#marc is so fucking thoughtful like BOTH his parents

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

FFXIV Write: Another Free Day

In which Marcelin Varlineau proposes to Ebegei Mol and receives a stunning answer. SFW.

“Marc, try this!”

“Marc, look what my insert relative’s name here made! Try it! Please!”

These were common refrains Marcelin Varlineau heard from his partner sounds so dreary but lover isn’t quite appropriate to use around family so perhaps significant other? Ugh. That’s even worse. They, along with his parents, were attending a hunt and feast to celebrate a religious holiday for the Mol tribe.

Of course, that meant Ebegei was introducing him to a seemingly endless number of relatives of hers as well as occasionally being given a look from his father which Marcelin knew to mean “get your ass over here so Mum can brag about you.”

Which she’s done a lot.

Presently, Marcelin was debating when the “right” time was.

We’ve been left alone for the past few minutes, so maybe we can…I can…

“Hey Begi,” Marcelin leaned down to kiss her head. “Can we go somewhere private for a minute or two?”

The xaela looked up at him, puzzled. “Are you well?”

Shit.

He reassured her (I hope) with another kiss, this time on her forehead. “Fine, my love. But there’s something I must speak to you about.”

Still very much skeptical, Ebegei nodded, let her mother know they were leaving for a bit, and then accompanied him to her favorite rock formation outside Mol Iloh.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the first time she had taken him there.

“Marc, like this. Pick me up and…” She gestured to a ledge. “We’ll be the same height if I sit!”

She’s under five fulms.

I’m six fulms eight inches.

With a half smile and shaking his head, Marcelin did as his lady ordered, and to his shock, she was completely right---face to face.

“Told you, Marc.”

And then she kissed him.

As did he that first time he did so again.

And soon as he placed her on the ledge, she wrapped her legs around him as much as she can and kissed him soundly.

“Begi,” Marcelin panted, smiling. “I need to ask you something…”

She raised an amused eyebrow. “Then ask, Marc.”

My darling Ebegei is nothing if not direct.

“Will you marry me, Ebegei Mol?” He whispered, cupping her face in his calloused hands. Please say yes. Please. Please. Please. PLEASE.

Ebegei struggled not to grin. “Only if you marry me tonight.”

WHAT?!?!

Marcelin blinked several times. “I…fuck, Hami will kill me if I—”

“Marc, Hami’s in Reunion. He’s on his way here with Daisuke.” WHAT?!?!?! SHE DID?!?! WAIT---DID SHE??!?! “I know it makes you sad that you and Hami aren’t together more, so I asked if he and Daisuke could attend as well. They were delayed in Gridania, which is why they’re late…” She chuckled apologetically. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Little did I know—” She tapped her head and laughed. “You already planned to propose!” She guided his hands from her face to her waist. She looks at me like I’m the only person on the star. “Oh Marc, you’re the greatest joy of my life. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Thank fuck.

He exhaled and pulled a ring from his trouser pocket. “This is a very special ring, Ebegei.” Marcelin held it between two fingers, his gaze never leaving hers. “You see it’s made from wood, yes? The wood is maple from Coerthas. And you see the inlay? Crushed shells from eastern La Noscea with mother of pearl from the Ruby Sea, white gold shavings I bought from Reunion last time we were here, and diamond dust from Thavnair. I worked with a goldsmith in Ul’dah to put it all together.” This has been my special project for the past six moons. Bells and bells toiling away. Worrying if she’ll like it…

Her pink eyes widened and then suddenly, she threw her arms around his neck. “All the pieces of us…our families…I love it. I love it.” Ebegei placed several kisses on his soft cheek. “I love you, Marc. My sun, moon, and stars.” Ooooooh, I know that look. She grinned madly, kissed him one more time, took the ring out of my hand, and then nudged him back so she could hop off the ledge. “Come. Let’s get married.”

And so we married in Mol Iloh in front of her family and tribe…and Mum and Dad and Hami and Daisuke.

Sorry, rest of my siblings.

We’ll have a party at the Shirogane house to celebrate.

[sl0t4matt]

m. guiu bfb! head canons 18+

bfb= best friends brother also listened to this on repeat while writing lol

best friends brother

bfb! marc, that you had a crush on since middle school. embarrassing? you know.

bfb! marc, who’s his and his sisters fights you were watching. not sure what to do, you just waited until they were finished screaming at each other. he even looked good angry with the way his jaw was clenching. annoying, really.

bfb! marc, that randomly comes into his sisters room whenever you’re there, annoying her.

bfb! marc, that chews louder on purpose just to annoy the both of you. seriously, ew!

bfb! marc, that you thought you never even had a chance with. him only ever seeing you as his sisters weird best friend.

bfb! marc, that got even handsomer this summer. that asshole.

bfb! marc, who you sometimes thought was going to make a move. or maybe it was all in your head.

bfb! marc, that started to notice how much your body has changed when he saw you at the beach this summer. maybe he was a bit of a freak for watching you lay there, tanning yourself but fuck. how could he not look at you, with the way your nipples were peeking through that bikini of yours, that shows you off in every right places. fuck when did you get tits and when did his sisters best friend get so hot?

bfb! marc, that comes into his sisters room, acting like he needs something, only to get to see you. you hold eye contact for a few seconds, until martina scolds him out again.

bfb! marc, that only gets along with his sister when their parents are out of town and they throw a party. it’s a win- win situation. he’s getting an opportunity to get laid and you and martina have a reason to get drunk. (also the getting laid part).

bfb! marc, that secretly told every guy in town not to start anything with you. seriously, how immature?!

bfb! marc, that you got caught making out with by his sister on their party. yikes!

bfb! marc, that got yelled at by his sister, her not even being slightly mad at you, since she thought it was her fuck boy of a brother trying to get on her nerves again. she assumed it was one sided and that you would never like an annoying and stupid guy like him. but that’s exactly your type.

bfb! marc, that tries to talk to you after that kiss, but you kept on ignoring him, not wanting to jeopardise you and martinas relationship.

bfb! marc, that finally got you to talk to him which lead you to the backseat of his car. poor martina..

bfb! marc, that you agreed with that your relationship with him stays on the hook up basis.

bfb! marc, that is down badd for you, begging for you to go down on him. in his words your head ‘game’ being unreal. 😭

bfb! marc, that gets off on your snaps.

bfb! marc, that even though your relationship status being purely ‘hooking up’, doesn’t want you to be with any other guy.

bfb! marc, that invites you over to his house whenever his sister isn’t there. like right now. “so, what do you wanna do?” he asks. you roll your eyes. “i don’t know, play with barbie dolls?” you reply, laughing. “yeah, whatever.” he scoffs, his head disappearing in the covers, as he goes down on you. he starts by leaving wet kisses over your stomach, travelling them down until he meets your needy cunt. you bite your lip, reaching out to his hair, gripping it. his hand slides up your body, going under your top to grip your tit. you pull the covers slightly down, catching him smirking. “you wanna see what i’m doing to you like little slut, don’t you?” he chuckles, lowly. “shut up.” you mutter, placing his head back to where you need him the most. “marc have you taken my-.” fuck. martina. “shit. fuck. get out!” marc jumps, getting off of you. the door slams shut, leaving you and marc looking at the door, still in shock. you get up, leaving marc’s room to get into martina’s. you sigh, knocking on her door before getting in. you sit down beside her on the bed, your hand meeting your head. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i don’t know what i was thinking.” you sigh, shaking your head. you turn around to face her. “i swear i was gonna end it.” “we’re you really? do you like him?!” she whisper yells. “i-. i don’t know.” you avoid her eyes. looking into them while you weren’t being true to her was never your specialty. “you do!” she shakes her head, huffing. “i did since middle school, martina-.” you try explaining before she cuts you off. “he’s going to break your heart.” she says before getting up, leaving you in the room alone.

bfb! marc, that finally caught you after all the time you’ve been ignoring his texts. “please, let’s talk through we can-.” you cut him off. “we can what marc? hook up again? god are you seriously that dumb?!” he sighs. “you know how weird it’s been between us her after it happened? i had to regain her trust after eighteen years of friendship. i’m not gonna ruin that just because i like you.” you say in one breathe. “you like me?” he furrows, looking down on you. “shit, i shouldn’t have said that.” you sigh, shaking your head. “you like me?” he asks, repeating himself. “it doesn’t matter now.. but yes, i do.” you look up at him. “i like you too.” he mutters. “marc we can’t.” you whisper. he takes your hands in his, reassuring you. “she’s gonna have to live with it. not everything is about her, she has to see that.” he scoffs. “don’t say that.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. he shrugs.

bfb! marc, who’s sister you told about him also liking you. she wasn’t so happy to hear about it at first but ‘had to live with it’ just like marc said.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Burning Wood

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Marc gets a boner.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: One day I'll have to answer for my sins.

Warnings: blow job in a forest, Marc calling reader 'baby', getting a boner in public and being a little into it, swearing, typos - my head is really not in the game atm, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1831

Marc pressed his cold nose into your neck as he hugged you from behind. You shiver, instinctively flinching away from his touch and he giggles. 

He presses his nose against you again. 

“Marc,” you chastise, but there’s humour in your voice.

“What?” He grins, obviously knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

“How is your nose so freezing?”

“How is your neck so warm?” 

You chuckle and sigh, putting your hands over his arms. You both stare at the bonfire for a moment longer. 

“I don’t get how you can be cold standing next to this thing,” you motion your hands to the flames. 

Marc jogs on the spot a little, just to amuse you. “It’s cold, let’s stand closer.” 

You laugh. “We’ll be in the fire.”

“Hmmm,” he nuzzles into your neck again and kisses your skin lightly. “Nice and toasty.” 

So far, Marc had enjoyed visiting your family, even if they did live in the middle of nowhere. He thought he was going to go a little stir crazy at first, playfully making shinning jibes, but then he’d kind of… got used to it. The stillness. The forest walks. The tiny village with the population of 62. 

A few kids ran around with sparklers under the watchful gaze of their parents, several people held out marshmallows need the flames. There was warm mead and hot chocolate if anyone wanted it. 

Marc sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder for a second before he muttered, “my hands are cold too.” 

“Marc,” you laugh, “you’re wearing gloves.” 

“I know.”

“Well, you’re not putting them on me.”

“But you’re so warm.” He teases, tensing his arms as if he’s going to move and try to sneak under your shirt. 

“Fuck off.” You grin and grab hold of his hands to stop them going anywhere.

“That’s not nice,” he pouts playfully. “I’m going to freeze to death and you're not going to help me?” 

“You are not, besides, I thought Chicago got pretty cold? Shouldn’t you be used to this?” You tease. 

He grumbles something into your shoulder.

“What?” 

“I said, Chicago isn’t damp cold. Here’s damp cold. Gets into everything.” 

You snort. “Aww, poor baby.” 

“Yeah,” he nods and kisses your cheek. “Poor me, where’s the sympathy for me?” 

You can hear the grin in his voice, he always loved playing up because it made you laugh. Though he seemed a little extra needy right now. Not normally the one for physical affection in public. Maybe the darkness of the night helped.

The bonfire snaps a little, still going strong and you pat Marc’s hair with your gloved hand as you lean back against him. 

He sighs, pressing his face into your shoulder as you brush against the semi-hard outline of cock. 

You pause. Ah. So that was why he was being so handsy. 

“Ohhhhh,” you whisper, dragging out the word to be a menace and lean back again a little to press against his bulge. “I see, hugging me so that you can use me as a shield for prying eyes are you?”

“No.” He says into your shoulder, his voice obscured by your coat. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, well I’ll just-” You go to move but his arms tighten around you.

“Stay here.” 

You giggle. 

He lifts his head up and kisses your cheek again. “I did not hug you to use you as a shield,” he tries to sound stern but the smile in his voice wins out. “I came to hug you and…”

“And?” You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“And then this happened.” 

“From a hug?” You say disbelievingly. 

“Hmm,” he grumbles.”You smell nice.” 

You laugh, “I smell like burning wood.” 

“Yeah, well, that and your natural smell,” he nuzzles into your neck again and breathes deeply. “Smells really good. Smells like… comfort, or something.” 

Despite the sweet tone to his words, you can’t resist a tease. “And that made you horny?”

He tuts and rolls his eyes, giving you a little squeeze. “Yes, okay, it made me really horny. Happy?” 

You pause and then nod, “yes.” You say with a touch too much enthusiasm and Marc laughs. 

“Okay, well good to have your approval.” 

You smile and lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest. There’s a pause before you push back a little more, rubbing against his erection again. 

He stifles a moan into your coat. “Stop it.” He hisses, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. 

“Stop what?” You say innocently. 

“You know what.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Marc.” You punctuate the end of the sentence by gently leaning back and rolling your hips against him. 

He groans softly and presses into you. You hear the click in his throat as he swallows. “Do you want me to come in my jeans? Because that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.” He hisses.

“What?” You say, all mock surprise. “So quickly.” 

He lets out a little grunt of annoyance and presses his face back into your coat.

The realisation that maybe Marc Spector was a little into the risk of being caught started to piece together in your mind. 

You pause for a second before deciding. “Okay.” You pull out of his embrace and turn to face him. 

“Okay?” He startles, his eyebrows pinched together in disappointment, thinking the game is over. 

“Hmm,” you smile sweetly and take his hand before you start walking and urging him to follow. It takes him a second to get the hint. 

No one else seems to notice, or mind, as you both head away from the celebrations. Following the little well trodden path that leads back to the village. 

Marc follows close, a step behind until you are far enough away from the bonfire to be seen by anyone there, but close enough that the light from it just about illuminates your path. 

You guide him off the trail into the thick outcrop of trees.

“Baby, what are we-”

You silence him with a harsh kiss, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips in surprise. He moans instantly, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you close even as you push him up against a thick oak tree. 

He kisses back needily, his breathing already ragged and cheeks warm. His nose, however, is still cold. 

You kiss his cheek lightly before you trail your lips down his jaw and nip lightly at his pulse point. 

He groans, bucking against you and squirming a little, biting his lip to keep himself vaguely quiet. 

“Didn’t realise you had a thing for the outside.” You tease and Marc huffs. 

“I don’t.” 

“Sure, sure,” you suck on his neck and he gasps, his body bending toward you, trying to wrap itself around you. You slowly run your hands down to his cock, the poor thing trapped in the tight confines of his jeans. 

He groans again, the sound grumbling through his chest and into you. “Baby,” he bites his lip, and even though you can’t make out his exact expression in the poor light, you can picture it perfectly in your mind. How his brow furrowed needily, how wide his pupils were.

You unbuckle his belt, the sound of the leather opening makes his eyes roll back and he has to bite his tongue to stop the loud moan that threatens to escape. 

He stays still as he can as you undo his jeans, his hands on your arms, needing to touch you and keep you close despite wanting to give you room to manoeuvre. 

And when you sink to your knees he shudders, throwing his head back against the tree bark and sighing softly. 

You take your gloves off and shove them into your coat pocket.

“Baby, I-” He swallows down his words, screwing his eyes tight as your warm hands pull him free and you suck on his head. 

Precum spreads across your tongue, salty and rich as you moan softly, the reverberations running down the length of him and making his muscles twitch. 

You pull back, just enough to pump the length of his a few times while your other hand massages his balls, one finger lightly pressing on his perineum. 

He shudders, sighing out into the darkness as you lap at his weeping slit with the flat of your tongue, running it along and swirling around his tip before swallowing him down. 

He cries out, grabbing hold of your shoulders as you take him as deeply as you can. He fights the urge to buck up and thrust himself completely in your throat, his bottom lip between his teeth as you move up and down, drawing his pleasure out like poison from a bite. He tries to fight against it, tries to prolong the sensation as long as he can, to relax into it. But he’s too worked up, too desperate. And his orgasm rapidly approaches. 

The earth and dead leaves are soft under your knees, the dampness of the dirt soaking a little into your trousers, but you don’t mind. Focusing solely on Marc’s little whimpers and pleads, sounds you’re sure he doesn’t even realise he’s making. 

How his legs shake, how his cock twitches in your throat, how his fingers dig into you. 

He rolls his hips slightly, panting and you know he’s close, practically there. Warmth builds in your chest, pride at how trusting he is with you, how he knows you’ll take care of him. 

You sink lower, relaxing your throat as much as you can and slipping him a centimetre further inside. 

Marc gasps, the sound loud but not enough to raise suspicion, he bucks once, swearing and trying to mutter a warning but you press closer to him and swallow as he spirts into your throat. 

He shakes as stars explode behind his eyes, as pleasure washes over him and momentarily rids him of his strength. He moans your name softly, gasping and keeping a firm hold on your shoulder to keep himself upright. 

You keep moving, letting him ride his orgasm out before you lick him clean and tuck him back into his jeans. 

You laugh a little as you try to get the zip up. 

“What?” He smiles, his voice floaty and wonderfully blissed out. 

“I can’t get your jeans closed with your dick still hard.” You giggle. 

“Oh,” he chuckles and helps you to your feet. “Don’t worry about it.” He kisses your cheek, your neck, nipping lightly at your skin before he kisses your lips and holding you close. 

“Don’t worry about it?”

“Yeah, well, we’re going back to the house anyway.”

“Oh, are we?” You smile.

He nods. 

“I thought we were going back to the bonfire?” You tease. 

He growls playfully, kissing the spot just under your ear. “Oh no, we’re going back and I’m going to fuck you into the mattress and make you scream while the village is empty and everyone else is here.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[fall0utmind]

MEDICAL LEAK AU pt2

Part 1 here

Chapter 2 is up on ao3

🤍🤍

Please be advised of content warning for suicide - no descriptions but some cruel words - see ao3 for sections to skip and message me if you need to.

Feedback is always appreciated

Would you still love me if I told you my darkest secrets?

Ch 2-

~3k

They stumble through the doorway to the motorhome, Marc instantly collapsing onto the worn couch tucked into the corner. Alex has procured a blanket from somewhere and is busily tucking it around him, refusing to let Marc out of his sight. He bustles around the small kitchenette, busying himself with making some coffee.

Neither of their parents were able to attend the race this weekend. Marc doesn’t know if he is grateful for that, or not. They both knew, of course. It had been a testing time for the family, the fallout with Valentino, along with the public backlash, and Marc’s declining mental health had left him heartbroken and hopeless. After his first attempt, Marc returned to his room stripped bare. All signs of Valentino Rossi expunged whilst he was in a hospital bed; the only reminder was his broken heart. It had just made Marc cry harder at the time, Roser wrapped around him in his childhood bedroom. It had taken him many years to pick up the pieces after that, with several other falls along the way. But he takes comfort in the fact he is still here, life has beaten him down over and over; he has been kicked (literally), beaten, and spat out by both Vale and the media, but he always kept going. His family has made it out, they are safe, and he is safe. And really, that is all he can ask for.

Alex observes Marc with increasing concern. He has been on the sofa, swaddled in blankets, for 45 minutes with no signs of movement. His coffee mug is forgotten in his hands, as he stares blankly at the wall, no doubt revisiting the years that haunted them both. As much as Marc likes to pretend that he is unaffected, Alex knows that those years did lasting damage to his psyche; he has noticed in the way he acts around others, how he no longer trusts so easily, and how he seems to be acting around almost everyone except a select few people. He knows that his older brother harbours a lot of guilt for the past, thinking that he had done Alex some kind of disservice. Alex is just glad he still has an older brother.

At some point a Gresini representative knocks on the motorhome door, speaking to Alex in hushed tones. After they leave, Marc numbly listens to his brother relaying the extent of the damage. The media has found out about Marc’s suicide attempts in 2015, but no one knows the details, and it is hoped that it will stay that way. So far, no other records have been accessed, or at least not published. Legal is already working tirelessly to understand what has gone wrong, but for now there is nothing Marc can do. News has spread fast, and Marc does not doubt that by tomorrow the entire grid will know about how fucking pitiful he is. The thought makes his head hurt and his eyes water.

“You should try to get some sleep. The team are putting out a statement about respecting your privacy but for now there is nothing more we can do”.

Marc nods slowly, feeling adrift amongst all that has happened today. He rises unsteadily to his feet and shuffles to the bathroom. He flicks the switch and blinks heavily at the harsh lights which blind him. He almost doesn’t recognise the person in the reflection, with a pale face and hollow eyes. He shudders, it reminds him of a time when every mirror would render the same hideous portrait of despair every day. Marc pointedly avoids looking at his reflection again. He knows Alex won’t leave him alone tonight, fearful of the unhealed wounds the past has left which have once again been reopened. Instead, with a resigned sigh, Marc finishes in the bathroom and hauls himself into bed, Alex curling up on the other side. The position is so reminiscent of their younger years, filling him with a hollow kind of sadness. A heavy blanket of exhaustion weighs upon him, and that, alongside his brother's soothing presence, lulls him into a deep sleep.

*

Marc awakes to an empty bed and the sound of knocking on their motorhome door. He takes a moment to recentre himself. It must be around 8 am, given the way the light spills in from the window. It is Saturday morning in Misano and yesterday the entire MotoGP world discovered arguably his biggest secret. Marc isn’t sure good morning is appropriate.

The hushed whispers of two familiar voices filter in from the living area, clearly speaking softly to let Marc rest. He groans and blindly feels around for his phone, before remembering that Alex had taken it off him at some point yesterday. It was probably for the best that he didn’t know what the media were saying right now. Bastards.

He rolls out of bed, grabs a pair of sweats and the first t-shirt he sees (it is definitely Alex’s, given that it’s way too long for him) and stumbles into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee is already waiting on the counter. He has never been more grateful for his little brother and his worldly knowledge that 8 is too early for Marc. He’s a little shocked to see Aleix Espargaro sitting next to his brother on the sofa, both watching him with matching worried expressions. He would laugh at the sight of the two men mirroring each other in such a dad-coded way, if not for the current circumstances. Instead, he frowns back at them. Aleix rises to his feet, approaching Marc cautiously, giving him a chance to move away, before drawing him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

The older man holds him for some time, Marc’s head tucked into his neck. As he pulls away, Aleix’s hands come to the side of his face, holding him gently.

“Promise me you will tell me if it happens again, I do not like the thought of you in so much pain. But now I see that you have already been through it. You should never have had to do it alone, Cariño.”

His eyes are anguished but sincere throughout his speech, observing Marc with undisguised worry and affection. Marc can’t stand it and looks away once Aleix has released him, worrying his lower lip. The older man takes this as his cue, thanking Alex for his coffee, and quietly making his way over to the door, not before shooting him a concerned glance.

“You will let me know if anyone gives you shit today, I will keep an eye out for you. Look after yourself, Marc.”

And with that, he’s gone, the quiet snick of the door behind him. Marc raises an eyebrow at Alex.

“What was that?”

Alex sighs, “He is concerned about you, hermano, he has always had a soft spot for you. He is annoyed at himself for not noticing sooner.”

“I hide it well”

“I know”

*

The rest of the morning is relatively normal. The people he interacts with are evidently unsure of the acceptable conduct for this situation; Marc finds it terribly amusing, in a dark kind of way. He has decided the best course of action is to pretend nothing has happened in the twisted hope that if he ignores it, everyone else will too. He’s sure his old therapist would be delighted. The security presence in the paddock appears to have suspiciously doubled overnight. People are staring, he can feel it in the way the back of his neck prickles, but no one approaches him. He doesn’t care if they must bring in the goddamn military if that’s what it takes to prevent another PR disaster.

He makes it to the pitlane in record time, dodging all signs of human life, taking the back alleys wherever possible. He enters the rear entrance of the Gresini garage, finding his crew to check in before qualifying. He is pleased with the bike set-up from yesterday, feeling confident in the pace this weekend. On the bad days, Marc thinks he will never know the feeling of winning again, that he will never experience a champagne shower from the top step of the podium, the world chanting his name. That he will fade into irrelevance, a has-been of the sport, once Valentino Rossi’s great rival, now just another name. But this year is the closest he has come in 3 years, and he is not willing to let go without a fight, because Marc Marquez is synonymous with winning, it is his purpose and his destiny. If he is not riding, if he is not winning, he does not know who he truly is.

He watches the junior categories warm up, reminiscing on those days of his career, before the pressure and before Valentino. He is glad to see David achieving so much this season. He sees a younger version of himself in the boy and it scares him, terrified that the young Columbian will get burnt in the same way that Marc did. He vows to do everything in his power to protect him but let him grow into the world champion he is destined to be. They already training together, and Marc can see the way he is rubbing off on the teenager, he just hopes that does not become a curse.

*

The second free practice of the weekend occurs without a hitch, landing both Alex and Marc into Q2, much to the chagrin of the Italian fans (and really, could people not let it go by now?). Marc is determined not to let the recent events hinder his performance. Despite this, he is increasingly aware of his rising anxiety about facing the others on the grid. His mind is consumed by thoughts of judgement and disgust, creating pictures of his colleagues deserting him, refusing to be seen with him as in 2015. No matter how hard he tries, even after his talk with Aleix this morning, he is frantic with worry, unable to sit still.

“You will wear a hole in the floor if you do not stop soon.”

Alex appears from around the corner, watching him pace.

“We need to get ready. Are you feeling okay?”

Marc can’t face the idea of putting the younger through even more pain because of him, so he simply nods in agreement, refusing to meet the unconvinced look Alex is no doubt giving him.

He already has his leathers on, so he grabs the rest of his kit, and starts towards his crew, Alex heading in the opposite direction. He shoves down his fear and greets the people waiting for him with a plethora of fist bumps and hugs. He is grateful that his team are treating him as usual, seemingly recovered from yesterday’s shock. Some had wrapped him in a hug earlier this morning, others laying comforting hands on his shoulders, unabashedly showing their support and filling him with warmth. He holds onto that feeling as he prepares to ride, knowing a few more people are fighting in his corner.

*

Marc feels alive. The bike is singing underneath him, so responsive to him. Every move is calculated to perfection, cornering on the edge of impossible - he’s probably giving the guys in the garage a heart attack every lap. But he feels like he’s flying, whipping around the track on a bike that loves him as much as he loves it. He knows he’s putting in good times, his pace almost matching the newer Ducati, something which is the talk of the paddock at the moment. The move to a different constructor has brought a new lease of life to his career, quieting the doubts and prompting the whispers: “Marc Marquez is back”.

By the time the checkered flag falls, Marc is on top of the world. His mind wiped clear of the media, Valentino, and 2015. He doesn’t know where he placed, and it isn’t until he looks up at the timing board and sees his 93 at the top of the list, that he allows himself to grin.

Marc rides back to the garage, tailed by Alex, still grinning under his helmet. He is greeted and is greeted with a warm reception from the team, cheering as he and his brother come to a halt. He is rained in congratulations from his team, hands slapping his back and wide smiles directed at him. It is then that he spots Dovi. His old friend is standing to the side, a proud smile face. Marc has no idea what he is doing here, but he isn’t about to complain, having missed the older man in recent years. Dovi was one of the few people who had his back all those years ago, for which he is endlessly grateful. He jumps off his bike and almost straight into Dovi’s arms, uncaring of the cameras trained on the pair.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, can I not come and see my friend outperform everyone in the sport that we both love?”

Marc huffs a laugh in response, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. He knows why Dovi is truly here, despite his friend’s bullshit, but he cannot bring himself to be annoyed about his obvious weakness. It is nice to have a friend who is not Alex around. He knows affection is rolling off him in waves but simply does not care -pleased at the ease that is quick to settle between them, despite the years.

“I will be with you in a few minutes, go annoy someone else whilst we debrief”

Dovi laughs at that, making Marc grin, all teeth, in return.

Debrief is a quick affair, the team are delighted with p1, and simply want to talk about the race set-up, as well the minute areas for improvement on track. They release Marc after 20 minutes, giving him proud smiles and comforting touches as he leaves. He is once again overwhelmed by his love for the team which has re-awoken his passion for the sport which has taken but also given him so much.

A quick scan of the garage tells him Dovi has found one Alex Marquez to annoy, much to Marc’s amusement. He grabs his phone off the table (he had regained possession of it from Alex earlier) and turns it on for the first time in 12 hours, desperate to check his messages since he has 5 minutes to himself. He scrolls through his notifications.

His manager and parents have messaged, the latter asking him to call them when he has a chance, although he’s sure they have probably spoken to Alex, explaining the lack of urgency. He has a message from Casey Stoner, telling him to keep his head up and to ignore the media, although his choice of words is a little stronger. Marc lets out a startled laugh, warmed by the unexpected gesture from the older man. The next text makes him stop in his tracks, confusion bubbling inside him. It’s from an unknown number, and simply reads “Stop playing games.” A sense of unease fills Marc as he deletes the message, unwilling to entertain whoever thinks they can hide behind a screen and say what they want, he should just forget about it. The final and most recent text is from Dani. It simply reads “Tell Dovi he’s a dick for stealing my thunder. Unfair advantage, he was already in the country. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

A hand lands on his shoulder from behind, and Dovi’s head follows. Nosy fucker. He lets out a cackle at the text, pulling away to laugh even harder. Marc very much feels like he’s missed a joke, and he has no clue who “we” refers to. He simply replies to the chat with a thumbs up and accepts his fate of being coddled by the older riders for the rest of the weekend.

*

The pole position high doesn’t last very long. Marc and Dovi are walking back towards the motorhomes when he comes crashing back down to earth. Saturdays are always a bit chaotic at the track. But today, it feels worse than usual, with people staring and murmuring as they pass. Some of the comments are less than pleasant. Marc tries not to let it affect him, portraying a persona of indifference, no matter how much the words sting. Dovi talks lowly as they walk, his presence reassuring amidst the harsh whispers washing over them, swelling in a crescendo of cruelty.

“-he should have taken more pills”

“-can’t believe he actually did it”

“How selfish-”

“Have you seen the articles? I read that-”

From the limited information he has been given, or overheard, Marc gathers that the public reaction to the news has been mixed, to say the least. Some people are outraged by the leak and the subsequent media frenzy, destroying any sense of privacy left in Marc’s life. Others have been senselessly cruel, spewing hatred online about his mental health or even going as far as suggesting that he deserves it. Marc swallows the bile in the back of his throat, unwilling to break now. He knows he can’t let the public see his defences crumble, it will only give them more opportunity to kick him when he’s down. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice who they’re walking towards, until it’s too late.

Marc hears Valentino before he sees him, talking to Pecco in hushed tones. His rapid-fire Italian is so familiar, yet also a distant memory. He feels the way his companion stiffens as they approach the pair and senses their eyes burning into him in return. No doubt Pecco has already told the older all about Marc’s breakdown yesterday. The reminder that Valentino is once more witnessing his life falling apart is nauseating. Marc steadfastly ignores them as Dovi steers them in the right direction. A confrontation is not what he needs right now.

He doesn’t register anything is off until someone careens straight into their path, sending Marc stumbling backwards in shock. He flinches at the look of pure hatred on the fan’s face.

“You should have done it properly; you couldn’t even kill yourself correctly. The world would be a better place without you.”

Marc chokes on his breath, his eyes burning, rapidly blinking as he tries to parse the scathing words. Dovi is frozen in shock, horrified that anyone would utter such a thing. Time freezes as the people close enough to have overheard all turn to look in their direction, willing a response from Marc. Ironically, it’s Pecco who breaks the moment, face like thunder as he storms over. Marc watches in a haze as Pecco reaches them, breathing heavily and shooting a look at Dovi, prompting him to drag the Spaniard to safety. Marc distantly registers Valentino frowning over at them, a flash of unreadable emotion in his eyes as he watches Dovi tugging him away.

Marc doesn’t look back, mind too preoccupied with the stewing self-loathing in his gut and the cloud of dark thoughts in his head. As such, he doesn’t see Pecco looming over the man who spat such vicious words at him, gesturing at security for him to be removed and permanently banned. He doesn’t see the older Italian glaring at Marc and Dovi’s retreating forms, a mixture of resentment and jealousy staining his features. He does, however, hear Valentino whispering that it’s not worth it, leading a distraught Pecco away, cracking Marc’s heart clean in two, once again.

[moonshynecybin]

if people thought i was some mastermind criminal at 22 on top of everything that is actually wrong with me i’d go a bit insane trying to be understood too but like he actually Is not normal so all he can do is show family members lmao like look i have human parents i’m a real boy!! meanwhile vale is just mentally and spiritually above that shit. in a rosquez reconciliation universe marc would have a camera crew at the ranch filming his 17th documentary that year and vale would hatee it i think

i DO think one fun thing vale could kinda teach marc how to do post reconciliation is uh. how to be a lil more protective of his privacy. not have cameras inside the house so much. like obviously vale is and was more famous than marc, so his relationship with it is a little different, but hes always been more keen on only opening the doors to his private up life under p controlled circumstances. and marc is ALSO in control of that documentary but idk. i dont think vale would necessarily allow an extremely intimate documentary like that to get made in the first place. and marc has his reasons, a lot of which are connected to vale and public perception of marc post sepang, and a lot of which are career-oriented (all in is designed as a comeback narrative, and i think its helped tell people (like ducati...) that marc's arm doesnt mean that hes washed etc), but i think once that rivalry/rift has been mended a lil and marc is quote unquote BACK it might be something he'd be open to chilling out about. and certainly smth vale UNDERSTANDS but doesnt necessarily ENJOY so i could see them doing some joint pr obligations out of the house but keeping a big production like that a lil bit farther away except for ranch competitions and stuff like that... idk i think the instagram story blitz from both would still be crazy though. we do get a blurry old man pic of marc in his briefs on the m1 that marc reposts to his story with a yellow heart and its like. okay so you guys were just fucking

[lagunaseca2013]

Teen pregnancy au pecco and luca handling the pregnancy the best they can everything is going to be fine for them eventually once they finally have the talk about what they mean to each other. Valentino on the other hand is having 30 different meltdowns about his baby brother having a baby while still a teenager and both of the parents are still going to be racing once the baby is here. So many crisis all at once and this is all happening maybe in 2015 no wonder he starts believing Uccio’s Spanish conspiracy.

hello anon!! well……..you see……..pecco and luca actually take. a loooong time to get their shit together. they kind of spend years flip flopping between insane codependency and extreme avoidance. luca does in fact try dating other people (poor marta) and pecco has a list of hangups longer than the bible. they do work it out eventually and it’s all very sweet however. it takes them a while!! luca vasectomy happens around. man idk. like pecco’s first motogp championship maybe? it’s a long road ahead of them lol.

and also vale. um well. let’s just say a certain someone perhaps had a pregnancy scare in 2014. that he casually told vale about after a certain ranch visit. in which they raced each other to the death. which tells you a lot about vale’s psyche in 2015, bc if marc could keep something like that from him WHILE racing?? and he told vale by rolling off of him post high intensity ranch fuck like jajaja funny story I thought I might be pregnant….false alarm tho dw! (and….was it a false alarm?? did marc get a discreet abortion and carry on w his championship?? vale doesn’t know but he’s lying awake at night agonizing about it….)

yeah let’s just say uccio doesn’t have to do very much convincing on the spanish conspiracy front. and his baby brother getting one of his students knocked up doesn’t exactly influence vale to make less erratic choices. the problem is like. he’s also not willing to ask pecco OR luca to quit racing even tho he knows how badly watching graziano race (and having a young mom………) fucked him up. I do think the difference here is that pecco and luca have an endless supply of uncles (and carola) and also nannies to ensure that the baby won’t be neglected a la rossi. it’s a difficult pill to swallow for him but like……..as soon as he earns trusted babysitter status it’s all over for him bc their daughter LOVES vale and is so loved and doted on. he has a bit of peace of mind that she’s not gonna turn out like him, at least.

they also literally never explain her parentage but she bounces between like three to four garages at all times when she’s old enough to be around the paddock a lot and let’s just say there’s a loooot of conspiracies about her origins. it doesn’t help that she looks exactly like if pecco and luca had a baby (brown puppy eyes, curly blonde hair, the sweetest politest baby in the world) and she spends the majority of her early years being carried around by carola lol. pecco is. SO FURIOUS the first time he sees an article claiming that luca and carola had a baby together. lol.

[mintteas-things]

São Paulo

A/N: Based on an edit I saw, and guilty pleasure listening to this song. Christine Palmer is a bit of an asshole to Reader in this one-shot. For the Plot, really. :)

Word Count: 7.7 k Words

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader

Warning: Implied female reader, swearing, smut, jealousy, bullying, anal, oral giving (F to M), dirty talk, dildo fucking, finger fucking;

Hot like risin' sun, burnin' everything she touch

She don't even want your money, can buy you and someone else

She's addicted to the rush (bota na boca, bota na cara)

I can never get enough (bota na boca, bota na cara)

She's desensitized to money, need to pay with somethin' else ᭩

Watchful eyes were all around you. The talk of the century- the best doctor that was hired in Stark Industries. Of course, after a long week of modifying “surgeries”, tending wounds, and testing blood samples of the Supersoldiers and superheroes within your care- it was party time. The successes of the heroes that all came together at the compound. Even the newcomer Bucky was present. Tony- while still upset- came around after you explained the notions of psychology and how it wasn’t him. It was like a whole other person- similar to cases you’ve read about Marc Spector who had two personalities- or people he says- within him. Once that was explained, Tony had simmered down a little and understood that. Of course, he always came by to discuss difficult feelings that he couldn’t process with Pepper.

After all- your brilliance allowed medical school, some surgery, and even psychology. All on the dime and paid for by Stark Industries. You were a brainiac- one who couldn’t be satiated by any book in the world. It was similar to Doctor Stephen Strange, the photographic memory and desire to learn. The only difference was that you didn’t want fame. You wanted to live a simple life. Yet, you were fawned and praised similarly to the Avengers that you worked with. Money? You had it. Fame? You had it. Fans? Surprisingly, yes. Freedom? Yes. A lover? No. You didn’t have a partner, but you had everything else. How bizarre. You had everything, and yet it felt like you had nothing.  

You wore black stiletto heels, bows at the back of them just around your ankles. Your dress was satin, skirt attached to a plain corset. At the top, ribbons hung off the shoulder and around your biceps, long tails hanging down. A long slit went up to your upper thigh, teasing the world with a potential view of your lace panties. Tony stood before you with his tuxedo, Pepper at his side in a beautiful red and gold cocktail dress with an open back. Her hair was placed up with a claw clip, embroidered with diamonds and glittering gold. She looked stunning hanging off of his arm. The couple looked you over, Tony wrinkling his nose.

“Too much black,” he huffed out.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to your figure. “I wear colors during the day. Let me finally wear a piece of dark clothing..” you whined out. In a way, they were similar to parental figures.

Pepper giggled softly, hiding her smile behind her hand as Tony wrinkled his nose in return. “Look kid,” he began. Oh how you hated that nickname. “Just.. trust us.” He held out a maroon colored box, similar to the colors of Pepper’s dress. It was small and light which allowed you to carefully pull it apart. A glittering, diamond choker present. You gasped softly at the sight, Tony moving over and gently placing it on after you moved your hair out of the way. “There, better. Now let's get going. We have guests waiting.”

He held his hands at both of your lower backs- Pepper’s a little lower. Your heels clicked, the sound of your bodies moving so elegantly that it turned heads. The party was taking place at an event building in downtown New York City. Ever since Avengers Tower was destroyed, it was replaced with an event building as a donation by Tony. How thoughtful- but now he hosted a lot of charities, parties, events, and more. Typically it was company and work events, but he had to splurge and celebrate once in a while. Your nerves were on fire, hands wringing nervously together as you looked out the limo window. Tony and Pepper were occupied with each other. That was fine with you, but even then you wished you had some comfort. Happy had driven the three of you to the events center, slowing down behind other vehicles as the Avengers all filed out and waved to the cameras. Despite it all, they were all still beloved by the community. It was always an uproar when everyone could get together. The only people missing were Bruce and Thor. However you were told that Thor had to save Asgard and Bruce had to take a mental break. You swallowed thickly, watching as Steve waved to the crowd and Bucky beside him. The poor man was nervously gripping his own pant legs, eyes searching around for any comfort. They had stepped forward, allowing the three of you to step out.

“Ready to finally have your face everywhere?” Tony teasingly asked.

You shook your head no, pushing your hair to flip over the other shoulder. “It was better to laugh at the critics when they could imagine how ugly I am,” you pouted. It was true. Very rarely did your photo end up as a leak online. This was due to Tony’s compliance with your wish, and Nick Fury ensuring it be done. Director Fury had been the one to start rumors about what you looked like, ensuring privacy and the drama of a formerly Hydra infested company. With good reason- the Winter Soldier would have had you as a target. 

That earned a laugh from the couple. The door opened by a chauffeur, Pepper stepping out first. The crowd was loud,  the sound of shuttering cameras echoing and overlapping one another. Steve and Bucky turned to watch, Tony placing a smile on for the crowd as he waved. He linked arms with his lover, the two waving and saying hello before walking up the steps. 

You planted your right heel onto the red carpet, hearing Happy give you a ‘break a leg doc!’ as you nervously stepped out. Immediately the crowd hushed for a second before roaring. It intensified the moment you stood up fully, giving a hesitant wave. 

“The woman of the hour, people! It's really Y/N!” Tony yelled at the crowd before scampering away. 

Your eyes shot daggers at the back of his head, knowing his stupid smirk was on his face. Photos, flashes, cheering all around as you gently plucked up your skirt and walked up the steps. You linked arms with the super soldiers, letting them guide you up to the entrance of the exclusive party. The celebration was the fact you had somewhat ‘cured’ Bucky. Through extensive research of Psychological methods, you effectively erased the sleeper code within his brain. Atop of that, you managed to give some semblance of memories back to him. It would take a lot more research, time, and energy to even undo everything Hydra had done. Bucky had happy memories- of before and during the war. Small blurbs of Steve and the Howling Commandos. That was all you could recover.

It was tested by trained professionals and others alike- news outlets catching wind of your dedication to help Bucky. Its why you were all there now. Your eyes flickered up, looking at the grand hall that had two curving staircases to an upper floor. Waiters and waitresses bustled with serving plates, glasses of champagne and finger food present. A glittering chandelier hung down from the tall ceiling, warm lighting casting shimmering flickers of reflected light across the way. Butlers opened the doors for the three of you, allowing you to enter the cool air that was contrasted by the warm summer night outside. So many faces- your head felt like it was swimming. The psychology and medical community were there, along with close friends, acquaintances, and the media. It was elegant. Throngs of people all mingled together, and off to the distant side of the room was a space reserved for the group. You all entered, Steve looking to you before letting go of your arm. Everyone fell silent, the doors closing behind you all as the muffled sounds of voices were shut out. You gripped Bucky’s arm, nervousness building as the silence prolonged.

Then the clapping. Your fingers tightened into the fabric of Bucky’s suit as he seemed to press into you in turn. Photos of Bucky holding your waist with one gloved hand were taken, both looking serious and a topic of hot gossip. Surely this wouldn't surface later with rumors… right? Oh it would, but you weren't thinking about that at the moment. Clapping was heard, praises along with it as Steve escorted you both to the group. Odd- both of you wanted seclusion. You and Bucky never wanted this to get out, and yet it did. You all passed the throngs of people that had parted, all now intermingling behind you as you walked. Bucky’s hand not once left the small of your back as you walked with faux confidence. Off to your left, a very attentive set of blue eyes watched you. His hair neatly slicked back and a stray strand dangled handsomely over his forehead. Greys at his temples- he looked ravishing in his designer suit. He seemed to have missed what his former coworkers were talking about, looking at them when Christine touched his arm in worry. 

His gaze flickered down to search her cognac ones, finding worry and concern. A smile graced his lips, crinkling the edges of his eyes as he did so. A gentle nudge of assurance that he was okay. Stephen Strange was Christine Palmer’s date to the event. He previously couldn't take his eyes off of her. The glittering, midnight blue dress that accented her frame made him weak. Yet, when he watched you enter it was like everything stopped. The group he was with had gasped- like a scandal just dropped on the latest soap opera show. Each had remarked different things about how you looked. The only thing he and Christine had managed out was how young you appeared. Christine, more of shock and underlying tones of skepticism and possible jealousy while Stephen with awe. He felt her link arms with him, resuming conversation about your work with the others. He could feel heat radiate from his neck; he just had to get to know you.

As the night went on, bodies and voices continued to mingle. You were tired of all of the socializing at this point. This was a very big reason as to why you wanted to remain hidden. You could hide away without fear of being pestered all of the time. Yet, here you were. Surrounded by throngs of people and a crowd that didn't intend on stopping anytime soon. The party had its introduction of you and your work, and successes that were followed by the popping of corks and bubbling foam. Was this how Tony had previously celebrated? Good gods, you wanted to throw up after a second drink and little wienies that made it down your throat. You were standing upstairs on the balcony, your eyes looking over the street just below on the backside. The celebration seemed to continue on even as people left. Joining you out on the balcony was a couple, your eyes not lingering long. The man was definitely eye candy- his luxury suit deliciously form fitting and his hair neatly done. Fearing the wrath of cat claws from his date, you avoided any eye contact and merely made room for them to join you on the balcony in the warm air. Of course, thoughts focused on elsewhere, you almost didn't catch the fact he was trying to gain your attention.

His deep voice- timbre and soothing like a good whiskey on the back of the throat. Your head turned, watching the couple with a guarded expression and fully honing in on his words. “-isn’t it?” He seemed to be asking something.

“Sorry,” you shook your head. “I didn't quite catch what you said.”

The woman arched a brow as a frown settled on her lips. The man however gave a small nod of understanding. “Its Y/N, isn’t it?” He questioned gently.

Your nose wrinkled. Well, you can't fault him. Practically everyone was now just seeing you for the first time. “Yes, it is. Doctor for the Avengers,” you smiled tiredly. You held out a hand, in which he gently kissed your knuckles in a charming manner. His goatee tickled your skin, your cheeks turning pink once more. “I-I’m sorry, I didn't catch either of your names,” you spluttered out, looking between them. You caught the sneer from the woman's face, the jealousy radiating from her like a toxic gas. 

Was Tony dealing with that all the time from other men before he finally bit the bullet and decided to act on his feelings for Pepper? Gods, you hated this. At least the billionaire had charm and could work his way around the men, but you? You were socially awkward. You merely breathed in this man's direction and this woman was ready to tear off your face. “Doctor Stephen Strange,” he introduced himself. “And this is Doctor Christine Palmer. She currently works at Metro-General Hospital,” he added, gesturing to the now named brunette.

Your brows raised briefly. “I work with that hospital on occasion. They’ve done wonders with Stark Industries,” you smiled kindly to them. They both looked surprised at your revelation. “Also, just to make sure I heard you right- Doctor Stephen Strange? As in, the former neurosurgeon, correct?” 

They both nodded.

Awe immediately entered your gaze and your mouth dropped open. “Wow! That is so cool! I finally got to meet one of the.. coolest surgeons in the world, and another doctor who helped him as well,” you were now beaming ear to ear, as though this was the best situation to be in. However, just as you were about to make friendly talk Stephen and your face fell into very different expressions. His horror, and yours offense. 

“I’m sorry, but this seems to be too good to be true. You're young- way too young to have completed residency. On top of that, you somehow manage to cure the former Winter Soldier? Your medical expertise is quoted left and right and yet, you don't listen to what is given to you by more experienced doctors,” Christine’s voice had raised briefly, anger flushed over her neck and upper chest. She was glaring at you- holes burned into your body as your face contorted from your mouth hanging open to a sneer. 

Your hands clenched at your sides, wholly aware of the few friends you had that were lingering nearby. You had to remain nice- remain nice, remain nice, remain ni-

“Besides, a young woman like you, you're probably just the plaything that gets passed around.”

Stephen immediately let out a hiss, telling Christine to shut up. He paled, watching as your brows knitted together and your jaw clenched. Christine looked smug, arms folded over her chest. His eyes flitted from you to the man who came over. His own blonde brows furrowing and a scowl on his lips. He didn't like what he heard at all; Stephen admired the fact that the Avengers protected one of their own. Inside, the Sorcerer was disappointed. Why was Christine jealous? This was so out of character for her that it even took him by surprise.

“I’ll have you know,” a baritone voice began. The famous Steve Rogers at your side with his hands in his pockets. His head tilted, blonde hair slicked back and white button up stressed over his chest as his shoulders rolled back. “Y/N is the delegate to Metro-General Hospital for Stark Industries. Those fancy new items for the emergency room that were just sent out? By Y/N’s approval- an extension of Tony. I might be a veteran that came out of the ice only several years ago, but I know business discussions and planning. We’ve all taken turns sitting with her to see what she does when she isn't busy with her research or tending to us,” Steve looked mad- his icy blues lit with fire, an anger swirling in them. Christine faltered, looking up to Stephen.

Stephen was scowling down at her, a plethora of mixed emotions present while his hands shook even more. “Metro-General hospital got approval for upgraded equipment and technology. They were going to do test runs on the basis of Y/N’s work,” a sharp inhale, “Something I was going to tell you on the way to the conference those couple of years ago. It wasn't just my celebration, it was to award you with the news of what was to come.” His jaw clenched, a vein popping out along his temple as he glowered bitterly at Christine. He then looked at you and Steve, saying shortly, “I apologize for the words spoken and behavior of my former colleague-” you saw her wince, “-we will take our leave now. If you need anything, please contact me at Bleeker street, the Sanctum.”

With that, he dragged Christine from the balcony. You watched them go, your hands unclenching from their balled prison and catching a stray, angry tear before it could mess up your makeup. You turned your head away, not allowing Steve to see she had gotten to you. His hand cradled your elbow, gently turning you with a hand on your hip as you kept your head turned away. 

“Y/N…” he softly spoke, turning your chin so you could stare up at the man.

Your lips were curved into a pout, frowning as you dared to hold onto his biceps. Your eyes were glassy and  eyelashes wet. You didn't say anything, merely avoiding eye contact with him as he frowned. A deep sigh escaped through his nose, footsteps approaching as Bucky seemed to appear after seeing how upset you and Steve were. Funnily enough, the two of you found solace in one another after working together for a long time. His frame rushed over, seeing Steve reluctantly let you go to him and you hid into the expanse of the Winter Soldier. It was then that the first Avenger had gone off, presumably to talk to Tony about what had just transpired. 

Bucky peered at you, slowly wrapping his full arms around you and stared off. His storming eyes stared at Doctor Strange’s back, watching him animatedly wave his hands from a distance while Christine seemed to argue back about something. 

The tabloids were full of you. There was nothing that could stop them from capturing your face, outfits, and multiple shots of you amongst the other Avengers. While there were photos of the other famous heroes, everything was dedicated to you. Stark Industries had professional photos from a photoshoot not long ago- slapped on the front face of nearly every magazine. All different poses- but each were the same. You in a very beautiful blouse that was partially undone, black slacks, and black flats. You were standing, leaning against something, or sitting in a chair in what many dub a power move. Either way, each headline was a hit. It all talked about you- with whatever these vultures could dig up on you. Even a whole subsection of gossip about your love life. Multiple elegant photos were in that section, with one in the arms of Bucky Barnes as you two danced in a classic waltz. The flames were lit- you were under the spotlight even more. Your popularity soared and business insiders talked about your multi-billion contracts you secured while Tony’s apprentice. 

Stephen stared blankly as he flipped through each one, all similar. They seemed to regurgitate the same language, prose, and grammar. What made him pause however, was a section where it was a sneak shot of you, Steve, himself, and Christine. With headlines pertaining to jealousy and love affairs- and starstruck wonder. His lips pressed to a thin line, brows furrowing together. He was labeled as a possible lover and starstruck, and jealousy was labeled in fat, goopy letters over Christine. His hands rubbed his face, giving a groan. Wong laughed from his own chair beside him, grinning at the reading he had. 

“This is quite amusing. You should clear the air with them, you know?” He suggested, eyes glimmering with a hint of mischief. 

“If Christine didn’t open her mouth…” his hands gripped the arms of his chair in a vice grip, glowering bitterly while he did so. Christine. She was also placed in a bad spotlight. His eyes turned, hearing the door to the Sanctum open. He and Wong stood up, rising to greet who had come through the door. Speak of the devil…His hand raised, grating gold closing the tabloids as the Doctor walked up to him with purpose.

“You have to help me fix this,” she begged, her eyes red with tears. It was clear she had been crying. “They’re painting me in a bad light.”

“If you didn’t accuse the brain prodigy, we wouldn’t be in the tabloids,” Strange mumbled, narrowing his eyes at her. “Look, I don’t know what you want to do. You accused her of being a cum slut before the very team, and in front of several guests. How can I undo that?”

“I don’t know. Can’t you go back in time and fix it?” She desperately questioned.

“I can’t do that,” he frowned. “Besides, that’s not how it works.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, groaning as she gently pried at it. “Ugh! Stephen! Please, just let me apologize or something to her!” She begged then.

Strange arched a brow, his eyes flitting to Wong as he turned around and sat down. He opened one of the tabloids, giving a soft snort through his nose. “Hey, maybe the compound will be best,” he offered, pointing at a photo that was taken. Paparazzi really are roaches.

It was a good thing he previously was at the compound. It was something that needed to be done at the request of Tony Stark.  He opened the portal, right in front of the doors. Christine followed, opening the front doors as she seemed to blaze a trail through unfamiliar territory. “Tony?” Strange called out, hearing voices that quickly hushed. Footsteps sounded, coming closer and Stark appearing. He arched a brow at the Sorcerer, looking around. 

“How’d you get past locked gates?” He inquired, tilting his head. An edge to his tone indicated he wasn’t willing to play nice. He stared, jaw set and clenched. 

“Magic,” Strange remarked flatly. He didn't break eye contact, Tony staring him down as he sighed.

“Whatever balloon animal maker,” he rolled his big brown eyes and then sassily jutted a hip. “What brings you both here?”

Christine opened her mouth, Strange settling a hand on her shoulder. “Doctor Palmer came to apologize,” he began, his cloak swaying and monastic robes such a beautiful blue. “If Ms. Y/N is willing to hear her out.”

Tony glowered at the woman, now turning his full gaze on her. “You know,” he began in a bitter bite, glaring. “She worked her ass off to pull off that contract at Metro-General Hospital-”

“I understand that-” Strange began.

“No- you don't. She faced the same attitude from others that Doctor Palmer had there the whole time she made that contract. It only got through because of her work with Bucky,” he sneered. “Then you accuse my brightest talent of being a cum slut?”

While they were arguing, it was really funny. You weren't the Avenger's cumslut at all. You were your own.Your wrists were aching, pumping the dildo out of your pussy and back in. You had been tense lately anyways, and you finally had free time while the world exploded with the news of your face reveal. Besides, what was the harm? You had imagined it was Doctor Stephen Strange’s anyways, free hand gripping your mouth as you writhed overtop of the sheets. Your stomach coiled, sharply tightening into a ball and becoming undone as you reached your climax over the toy. It was drenched, your bedsheets following and you sighed out in pleasure. A beeping, followed by F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filled your room. 

“Ms. Y/N, Mr. Stark wants to know if you could meet him in the foyer,” the AI informed.

You sighed. Your head laid back on the bed. What you really needed was a break, a good fuck, and sleep. “Tell him I’ll be right out,” you groaned, body huffing out and light from the excitement. You had to legitimately do more work- and you were promised a week off. What the actual fuck. Your hands pulled the toy out, whimpering at the loss and disappearing into your private bathroom. You washed up- quickly presenting yourself and putting on pajamas so none would be the wiser. It only took half an hour after a relaxing wash, but still it was clear that Tony was bristling. You had wandered down the expansive halls, seeing Tony impatiently waiting with his arms over his chest and glaring at you. Waiting in the room already was some of the other Avengers, clearly in discussion with someone. You could hear the familiar baritone voice and feminine voice. You glared right back at Tony. “You called me down for them?” You hissed out in annoyance. Your voice was quiet, not having rounded the corner.

His nose wrinkled briefly, frowning. “You smell… like you’re hiding something,” his eyes narrowed on you.

You waved a hand. “I took a shower Tony, doesn’t matter anyways. Why do I have to talk to them?” 

“Doctor Palmer wants to apologize. Besides, Doctor Clown back there doesn’t seem as interested in being here as you are. Go in there and hear them out,” he then nudged you, sending you on your way around him. 

How ironic. Her accusations seemed to only further cement in her belief as you rounded the corner into view and seemed to radiate a glow from post-coital interactions. Even funnier was Bucky trailing in after you as he seemed to hear the commotion and wanted to see why Steve and the others were equally as bristly as Tony. You stood in your fluffy pajamas, the Winter Soldier behind you with his head held high and hands in his pockets. An indifferent look on his features as Doctor Palmer seemed to hide her twitching manners. She was bursting with a retort that even had Doctor Strange staring her down. You knew that look- it seemed universal. He was telling her to not make a sound. 

“I wanted.. To apologize,” she finally managed out. You folded your arms over your chest. Your legs raised goosebumps, cold from the cool air in the compound. You were wearing shorts that scrunched at your waist, and a tank top that held the big A logo from the team you supported. 

“About?” You asked nonchalantly. A brow raised.

All eyes shifted between the two of you. 

“You know,” she seemed to force out, eyes rolling. 

“What? Afraid to admit to everyone what you accused me of?” You enjoyed taunting the woman who seemed to lose all confidence with everyone watching. “You seemed pretty confident and bold the other night.”

“You’re right I was. I shouldn’t even be apologizing since you seem to be basking in the glow.” That didn’t take long to let the claws out from her. Doctor Strange slapped his palm to his forehead, groaning out. This truly wasn’t going the way it was intended. “Is he proud?” Doctor Palmer gestured to Bucky. 

He made no movements, simply staring her down. Tony watched as he poured a shot of whiskey and took it. He knew you hated crowds- public spaces. But this was private- he wasn’t going to stop it. It was rare they all saw your claws out anyways. His brows shot up, immediately curling a finger towards Doctor Strange to get him to step away. Nope- no one was going to stop it. Even Steve and Natasha stepped away, allowing space.

Your head tilted and hip jutted out in a sassy manner, one that clearly mimicked Tony from before. “Jealous?” Your lips curled into a wry smile. “Even if it were true, why do you so clearly care?” You sent a glance to Doctor Strange, his eyes boring into you with a swirl of emotions you couldn’t place. “You seem to have some sort of issue with my age, appearance, my works, and now my sex life. You do realize that this is just a catty, bratty jealousy, right?” You slowly took a step forward, Christine’s body tensing. She shot daggers with her eyes when you even so much as looked in the direction of Strange. It was easy to notice, your brows rising. “Ah, I get what the issue is.” 

Her cheeks were crimson, lips in a scowl as she huffed at you. “What would that be?” She sneered.

You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking on your feet then as you hummed in thought. “You’re quite cagey around Doctor Strange,” you mused aloud. “Afraid of wandering eyes, and yet I’ve heard you have the most wandering eyes of all,” you grew disinterested, walking to the fridge to shift through and find something to snack on. Finding nothing, you grab a glass of water to drink from. Silence answered you, allowing you to continue, “I’ve done my research after rumors started at that hospital you worked at. Quite frankly, Stark Industries wanted a different hospital to help endorse. The only reason I fought so hard for your hospital was because your work in the emergency room, bedside manner, and so much more made me choose there. Another contributing factor was indeed the work of Doctor Strange, with special mechanical tools being made for him before his accident,” you took a sip of water, “But now that I’ve had several years, dealt with a lot of critics from all around, and managed to come out with my own advancements and contributions with Mr. Barnes, I had some time to look.”

You trailed back around the island countertop, standing before her and setting the glass down with a frown. “I work hard Doctor Palmer. I used to look at your work favorably and even argued the hospital needed better equipment to assist your department. Until, I learned you started the rumors when I was planning deals, making business arrangements, and much more. It was part of the reason it took several years. Turns out, companies don’t like it when there’s a threat of pulling funding. I hate using that leverage, but its probably why those rumors stopped,” you narrowed your eyes. “But then, I’m suspecting, is Doctor Strange let eyes linger too long and excitement for another female doctor grow too much. You, didn’t like that.” 

She was staring you down with a sense of hatred in her eyes. You’ve only seen it a few times, but you didn’t dare falter. “You had no care in the world to go looking for Doctor Strange when he disappeared for a year,” a wry smile. “Yet you cling to him until a better opportunity. I can see it through you. Part of my own superpower.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she objected. 

“I thought you were here to apologize?” You questioned, folding your arms below your chest and standing closed off in front of her. “I’ve only heard further insults, objections, and continue to see the hatred in your eyes. Doctor Palmer, I’ve canceled the contract with Metro-General Hospital. I’ve no time to deal with your attitude.” You turned away, walking towards Bucky.

“Well, what are you going to do instead since you have no more business to deal with? Huh? Further fool the psychology and medical community?” She sneered out. 

You glanced up at Bucky, then back at her over your shoulder. That familiar, wry smile on your lips again. “Going to go get laid, since that’s all I do, remember? By the way, he’s really great at it. Super Soldier serum does things,” a wink, you sauntered past him with a sassy walk that left Bucky remaining- somehow- straight faced and turning to trail out after you.

Doctor Strange felt a bubble of… jealousy? He didn’t know. Nor did he understand. He opened a portal and set it around Christine, letting it swallow her and back to her own apartment. Tony snorted, taking another shot while attention returned to the Sorcerer. He remained silent, before looking at Natasha.

The redhead addressed him, “You look a bit pale.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know how to fix this damn mess,” he groaned.

“Best way is to talk to her, see if there is a common ground and get to know her,” Natasha suggested, arching a brow. She took a sip of her coffee, a soft slurp filling the air. “Well, if she wants to talk that is. Don’t know if she’d be too thrilled about it.”

Doctor Strange pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut before he sighed out. “Okay, okay, where do I go to see her?” 

“Down the hall to the right. Her door is marked with some cutesy animal shit. You might want to knock first. She doesn’t like visitors when she relaxes,” Tony remarked as he joined the assassin and other Super Soldier, now taking slow sips from his drink. 

Doctor Strange followed the path laid out, now standing before your door and giving a gentle knock. No answer; it was quiet. One of the things the compound had was usually noise proof rooms. Probably because there were way too many remarks to one another about keeping it quiet in the throes of love making. He knocked again and the door shot open, showing you naked, sweating, and grinding on the toy you had earlier. Your eyes went wide, staring at the Sorcerer that was as red as a tomato at the sight. 

“Close the damn door F.R.I.D.A.Y.!” You screeched, the door immediately slamming shut. 

You stared, heart bursting violently in your chest as you quickly pulled your covers up, and pulled on a bathrobe to cover your shoulders. “C-Come in,” you spluttered out, just as red as the Sorcerer as he was now allowed in. His eyes had darkened briefly, his hands trembling a bit more than usual as he brushed them down his thighs. “What is it?” You asked a little too sharply.

He didn’t make eye contact, knowing that his pants were already growing tight. The image in his head wouldn’t leave. “I wanted to discuss any.. Apologies that can be made,” he cleared his throat.

You arched a brow, curious. “You did nothing wrong Doctor Strange,” you remarked matter of factly. “It was your girlfriend. I’m quite surprised, I never heard of her doing that really.”

He shook his head, musing, “She seems to get quite jealous, easily. Its funny, really. We aren’t dating. As much as I liked her, she never seemed to expose this side. I guess my previous remarks of how talented you are and your work is phenomenal got to her when she saw you.” 

You gave a tiny smile, looking down at your lap and way too conscious of the bulbous tip teasing your folds. “Well, she should be careful. Making baseless accusations can get the wrong person involved,” you twiddled with your fingers, then furrowed your brows. “Wait, you’re not dating?”

He shook his head no.

“Then why would she be… so over-reactive to me? If she’s confident you and her would get together, then why act this way?” 

“Competition. Scare you away and she could continue stringing me along I suppose,” he shrugged.

A brow arch at that. “You think she’s stringing you along?” 

“I thought about what you said. She has been chattering about dates with other men and constantly discussing one particular man she’s been working with at the hospital. No use to try to win her over if she’s only going to keep being this way. I’ve also been feeling it's been one-sided… Kind of hard to go after that,” he gave a sad smile. 

You looked at him, a quiet regard as he seemed to stand and look down at his feet. In an odd way, you felt for him. You also felt quite sorry. “Well.. if it makes you feel any better, I uh… Understand,” you offered with a very awkward smile. He looked up at you with a curious look. “I’ve always liked your work ever since I heard about it, Doctor Strange. Guess I’ve followed you closely until you went off and became the… guardian of the Sanctum. Word travels fast with Christine Palmer talking,” you managed out.

He blinked. Then again. His pants looked like it was tight and painful, and a new gush of excitement escaped your folds at imagining him pounding you. 

You cleared your throat, “I mean, not that it means much but her accusation was only wrong in one regard. I’ve been taking care of that area myself. I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

Usually, Doctor Strange wouldn’t entertain the idea. Maybe it was his dick that was taking over- or maybe wanting to see your wet folds and spread legs once more was leading his brain. Either way- he was absolutely going to take you up on the offer. Who wouldn’t? You were gorgeous, the talk of the world in the medical, psychology and scientific world. Christine embarrassed him and her job- twice- and here you were, willing to spread your legs for him. He nodded, watching your smile twist into something seductive as you rose from your spot on your bed. Your robe fell off your shoulders, the scent of sex hitting his nose as he stood rigid in his spot. Seriously, how were you not seeing anyone? The very fact you were perfect in his eyes- he saw you lower onto your knees, feeling your hands on his hips and thighs. You had moved his pants, freeing a now throbbing cock from its restraints. His pants and boxers were halfway down his thighs, your mouth taking him whole. Warm, wet, and tongue sliding so deliciously around his tip and over the underside. F.R.I.D.A.Y. locked the door now, the soft click being heard and ignored. Your head bobbed, nose pressing to his pelvic bone as you sucked him off. His hands gathered your hair, pulling it out of your face to let you work. His soft moans filled the air, your jaw unlocking further and taking him farther into your mouth. Your eyes closed, the taste of salty precum slipping down your throat as you bobbed your head. You felt like you were dreaming. You had watched his work from afar- looked at his pictures- you knew of him. 

Now you were on your knees and sucking him off. You removed your mouth, hand replacing it and pumping in its stead as you licked the slit in his tip. He shuddered, sensitive. A gentle suck at the underneath, his moan was a bit louder before you took him back into your mouth. His hips gently pushed, fucking into you.

“Such a good slut,” his deep voice rumbled. It was several octaves lower, indicating he was thoroughly lost in the haze of lust. Your core was dripping onto the floor, clearly enjoying his dirty talk and insults. “Sucking me off like a good.. Good.. whore.” 

His hands gripped the sides of your head, fucking into your mouth with an unapologetic force that had you gripping his hips. Tears swelled in your eyes, taking in breaths through your nose as you let him take control. It wasn’t rough or harsh- but it was just enough to make you worry briefly. His hips stilled, feeling his cock twitch and swell as a harsh, hot coating shot into the back of your throat. You moaned around him, swallowing his cum eagerly as he came. You were so wet it wasn’t funny anymore. You removed your mouth, licking your lips as you did. He was partially limp, dick so eager to try and get back up to bury himself into your tight, wet, cunt.

His pupils were blown wide, pulling you up to your feet and directing you back onto your bed. He used his magic to remove his clothes, and another to lift up the dildo. You watched him, bringing your knees up and holding your legs back to show off how wet you were. Your clit was swollen and aching, red and your pussy the same way. He pushed the dildo into you, watching as you took it so well. It was like it was eagerly awaiting to be filled, folds around it and being pushed and stretched. His other hand moved, fingers gently rubbing over your clit as your eyes rolled back. 

“Your pussy is so wet… look at how gorgeously you take it,” his breathing was coming out short and sharp, heavily breathing as he watched you moan and groan. He pulled out the dildo now, rubbing it’s bulbous tip over your folds. You were whimpering, feeling his fingers stop their assault on your engorged clit. He moved, pushing two fingers into you without warning and pumped. A gentle curling motion inside of you, feeling each passing padding over velvet walls. A different coil started to form, your eyes widening as you started to pant out obscene and vulgar words before him. His eyes were almost black, the deep blue focused on his hand as he pulled out his fingers. You gave out a scream of his name, squirting out juices and excitement that had him chuckling. 

His cock- now once more revived at the sight, seemed to engorge itself even more. Had it gotten thicker with anticipation? He was already quite large- but this would certainly take the cake. Your legs were quivering, stretching out.

“Stand up, lean forward on the bed,” he ordered. You didn’t argue, now planting your palms onto the edge of your bed and hips pushing into his. You felt his leaking tip slide from your entrance to your clit, teasing you relentlessly as he looked down at your ass. “Say… Y/N… can you take this cock like the good slut you are?”

“Uh-hum~” You hummed out eagerly, looking at him over your shoulder. You felt his tip press in, folds opening up just for him as he seemed to stretch you out. He felt fuller, deeper, and so much better than you could ever imagine. He pressed into you, balls pressed against your clit and remaining there. 

“Good… because I plan on fucking you so good that you’ll only be a slut for me,” his voice was dark, feeling the dildo travel between your ass. It was already wet and slick with your own juices, his thumb spreading your cheeks. “I want you to beg for my cock… Can you do that for me sweetheart?”

“Please Doctor Strange… Please fuck me,” you whined, trying to move your hips. Instead, you found a vice grip on you to keep you still. 

A hum, his head tilted. “Such a pretty ass,” he sighed out dreamily. It was taking everything in him not to lose control. You could sense that. A new feeling started to tickle above your entrance, magic clearly being worked as the bulbous tip of the dildo now started to work its way into your asshole. Your eyes rolled back, gasping as more slick gushed out and coated him. 

“Doctor Strange, fuck me- I’m such a good slut,” your depraved words like music to his ears. He started to thrust into you. A harsh, fast speed that had your body rocking. Just as he pulled out, the dildo pumped into your ass. Each part of your hole filled with pleasure. It was certainly a different experience, not having thought of being stretched through your ass either. But it was a deadly combination that had you gripping the bedsheets below your hands. His heavy breathing filled the air, your moans a song as your nipples brushed over the cloth below you. Already hard and perked, you felt overstimulated with the feeling there and how his balls slapped hard against your clit. Your mouth hung open, gasping softly as you were filled. Your body shook, hands gripping your hips and continuing the assault on your body. You didn’t know how long it would take until-

You gave a scream of pleasure, walls constricting around his dick and milking him. Your back arched, the dildo moving into you still as he paused. You heard him chuckle, sweat along your temples before he moved. Hot, electric flashes ran through your body as you continued, feeling the dildo still inside of you as he continued his pumping. The base of the dildo brushed against his pelvic bone, causing a grunt of annoyance. He removed it, causing you to whine at the loss. 

“Going to take my cum like the cumslut you are?” 

You nodded.

“I didn’t hear you,” he grunted out, continuing his fast and hard pace. The sound of skin slapping in the air as you continued to drip onto the floor. He wasn’t keen on letting you go, his speed picking up with each pump. It dragged through your walls, your toes curling at feeling the twitch along his cock.

“Yes, I’m a good, good cumslut,” you managed out, hearing a soft praise. You felt his fingers move to feel him slide into you, your own hand moving between your legs and rubbing tight circles over your clit.

“Good girl, touch yourself,” he panted, now giving a hard, last thrust and moaning. You had milked him again, his hot seed shooting into you with such eagerness that had you gasping. It felt right. So, so right.

You came out of your room hours later. You were marked head to toe, leaking cum and catching that only in your panties. A bathrobe only adorned your body, carrying you to the kitchen for water. Your eyes flickered to the group that now looked up upon your arrival in the room. Tony gave a knowing smirk and turned to his whiskey, Natasha arching a brow and Steve avoiding eye contact. 

“You’re not beating the allegations,” Tony hummed to you.

“Mhmm… Such a shame its with her former boytoy,” you grinned back, earning a chuckle. You were definitely going to enjoy being Stephen’s cumslut.

[remotepixel]

Hey could I please request headcannons for how Marc and Steven would act as yandads?

Hi!! Thank you for requesting, and sorry this took longer than normal. I have mocks rn and some important exams in May and overall struggling to correctly manage my time lol.

Tw: Yanderes themes + off-hand mentions of kidnapping.

Steven:

-Panic is his main mood when dealing with you; he honestly has no clue what he’s doing.

-He’ll be the one you’re around most, and normally the one to deal out any consequences for your actions (the worst you’re getting is a ‘stern warning’ and a ten-minute timeout because he feels bad).

-He’s never risen a child before, and there’s not really any textbooks about how to parent a kid your alter kidnapped. I definitely get that vibe he would read mummy blogs though out of pure desperation (he’s trying his best </3).

-Steven is a big pushover. He’ll weakly defend himself if anyone accuse him - stating he’s just trying to make you happy - but it’s obvious enough that even he can’t defend himself properly.

-He’s pretty easily manipulated through your emotions. If you start crying, or even look slightly sad, the guy immediately backpedals on whatever it was.

-Since he’s super into Ancient Egypt, he knows how important interests can be. He’ll research into what like to try and make conversation. He’ll fully support any hobbies, skills, etc and try his best to support you if he’s able to.

-While writing this, I got this image of Steven, at like fucking 2am, half-asleep, trying desperately to understand all your ‘GenZ’ references like he’s studying some ancient literature. It’s an excuse to talk to you so he’ll take it, but god he wished you were a Ennead fanatic or something to make this a bit easier.

-He gives the vibe of randomly dropping some phrases that he hears you say to try and bond. He’ll probably give up after the first time though because you just stared blankly at him and he couldn’t deal with the embarrassment.

Marc:

-I guess it makes sense but Marc and Steven are both pretty similar in this situation, Marc just likes putting up a ‘i’m in control’ façade because he can’t correctly deal with his emotions (same).

-He’s even more scared than Steven, just better at hiding it. Obviously, his view on parental figures has been greatly screwed over by his own childhood, and despite vowing to himself he would never be the same, he always worries that he’ll cross that line.

-I think out of the two of them, he’d probably be the one to kidnap you, assuming that’s what happened, but he’ll be distant at the start.

-It’s not that he doesn’t want to comfort you, he just has no clue how to do it. And he will much rather show his love in his own way than mess up with his words.

-You’ll find little things you like around the apartment, or your favourite food just happens to be the one he brought for tonight.

-Honestly, I think he’ll also be a pushover. As much as he probably shits on Steven for being so, he can’t stand to see you disappointed, and he doesn’t have the ‘luxury’ (he never asks) of speaking to you everyday like Steven does.

-After a few months, he’ll start to be more open - small smiles, etc etc - but it depends on you mostly. If you seem happier, he’ll take over the body more, maybe for a movie night or a board game.

-If you’re just as or more angry/sad than at the start, he’s remaining firmly inside the headspace when you’re around. He’d rather live through Steven than have to confront the familiarly haunting look on your face.

A bit random but I have this cute thought of them putting more mirrors (or just any sort of reflective surface) around the apartment so both of them can hang out with you, even if only one can control the body.

[ray935sworld]

How it ended (Lorenzo/ Alex M)

Chapter 3: Older brother

All parts

The next morning came and bought a dry mood to Cevera. Julia and Roser shared a look over their coffee mugs as their gaze traveled to the two empty chairs opposite of them. Normally the two would have run down the stairs, their voices loud, only their laughter louder.

They jumped, gave them a good morning kiss before sliding in their seat. The same routine ever since they were kids.

But now both boys hadn't left their room since their confrontation. Not like they had expected them to. But now the next morning had come and the Marquez parents hoped that with that some sense returned to their sons. To both their sons.

Marc was the only one joining them in the late morning. He sat down and had his breakfast, not asking about Alex.

Some more time passed. Still no sign of the younger brother. Marc acted like he didn't care. But Roser did.

She had a terrible feeling in her guts. She couldn't quite place it but the more time passed without Alex, the more unsettled she felt. She wanted to talk to him, reassure him that they get through his. She hadn't step up from him and the guilt was starting to crawl into her skin the longer Alex wasn't around.

When Marc finished his breakfast, later than Alex would normally sleep, she made a decision. She would fix this. And knowing her sons the best way was an eye tk eye between them.

"Marc, go call your brother down, will you? It's getting late" She watched him look up, his eyes, already grumpy now turned even darker. He crossed his arms infront of his chest, a challenging look towards his mother.

He refused to even think about his words as he spoke them. "I don't have a brother." Now it was his turn watching his mother's gaze turn dark. She tilted her head slightly to the side. A clear sign that now he had to be careful. But he refused to back down. Not so soon. No matter how cruel he knew it was and how little he believed in it.

"Marc. Don't be ridiculous." Her voice was showing how little she was willing to discuss this. Marc however was more than willing to fight on this.

"I'm being ridiculous?" he shot back angrily. "He is the reason I'm getting fucking death threats. It's his fault and he doesn't even try to see it! He's delusional!" "Because he's in a relationship?" "No. Because he is in a relationship with Jorge fucking Lorenzo. I - Do I really need to replay it all again? Lorenzo fucks him to get to me. Or do you actually think he loves him?"

No. She didn't believe it. She really didn't believe it. It just seemed to far gone, too much. She bit her lips and tried to overturn her thoughts, give them the benefit of the doubt. Afterall her son wasn't an idiot.

"Maybe. I don't know him." "Mom" Marc said, giving her a 'serious?' look. "What the fuck would someone like him want from him? For real. What should he see in him? Give me one good reason?"

"He's a good boy" "And naive. I mean - fucking lorenzo right now? In the middle of all this chaos? WHY?" "Maybe they didn't." Julia interrupted. Marc immediately gave him an angry glance, having believed he was on his side.

"Trust me, I am at least as unhappy as you are about this. I mean - Okay if they are in a real relationship, we need to deal with this. Together. Or else you're not gonna see your brother anymore. Do you really want this? Cause the anger that you're feeling right now will fade. And so will your career. You're not gonna race forever. Lorenzo will probably retire before you and then? What if Alex won't talk to you anymore. Are you still gonna hang after that?"

"He betrayed me. Us. Dad, he betrayed all of us." "Would it be a betray if Rossi hadn't spit out those bullshit accusation?" "I-" Marc stuttered. He stared down, shrugging. "I don't know. Yes. Maybe... I mean... He still would have slept with one of my rivals"

"Okay enough talking above Alex head" Julia decided. "We are judging something we know nothing about. We don't know how long this has been going on, right? I mean I doubt they started dating after Sepang. We don't know how Alex feels about him and how lorenzo treats him"

"There's nothing to know!" Marc tried to protest again. "Lorenzo is a toxic asshole that only wants to win. I-" "You are very different to your media persona too, young man" Roser reminded him. "And isn't he friends with Dani now? Dani is a kind man, I doubt he'd be friends with a toxic asshole." "But-" "Enough."

Julia looked between his wife and son and internally shook his head. Both seemed unwilling to move from their point of view. This would be an Intresting discussion.

"I'll go get him" Julia announced and made his was up the stairs. He knock a few times, not getting an answer while Roser gave his oldest son a daring glance. "Be nice" "Me?! He-" "Trust me, I won't go easy on him either. Dating a man 10 years older and not saying something. Not even to you. This could have gone so much worst"

"See?!" Marc asked, immediately jumping on it. "See?! You're against it too!" "No, I am questioning it as any normal parent should but I am not gonna disinherit him over it. Unlike-"

Julia interrupted them. "SHIT!" they faced the door as the older man entered, his face unreadable. "Alex isn't in his room. His jacket, shoes and backpack aren't there either. And I couldn't find his phone."

Essentially, he was gone. Marc understood immediately. His brother wasn't home.

"What?!" he asked, floating in disbelief. "No-" He stood up and immediately ran to the small board near the door. He took one look only to realize that all keys were there.

"He didn't took the bike." he stated. 250cc and old. It wasn't made for long distance. A part of him wished he had took it. It would have meant he was nearby. But he didn't. "He can't - I mean..."

It felt like a punsh to the gut. It made him forget their fight, the last night and everything else. He but his lips, trying to find his anger again. He wanted to stop caring. But he couldn't. He silenced his worries but being angry at someone when the person is down the hall, safe and sound in his room is something entirely different than being angry at someone who could be anywhere and nowhere. Especially when you love that someone.

He bit his lips. He refused to give in that easy. What if it was just a way from Alex to make him give in? A manipulation? Maybe Lorenzo had suggested it?

The thought of Lorenzo already knowing what happend between the brothers made him angry once more. It felt wrong. It was wrong. He had no business knowing what happend in Cevera. Alex shouldn't tell him everything.

His train of thoughts took him back to the betray and the depth of it. He suddenly realized how much a couple would share. If Alex actually believed they were in a relationship, then he would have shared his problems, fears and stories with him. So Jorge knew stories about him. Personal. Private. Childhood stories.

The idea alone made him remember his anger. He shook his head, trying to push down the worry he had for Alex. "He-" he started despite hot really believing it. The bigging feeling in his stomach said otherwise. "He's probably just on a run. I don't care."

With that he went back to his room, leaving his thoughts back in the kitchen.

He worked on some stuff, scrolled through his phone and when he realized he was subconsciously listening to the door, trying to figure out if Alex had returned, he decided to go for a run. After all, he didn't care, right?

It was in the late afternoon that he returned to the kitchen, where his mother was sitting in the kitchen, a worried expression in her face. It was a mixture of worry and anger, ready to change any second.

"And? Did he say something else about his stupidity?" Marc asked while making himself a protein shake. "No. He didn't." Roser said with anger close to the surface. "Because he - whose name is Alex as you very well know - still hasn't returned."

The words hung over the kitchen like a dark cloud. Like an accusations. Like a bad omen.

"What?" Marc asked softly, his eyes wide as he turned to her. She nodded. "Alex, your little brother, still hasn't returned. And after some calls, I found out that apparently, none of his friends have seen him. And he isn't with family. No one has seen him. He doesn't answer calls or texts..."

"He... But he's okay, right? I mean he's... He wouldn't do anything stupid?" Once more he forgot that he was actually supposed to be angry at him. "OH suddenly you care?" And there was the reminder. He nodded.

"I - I don't. I just -" "OH no. No, you don't start with this crap again. You care about Alex and you want to know that he is safe. Well, there is only one person I haven't asked yet and I am pretty sure he is the most likely to know anything" "Mmh? Who?" "Lorenzo."

Marc stared at his mother. If he hadn't abandoned the shaker in the sink, he was sure it would have fallen to the ground by now. "LORENZO?!" he repeated. "Are you fucking with me?" "No. They are in a relationship so it'd make sense, no? So give me his number so I can contact him."

"I-" Marc blinked in confusion, almost sure that he was the only sane person left in this house. "No! No the hell no!"

He looked like a rebellious child, but Roser had dealt with that enough. Very calmly and very neutral he stated "You, Marc Marquez Alenta, are going to give me Jorge's number. Right now." Unlike what Marc seemed to thing, this wasn't up for debate for her. "No. Why should I even have his number? Cause I don't!"

"I don't care if you have it or not. You are going to use your fucking MotoGP connection to get me that man's number so I can call him and ask him if at least he is looking after my baby. Do you understand? We are talking about my baby. I have every right to call him and make sure that he cares about my son! Because we definitely failed to do that. Including you. Especially you."

"Mama, he betrayed me. I am not-" he trued to reason but she wouldn't have it. "Not that again. What did he do? Fall in love? Date someone you don't like? No. No, son that is not a betray, that is Alex living his life. I made the mistake to not wrench your brain back in your head once because I was too shock and - yes I did believe it at first. But you have no real prove that Alex relationship affected you in any way. Or did Jorge give you any advantages? And you certainly didn't and you would never anyway. So tell me, what exactly did Alex do to betray you?"

He was silent after that. He had no answer. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

"I'm going to ask Dani for his number." he agreed silently. "That's what I thought"

[fantasticharmonymiracle]

Let me say that I have infinite respect for @thelastaerie for providing us with a ton of fantastic and masterfully written fics about Kay and Marc's love story, truly. However, the entire fandom needs to be true with themselves and realise that if Freier Fall was irl Kay would never, EVER even consider getting back with Marc.

Let me elaborate:

Marc was definitely in love with Kay especially towards the end of the film but that doesn't mean he loved him because he never made the effort, as we know, and never saw Kay as his first choice. He technically was Plan B in case Bettina, which she did, didn't take him back. As romantic as we want to paint it, it doesn't put a good foundation for yet another toxic fling almost fifteen years after.

Also, very problematic is the fact that Kay pursued Marc in a questionable way like in the woods. I didn't hear any consent being given for that hand job or whatever happened (haven't seen the film in a while) and also, Kay clearly saw that Marc was basically married and with a baby on the way. It's not ethical at all to go after a taken man, regardless of the fact that you think he's a closeted gay man and you feel the itching urge to play the saviour angel and drag him out of the closet. I feel like both of them would realise it was certainly a heated time of their life but also not the best to jump back into and bring back chaos into their existence.

Bettina, she's a boss BUT that shower scene I cannot stand to watch, it feels way too violent and if a sequel happens I'm not sure how they should deal with the whole co-parenting deal without addressing that bit.

On top of this all, they may be both men but the punches they threw at each other are not acceptable whatsoever irl. It's not sexy nor a sign of true love. It's plain violence and a cheap substitute for grown-up talk. I get it, in films one has to emphasize emotions to draw the audience in but if I was Kay and I had Marc beg me to get back together... Like fuck I would after that and after I was literally thrown under the bus to save his sorry ass.

In terms of character as well, Kay comes across as a weirdly crafted excuse to drag the plot cause a wannabe cop smoking weed and taking ecstasy is surely "attractive" on camera but doesn't make sense in the real world. Why would you pick police as your career choice? Conquering the enemy from the inside is surely not gonna last that long, innit? This being said, considering the wild nature of Kay I doubt he'd fit well with Marc, even after his potential development and acquired emotional intelligence. I see older Kay as an accomplished something in whichever field having the time of his life in Berlin, or just a deranged junkie somewhere in Germany. Certainly, if we go with option 1, not one that would lower his standards for Marc, still. He wouldn't slow down for him again after being treated like shit.

Irl Marc would probably see the experience as an awakening but it wouldn't do a 180 on him, he'd still be the Stuttgart cop who now admits to himself he likes blokes OR would have a massive identity crisis, drop out of police and have a very hard time for the next 10/15 years, still not good unless we want a Trainspotting kinda love story (meaning the hopeless, scum of the earth vibes).

To end this rambling, not a good match but good entertainment. Certainly magical to read fiction about them because they allow so much freedom for the imagination.

Ps. @thelastaerie PLEASE do a fiction inspired by their other films together (wink wink that military one I can't watch because ffs I don't speak German -yet)

Apologies if this post is utter shite, I'm in the back of a moving car about to chunder and can't put my thoughts into coherent sentences. The main idea is somewhere round here.

[nitewrighter]

Oren Koth Inspirations/Reading List

I thought it would be fun to compile a list of media that helped inspire Oren's character for me, along with some notes on how they factor into his character (...and maybe how worth your time they are)

The Dark Knights Metal Saga by Scott Snyder/The Batman Who Laughs miniseries by Scott Snyder and James Tynion IV

Honestly these are both pretty mid in terms of actual emotional hooks but on a worldbuilding and aesthetic level, they had me hooked. I just loved the 'Metals of the World forge' aspects of it, anmd the incorporation of "The Bleed" from Superman: Beyond in Final Crisis. For me, The Dark Knights Metal Saga really only works as kind of a meta deconstruction of just how overpowered and oversaturated Batman has become in the DC universe, and now Batman has to confront himself as the biggest threat to the DC universe. Actually I read the TBWL miniseries before I actually read the Dark Knights Metal Saga because my dumb ass thought that would be the introduction of the character and not its own spin-off story. Honestly I love James Tynion's Non-DCU stuff way better than what I've read of him in the actual DCU (Please check out The Nice House on the Lake and W0rldTr33!!) but I LOVED the mechanics in the TBWL spin-off as well, with Dark Metal as this incursion into our world.

2. Murder Falcon by Daniel Warren Johnson

While not actually a DC story, this story informed a lot of Oren's character with the emphasis of Metal music as a vehicle of hope and raw expression. I'm in love with both the raw emotion of the story and scrappy, yet lovingly rendered art.

3. The Death of Hawkman by Marc Andreyko

This is the story that introduced to me all the potential of a Rannian/Thanagarian duo between Adam Strange and Carter hall, even if Adam Strange is from Earth, he very much identifies with Rann. Basically the reason Oren came about as a character was, I once received a blog ask that was like, "What's your ideal Teen Titans lineup?" and I said, "Well no matter what I want Aleea Strange on it because she's never been developed past being a child and a vehicle for her parents' angst, so I'd like to see her actually have a coming of age story." And then my brain immediately went, "AND she has a Thanagarian love interest." And thus Oren was born. Boren.

4. Justice League Episodes 41-42: "The Terror Beyond."

AKA "I now have an excuse to incorporate as much cosmic horror as I want into Oren's writing."

5. Justice League Episodes 50-52: "Starcrossed"

Look: I'll be honest: I'm just straight up scared to even begin to get into Hawkman/Hawkgirl/Hawkwoman's absolute shitshow of comics continuity. I'm still trying to figure out what comics to read to untangle that Gordian knot, but in the meantime, this three episode arc is Good Hawkgirl Angst and it still informs a lot of the vibes I get from Thanagar in the comics as I move through them, which is, "Beefing with this many people at once is simply not sustainable, Thanagar."

6. Adam Strange: Between Two Worlds

This compiles some wildly tonally different Adam Strange runs but as a result gives you a pretty solid overview on Rann and how it's fucked up.

[anitalianfrie]

Right so what's up with MotoGP omegaverse?

so, this should be the moment where i admit i don't even remember half of the guys competing because i started after the end of the season and i laser-focused on the marquez brothers and the italian guys. Anyway, I'm not going to give you a list of who i think is what, because we're here to talk about DYNAMICS. thoughts under the cut because i got a bit ranty.

So, motorsports are an hypermasculine enviroment, every single one of them. Think how bad it gets when you are riding death machines at 200kph that will try to kill you at every turn. You have to be strong you have to be aggresive you have to be a real man you have to fuck a lot (i'm not sure how this translates to being able to ride motorcycles but i also never claimed to be in the head of somebody really stupid) = you have to be an alpha. So of course for the longest time only alphas where considered strong enough to ride properly. Betas? too weak, not aggressive enough. Omegas? they can hold the umbrellas, maximum. They are too submissive, they will never overtake an alpha, they will lay down and show their neck to be mated right then and there when the alphas should do their real manly racingTM.

This of course doesn't take in account the fact that kids will start riding minibikes waaayyy before showing their second gender (in their puberty) so. Beta riders are most definitely there, and once stereotypes around omegas start to subside in the family sphere (thank you omega activists) and parents allow their omega kids to continue racing, omegas are there too.

Which doesn't mean that betas and omegas (in particular the latter) aren't treated horribly and always underestimated. A couple of omega champions (Jorge and Marc) change a bit the perspective, but the rosquez divorce sets everything back to 50 years. (No, i'm joking. Mostly. Just know that the rosquez divorce here is bad. really bad) Still, in the paddock there isn't much equality: alphas are almost always half of the grid, if not more, followed in numbers by betas and then omegas.

Are relationships between riders incentivized? OF COURSE NAWT, because those evil cunning omegas will try to make the big, strong alphas loose their focus from the championships with their evil ways. And betas are not even considered, because a true alpha rider will only fuck a traditional, stay-at-home omega that will raise their pups while he throws himself down the circuits at 200kph on the other side of the world. (you know, like true alphas do). And of course omegas are expected to not get pregnant because they're an investiment for the team and the least they can do is not getting a pup bred inside them and ruin the championship for everyone. As you might imagine, omegas get offered waayyy less contracts than alphas and betas.

I said before that i wasn't going to say who's what because i've put down like, maybe five riders, but i changed my mind, so.

Jorge is an omega, as per @whatwepostintheshadows amazing post, as is Marc. Vale is an alpha, more on those two here. Dani i'm not really sure, because I can see him both as an alpha and a beta, always criticized for not being alpha enough/not agressive/strong enough. Alex is probably a beta. Enea is probably an alpha (is this purely based on his nickname being "la bestia"? maybe. I'm open to discussions about him). And for the academy, I'm sure of pecco being a beta, but i'm not sure about anybody else.

Suggestions/ideas in the askbox and/or dms about this are highly appreciated please do come to talk to me about this :)))

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I’ll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } one very important - almost deleted - voicemail, leads marc to reunite with emma much sooner than any of the system anticipated. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x marc spector, emma harper x steven grant && emma harper x jake lockley { content: } homeless shelter, "angel" rescues, angst { I guess? I don’t know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfortesque { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I’ve done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. homelessness. abuse/abusive parents. typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of emma’s psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned { author’s note: } after I finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction it inspired me to work on an idea I’d been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. this series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. { special dedication: } I don't usually do this but speaking of fen @my-secret-shame, originally I wasn't going to release this one until I came back from hiatus -- but this one is for you lovebug. my heart couldn't bear leaving you on that cliffhanger when I saw your comment today. there's also a special little easter egg in here JUST for you. you'll know it when you see it. ((; { word count: } 1,497 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

“H-hi Marc, it’s Emma – I just wanted to let you know that they let me out, I—I don’t have a phone, Tom told me my service is off? He’s the man at the shelter? I guess my mom said I couldn’t come home…I was hoping you could maybe come see me, if you can…I—I know you probably can’t—anyway, I don’t know the telephone number here, but I guess I’ll try call you again later—they told me this place is called Hope’s Holy Heart, in case you wanted to visit—okay, bye…”

He hadn’t answered the phone – not recognizing the number.

And he almost didn’t even check the voicemail either, but something told him to – just in case.

As he listens to it play back, panic swells in his chest.

“Shit!” He hisses, listening to it again, this time furiously scribbling down any information she gives and then saving the voicemail – again, just in case.

“I knew—I fucking knew…” He mutters in fury as he searches for the shelter’s address and then puts it into his GPS.

He’s so angry he practically shakes, the anxiety over something happening to her only exacerbating that particular symptom.

He slips on his jacket and grabs his keys, clutching them so tightly they dig into his palm. Not giving it a second thought, even as Jake wakes up in his mind.

‘What is it, Marc—what happened?’

Marc doesn’t hold back any of the rage he’s feeling as he rushes down to their car almost mowing down one of their neighbors in his path in the process.

“She’s at a fucking homeless shelter—they released her and her fucking mother wouldn’t let her come home—she doesn’t even have a working phone—”

Jake sighs heavily in his mind, ‘okay—alright just calm down—’

“Calm down?!”

Steven perks up, chiming in, ‘seeing you like this isn’t going to help her, mate—’

‘Maybe you should let me drive,’ Jake suggests.

“Not a chance—she called me.”

‘Alright—alright, just try to slow it down a bit, Marc—she’s gonna need you to have your head on straight.’ Steven tries to sound as soothing as possible.

Forty-five minutes later he finds himself in a parking lot surrounded by a pretty rundown neighborhood. Again, the idea of her being turned out on her own, given her present state in a place like this causes his adrenaline to surge.

He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a couple deep breaths, and a quick heel of his hand to the side of his head, and gets out of the car.

There is a small group of people outside the main entrance smoking cigarettes as he makes his way in.

A small woman with round glasses greets him and he quickly explains he’s here to see someone who came today from a nearby hospital.

“She said a man named Tom was helping her.”

He’s told that she’ll go find him, “wait here.”

Minutes later, a tall thin man comes to meet him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah—a friend called and told me she was staying here, came from a mental hospital—Emma Harper?” Marc cuts straight to the point, giving detail so that the man standing before him knows he actually knows her.

Tom lightly tests him, having come to understand Emma’s situation a little better, “what did you say your name was?”

“Marc.”

“Right, she’s told me all about you, I’ll go get her.” Tom almost breathes a sigh of relief, hoping that this person might be willing to let her stay with him.

Not long after, Tom leads Emma back out to the front – Emma, who immediately all but runs and jumps into Marc’s arms. Now that she’s allowed to, she thinks to herself.

This, causes Marc to breathe a sigh of relief as he wraps her in his arms, cradling her head against him.

“Are you okay?” He murmurs into her shoulder.

Emma withdraws enough to face him and shrugs her shoulders up to her ears slowly.

“They told me—” She pauses, forgetting what she was going to say or where her train of thought was even going.

Tom clears his throat, “we only have a spot for her for the night—is there anyone you know that she could stay with temp—"

“She can stay with me…” Marc speaks over him, not letting him finish.

The taller man does offer a relieved smile, even though neither Emma nor Marc are looking at him – instead, caught staring at each other.

In her mind, she reads it as a miracle – her angel rescuing her again – and smiles at him softly.

Marc only reaches to cradle her jaw, gently asking, “where are your things?”

“My things?” She repeats in confusion.

Tom interjects again, “truth be told, she didn’t arrive with much more than what she’s wearing, I know she’s got a phone and what looked to be like a journal – aside from paperwork.”

Marc can feel the anger only simmer in him stronger, removing his jacket and making to set it protectively over her shoulders.

His eyes stay softly on Emma, even with the crease between his brows, “where is it?”

“In a plastic bag – I can go get it if Emma doesn’t mind, I kept it in my office – things have a habit of going missing…”

Marc nods, “why don’t you go with him? I’ll wait right here.”

Emma nods with him before following Tom back into the back.

Marc sighs heavily, mumbling quietly to the others, “she’s got nothing guys…”

‘We should at least get her some pajamas, so she doesn’t have to sleep in street clothes.’ Steven suggests, voice riddled with concern.

‘Si—and we need to get that phone activated.’ Jake adds.

“We’re gonna need to call in some reinforcements…” Marc mutters.

At the same time all three of them agree, “Mati.”

It’s around that time that Emma reappears with the same plastic bag that’s standard mental hospital issue.

Tom reaches out to shake Marc’s hand, “thank you for this—I’d hate to see her end up— well— I’m glad it worked out…”

Marc shakes his hand, “thanks for getting her to—me…”

He then takes Emma’s hand and walks her out to their car.

“I was thinking we could stop and get you some pajamas—”

“Steven…” Emma corrects, holding his hand snugly, noting to herself how nice it feels around hers. But then – you probably weren’t supposed to feel that way about your guardian angels.

Marc can’t help the soft grin, “Steven.”

They stop at a few stores on the way home to get her the basics – toiletries, pajamas, a sweatshirt, a couple staple clothing items.

The process affords him a little comfort that he’s helping in a tangible sort of way.

Once they make it back, Marc suggests she take a shower to help her feel better.

She decides it’s a good idea, saying something about cleaning off the evil energies – and to a point, Marc can’t help but agree.

He hangs out near the door to the bathroom in case something happens but far enough that she can’t hear the phone call he makes to their best friend.

“You brought her home?!” Mat exclaims on the other end of the line.

“What did you want me to do Mati -- her mother is a monster—she kicked her out during psychosis after doing god knows what to her for years...”

Mat immediately sighs, “yeah, you're right, I would've done the same thing...”

“Thank you...so are you gonna help or not?” Marc presses impatiently.

“I’ll be over in ten…”

It’s about then that the water shuts off in the bathroom.

He has trouble tearing himself away, worried that she’ll need him, and he won’t be there, but forces himself into the kitchen.

‘If ‘er mother already turned the phone service off—you don’t s’pose we’d get lucky that she’s still got health care?’

Marc immediately drops his head, scrubbing a hand down in face with an exasperated whisper of a, “fuck!”

‘I don’t think you’re helping, hermano…’

‘I’m just thinking is all…trying to be prepared, aren’t I?’

Emma makes her way out of the bathroom then, in fresh pajamas, playing with her fingers as she steps into the kitchen.

“Is everything okay, Marc?” She asks, her voice small.

He pulls his head out of his hand, reassuring her with a quiet smile, “yeah—it will be.”

Emma nods with a frown of understanding, rolling her lips in.

“Why don’t I put a movie on and Steven can lecture me on how to make you a ‘proper’ cup of tea?” He teases, trying to ease her worries.

She nods again, but waits for him to take the lead – it being his home and all.

She swallows, suggesting hopefully, “Ever seen Anastasia?”

15 minutes later she’s settled on the couch with a comforter wrapped around her, mug in hand, and Mat finally arrives.

[xhollandlilsx]

Red Card - (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Concept- Leah and Y/N have been broken up for months, but things kick off when Leah gets jealous during the game against Y/Ns team.

Warnings - Injuries.

People, break up and makeup.

They fallout, fix it, kiss and carry on. But for Leah and I, we had done that for the last time. We ended things for good a little over 3 months ago, agreeing that we couldn’t keep on the way we were. The constant arguing, the overprotection from Leah and towards the end the lack of trust.

After my signing for Manchester United, after being the top goal scorer in the league, that’s when everything started to go downhill, fans would release photos of Alessia and I, saying how cute of a couple we would be, or fake stories about how a ‘close source’ had admitted we were seeing eachother, despite Leah and I being open about our relationship. It all got too much for the two of us, so I travelled down to London, and we both came to a decision.

It took me over a month to feel a little bit like myself again, Lucy was my saving grace throughout, I had been friends with her since our parents used to go on holidays and we’d find any grass we could and kick the ball back and forth, showing off. She FaceTimed me nearly every day, and forced me to get up.

**********

“You got everything in that bag, Mary Poppins?” Ella asked as I walked over toward where some of the girls were waiting outside the coach, I let a smirk cross my face and patted the duffel bag I had on my shoulder.

“Alright, leave my bag alone. I like to be prepared for anything.” I replied with a shrug and stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“What, like a natural disaster? You got a lifetime of food in there?” She laughed slightly as I raised my middle and index finger, telling her to fuck off.

“We all ready?” Marc asked holding a clipboard and looking over all of us like we were kids on a school trip.

“Are you ready?” Ona asked, whispering slightly to me as she was stood behind me, I knew why she’d asked, because of who we were travelling to play. Arsenal.

I smiled a thin lipped smile before following Tooney onto the coach, sitting next to her as Alessia and Mary sat the other side. I tried to drown out the thoughts that were now flooding my mind, and the anxiety that made me feel sick at the thought of even seeing her face again.

I threw my headphones in and threw my pre game playlist on, it mostly consisted of rock, rage against the machine, AC/DC, Def Leppard so on and so forth.

I crossed my arms over my chest and closed my eyes, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone so they’d start a conversation.

*********

The 4 hour coach journey wasn’t too bad, I’d managed to somewhat calm my nerves, doing some affirmations, repeating to myself that I’m Y/N fucking Y/L/N. What have I got to be nervous about?

The coach pulled up in the carpark and I could see fans waiting behind the fences next to us, my eyes scanned them as I saw a fair amount of United shirts, I smiled and waved before walking over, something we weren’t supposed to do, but I hated the fact they’d waited there for us and nobody’s going over.

They all near screamed when I went over, I smiled and shook a few hands, saying a few hi’s, taking photos and signing one persons shirt. One of the Arsenal security men did come over and try to usher me inside faster.

“You’re such a softy for fans” Ella smiled slightly as she sat on the bench in the changing rooms putting her shin pads and socks on. I kept my puffer jacket on, the badge still over my heart, and my joggers with my initials and number 11 on them. I threw my shins on under my joggers and threw my socks and spare boots on. I rolled my socks right down so they were bunched around my ankles and tied my laces.

“Well I don’t like ignoring them. They came all this way to support us. And waited, it’s cold Ella” I laughed slightly before standing up and pulling the shorter girl with me. I wasn’t too tall, sitting at 5’7, which was a good average compared to some.

“In all seriousness, you ready?” She asked as we walked out of the tunnel toward the other end of the pitch to warm up both carrying our bottles. The Arsenal players were already out here warming up on the opposite side. It took everything in me not to look over, to look for her. I restrained myself, knowing eventually I’d have to see her, being a forward, but as of now, I need to pretend she’s not there. Keep my focus.

“I’m fine El. Grab a ball.” I nodded to her as Alessia walked over too, the three of us throwing our bottle off to the side while we waited for the rest of our team to come out and for one of the trainers.

We started kicking it in a triangle, talking as the stand filled up, I threw my hands in my pockets of my coat as I could feel them starting to freeze, only taking them out to smooth out my hair, my well known two braids into a bun.

“Okay girls, two lines behind the cones” We warmed up, all just taking the piss out of eachother, usual banter for us, before heading back inside the tunnel and to the changing room.

**********

We got into position after Marc announced the starting eleven. As usual I was upfront, we had kick off so I stood with the ball at my feet, my arms freezing off, but knowing I’d warm up after a while, as I love running laps around players.

The whistle blew and the game was off, I passed to Katie, who held it and waited for the Arsenal players to get stuck in. I found myself stood next to Laura, as I nudged her playfully, I had played for Arsenal for years, they were still like a family to me, and I stayed good friends with a few of them, especially Beth and Viv, it was difficult for them not to ask Leah and I about eachother but they tried their best.

“Ella. Ella!” I shouted to her as we were waiting for McCabe to take the throw in, my voice carrying, and harsh, I always sounded angry and authorative, the winger looked at me as I motioned for her to fall back slightly, to which she did, but when the throw in was taken she threw it to Viv who was unmarked, someone who should’ve been picked up by a defender, “Hey where were we?!”

I watched as Ona dealt with it and passed to Ella who carried it as far as she could up the pitch, before passing to me as I was running with her, I wasn’t vain or anything but I knew I was faster than any of the defenders at Arsenal, I was a fast runner to say the least.

I began to dribble forward towards where Zinsberger was waiting with open arms, when I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye, and a slide tackle came at me, I knew exactly who it was, so when I saw her about to go down for it, I chipped the ball up and jumped forward over her, fast thinking, the thinking that got me nominated for a fair amount of awards. Once clear of her I kicked the ball into the top left corner, only cheering once I knew it had hit the net.

I felt Alessia run over and jump on my back, she had been running with me the entire time, just marked. I smiled and cheered as the fans erupted. I set her down as Tooney came running over and high fived me. I ran back into position high fiving a few of my team on the way, my eyes wandering to her, she looked like she was trying to hide her anger, as she walked back into her position, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. I still felt that anxious feeling but it wasn’t so bad anymore. She was staring at where Alessia’s hand was still on my shoulder.

My heart hurt though, regardless of what happened when we were together or how long we’ve been apart, I still loved her. My heart beat for that girl. That was until the 86th minute, when that flash of red took me off my feet in one of the dirtiest tackles I’d ever seen. Leah could be quite aggressive at times, but I never thought she’d pull something like this, no matter how angry she was.

I felt the air get knocked out of me as I rolled onto my back trying to breathe. Searing pain coming from my side, I felt someone land at my side, Alessia. I was slightly panicking. I had been winded before but never like this. I glanced at the blonde defender once where she stood with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth, not realising what she’d just done in blind rage.

The ref called for the medics as a few of the Arsenal players pulled Leah away and were all shocked at her behaviour. I covered my face with my arm as I tried to take at least one breath that wasn’t cut short.

“Y/N, I’m just gonna lift your shirt is that okay?“ The medic asked as she crouched down beside me, I nodded still not being able to speak, and gripping Alessia’s hand for dear life.

They pulled my shirt up their knuckle grazing my side ever so slightly making me let out a strangled yell, catching the attention of most players on the pitch, everyone looking over wanting to know what the damage was.

“Yeah..” The medic sighed, before waving the others over and signalling for them to get the stretcher. I couldn’t move my torso at the moment, my eyes watered knowing I’d be out for a while, as I let my head fall to the side seeing Leah stood there wiping her eyes, pushing anyone away who tried to touch her.

*********

“Knock knock” I heard someone announce before walking in, it was Ella, she stood there with a sympathetic smile and a bunch of flowers. I smiled and shook my head, “I’ve come take you home”

“Thankyou” I nodded sitting up, hissing in pain, and reaching for my shirt, seeing as though I was just in a sports bra and a big patch of gauze and tape on the right side of my torso. I could see some of the immediate bruising peeking over the top of it.

“How you feeling?” She asked as I stood up from the bed, holding my shirt in my hand.

“Like my ex just fractured two of my ribs.” I sighed with a slight smile, if I didn’t laugh I’d cry.

“Yeah, that was behind anything I’d seen before Y/N/N.” She shrugged, as another knock came from the door and Ella opened it, her face falling as she nodded for the blonde to come in.

“You’ve got some nerve” I shook my head as Ella slipped out of the room without another word obviously not wanting to be in the middle.

“I know, Y/N I’m so sorry I-“

“Sorry ain’t fixing this Leah. Sorry was when you’d accuse me of sleeping with Alessia. Sorry was when you’d call me when angry and drunk at 3am, this isn’t sorry Leah.” I shook my head as she looked down at my torso, where the abs I was so proud of were slightly covered. Her face going pale at the sight of the gauze.

“I know… I messed up, I did and I don’t know how I can fix it.”

“You can’t.” I reached for my shirt and pulled it on wincing and trying to control my breathing while pulling it down, I let out a sigh as she looked down, before looking out the window at the street lights, the time sitting at around 11pm, “I can’t play for 6 weeks.”

My eyes watered, as her face contorted into a look of pain and guilt as she looked away closing her eyes, she knew how much football meant to me. I lived and breathed it.

“I can’t play, and it’s your fault Leah. My god, you know I wanted to talk to you after the game. To tell you, I don’t even know what I wanted to tell you anymore. But now? Leah, in the past 4 months you’ve taken away the only two things my heart beats for…”

“Two?”

“Just go” I shook my head and turned away from her, I heard some shuffling and a pause before, the door opened and closed, allowing me to finally let the tears flow.

Part 2?

[fall0utmind]

Hello!!

I have been having lots of fun reading your takes and everyone else's on the abo trope and pls ignore this if You don't like mpreg but My brain couldnt help itself and went, what if Valentino bit Marc in a rut back in 2014-2015 but instead he just gets this more intense emotional connection to Marc (he essentialy just wants Marc for himself) but Sepang Divorce happens and they break up and Vale just tries to ignore the one sided bond but suddenly through the grapevine he learns(Maybe it's 2025 after Marc won the ninth) that Marc is taking a year long break to have a kid.

Cue his brain going "That kid is NOT MINE", and he just decides to confront Marc about His perceived infidelity in full Alpha possesive rage only to learnt after coming into Marcs motorhome idk full guns blazing that Marc is looking for a Sperm donor and Rossi realizes that "Hey, WE may have fucked our relationship beyond any possibility of a good ending but maybe i could get my instincts to chill the fuck down if i impregnate him?" Fast forward to Valentino pestering Marc to let him be the other parent with argumentos like the baby being practicaly a motorcycle demigod if it had both of them as parents .

Ignore this obviously i just thought of it and wanted to share it with you. Sorry if it's poorly written as english is not my 1st language

PD: it would be hilarious if Marc told him angrily, after Rossi starts being annoying about the baby's potential father, that he would rather have Lorenzo, Dovi, Pedrosa, Pecco, etc as potential fathers than him

Holy shit anon,

I have never really delved into the world of Mpreg but man this is something!!!!!!!

Marc having a baby by choice?? In 2025-6? Love it.

Obsessed with the idea that Vale has just been holding this one-sided bond (?) Or at least not fully complete bond for a decade!!!! Crazy, very on brand, especially with the inevitable possessiveness that it causes. I can defo see Valentino being all like, well, I don't want him now. He's evil. but also, no one else can touch him, I will rip your arm off - he's basically very jealous, yknow? Again very on brand that Valentino would perceive marc having a child with someone else as infidelity when they aren't dating! Very Rosquez

I can imagine Valentino being like alright I'll be the dad and marc just being like well fuck. Vale walking around, chest puffed out, like i am a great mate. Trying to prove to marc that he would be a good mate?!?! Basically, wooing him. Hilarious idea. Marc thinking that this is an awful idea, but I dont have the strength to say no, and so he agrees (Alex tells him he's stupid).

Could you imagine how much of a little shit their baby would be, though?? Would it be hell on earth? Yes😭

Absolutely insane idea, I love it anon

[moonshynecybin]

love your amnesia au… i can see the vision marc like. okay clearly some shit went down BUT he can only deal with so many major crises right now SO! latches on to vale with unmatched determination. (had a horrible realization that even alex! is probably SO different… like he’s still marc’s brother and they’re still so close but. so much has happened 18 & 21 is sooooo different than 28 & 31 even without taking post-sepang into account.)

also. always supporting vale’s realization that people have dimensionsssss… easy to tell himself marc has always EVIL!! almost ten years down the line. not so easy when he’s getting the FULL big laughs shiny eyes sunflower-to-the-sun marc treatment… thank you for sharing your thoughts know i am kicking my feet in delight every time i go through rosquez (and other) thoughts on your blog

my fav part of this au is that it destabilizes them both pretty crazily. perhaps enough to get the train to leave the ego station which is literally always the challenge with them. like marc is a guy that likes his life and LOVES his people and a scenario where every bit of that is if not changed then altered would make him. lose it. put him in an instantaneous speed run of 2020-2024? he finds out his arm is fucked and he’s at GRESINI? his parents are divorced and he’s living in MADRID ? like he literally does not have the emotional bandwidth to confront/research anything about 2015 initially he’s just like well. i don’t know about that city stuff i just want vale to be my boyfriend. familiar safe comforting maybe retired maybe older maybe less sideburns but that same crooked smile… and then of course as time passes there’s hints and videos and reddit forums and comments and the entire rosquez media machine that is kind of hard to ignore about their feud and it builds and builds as he gets closer to vale, but at that point maybe they’re stong enough that he doesn’t even care that much, even as his memories trickle back to him (vale notably. cares. to him this is like the biggest thing ever and he’s buggin, but MARC is about 5000x more worried about his arm cuz like. arm. racing. winning. and vale’s right next to him all the time so 2015 couldn’t have been THAT bad…) so by the time his brain is normal (SLOW process) he’s got this backlog of a couple months of vale being nice to him again… BUTTTT maybe he doesn’t tell vale for a bit because he’s like. well he feels this for amnesiac me not actual me. and we’re right back to square one

as for vale. jenny holzer said it best: