𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗞) Steven's head whipped towards the road, and he slammed on the breaks, which sent both him and nailah against the dash when someone crashed into them behind them giving a man an advantage to climb into the car. The man went for nailah first, and she put up a good fight, but it seemed like she was holding something back, something big, and it almost seemed like she let him knock her out, and now steven was seriously fucking panicking, until he blacked out once more. He was holding something now, well two things, he felt weight in his hand, and in his lap, "oh my fucking god" steven yelled out when he saw the gun in his hand, the dead man falling from the back of the truck, and nailah's staff in his lap till it was moved; she was awake now, and her hands were shaky, and she was fucking pissed, but he also noticed her eyes were gold again.

"Shit, shit, shit" steven muttered out as he pressed on the gas, and nailah stood up slowly, he noticed she wasn't fumbling around like the dead guy was, and now he definitely knew she was hiding something. "Can't you do something" steven yelled out, and then threw the gun towards the car, (𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗛𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗨𝗡!?) Steven heard something yell out, and he yelled out "I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING, NAILAH A LITTLE HELP PLEASE", but before she could he blacked out once more. Nailah was ontop of the fucking roof of the car when steven woke up, he knew it was only by the shout of the word fuck she let out, and then he realized he was driving backwards, "I'm driving backwards what the shit" steven yelled out. Nailah on the other hand was having a really hard time, two guys had jumped up on the roof, so she climbed out through the back, and reached the roof, but she didn't have her staff, but she didn't need it for this. Steven turned the car back to the front and slammed on the gas just as it started to slowly stop, but the car behind him was now in front of him along with two bodies he presumed nailah flung, and she was now right next to him, both breathing hard until logs came crashing down, and killing the men in front of them, and he noticed after yelling nailah didn't flinch, but she was staring at him, and then he woke up. It was all a dream?, but his body ached, and- and nailah, and her eyes, the ice cream truck, the men..., the chain around his ankle was in tact, and all he could do was run his hand over his face, and let out a loud laugh.

It was his day off, and it had resulted in him reading, his feet propped up on his desks, and steven was now talking to gus, or at least that's what he thought. It caught his eye after he looked over their the first time, and he stood up out of his chair looking deeply at the Fish before his eyes, "what the f-". Steven brought the fish to the place he remembered getting it from in a tiny blender he had and held it out to the woman there. He had argued with the woman for what felt like hours until he remembered something else, his fucking date. He missed the fucking date, apparently today was sunday, how the bloody hell did he miss two days, it was all he could think of going into work the next day. Fucking bloody hell there she was among a crowd that seemed to be crowding around her, and then he saw it, the man who tried to kill them in his dream, or what he thought was a dream, but he wasn't so sure now if it even was. Steven rushed over to where nailah, and the other people were, and immediately stood next to her, and heavens above the look on her face when she saw him made his heart skip a good 3 beats if that was even possible. She looked relieved, tired as he did, but her once tense face was now softened until the man stepped near him, and nailah stepped in front of steven; her jaw locked as she stared at the man in front of them, then looked back at steven and her gaze softened, her jaw still locked, but her beautiful eyes said something else. That was until she turned back to (𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫)...arthur, and her eyes were golden.

Nailah was watching arthur like a hawk when he grabbed Steven's wrist, and placed his cane thingy that balanced on his wrist. That's when nailah pratically growled, "if you hurt him I'll fucking rip your throat out, and make you wish for mercy in the name of osiris" Steven's eyes pratically popped out of his head, and did his breathing pick up?, his mouth parted slightly as he stared at her, and bloody hell she was so gorgeous when she was threatening someone, (𝙎𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚) and with that he actually nodded to the voice in his head. She let Arthur continue anyway, and placed a very feather light hand on his shoulder to pull him away just in case, but as the scales on his arm moved, it just kept moving. "You have chaos within you" Arthur spoke aloud, and Steven looked towards nailah, grabbed her hand like he did the day they met, and ran. Night now had fallen they were the only two in the museum or so they thought. "What does he mean there's chaos inside me, and you- you haven't told me shit, you said you would and you haven't" steven wasn't usually this loud, but he was yelling now, and nailah; her and her perfect fucking face just leaned against the..osiris pillar with a amused expression on her face, and her arms crossed as she just stared at him.

"Look I want to okay, I wish I could tell you everything, why you saw the figure when you were in the elevator, or the man in the mirror, but if i do that then im responsible for how you react" it all came pouring of her mouth in one fluid, smooth motion, and before steven could even speak a word she stopped him. Finally nailah moved from her position at the pillar with her hand out, and walked towards Steven quietly, her feet never making a single sound. Arthur, his voice rang throughout the museum, and then they both heard the howling, and hissing of a monster he probably summoned, nailah looked at Steven, Steven looked at nailah, and the both at the same time said, "run". They both sprinted into the museum, and hid behind a pillar, Steven threw his bag, but it didn't do much the jackal thing still found them, and before he knew it he was on his feet again running with nailah following close. He didn't see the way she stopped, and pratically skidded across the floor when she yelled the word run, but something happened, like there were two monsters, because somehow one got to him as he locked himself in the bathroom, but he could still hear nailah fighting one off, and he prayed to whatever god there was that she was winning. Nailah was not currently winning she had summoned her suit, the staff, but it still was now on top of her snapping at her face, and she knew regardless of what the consequences may be she had to become, "eclipse" the word fell from her lips as her eyes started to glow that deep golden color.

Steven on the other hand was panicking, but then he heard that man, the man that was in the mirror before the elevator incident. "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die" was all steven could seem to mutter out, until he heard that man, and his eyes flew to the mirror, it looked exactly like him, but american?. "You're not going to die, let me save us" was all steven needed, and he just frantically nodded his head, and steven blacked out just as the jackal attacked him. Nailah was now in control of her situation, her eyes had that golden shine, but as she extended her empty hand with her palm facing the jackal a beam of bright golden light hit it square in the chest, and seemed to burn the jackal from the inside out, it was almost like a sunray. She had no time to waste and nailah ran to where she heard running water, still with her staff in hand, still in her suit, but her eyes had gone back to their normal sunkissed brown color. "Steven are you-", she stopped dead in her tracks, the suit unwravling itself from her body, the cane dissapearing, and her eyes pratically popped from their sockets as she said one word as the white cladded figure turned around. One word, one name, and a single gasp "marc", and then he wakes up.

Taglist!: @gardenof-venus

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Cuff(ed) It

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

The Prompt: You and Steven attend his department holiday party 

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!!

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

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

Word Count: 3.8k 

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

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

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

“Who?”

“Doctor Grant.”

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

“Oh my god, exactly!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?” she gasped. “Really?”

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

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

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

“Stop Emma, you’re terrible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

“Me?”

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

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

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

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Baby—“

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

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

“But still—“

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

Another gaping incredulous stare from Steven. “Who?”

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

“Bollocks.”

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

“Because it was your idea,” he muttered.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your answer was non-verbal, but unmistakably emphatic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was Emma and Marnie, wasn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Translations: 

Vamos - Let’s go/Come on  

Te gusta nena? - You like it babe? 

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

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

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

[redahlia-writes]

when you look at me like that. | marc spector x reader

Abstract: “Are you serious?” she chuckles, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Honey, he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky just for him.”

Words: 800

Content: established relationship/marriage, the word “wife” and she/her pronouns are used (once) but no other gender specification, this is just fluff and marc being a softie

A/N: so i was talking with @lcvenderblues​ about the boat scene in moon knight and the way marc looks at layla (just look at that first pic) and this is what happened next. it’s literally just a love letter to oscar isaac’s acting and eyes

also on AO3  - masterlist

“I do envy you.”

The voice of your co-worker can only be described as dreamy, the glass in her hand moving to follow the tilt of her head from one side and the other - you cannot help wondering how much she’s had to drink already.

“What do you mean?” you scoff lightly, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the coffee table in front of the two of you, couch dipping with the movement. “Your husband - God, I would strike a deal with the devil to have someone look at me like that,” she groans, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You feel the heat rising up to your chest, your neck, your cheeks. Such a childish reaction - as if you were no more than a teenager dealing with your first crush. Not as if you’ve been married to Marc for years now.

“What?” your voice is more high-pitched than you’d like it to, shyness flooding your chest. “Please, it’s just - it’s just Marc,” the nervous laughter bubbling from your throat makes you wish you’d had more to drink now.

How were you to expect that a dinner with friends from work would turn into this?

Her eyes light up in surprise as she turns on her seat to look at you, lips parting.

“Are you serious?” she chuckles, leaning forward almost conspiratorially. “Honey, he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky just for him.” “What?” you ask again with a snort, out-right flushing at the comment. The woman is grinning, clearly amused by your embarrassment. You look away from her and around the room, desperately trying to find Marc - maybe he could come to your aid, pull you away from this conversation about to take place.

“Just - look,” she gestures towards the balcony, and you turn around to find Marc chatting with some of your other friends. He looks like  Marc  - your Marc, with ruffled curls and shoulders rolled back, a tranquil smile on his face that makes your heart ache, knowing he’s found some sort of peace in the mundanity of your life together. “Hey, Marc!” she calls, so loudly it almost makes you flinch.

He turns around, confused by the commotion, lips parted mid-sentence as he scans the room - his eyes settle on her first, frowning, and then he looks at you. Ever so slowly his face melts, hard lines softening as he meets your gaze and smiles softly, such a gentle look you’ve grown familiar with. Warmth spreads across you once more.

“Everything alright?” he asks, excusing himself from the two people on the balcony before making his way towards you. His knee bumps yours as he looks down towards you, hand moving to reach for your shoulder. “You okay?” “Yes,” you hum, unable to keep the smile from your face. You take his hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face to brush a quick kiss across his knuckles. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you confirm, holding the back of his hand against your cheek.

“You should take your wife home, Spector,” your co-worker chuckles, getting up on unsteady legs. “I think she’s had too much to drink,” you almost burst out laughing at the accusation, her being the one clearly drunk while walking about.

Marc looks at her, head tilted with a perplexed expression that lasts a few moments before he’s looking back at you.

“What was that about?” he asks, amused. “Nothing,” you tug on his hand a little, smile growing across your lips. He sits down at your side, his free hand coming to rest on your knee. Right away he starts drawing small circles with his thumb, a soothing gesture that has you lean against his side. “Do you want to stay? I saw you were talking with -” “Are you tired? We can go, it’s not a problem,” he reassures, squeezing your hand.

You look at him then - how had you never seen the softness in his gaze? Or, to better say it, how had you never realized he looked at you like that? Like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for him.

You would’ve certainly tried to, had he asked, but that didn’t sound right.

Marc looks at you like he knows he’s your safe space - and maybe you’re his. His defenses dropping when he just as much looks at you, seeking the comfort of your body, of your skin, of your mere presence. 

Years together and he still manages to surprise you with the intensity of his love.

“I’m not tired,” you lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek - the scratch of his scruff welcomed on your lips as you lower your voice. “But I’d really, really like for you to take me home.”

[avtrbee]

kisses w/ marc spector and steven grant

a/n: some steven and marc fluff! i barely read any marc fluff so i thought i try my hand on it. a little angst on marc's end, but that's it. feel free to request some steven and marc, and dont be shy to comment what you think! masterlist

steven grant

kisses you often, used any and every excuse to kiss your cheeks, and always your cheeks, whether it is a goodbye before going off to work or its as simple as standing up and heading to the kitchen to make tea

he makes sure his lips on the cheek is the first and last thing you feel before waking up and falling asleep

soft moments with kisses would be like “you-” kiss. “are-” kiss. “the-” kiss. “most-” kiss. "beautiful woman-" kiss. "I have ever met.” and it leaves you breathless and so full of love every time

his kisses are warm, like the soft crackle of a fire in a fireplace, the feeling of hot chocolate in a cafe while you stare at the rain outside, the faint scent of your detergent on your blanket after four days its wash

aside from your cheeks, he oftentimes pecks your lips and it catches you off guard every time. when steven does this, there is almost always a smile growing on his face as he kisses you

marc spector

he doesn't kiss you as often as steven does. his kisses happen here and there, often enough that you don't feel like he's neglecting you or that something is wrong.

his kisses sometimes feel like it's a goodbye, because for him it is, he doesn't know if he'll survive what he must go through. he has made enemies everywhere he doesn't know if this will be the last time he'll see you so he makes it count

your forehead is where he prefers his kisses to land, always grabbing your face and tangling his hands in your hair. he would stare at your eyes first, forehead to forehead, his warm gaze holding all the love he has inside for you, trying to tell you all the things he can't verbalize before kissing your forehead

marc is disciplined but this is one of the rare moments where he'd let himself go, making his kisses last a few seconds more than usual, savoring you in his arms just a little longer

and when he finally pulls away, his eyes tell you what he doesn't say, that he doesn't want to leave, that he would rather spend the day in bed or walking around the streets as long as it's with you rather than to do whatever it is he has to do. but he lets go of you anyway.

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 18 - Trippin

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

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

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

Words: 8K

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

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

Chapter List and AO3 saw it first!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We could probably plan that. Sounds nice."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Learn to drive, jagoff!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."  

"I'm gonna go check it out." 

"I'll stay here." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About what?" 

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

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

"You know what I would've said." 

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

"I'm stuffed." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In other words, no hanky panky.   She  thought.

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

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

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

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

"Are you shrinking me?" 

Marc met this with a snicker and a shrug, 

"Just wanting you to talk to me." 

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

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

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

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

"Like I do?" 

"So you're here out of guilt?"

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

"That you really  are  human, after all." 

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

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

"You gonna cry?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'We' as in?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't do that." 

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

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

"What of it?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. The guy's an asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

fast lane

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ amy’s birthday ficlet series ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

marc spector x reader prompt: passenger seat (tags beneath the cut)

“You’re going to get us arrested,” you said breathlessly, a crease between your brows as you closed your eyes against the growing butterflies in your belly. Your fingers tightened on the edge of your seat, your hips shifting up against his fingers. “Fuck…”

“Arrested?” Marc repeated from the seat beside you, amusement touching the husky cadence of his voice. His hand was between your legs, expert fingers circling a teasing pressure over your clit. Your dress had been pushed up, the silky material whispering over your bare thighs with each movement of his hand. You moaned brokenly as he quickened his pace slightly. “Baby, you make pretty little noises like that in front of an officer, and they’ll give us a police escort home just so I can bend you over the kitchen counter sooner.”

“You say the sweetest things,” you replied, your head falling back against the headrest. Marc met your eye in a sidelong glance, a smirk on his lips. His other hand gripped the steering wheel, and he barely took his eyes away from yours as he accelerated and swerved to overtake another car. His eyes were dark, full of want and hunger, set aglow by the headlights sweeping past you. He was driving too fast for city streets, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You bring it out in me.” he said, his smile widening as you moaned again. “Sounds like that… just goddamn poetic.”

A thrill swept up the small of your back as you came to a stop at a red light, suddenly far more on display than before. Marc’s touch made you arch up against the seat, and he snickered as the car next to you honked their horn.

“I think they like the show, baby.” he muttered, an edge to his voice that made you shiver. He leaned over slowly, deliberately, his nose brushing against your cheek. You turned your head towards him, automatically, obediently… his mouth meeting yours in a possessive, heady kiss. You whined into his mouth, helpless, and his teeth grazed your bottom lip. Your breath caught as he pinched your clit. His words were whispered against your lips. “Are you doing it for them?”

You shook your head, bucking up against his hand as much as your seatbelt would allow. “For you…”

“Good girl.”

You reached out to clutch at his thigh as the light turned green and the car shot forward, your audience honking their horn after you as you left them behind. You laughed, breaking off in a drawn out moan. You reached out to clutch at his thigh, the muscle hard beneath your palm.

“Marc…”

“What do you say, baby?”

You whimpered, teeth digging into your lip as you felt your stomach tighten, felt your thighs squeeze around his hand as his fingers brought you so close to the edge. You needed to cum, needed it so badly you could feel tears in your eyes as you choked out, “Please…”

Marc grinned. “That’s my girl.”

this was my first time writing marc (and I admit, I haven't proofread this because my tv kind of caught on fire while I was finishing this lol) so please let me know what you think! I'd love to add steven and marc to my character lists at some point.

tags: @capitalnineteen @startrekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark