#marc spector male reader fanfiction

[melodygatesauthor]

Feeling You Can't Fight - Chapter Three

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - Pride Event Fic 🏳️‍🌈

Written for the @flightlessangelwings pride event - (Yes this was written for the 2023 pride event and I'm trying to finish it before pride 2024 I'M SORRY).

Summary (Entire Fic Summary)

After replacing the loathsome former staff manager of the National Art Gallery in London, you find yourself all too interested in one of your employees in particular. Manager and employee relationships aren't allowed, and even if they were, you aren't sure if the nervous gift shoppist would be interested in you anyway. There's only one way to find out...

Reader Inclusivity

Reader is not race coded, is a cis man, taller than MK by a few inches, British, ex military, has a big peen

Tags/Warnings (for entire series)

NSFW, writer is NOT from the UK so please be gentle, I did my best with UK terms and such, smut, anal sex, oral sex, anal creampies, cum eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, Marc has DID, reader has mild PTSD, PTSD symptoms, trauma responses, semi-public sex, praise kink, fluff, comfort, angst, romance, love, forbidden relationship (boss and employee), minor physical violence.

Word Count: 3.1k

“Wait love wait!”

The entire demeanor of the man in front of you changed into the sweet, caring man that you were smitten with. You let go of him, stepping back and looking down at him with a furrowed brow. You felt your heart racing as your fight or flight kicked in. Steven looked nervous as he stepped forward, pressing his palm to your broad chest.

“D-darling I…well…we have something we want to share with you and I thought that if we’re getting more serious then…no time like the present yeah?”

“Steven…what’s going on?” You were trying not to express your irritation with him, but your balled fists gave you away.

“M’gonna let Marc tell you everything but you have to promise not to hurt him, yeah?” Steven looked up at you, brows turned up and knitted together as he awaited your answer.

He gulped, rubbing your clothed pecks with his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your button-down. He tried smiling at you, biting his bottom lip. You didn’t like making Steven so frightened so you let out a deep exhale. If he wasn’t scared or in danger, then you didn’t need to be so on edge. You nodded slowly.

Steven let out a deep breath, “right then, gonna let him out now.”

You watched in awe as Steven’s eyes rolled back in his head and then his body changed again. He stood a little taller, and his expression appeared a little darker. The man breathed deeply, looking up at you before pulling his hand off your body as though he’d been burned. He averted his gaze. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks get a little more rosy.

“What the fuck is happenin’?” You asked in a serious tone.

“Look, I told Steven you weren’t ready for this conversation but he insisted we have it so…here we are. He said it was gettin’ serious with you and he didn’t want any more secrets between you two,” he cleared his throat nervously, “my name is Marc Spector.” The man shrugged, “I guess the easiest way to tell you is to just get it out there so…I have an identity disorder as a result of my childhood trauma.”

You both stood silently for a moment while you absorbed the information. You recalled your time in the British Armed Forces, and some of the horrific things you’d seen. Trauma caused the brain to do amazing things; Things that were difficult to explain sometimes. You understood trauma well. You looked at Marc’s face, seeing the seriousness behind his eyes. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some guy trying to mess with you, or pull a fast one on you. This was a man who had been through something horrible, or several horrible things, and it caused his mind to tear at the seams.

You nodded in understanding, “alright, yeah, I don’t know everything there is to know about identity disorders but, I’ve got some mental issues of my own mate, keep goin’.”

Marc nodded and exhaled in relief, “well, my…our mom…”

You put a hand on Marc’s shoulder, “s’fine, you don’t have to explain it t’me.”

“I…Steven, wants me to, he wants you to know, and he’s right…I need to be the one to tell you, because I’m the one who was there.” He looked away from you and at the floor, “our mom used to beat me, she hated me.”

You squeezed Marc’s shoulder gently. His head jolted up, glossed eyes meeting with yours. He shook his head, as though he were begging you not to make him continue.

“I meant what I said, and I’m talkin’ to Steven too…you don’t have to explain this t’me. I understand.”

“Fuck,” Marc said, turning away from you and covering his face in his hands.

I was awkward as hell to stand there while Marc cried, but you were glad he was getting it off his chest. You wondered if he’d ever shared this with anyone, or if it was only you. Either way, you knew he wasn’t sharing for his own sake, but instead for Steven’s, and you could respect that. When you look back now, you think that on the same day you met Marc, was the day you fell in love with him too, but you didn’t realize it yet.

“There’s another one too,” Marc looked at the water glass on the table.“Steven, I have to tell him.” You watched the - from your perspective - one sided conversation between Marc and Steven. “You didn’t want to keep this a secret but you want to keep him a secret? St–” Marc grumbled and then looked at you, “I’m telling you, even though Steven doesn’t want me to.”

“Tellin’ me what?”

“Jake is the third one of us. You may never meet him, but he’s here nonetheless,” Marc let out a sharp exhale, “We don’t really see him much either, but…the three of us get along…kinda.”

“Well, if he’s part of Steven’s life, then I look forward to meeting him,” you gave Marc a kind smirk.

You watched Marc’s entire body language change. It wasn’t like before when he switched from Steven to himself, but instead, it looked like his entire body relaxed with your reassurance. Marc looked like he might collapse and start crying again right then and there. You wondered when the last time he’d talked to someone about this was…if he’d ever talked to someone about this.

“Damn. That was…easier than I thought. You took that surprisingly well,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smirk.

“Had a boatload of therapy,” you shrugged, “I learnt long ago that you can’t really tell how the mind is gonna deal with trauma.” You thought now was as good a time as any to change the subject, seeing that Marc was getting uncomfortable again. “So are you…do you like…” you pointed to yourself. Of course you would hop from one uncomfortable topic to another.

Marc’s eyes shot wide once he realized what you were suggesting, “no, no, I like women, one hundred percent.”

Marc crossed his arms and cleared his throat nervously.

“But this, Steven and me, that doesn’t bother you?” You asked.

“Oh, oh, no. Steven’s happy, and the way I see it, that’s the only thing that matters,” Marc’s lips managed to curl into a smirk.

You could tell he cared about Steven, and so the two of you had that much in common, but that wasn’t the last time you saw Marc. You saw him again when you and Steven got into your first argument. It wasn’t anything serious, but it seemed to upset Steven enough to force him into the headspace.

The argument was stupid, and if you were being honest, it was a little funny. Steven walked into your office one afternoon, closing the door behind himself. He was stammering, as he often did when he was thinking about what he wanted to say faster than the words could come out. You chuckled, standing up and walking over to him, cupping his face.

“S’alright love, just tell me what’s wrong,” you brushed your thumb over his stubbled cheek.

“Gettin’ fed up with Linda not pickin’ up her mess in the break room,” Steven groaned, “I know s’not a big deal, not really, but I told her three times to pick up after herself and she still acts like a right slob.”

“Steven, that’s not really somethin’ I deal with,” you said as he huffed out a frustrated breath.

“I know, sometimes I just want to complain a bit, yeah?”

“C’mere,” you said, motioning with your finger.

He walked back over to you and pressed his face into your chest, “I’m irritated.”

You wrapped your arms around him, “I know darling,” you pushed him back at arm’s length, but I know something that might help.”

Steven had joked about wanting to blow you under your desk, but he’d never actually done it yet. In fact, he hadn’t blown you before at all. He acted like you were doing him a favor when you sat down in your big office chair with your legs spread out and his face between them. The way his eyes went wide with excitement and he started drooling you would’ve thought he was the one getting a blowjob.

He looked hungry, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of your pants as he released your cock from its confines. He always - always - made a comment about how big you were. His eyes crossed as your dick lined up between them, and he seemed breathless despite not yet having done anything at all.

“Steven, darling, might be too big f’you to fit in your mouth, it’s alright if you don’t want to.”

He looked up at you, putting a hand on either of your thighs.

“I want to,” he said softly.

Steven licked a stripe up your length, forcing your cock to twitch in response. You grabbed the arms of your chair as he repeated the gesture. You bucked your hips upward involuntarily. Steven giggled and looked up at you.

“Ooh, needy…” He wrapped his fingers around your girth, pumping up and down slowly, “you’re a bit leaky too love.”

“Are you gonna keep teasin’ me, or are you gonna be a good boy and take this thing like you were made to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven nodded with a shaky breath, smile fading at your words. You felt bad being so verbally rough with him sometimes, but you knew he enjoyed it. Whenever the two of you were in bed together it was like flipping a switch, making him hard in an instant. You slid down further in your chair, moving one of your hands to the back of his curly head.

He licked up your length again before taking the head in his mouth. You shuddered seeing Steven’s lips stretched around your fat dick. It seemed like he really was made to take it, sliding over the length as though his gag reflex was nonexistent. You exhaled sharply, feeling the way his tongue rolled over the underside of your shaft.

“Oh god Steven, takin’ me so well love, that’s it, just like t-that,” you pushed him down over you even more, “you tap my knee if it’s too much darling, don’t wanna hurt you.”

You felt his throat contract around you. There was still more to go, and you wanted nothing more than to see your entire dick disappear inside his precious mouth. You brushed a thumb over his cheek.

“Relax your throat, Steven, open up f’me,” you felt his muscles relax and you were able to push in further. “That’s it, that’s my good boy.”

Steven moaned over your length as he started bobbing his head in a delicious rhythm. He took one hand off your thighs and you heard the clank of his belt while he started freeing his own cock. The sound of him jerking himself could just barely be heard over the sound of him choking on your dick.

He looked up at you with affectionate and tear glossed eyes when you carded your hand through his hair. You bit your bottom lip and started rolling your hips slowly forward into his mouth, brushing your pubes against his nose as he took every single inch you had to offer.

“Steven, you sure you’ve never done this before?” Your entire body trembled, “s-so good…”

You heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. You both froze.

“Steven, you locked the door, yeah?”

Steven, in fact, hadn’t locked the door.

Steven made himself as hidden as he could in the space under your desk, where the intruder wouldn’t be able to see him. You rolled up as close as you could get without crushing him in there. John, your boss, walked in, smiling big. He stepped over, putting a hand on the varnished surface of the desk, leaning in to talk to you.

“Hey! Just stoppin’ in to tell you I think you’re doin’ great, and those reports you sent me yesterday…perfect.” He patted your shoulder and you jumped in response.

You felt Steven between your legs trying to put your cock back in your pants, but struggling given its current…state. You were close before while he had it buried in his throat, and that hadn’t changed in the seconds that had gone by. You were still close, and him moving it around wasn’t helping that issue. You kept your eyes on John, but tried like hell to push Steven’s hands and face away from you, but to no avail.

“Well I’m…oh…” you cleared your throat, “I’m glad you l-liked them.”

Steven didn’t get the hint, he was still sliding his hand over your length, trying to get it back inside your boxers. You couldn’t try very hard to stop him, or it would be obvious you were trying to do something under your desk, so you stopped trying, and just hoped that John would leave before…oh god.

You slammed your hand on the desk, “f-fuck!”

To John, you must’ve looked insane, like you were staring at him wide-eyed and shouting for no apparent reason. To you and Steven, you were coming, hot ropes of your spend hitting your boyfriend in the face under the desk. You managed to keep yourself from saying anything too telling, and you kept your breathing level…as level as you could.

“Fuck I forgot to sign the agreement for the…the uhhh–”

“Oh! For the new display going into the Ancient Egypt section of course! I’ll go get that right now!” John chuckled, “glad you remembered that, I’ll be right back.”

As he walked out, you rolled back in your chair to see Steven’s pretty face covered in globs of your spend. He looked pissed off, crawling out from under the desk and grabbing a few tissues from your desk to clean himself off.

“Darling, what’s wrong? You’re the one who–”

“You…did this…all over my face!”

“Love, I couldn’t help it, you kept touchin’ me and–”

“And,” he held a finger up, “and you could’ve locked the door before havin’ me do that in the first place!”

“Steven, you could’ve locked the door yourself when you walked–”

“I wasn’t plannin’ to come in here and do somethin’ like that now was I?”

You could see the embarrassment in his flush cheeks. He seemed exasperated, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. He wasn’t really mad at you, but you doubted you’d be getting another ‘under the desk’ blow job any time soon.

“Now your boss knows what we were doin’ and he’s gonna make you fire me and maybe he’ll even fire you and–”

“Stop…” you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“No!” he pushed you off of him, “no, m’not gonna let you just kiss this one away. We could’ve been caught, you’re reckless and this isn’t like me at all! I don’t do things like this!” Steven stormed out of your office, passing John on his way out.

That was it…that was the argument.

You supposed that with Steven never having really been in a relationship before, an argument with his first ever significant other could be upsetting, despite it being such a silly thing to argue over. Taking that into consideration, you decided to tread lightly when you got home, toeing off your shoes in the entryway of his flat when you arrived almost silently. That’s when you noticed that Marc was there, not Steven.

“Hey,” he said, tipping back the beer in his hand and then holding it up, “want one?”

You shook your head, “no thanks.”

It was like Steven had a roommate. At least…that’s how it felt. Marc was the more stern one, like he was the polar opposite of Steven, but you didn’t mind. You liked the company regardless. Marc was a good guy, you could just tell. After a couple of minutes talking about the weather, the two of you managed to get into something more serious. 

“You said you’ve been to therapy? Mind if I ask what for?” Marc took another swig of his beer.

“Uh, PTSD, spent a few years in the British Armed Forces and then got myself honorably discharged after…” you sniffed out a laugh, “maybe I will take that drink after all.”

After a few drinks, you and Marc were trading war stories and with it, your tales of trauma. You wondered how long it was going to take him to open up to you about why and how Steven came to be, but there Marc was, letting down his always stoic demeanor in order to open himself up to you.

He cried, and you opened your arms to him.

“No, no I told you I’m not…that’s not my thing…”

You laughed, “s’not a ‘thing’ to hug someone when they’re sad, Marc. C’mere…”

You tugged his jacket and pulled his rigid frame into your arms, wrapping them around him tightly. At first he was stiff, still mumbling some protests, but then you felt him exhale, like his entire body were a balloon being emptied of the air inside of it. That’s when the heavier sobs came, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your forearm.

“Steven is so good, and sometimes I think it would just be best if I don’t ever come out. Sometimes I think that the world would be a better place without me in it,” he said between heavy cries. He looked up at you, “Steven could be happy, and be with you all the time and–”

“Steven would miss you, Marc,” you looked into his eyes, seeing the pain he felt just made you want to hold him closer, but you knew that would only make it more awkward.

You didn’t have to worry about feeling awkward though, because he leaned up and slotted his lips over yours all on his own. You pulled back in surprise, wondering if he did that by mistake or not, or if Steven had decided to come back when you didn’ notice.

“S-Steven?” You asked, looking between his eyes rapidly.

He shook his head, “no, still me,” he said breathlessly, looking down at your mouth before pulling you in again.

You smiled against his lips, “how unexpected.”

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[romanarose]

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3

[bluecurses]

yet another moon knight smut fic

I'M BACK BITCHES

this was a gift for @shakieshakey

everyone say thank you laurence

gave the tin can another shake

a bot posted my fic before i did, wild

respect the hustle tho

[reveryfics]

Reflection

Pairings: Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Male reader

Summary: Steven comes to your door, panicked by recent events that's left him confused and unsure if the man in the mirror is really him staring back

A/n: It's about time I make some Moon Knight content. Requests are open as I continue to work on others.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The insistent hammering on the door shattered the fragile peace of the dim apartment, the panicked voice echoing through the silence like a desperate plea. Groaning, a figure huddled deeper beneath the worn-out robe, the cold air seeping through the thin fabric. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he swung the door open, revealing a face pale and drawn, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red.

"Steven?" he questioned, his voice rough with sleep.

Standing on the threshold, Steven looked like a ghost, his face a mask of pain and fear. A dirty bandage clung precariously to his hand, yet blood still seeped through, staining the worn fabric of his shirt. "I need help," he whispered, his voice trembling, an air of desperate uncertainty clinging to every syllable.

He was pulled inside, ushered through the dimly lit entryway and towards the worn-out couch. The flickering light of a bedside lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the room, revealing the extent of Steven's distress. He flinched away from the light, his body trembling as he sank onto the couch.

"Steven, what happened?" His friend's voice was gentle, laced with concern. He gently pushed a stray curl from Steven's forehead, his gaze searching the other man's face.

Steven took a shaky breath, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape from the mounting terror. "I… I think something's wrong with me," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, as if the very act of voicing his fears would make them real.

His friend, sensing the depth of his distress, gently urged him to talk, assuring him of his unwavering support. "You can tell me anything, Steven. I won't judge you, I won't think you're crazy."

And so, he began to speak, his voice a fragile thread against the suffocating silence. He described the terrifying gaps in his memory, the unsettling feeling of not recognizing the face staring back at him in the mirror, the chilling sensation of being a stranger in his own body.

"It's like… like something else is in control," he confessed, his voice cracking. "And I… I don't know what to do."

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over and tracing a path down his dust-streaked cheeks. His friend watched, his heart aching for him, utterly helpless in the face of this invisible torment. He had known Steven for years, the gentle, soft-spoken man who always wore his heart on his sleeve. To see him this broken, this utterly lost, was agonizing.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, his sobs subsiding into shallow breaths. He leaned against his friend, seeking the comfort of his presence, the familiar warmth a beacon in the storm of his despair. His friend, in turn, held him close, running a hand through his hair, whispering words of comfort, trying to offer a semblance of peace in the face of this terrifying unknown.

He gently laid Steven down on the couch, covering him with a worn-out blanket, and kissed his forehead. As he stood up, his gaze fell upon an old flip phone that had clattered to the floor. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his friend's body.

Flipping it open, he stared at the screen, a single name etched into his memory: Layla. He had never heard Steven mention that name before. A shiver ran down his spine. What had Steven gotten himself into?

He retreated to his bedroom, the questions swirling in his mind like a tempest. He opened his laptop, the cold glow of the screen illuminating his drawn face. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the search bar, indecision battling with an insatiable curiosity.

He finally succumbed to the urge, typing the name into the search bar. As the results began to appear, a chilling realization dawned upon him. This was no ordinary situation. This was something far more… dangerous.

He glanced back at the flip phone, the name "Layla" mocking him. He had never seen Steven like this before, consumed by fear and desperation. He had always been there for Steven, a constant in the ever-shifting sands of life. He wouldn't abandon him now, not when he needed him most.

Suddenly, the phone was snatched from his hand, the sudden movement startling him. He whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of Steven sitting up, a chilling intensity replacing the fear that had consumed him moments before.

"Steven?" he questioned, his voice trembling.

"Marc Spector," the man replied, his voice a low growl, "You weren't supposed to get involved."

"Involved?" he scoffed, "Steven's my friend. I'm already involved!"

Marc Spector rubbed his face, his gaze hard and calculating. "Let me explain."

"Then start talking, pretty boy," he retorted, his anger masking the fear that was clawing at his throat.

And so, Marc began to explain, his words weaving a tapestry of danger and intrigue, of hidden identities and a life lived on the edge. He spoke of a life lived in the shadows, of a man battling against forces beyond human comprehension. He spoke of a man named Steven Grant, a man who was struggling to maintain control, to keep the darkness at bay.

He listened, his mind reeling, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. The gaps in Steven's memory, the unsettling feeling of detachment, the terror in his eyes – it all made sense now.

"He doesn't know," Marc finished, his voice weary.

He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of Marc's revelation settling heavily upon his shoulders. "I can't tell Steven… I can't tell him he's… he's a personality in another man's body," he whispered, the words tasting like ashes in his mouth. "If you want to keep him safe, you have to do it yourself. Steven means everything to me. If he gets hurt because of… because of you, Konshu's healing ain't gonna do shit."

Marc was taken aback by the intensity of his words, the fierce protectiveness that radiated from him. He suddenly understood the fluttering in Steven's chest, the way he clung to him for comfort, the unspoken emotions that lingered between them.

"Fine," Marc conceded, a grudging respect dawning in his eyes.

"And uh," he added, a small, hesitant smile gracing his lips, "I'm here to help too. You seem like the type who insists he doesn't need it, but I'm still offering."

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the window, casting a warm glow across the room, Steven stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He groaned, disoriented, his memory a hazy fog. "How…" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

He sat up, his gaze falling upon Marc, who was still sitting on the edge of the couch, his face etched with exhaustion. He couldn't remember how he had ended up in the bed, only the chilling fear that had consumed him the night before. But for the first time, a flicker of hope, a sliver of uncertainty, replaced the suffocating despair.

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Spaces

Marc spector x gn!reader

Genre: angst, hurt comfort

Summary: Marc has a panic attack and some intrusive thoughts following a simple, innocent request from you.

Warnings: heavy angst and crying, suicidal ideation, mention of Nazis, panic attack, intrusive thoughts, extremely negative self talk.

Word count: 1186

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Marc and you were lying in bed, cuddling after a long day. You've been together a few years, and been through quite a lot, yet always on each other's side. You were surprised when you heard about his alters, Steven and Jake, but welcomed them into your heart. The three of them, in turn, filled every crack of your heart and mind with their unending love. All four of you became a whole.

Marc's arm was draped across your body, his hair tickling your skin pleasantly. You were pressed very close together. Usually, that would have been wonderful, not too warm or suffocating, but tonight:

"I need some space." You declared, thinking nothing of it. You draped the blanket away from yourself, and Marc scooted back, somewhat confused.

"Okay," he said, nodding lightly but concerned. "Whatever you need, babe." He rolled on his side turning his back to you, and lied down on the far edge of the bed. You were so tired, you didn't notice the shake in his voice, or how he inched farther and farther away from you, until his bent knees were hanging in the air.

"It's cold, here, now." He thought, and didn't understand why his throat was closing up. His body became stiff as the familiar record started to play in his mind. "Just until a moment ago, you were in the warm embrace of heaven. How did you fuck that up? You'll always be alone. Cold and alone. Even the stray dogs won't like you. You always ruin it for everyone. Steven deserves a life, goddamnit! You don't even deserve this bed."

You heard a sharp inhale as a chill went through his body and he shot out of bed. "Sorry." He managed to croak out, eyes filling with tears and he left the room.

Marc's legs carried him to the tiny guest bathroom, where he slid down the wall onto the floor, and closed the door behind him. He couldn't breathe, only in tiny little gasps and whimpers. He buried his head in his knees, trying to muffle his cries into his hand.

"No one will hold that hand again," a thought floated into his head. "You're pathetic. You're nothing. You don't deserve any of this. Look at yourself, disgusting! DISGUSTING!" The word echoed in his mother's voice, making him flinch from the belt that was no longer there.

Tears were now flowing from his tightly shut eyes. "Some space! You're so dramatic, you're such a burden, you're strangling, you're horrible, kill yourself! Give all the world some space from Marc Spector, smallest, shittiest and worst man on earth! You're thinking that, it makes you evil! You want to kill yourself, and you want to kill Steven and Jake too because you're trash! That's why there's Nazis! For you! SOME SPACE!!! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE NOT WANTED! YOU CAN'T EVEN GIVE YOUR ABSENCE!!!"

--------------------

You thought for a second that he just went for a wee, and closed your eyes. You just wanted a few minutes to breathe and cool down, and then you'll turn around and cuddle up to him. You love to press your face into his warm chest.

Wait.

He didn't go to the en-suite.

You opened your eyes, came back to your senses, and heard a muffled cry. Not 5 seconds after, you were banging on the bathroom door, your heart breaking at the uncontrollable sobs coming from inside.

Marc didn't open the door, and you decided it was enough. You warned him, and opened it yourself. Your boyfriend leaped away from you, hitting his head on the tile and squeezing himself to the best of his ability between the toilet and the wall.

"Marc, honey, hey-" you started, crouching down to him.

"That's where I belong." He hiccuped. "The piece of shit that I am." His voice wavered, he gasped sharply and sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He pleaded through the tears.

His face was red and wet with tear tracks. His eyes were completely bloodshot and mostly closed, and he was shaking all over. You kneeled in front of him, and took one of his hands in yours. Your other hand went to scratch his soft curls and rake them over. He did it a lot to sooth himself, and you figured it might help.

"I'm here, baby," you told him. "Everything's okay. I love you. I love you, Marc." You moved your hand to cup his cheek and caress it, and saw that he was continuously mouthing the words "I'm sorry" through his anguished expression.

"It's okay. It's okay, honey. I promise. It's alright." You reassured him, and pressed his hand to your lips for a quick kiss. That drew loud, ugly cry from him. "Try to breathe with me, hun." You said and moved his hand to your chest, to feel your deep breaths.

He tried, bless his soul he tried, and ended up coughing and choking on his own tears, causing him to sob even harder. "I- Ah- I'm sorrrryyyyy" he whimpered miserably, so deep in his self flagellation he couldn't stop apologizing. For crying. For making a fuss. For not giving you space. For not being able to give you space. For making excuses. For existing.

"Okay," you took a deep breath for yourself and sighed with determination. "Let's get you up." You said and grabbed your boyfriend from under his arms. He grasped onto your arms to steady and pull himself up, as much as he could on his shaky legs.

You kissed his forehead, and the spot of his head he accidentally hit. You kissed his knuckles, and where he bit down on his hands. You kissed his cheeks, and his nose. That made him smile. You kissed his lips, which induced a fresh wave of tears, and then you kissed those as well.

Eventually, you got the both of you safely to bed. Marc looked horrible. Well not that he could really, being Marc, but he certainly looked like he was feeling horrible. At least it seemed as if the journey across your home shook him up enough to get his bearings. He was starting to realize what was going on, that none of his terrifying, intrusive thoughts were real, and that he had his very loving and loved partner right next to him.

Marc was starting to calm down. Loud, painful sobs reduced into sniffles. He probably disassociated a bit, as managing these attacks was still hard for him. But he had you. You laid him in bed, covered his shaking body and helped him take his slightly sweaty shirt off. You gave him a box of tissues from your nightstand to wipe his runny nose and tear stained face with. You hugged him when he clung to you like his life depended on it. Maybe it really was. Damn. You really fucking love him. Through EVERYTHING. And he loves you so, so much too.

He was safe, loved, cared for, important, appreciated, and for the first time in his life, thought he might deserve to feel that way.

You were each others' safe spaces.

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MASTERLIST

Just tagging some mutuals, no pressure!

@ivystoryweaver @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @romanarose @my-secret-shame @luke-o-lophus @spider-starry @eyelessfaces

[bluebirdsboi]

He Won’t Have You | Marc Spector x Male Reader | 18+

Fandom: MCU

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Smut

Paring: Sub-Top!Marc Spector x Power Bottom!Male Reader

Warnings: Anal sex (Reader receiving), Blowjob (Reader receiving), Light teasing, Rimming (Reader receiving), Strong language, Unprotected sex

Word Count: 1,002

~ Requests are open ~ Taglist is open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

The crest of the night began to show with the moon above casting its pale light into the bedroom where you lay reading. Marc left as the evening had just begun to settle and you knew he wouldn’t be home until late into the night, so you kept yourself occupied with the time you had.

You were fairly engrossed with your book, the bedside lamp emitting its warm glow when the window opened letting in a cool draft. It was Marc, still clad in his Moon Knight suit, eyes glowing their signature shade of silver. “Someone’s home late.” Your tone was flat but still held an air of playfulness and sarcasm as you closed your book. “I know. Sorry honey.” Marc sighed as the bandaging around his body receded, planting a kiss on your forehead before walking into the bathroom to discard his clothes.

After exiting the bathroom in only his briefs, Marc sat on his side of the bed with a deep exhale. You could tell something was eating away at him, so you decided to walk to him. “Hey, what’s going on?” You carded your fingers through his curls as you stood in front of him. Marc could only lean into your chest as his arms made their way around your waist, prompting you to wrap your arms around him and place a kiss on the crown of his head. 

After a few minutes of comforting silence, Marc lifted his head and you sat beside him, still keeping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s just,” Marc sighed and shook his head as his mind started racing. “When Konshu’s done with me, I... I don’t want him goin’ after you.” Marc looked into your eyes after he spoke with a look crossed between protective and desperation. “Oh, baby,” You placed a hand on his cheek, causing him to lean into it. “Hey, no matter what happens, I’ll always be right here beside you, and we’ll get through it together.” You reassured him before tenderly kissing his lips.  

The passion began to slowly rise as Marc snaked his arms around your hips, slowly guiding you to the mattress while kissing you. While you were under him, his tongue made its way into your mouth to dance with yours. You were both left panting for air as Marc broke the kiss. “He won’t have you. I won’t let him.” Marc’s words were breathy as he spoke, making a vow to both you and himself. “Oh yeah?” A light smirk pulled at your lips as you hooked a finger around the dog tags that hung from his neck. Marc hummed a response that indirectly came through as a whimper before you pulled him into another heated kiss. 

Marc’s lips eventually left yours and kissed their way down to your jawline, then your neck, to your chest and stomach before stopping above the waistband of your underwear. He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. “Go ahead.” With that, Marc’s fingers found themselves underneath your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your semi-hard cock. He placed more kisses on your inner thighs before licking the shaft of your dick to take it in his mouth. “Fuuuuck” You moaned out in ecstasy as Marc took all of you into the warmth of his mouth. Your hands placed themselves in Marc’s hair yet again as his head went up and down forcing you to lean your head back in pleasure. 

Feeling yourself getting close to your limit, you lightly pulled Marc off of your cock by his hair, leaving him breathing heavily. “Good boy.” You breathily praised Marc as he made his way further down to your hole, lifting your legs over his broad shoulders in the process. He kissed the tight muscle before fully licking it, releasing moans as hums against your skin. “Oh fuck, just like that. Get me ready for you.” More moans fell from your mouth as Marc continued eating out your hole, slipping his tongue inside and licking your inner walls. 

As soon as you both felt your hole was ready, Marc lifted himself to his knees, pulled your legs around his waist, aligned his hard dick with your hole, and pulled a deep moan from both of you as he slowly pushed inside you. “Oh my god baby.” Marc groaned into your ear as he bottomed out against your ass, leaning above you to rest from the overwhelming pleasure. “Does that feel good?” Your question elicited another whimper from Marc, so deep in euphoria that he couldn’t respond in another way.

 After a few moments of regaining himself, Marc began to thrust inside you filling the room with the sounds of moans and his skin against yours. Your moans grew louder as his cock began hitting your sweet spot. “Fuck Marc, right there. Don’t stop.” You had to separate each phrase because of the intense waves of pleasure surging through your body. 

Marc was close to his breaking point shown by his moans sounding increasingly closer to pleas for release. “Fuck, please honey I’m so close.” “Yeah? Me too, keep going, baby.” The need for relief became too much to bear as Marc continued and with a final thrust, you both shot your loads of warm, sticky cum, his inside your hole and yours on your torso. Marc almost collapsed, stopping himself with his arms just above you.

Both of you were a panting mess as you came down from your high, letting out a light chuckle as you gently placed a hand on his cheek. Marc placed a loving kiss on the base of your palm before resting his forehead against yours with a calm smile on his face. “I’m gonna go take another shower. And you’re coming with me.” A playful smirk adorned your face as Marc placed another loving kiss on your lips.

After getting up, Marc followed you to the bathroom knowing that you’ll never leave him and he won’t let Konshu come anywhere near you. 

- End - 

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Taglist: @houndsoforion​, @jinniemyl0ve​, @odetodilfs, @zoloft3​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’ve added three new writers to my fanfic recs, so feel free to check them out.

[sticktothestars]

bro did my man dirty 😢

[dankspaceater]

You're too good to me honey!

Marc spector x Trans male reader

Warnings: oral sex (marc receiving), mouth cockwarming, edging, praise kink, light choking/gagging, overstimulation, pure smut really

*MINIORS DNI CONSUME MEDIA AT YOUR OWN RISK*

Marc had been sickly sweet all week. Making you breakfast in bed on your Sunday off. Bringing you coffee and a pastry at your job. Rubbing your feet after a particularly hard day running errands. Overall just showering you with love but it wasn't just his actions. His affection and pet names ramped up too. He was already a love bug when he was in the mood but lately he was driving you wild.

Waking you up with kisses plastered all your nose, cheeks, and eyes. whispering sweet nothings. In a low tone in your the cuff of your ear.

"Good morning handsome, you look absolutely gorgeous have I ever told you that?" Pressing his soft lips against your slightly chapped ones.

"Marc...it's too early for you to be this sweet, I haven't even brushed my teeth! Its gross!". You pulled away hiding your flushed cheeks in his chest.

"You've seen me caked in blood and and I've seen you covered in my cum I think were too far for gross. Dont you think sweetheart?" He smirked his cinnamon eyes glistening with mischief, curls radiant in the early morning sun.

"Marc! You are incredulous you know that?!" Sucking in a breath at his statement, avoiding how much the switch went straight to your stomach.

Running your fingers through his soft locks. An idea popped into your head. Marc had been so sweet lately. Fronting a lot more in the domestic duties lately you wanted to give him a treat. Lightly padding your fingers down his toned chest. You cradled yourself between his warm thighs. He was already hard as a rock, and still nude from last night's activities.

"Lay down baby I wanna take care of you." Slowly pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders. Small grunts leaving his perfect lips.

"My love what are you doing ah-fuck!" He was caught off guard by your lips wrapping around his leaking head.

Taking your time you slowly twirled your tongue up the underside of his cock. Moving at snails pace taking every thick inch down your throat. You made your way to his base gagging a bit, tears beginning to form In your eyes still unmoving.

"Shit love you're so sweet, what are you tryna do kill me?" Throwing his head back and wrapping his firm hands around you throat gently no pressure but enough to feel his self inside you.

"You look so pretty like this baby, you're too good for me honey, taking me so well just like the prince you are".

You mewled at the praise the vibrations sending waves up his cock. Pulling off only to take a gasp of air you sucked him back in all the way. His head hitting the very back of your throat. Stretching your jaw to capacity. Drool leaking from the corners of your full mouth, Marc's cascading moans spurring you on.

"Fuck love I'm not gonna last long like this...shit! You're gonna have to stop if you don't want me to cum!" slightly bucking his hips trying not to ruin the pace but about to blow any second.

Marc cumming stuffed down your throat was the only plan in sight. Pushing yourself to your limits nose touching the trimmed hairs, you gagged slightly massaging his soft sack knowing he loved that. Sucking as much as you could with your mouth full.

"Fuck! Baby im gonna- I'm gonna cum! Shit!" With a a guttural groan from his chest, ragged breaths leaving his lips. A spillage of both of you dripping down his thighs. But you didn't stop there, you started sucking the absolutely life out of his perfect cock. Both of Marc's calloused hands gripping your face as if you were made of glass. The act so intimate and warm in such a comprising way. You locked eyes inhaling all of him and that was all he could take.

"Baby, baby please I can't take anymore, I'm empty my love, empty." The way the words curled over his lips made you want to go at it again. He slid off with a pop lazily sliding into his arms, grabbing a wipe from the beside drawer and kissing up the valley of his chest.

"I can do that baby- let me help you now" He could barely finish his words, fucked out and heavy lids closing. You smiled content and happy wrapped in your lovers arms even if he was 1/3 of your heart right now you loved every bit.

[drinkingwithkhonshu]

I was going through the mcu timeline wiki to get a better idea of the events for Promises Kept and apparently Marc became Khonshu’s avatar on 02/14/2015????? He was his avatar for ten years????? (Bc Moon Knight is listed on Disney+ after Hawkeye in 2025 around April-July based on the museum exhibit, implied April bc Steven’s talking to Donna about the posters like it’s all new so that means Wendy died in February?? Right??? Bc Marc said that happened two months prior to him leaving Layla and moving to London?? God why is the MK timeline so confusing)

God this would ruin my whole fic if it weren’t for the fact that I’m flipping canon the bird and going ‘nuh-uh’. We’re going hardcore canon noncompliant in this bitch, full fanon mode

I thought Marc was his avatar for like five years at most

If I kept that it would make Ru fricken two and a half at that point bc his birthday is 07/03/2012. Ugh why is canon always so complicated and why do I always do this to myself

…Ru would be fifteen during the events of Moon Knight without tweaking the fic’s rough timeline at all oh god

Oh no we’re not doing this, the baby is not growing up that quick nuh-uh no sir nope not doing it

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Hung the Moon (Chapter 9)

Chapter 8 | Masterlist | Epilogue

Pairings: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Jake Lockley x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader

Summary: After the big fight, you and your sister are at a safe house and Marc makes preparations. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: Little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, little bit of smut. Oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex.

Word count: 6.8K 😲

A/N: Translations this time are inline and contained with in < >. Big thank you to @randomchick546 for helping me with the Spanish!

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ajeff855 @bnamta @unspokenmoon @milkymoon2483 @valkyrieace @theimpalasdoctorin221b @hopefulfangirl24 @bucksgoat @rmoonstoner @foreverinwanderlust @am-3-thyst @bullet-prooflove @trashboat-the-raccoon @daisies-yellow @kingtwhiddleston @stevenknightmarc 

~~~

The safe house is a tiny studio apartment. The kitchen, bedroom and living room are all the same room, barely even separated by sections. The bathroom, thankfully, has a door. There’s one window, but despite being a few floors up, there’s no view — only a narrow one-way street and another apartment building. You’re not even sure where it is, just that the place belongs to a friend of Marc’s.

Your sister lay sleeping in the bed at the back of the room. Her snores are loud and present in the small space. You listen to the rhythmic rise and fall in a daze at the kitchen table, the overhead florescent flickering like a twitching eye.

Your body is exhausted, but your mind won’t rest. It keeps replaying the night all the way up to putting your sister to bed. You thought you’d feel relief once she was safe, but there’s only more worry. And something else you can’t shake. The fear that she was right and that this was all your fault.

Marc had disappeared at some point — as did his friend — but now here he is, pulling out a chair and sitting beside you. “Hey, how’re you holding up?” he asks.

You don’t look at each other, instead staring out at your respective distances.

“I’m good.” Your tone is flat from exhaustion, yet soft.

“You should really get some sleep, too.”

“Can’t.”

He nods. “How’s your sister?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. Frenchie gave her something so she’d sleep. I-” You sigh again. “She’s really angry with me.”

“She blames you?”

“Yeah.” You give a huff of a laugh. “That’s kind of our whole thing.”

Marc is quiet for a moment. “Have you ever told her why you left home?”

You shake your head. You’d never decided not to tell her. There was just this protective instinct that kicked in that always kept you from it. That somehow it was better for her not to know.

Marc sits with you, until you can’t sit upright anymore. Then you trudge over to the bed and lay in the sliver of bed not taken up by your sister and Marc crashes on the couch.

—

You get a poor night’s sleep, but luckily all you have to do the next day is sit around. Marc is in and out of the place, busy making preparations to get you and your sister out of the country and out of reach of Foswell. You had offered to help him but he just wanted you to take care of your sister and keep from being seen.

It’s mid-afternoon and you’re sitting on the couch with her while she scrolls and tries to pick something to watch. Your head is turned the other way watching Marc pace around the kitchen, occasionally muttering under his breath. You think he’s probably talking to Steven or Jake. Or both.

“It’s actually pretty gross how bad you have it,” your sister tells you in her trademark monotone.

“What?” you ask her, dragging your eyes away. She gives a pointed look at Marc. “Shut up,” you tell her and you’re horrified to find that you’re blushing.

“Whatever, you’re allowed to look at your boyfriend.”

“No, that’s not- that’s Marc,” you clarify.

“Your boyfriend’s name is Marc? I thought it was Jake?”

“No, that’s Marc. My boyfriend is Jake…and Steven.”

“You have two boyfriends?” she asks very confused.

“Um, sort of.”

“Where are they?” She starts looking around for them.

“We’ve been over this,” you sigh. You’d explained DID to her the best you could. “They share a body.”

It’s as if this is the first she’s hearing of it. “Like…ghosts?”

You consider explaining it to her again, but you’re pretty sure it won’t help. Instead, you snatch the remote from her — in the process noticing again the bandages on her wrist. You had seen the wounds last night, raw and red, left on her wrists from being tied up. You console yourself that most of the men that were there are dead now, and you pick a movie to watch.

—

Your sister watches the movie for about five minutes before becoming disinterested. You are finishing it alone when a voice behind you says, brightly, “What’re you watching?”

You glance up to find Steven leaning over the back of the couch, his face screwed up as he tries to figure out which movie it is.

“Steven!” You get up on your knees so you can throw your arms around his neck.

“Oh, whoa, it’s good to see you, too,” he says into your shoulder.

You’re tempted to stay just like this. With his arms around you, inhaling the sharp scent of his soap and the warm scent of him like fresh baked bread. But you’ve been waiting for the chance to talk with him, so you pull away just enough to face him. “Steven, I’m so sor-”

“Just a sec,” he says. “I’ll come ‘round.”

He moves from behind the couch and sits beside you. He picks up your hand and says, “I think I should go first. I wanted to apologise to you for, well, my reaction, when you, ah, I just mean, I didn’t handle it well. And I don’t blame you. Not for, you know, I-I probably would’ve done the same. If my sister were in danger - not that I have a sister - well you know I don’t. But maybe we can be more open and honest with each other in the future?”

You’re actually completely astounded. You thought you’d have to grovel for forgiveness, but here’s this man apologizing to you. And what was that at the end? Did he say… “The future? We have a future?”

He smiles at your hopeful tone. “Well, of course.”

You can’t go another second without your lips on this man so you grab Steven by the front of his shirt and pull him to you. You kiss him with such desperation it surprises you. He makes a small noise of surprise and then he’s kissing you back.

When you pull away, he has a sweet smile on his face. “Speaking of,” he says, “do I get to meet her?”

“What?” You blink a few times, wondering if you heard him right.

“Your sister. I haven’t met her yet.”

“You want to meet my sister right now?”

“Well, yeah. She’s just right over there.” You follow Steven’s glance. You’d completely forgotten that she was near the window, legs over an armchair, face only two inches from her phone - a phone that Frenchie had given her to scroll through social media with the express rules not to put any personal info online.

“Right,” you tell Steven. “Okay. Let’s go meet her.”

It only takes about five steps before you’re in front of her. “Hey. Cassie.”

She doesn’t look up.

“Cassie.”

She still doesn’t look up. You put your hand between her face and the phone and snap.

“What?”

“I want to introduce you to Steven,” you tell her.

She looks over at him. “I thought your name was Marc?”

Before you can intervene, Steven patiently introduces himself. “I’m Steven.” 

She still looks confused. With an uncertain glance to you, he adds, “With a ‘v.’”

“So you’re name’s Veven?”

“Okay, Cassie, why don’t you just go back to…” But she’s already stuck her face back in her phone and stopped listening to you. 

“And she’s the one who finished high school,” you tell Steven under your breath.

You’re about to turn away, but you notice that she’s no longer scrolling, but typing. You say her name a few times and then snap again to get her attention.

“What’s with the snapping?”

“Because you don’t respond to your name. You haven’t been posting photos of yourself, right?”

She doesn’t respond, just goes back to typing. You snap again. “Yeah. Right,” she says. Then adds, “Hey, what’s the address?”

“No.”

“I just need-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“There’s this really cute girl I want to hook up with.”

“Cassie, we’re in hiding.”

“But I’m bored. I already hit on Frenchie and he told me I wasn’t his type, whatever that means. And last time I stole your boyfriend you got ‘mad’ at ‘me.’” You’re not convinced your sister understands air quotes.

You have no idea how to respond. Steven, through all of this, tactfully remains silent. 

“Hey, wait. Marc’s not your boyfriend, right? Where is he?” She starts looking around. “Oh, or, are he and Frenchie…?”

You almost say no, but when you think about it, they do spend a lot of time together so you’re not really sure. You look to Steven to find out, but he gives you a shrug like he doesn’t know but it’s a possibility.

You don’t like the feeling you get thinking that Marc might be with someone else, but neither do you want to think about it. “Just no pictures,” you tell your sister. “And no addresses.”

She rolls her eyes — which lets you know she heard you at least.

—

Lying next to Steven that night, with the distant roar of traffic and the grey glow of light filtered through the curtain, his fingertips trace up and down your arm. After Frenchie had gone home for the night and Cassie had fallen asleep on the bed, Steven had readied the mattress of the pull-out couch so you could fall asleep together.

Now, facing each other while sharing one pillow, he kisses you and you slip your tongue into his mouth. He whines and pulls you closer until you’re flush against him. Before long your leg is over his hip, and you’re both chasing the friction.

Steven rolls on top of you, his hips between your legs. He ruts into you and it’s exactly what you need and also not enough. You try your best to be quiet, but you’re both breathing hard and the frame squeaks with every move.

“I can hear you, you know.” Cassie’s voice is a shock in the darkness.

Steven freezes, and you can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. As quietly as he can, he rolls off of you and buries his face in your neck. His arm around your waist holds you tight and you can feel his hardness pressing against the curve of your hip. You want so badly to touch him but there’s nothing you could do without Cassie hearing.

Unfortunately Steven falls asleep before you hear Cassie’s snores which guarantee she’s in a deep sleep. You don’t want to wake him since Marc has had so much to do all day. But you have so much restless energy it’s going to be a while before you can fall asleep. You take a moment to appreciate the warmth and safety of his embrace. 

You’re alone in the bed when you wake in the morning. Frenchie is in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Cassie is in the shower. And Steven…. You run your hand over the space next to you where Steven had been.

“Marc left hours ago,” Frenchie tells you from the kitchen. “I hope you like omelettes.”

—

When Marc walks in through the door later that morning, you look up from the book you’d been reading to pass the time, and your eyes meet. You swear something passes between you. But he averts his eyes and goes to talk to Frenchie at the table. You try to keep yourself from watching him. You resolutely stare at your book but you can’t focus on the words. You can’t think when that man is in your proximity.

You’re still on the same page — the same paragraph, hell the same word — nearly a half hour later when he comes over and says, “¿Qué estás leyendo?”  <What are you reading?>

You whip your head up to see Jake standing over you, a shy smile on his lips. You want to jump up and hug him, and you nearly do, but you don’t know what terms you’re on.

“Hi,” you say in a breathless voice. You set the book aside and he sits down next to you and you peek at each other in silence.

“So…are you and Marc…talking now?”

“Yeah, but I kinda wish we weren’t.” He says it with a grumble, but he looks happy about it.

“No, you don’t,” you tell him. It’s so quiet and easy with him, your heart aches in anticipation of the talk you know you need to have.

He seems to know what you’re thinking because he presses his lips together and begins, “I- I wanted to let you know…that I’m sorry.”

Fear rises in you. Fear that he’s sorry he led you on. Sorry that he used you. Sorry, but he doesn’t have feelings for you.

He continues, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. Let you believe that I was helping you. I’m so sorry.”

He’s letting you down as gently as he can. You look up and away, trying to stem the tears that threaten to fall. You hope this conversation ends soon so you can run to the bathroom and have a good cry.

“It was my mission to take down Big Man’s organization. You just happened to be my first contact. Khonshu wanted me to interrogate you, but I-I couldn’t do that. Instead, I used you to lure the others out - anyone who I could interrogate for information.”

You can’t listen anymore. It’s just too painful. You try to find your voice to cut him off, but before you can he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“You…protect me?” you whisper.

“Of course, cariño.”

Your mind is a mess. If he’s not breaking up with you, then what is he saying?

He touches your cheek and asks, “What are you thinking?”

You hardly know. Definitely not enough to be able to talk.

When you don’t answer, he says, “I screwed it all up, didn’t I?”

“No.” You try to think of something else to say, but all that comes out is another “no.”

“Then is it - is it what I do for Khonshu?”

That catches you off guard. “I don’t really understand what it is you do for Khonshu,” you admit.

A guarded look crosses his face. It’s something you’re more used to seeing on Marc. “I’m his ‘fist of vengeance’. I kill people who’ve done bad things.”

You think about the people he’s killed since you’ve met him: the two guys who had followed you and were outside the flat, the four men who broke into the flat to take Steven, and many of the men who were guarding your sister when she was tied down to a chair. It’s a hefty list for sure, but you hadn’t really thought twice about it. You turn the question back to him. “Does it bother you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really dwell on it.”

He sounds like he’s telling the truth. You wonder why he brought it up. Then he continues.

“That’s more Marc’s thing. He never lets himself forget. I thought he’d be fucking appreciative that I take over and do it for him, but he blames himself for that too - for anything I do.”

Well, that answers that. There’s nothing you can say about Marc and Jake’s drama, and you don’t particularly want to get involved. So you guide the conversation back to Jake.

“Do you like working for Khonshu?”

Instead of answering his eyes shift over to the right as if he’s looking at someone. But when your eyes follow his, there’s no one there.

“Is Khonshu here?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.” You must be showing at least some of the terror you feel at hearing that because then he says, “Don’t worry, he can’t do anything.”

Suddenly a gust of wind ripples through the apartment, even though the window is closed. Jake just rolls his eyes but it actually spooks you, at least if your spiked heart rate is any indication. 

“That’s all he can do,” Jake assures you. “To answer your question, no, I don’t like working for Khonshu, but…there was something nice about having a person who actually appreciated me.” There’s a flush on his cheeks and it makes your heart ache. “Except you can’t really call Khonshu a person.” At your confusion, he explains, “He’s a big, tall bird.”

You try to picture it. “Is he yellow?”

He bursts out laughing at this and says, “Como te amo, joder.” <I fucking love you>

Jake abruptly stops laughing and you stare at each other, stunned.

Before you can figure out how to respond, he says, “Can we just forget I said that? Please?”

Is that disappointment that you’re feeling? Or relief? Both? You scramble for something else to say. What were you talking about?

“Um, so, if you don’t like working for Khonshu, then why do you do it?”

He grimaces. “It’s not that easy to get out of.”

“Do you…”

“What it is it, querida?”

Marc’s words come back to you. About Jake not being good guy. You think you start to understand why he believes that, though you don’t agree. But there’s just one thing you need to make sure of. “Do you enjoy killing?”

He crosses his arms, but something tells you he expected the question. “No,” he says simply. “I’ll do it if I have to, or if it’s to protect those I…I care about.”

At this last part, he looks at you with such love in his eyes, it makes you want to tell him how you feel about him. “Do I really have to forget what you said?”

He looks down and smiles, shaking his head.

You grab the back of his neck and press your lips to his. “Genial, porque yo también te amo.” <Good, because I love you too.>

—

Since Marc is waiting for a call, you get to spend the afternoon with Jake. You trade stories of your lives, and it’s such a contrast to the way you usually spend time together. It’s more wonderful than you could have imagined.

All the while you’re talking you can’t help but touch each other. A hand on the knee, a brush on the arm. You keep looking at his lips and you catch him looking at yours. The sexual tension is killing you.

In the middle of a particularly interesting tale about his time in the military, Jake swallows hard and says, “If I don’t get to fuck you I’m going to go insane.”

His words travel right to your core. You shoot a glance toward your sister. She’s got earbuds in, listening to music and scrolling on her phone. You know Jake has a bit of an exhibitionist thing, but you didn’t think it went that far.

He seems to know what you’re thinking and with a smile of amusement, he says, “Let’s take a shower.”

You feel kind of dumb for not thinking of that. But that feeling fades when he takes your hand and you both rush to the bathroom with huge smiles on your faces.

No sooner do you shut and lock the door than his lips crash down on yours. The kiss is hurried, eager, desperate. He moves his lips down to your neck and you waste no time unbuttoning his pants, gripping him through his boxers. He huffs out a breath against your neck and moans when you give him a tug.

You pull his pants and boxers down in one go and get on your knees. His cock his impossibly hard and there’s a bead of precum on the tip. You consider easing into it, teasing him a bit with kisses and licks. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own. You take as much of him as you can in one go. He jolts from the sensation and leans forward to brace himself against the door. It doesn’t take long and then you’re lost in the feeling of having his heavy cock on your tongue again. You’re bobbing your head and trying to take him as deeply as you can, sucking with just the amount of pressure that he likes. He’s trying to be quiet — the bathroom isn’t soundproof after all — but he’s breathing heavy and muttering curses under his breath. Suddenly, he stops you before he can cum. You look up at him with a satisfied grin, and he has his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep his shit together.

He drags a hand down his face as his breathing steadies. He looks at you, still on your knees, with nothing but heat in his eyes. Slowly, he steps out of his pants and pulls his shirt off. Then, he lifts you to your feet and strips off your shirt and bra. He presses kisses to your breasts while he pulls off your pants, helping you to lift one leg, then the other, before tossing them aside. He drops to his knees and drapes one of your legs over his shoulders. He takes a beat to appreciate the feast in front of him. Then he dives in, lapping and sucking like a man starved. Your back is against the door, and a good thing too, otherwise you’d be a puddle on the floor. You glance down just as he shakes his head against you. His eyes are shut and he’s breathing hard and fast through his nose. You’re careening toward an orgasm extra fast. Then you notice his fist wrapped around his cock, his muffled grunts against your cunt, and it crashes down on you. 

You have to pull his face away from you when you get oversensitive. He kisses you just under your belly button, his hands on your thighs. “We should probably get in the shower now,” you tell him when you’ve caught your breath.

You know he heard you but he doesn’t move away, continuing to kiss and stroke your body. You tug on his hair to get his attention. 

He’s uncharacteristically silent as he gets the water running. This is where he’d normally say something sexy and teasing, but right now it just looks like he has a lot on his mind.

Once in the shower, you try to recapture his attention, kissing his neck and chest. Running your hands over his water-slicked skin. You gently graze your teeth over his earlobe. It seems to snap him out of whatever daze he’s in. He groans, then grabs you and kisses you with everything he’s got. His hands slip down to your thighs and he grips them as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. He backs you up to the shower wall, and you feel him at your entrance.

It’s not until that moment that you realize something’s missing. “Shit. We need a condom,” you tell him. 

Things had definitely changed in your relationship with Steven, but you hadn’t yet discussed this with him. Until you do, you think it’s only right to honor his preference.

“Um,” is all Jake says. He sets you back down on your feet. Then he swallows and with a guilty look on his face says, “Steven says it’s okay.”

“Steven…” you start to repeat as the words sink in. At first you wonder when Jake and Steven talked about this, but then you realize something else might be going on.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, Steven is kind of here, um, too.”

You look into his eyes like you might find some mix of Jake and Steven there. “What does that mean?”

“Uh, well, he can see and hear and…and feel what I…”

“Oh,” is all you can say. You knew that they could communicate with each other, but it didn’t exactly occur to you that you could be with more than one at a time.

“Is…that okay?” he asks.

“How long has Steven been…like since…at what point exactly-”

“Right, that would be pretty much the moment you took my cock into your mouth.” You nod and he quickly adds, “Sorry, I should have said something sooner.”

“No, it’s—it’s just all kind of new to me, you know?”

“Yeah. It’s new to me, too.”

“So is Steven still with us?”

Slowly, warily, Jake nods.

You don’t know what to make of it, or at least not what to think of it. But it can’t be anything bad. Not with the way your body reacts with a resolute yes. Jake glances down at your hardened nipples and gives you a knowing look.

You roll your eyes and him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

He smiles. “Steven’s relieved to hear you say that.”

“Oh, is Steven the only one?” you tease him.

He picks you up again and buries his face in your neck at the same time he buries his cock inside you. You let out a yelp at the pleasurable stretch and the way he hits your cervix. His lips at your ear, he growls, “No, Steven’s not the only one.”

It doesn’t take either of you much time to get there. When you’re both nearly at your peak, Jake tells you, “Say his name, cariño.”

He’s bucking his hips and hitting that spot deep within you. But it’s his words that knock the breath from you.

He has to tell you again. “Say his name.”

You just manage to breathe out, “Steven.” It burns deep inside you and you know you’ve hit the point of no return.

“Again,” Jake says.

This time you moan it. “Stevennnn.”

He doesn’t have to tell you again. You hit your peak and call out his name. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, Steven. Steven!”

Jake — and you suppose Steven, too — follows, his cock twitching inside you. For a moment, neither of you are able to move, simply trying to stabilize after the explosiveness of the moment.

“That was…” Jake tries to put it into words.

“Yeah,” you agree.

You each wash up, passing secret smiles to each other. You can’t remember ever being this happy.

There’s just one thing that’s still worrying you. As you’re drying off, you take the opportunity to ask since you know your time with Jake is limited. “Um, about what happened on the plane…. Were you, um, okay with…?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, actually.”

“Really? I would have thought…I mean since it was Marc…”

“I think it was the only thing he and I had ever agreed on.” You’re not sure what he’s referring to until he clarifies, “You.”

Your heart soars, but you only get to bask in the moment for a second before someone pounds on the door. From the other side you hear Frenchie say, “Now that you two have finished, can you share the bathroom?”

—

The next day you wake up alone after having fallen asleep with Jake the night before. Marc’s phone call had come in and he’d left soon after. It wasn’t until late in the night that Jake had returned, crawling into the bed with you. You had asked him if everything was okay. He had hummed a response and was asleep a minute later. 

Now, the sound of the door opening and shutting wakes you. It’s Marc returning from wherever he went off to this morning, and he’s so inside his head you don’t think he even sees his surroundings.

He paces the kitchen, from the fridge to the front door and back again. You can hear him talking a bit under his breath — whether to himself or to Jake and Steven, you’re not sure. You give him some space, or rather continue to give him space since that’s all you’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been locked up in the apartment. But he seems more wound up than usual and even though you’re not scared that he’s going to blow up or anything, you still can’t deal with the tension any longer.

You walk up to him and say his name to get his attention. He stops pacing, his back to you. You say his name again and he turns around, looking in your direction with unfocused eyes. “Marc.” The third time’s the charm, his expression clears and he looks at you, really seeing you this time.

“Why don’t you take a break? Sit down for a bit,” you suggest.

He shakes his head. “There’s too much to do.”

“Five minutes won’t hurt,” you counter.

He takes a seat at the table, as if his body does it of its own accord, the exhaustion taking over.

You sit beside him in complete silence for a minute. It’s only broken by the sound of your sister laughing at something she’s watching on her phone.

You clear your throat. “I, uh, don’t even know what you’ve been so busy with. Is there anything I can do to help?”

He pushes back against the seat and rolls his shoulders. “I have a place set up for you and your sister in Spain. You can lie low there for a while. And plane tickets for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Part of you is relieved to be getting out of the apartment finally. But you’re also shocked by how quick a turn around it is.

“Yeah, sorry, I booked it this morning. It’s pretty short notice, I know.”

“Yeah.” Yesterday, Frenchie had taken yours and your sister’s pictures for new, fake passports, but he’d said nothing about how soon you’d be leaving. “So we’re going to Spain. And you’re…staying here.”

His face tightens and he nods. You didn’t know you’d have to say goodbye to them so soon. And you don’t know how long it’ll be for…or even if it’s for good.

He gets antsy again and there’s a look of dread all over him. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head, but you swear any second he’s going to have a complete panic attack.

You slowly reach out and place your hand on his. “Hey,” you say softly. “What is it?”

With his other hand he rubs the back of my head. “I just have a decision to make is all.” He tries to dismiss it like it’s nothing, but it’s clearly something that has him in knots.

“Tell me.”

He stretches his legs out in front of him and wipes his palm on his thigh. The clock on the wall ticks off the seconds, but the time beats more slowly than Marc’s light, rapid breaths. “We’re working out a deal with Khonshu for him to release Jake. But I’d have to agree to work for Khonshu again. Steven too.”

You trace soothing circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. “How long did you work for him before?”

He gets a far off look in his eye and doesn’t answer.

“That long, huh? How long would you have to work for him this time?”

“Until we take down Big Man. It’s a big operation. It could take a while.”

“What does Steven think?”

“He thinks we should do it. He’s probably right. We’d have to deal with Big Man anyway, to protect you and your sister. And neither of us will truly be free of Khonshu until Jake is.”

“You really don’t have to do that. I mean, thank you — I can’t even tell you how grateful I am that you saved Cassie. But it’s not your job to protect us.”

He looks down at your hand on his, softly saying, “Yeah it is.”

The longing for him, that you’ve been trying to quell, rises within you now. You want to know him, you want to tear down the walls around him.

He flips his hand over and squeezes yours. He starts to ask, “Could I…?”

He stops himself like he’s decided against asking, but you really want to know. “Could you what?”

You can tell he’s debating with himself whether to ask. Then suddenly Steven fronts and says, “He wants to know if he could be the one to fall asleep with you tonight.”

Marc takes control again. “Goddammit, Steven.”

“Is that really what you want?”

He doesn’t look at you when he nods.

“Okay, yeah,” you tell him with a breathlessness that surprises you.

“Right, see you later then,” he says and jumps up from the table and walks out the door.

You don’t see him again until night.

You’re laying in bed — well, the couch-bed. Your sister seems to be asleep in her bed, and Frenchie is dozing in the chair by the window. It’s so late now that you’ve moved past worrying that you’ll fall asleep before Marc comes back to worrying that something might actually be wrong.

Finally, you hear the buzz of Frenchie’s phone. He’s either getting a really late text from someone or that’s the signal that Marc’s coming up. A minute later the door opens and Marc quietly enters. You lift your head to look at him and he stops.

“Oh, you’re still awake,” he whispers. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

You don’t know what to say to that so you say the obvious. “No, I’m still up.”

He stands in the doorway, backlit from the light in the hall. You don’t know how long he would have stood there, unable to come all the way in if Frenchie hadn’t stirred and started to rise.

“Ah, Marc. Are you in for the night?”

Marc doesn’t answer him right away. He looks like he’d rather bolt out the door.

Frenchie answers for him. “I’m going home to my bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He sends a wave your way and slips out the door, shutting it behind him.

Marc locks up, out of habit.

You think Marc will stand there in the entryway all night if you don’t do something. “Marc? Are you coming to bed?” You get up on your knees to see him better. “Did you change your mind?”

Still he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.

“Marc, come to bed,” you say. It’s not a command, and it’s not harsh. But it gets him to move. 

He takes off his coat and drapes it over a chair in the kitchen. He kicks off his shoes and strips off his socks. You watch him walk toward you. He looks down at you from the edge of the bed. 

There’s so much bubbling under the surface of him. You think it would be really something to know what’s happening inside of him.

He seems to be stuck at the edge of the bed. You don’t know what it’ll take to get him on it. But you don’t want to scare him off either. Maybe a bit of small talk will help. “What happened today?”

His face is shrouded in shadow and you can’t make out his expression, but in the dark he looks menacing. Then he tilts his head and he looks tired instead. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, yeah?” he whispers.

You wonder if he’s made his decision yet, and you think he must’ve.

He pulls off his shirt and then unbuttons his pants. You swallow at the sight of him. As he leans over to push down his pants, his Magen David necklace swings forward and catches the sliver of light coming through the window from a street lamp below.

He steps out of his pants and crawls onto the bed, kneeling in front of you. You wonder how this would all play out were your sister not sleeping eight feet away. What your body longs for him to do to you is not nearly discreet enough for your current situation.

If you’re reading him right — and you’re not at all sure you are — he seems to be making the same calculation. 

He stares at you under half-lidded eyes, but there’s a softness in his gaze, a sense of yielding. Cautiously, you touch your hand to his where it hangs by his side. His fingers twitch and then his palm meets yours, the rough calluses tingle against your skin. An exhalation of breath and the bed creaks as he tips your face up to his with his other hand. His forehead creases, then he lays his lips on yours. The kiss is impossibly soft and it makes you weak.

Slowly, he retreats, your lips sticking to his as in protest. The moment stretches on in the stillness. He’s only a hair’s breadth away, but the distance feels larger. At least it does until you close in. His lips are slightly parted as you kiss his top lip, then the bottom. Your kisses are languid, but not quite as soft as his.

Without warning he captures your lips with such fervor that you tip over onto your back, Marc following on top of you. He grunts at the feeling of your bodies flush with each other. One hand moves down to your hip, his thumb brushes over your pelvic bone through the thin cotton of your pajamas.

You kiss once, twice, then your tongues are touching, your legs are parting and Marc’s growing erection settles onto the heat of you. Then he does something you don’t expect. He slides off of you.

“Marc,” you whine, breathless.

“You should get some sleep,” he whispers. “You’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

“I can sleep on the plane.” You close the small space between you and press your body to his.

He nuzzles your nose with his. He kisses you on the forehead. “It’s time for bed.”

—

The next morning, you wake up with Jake wrapped around you. When you stir, his arm tightens, holding you close. He nuzzles his face into your neck. “Buenos días, cariño.” <Good morning, sweetheart.>

He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Gotta get up now. Have to get you and Cassie to the airport.”

Frenchie sees you off as Jake packs the trunk with your luggage — the boys aren’t sending you off empty handed. “It was a pleasure to meet you, mon amie. Take care of that sister of yours.”

He leans in for la bise, and after two cheek kisses, you tell him, “Thank you for everything, Frenchie.” You glance over at Jake. “Watch out for him, will you?”

“Always.”

You move toward the car and your sister follows, her head still buried in her phone. “Bye, French,” she says without looking up.

It’s quiet in the car. It’s the first time you and your sister have been out in over three days. It feels like much longer, and also like no time at all. Jake holds your hand the whole ride.

At the airport, your sister waits on the sidewalk while you say goodbye. “Mi amor…” he says and caresses your cheek. “Te extrañaré.” <My love…I’ll miss you.>

You don’t want to cry. You’ll see him again. You will. You just don’t know when.

“I wish you were coming with us,” you tell him.

“So do I.” He presses his forehead to yours and you stand together for a moment. “Oh, Steven wants to say goodbye.”

It’s…strange to see Steven wearing Jake’s flat cap, and to watch Jake’s penetrating eyes be replaced with Steven’s bright ones. You gently remove the hat and Steven ruffles his curls.

You both start to speak at the same time. He begins, “I’m really going to-” And you start to say, “Do you have to-”

He insists that you go first. “Will you have to postpone school?” 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Why are you asking about that, love?”

“I know how long you’ve already waited for it. And it’s all my fault that you’ll have to wait even longer.”

“Oh, no, no, no. We’d have to do this, eventually, one way or another. At least this way we get to fight for our girl. And, of course, you brought us Jake.”

He kisses you. When he pulls back he looks like he’s on the verge of saying something but he shakes his head. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Jake fronts again. “Don’t go getting into trouble, okay, cariño?”

You roll your eyes at that.

He hugs you and with his lips next to your ear, says in a quiet, yet deep voice that warms your whole body, “Te amo.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, your voice failing you. You pull away and wonder if that’s it. Whether you’ll get one more goodbye or not. You consider asking for him, but you figure if he wanted to see you off, he would have.

You start to walk off with your sister and she turns to wave to Jake, saying, “Bye, Marc!” 

You whip your head around to make an apologetic face at Jake, figuring that your sister had yet again gotten his name wrong. But when you turn to him and see the stoic expression, the set of his brows, you aren’t so sure she was mistaken.

~~~

Chapter 8 | Masterlist | Epilogue

[moonknightyws]

He's literally perfect.

[melodygatesauthor]

Feeling You Can't Fight - Chapter One

Moon Boys X m!Reader

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - Pride Event Fic 🏳️‍🌈

Written for the @flightlessangelwings pride event!

Summary

After replacing the loathsome former staff manager of the National Art Gallery in London, you find yourself all too interested in one of your employees in particular. Manager and employee relationships aren't allowed, and even if they were, you aren't sure if the nervous gift shoppist would be interested in you anyway. There's only one way to find out...

Reader Inclusivity

Reader is not race coded, is a cis man, taller than MK by a few inches, British, ex military, has a big peen

Tags/Warnings (for entire series)

NSFW, writer is NOT from the UK so please be gentle, I did my best with UK terms and such, smut, anal sex, oral sex, anal creampies, cum eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, Marc has DID, reader has mild PTSD, PTSD symptoms, trauma responses, semi-public sex, praise kink, fluff, comfort, angst, romance, love, forbidden relationship (boss and employee), minor physical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

The front doors to the National Art Gallery in London stood before you, more menacing than you ever remembered them, even when you would go there as a child. It took a lot to shake you, you’d been to hell and back before, but starting a new job was nerve wracking for anyone. When you stepped into the lofty entryway, you were hit immediately by the smell of old books and cedarwood. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in a museum, but it was a little different somehow when you were entering as a manager versus being a normal patron.

You remembered the phone call you got from an old friend during your time serving in the British Armed Forces. Apparently, the old staff manager of the museum was getting canned, and they needed a replacement quickly. He said that you had the qualifications they needed, and you thought it would be a good opportunity to start a new chapter in your life. You used to be so good at handling high pressure situations, but now you found yourself holding your travel mug like it was your lifeline as you walked further into the building.

You stepped up to the guest services area. There were a couple of receptionists that gave you a pleasant greeting, along with a man whose name tag read J.B. You waved, giving him a friendly smile. You weren’t usually an overly expressive kind of guy, but you didn’t want to make a bad first impression. From what you understood, your predecessor, Donna, wasn’t the nicest to the staff, so you wanted to try and separate yourself from her as much as you could.

“Mornin’,” You said, “J.B. is it?” You raised an eyebrow, pointing to his name tag.

“Yeah, are you the new boss?” He gave you a nervous smirk.

“I am. Have you got time to show me around a bit? Get me to my office and all that?” You grabbed the strap of your bookbag.

“Mornin’ J.B.!”

You turned and saw a disheveled and sleep deprived man shuffling toward you. He had a broad smile despite his exhausted appearance. You looked down at him from where you stood. The man was nearly half a foot shorter than you were. His face dropped a little when his eyes met yours, averting his gaze anxiously. You couldn’t help taking note of the way his clothes sat just a little too large on his body, and the way his curls, while unkempt, framed his face handsomely. 

“Scotty here could take you around. Considering he’s late.” J.B. scoffed, “always late, this one.”

The one called ‘Scotty’ gave J.B. a dirty look. “It’s actually Steven, Steven with a ‘V’, but no one can ever seem to remember that.” He looked at you again, expression still less than impressed until he spoke again. “Are you the–the new boss?” His brows were turned up and drawn together. If you were being honest he looked rather…cute.

“Sure am, cheers, Steven.” You reached out a hand.

Steven shook it and nodded, “cheers.”

He was a handsome guy, cheeks rosy from running into the building quickly after being late, five minutes to be exact. You mostly found yourself fixed on his eyes. They were beautiful, dark, and they seemed to glitter in the recessed museum lights. He gulped, and chuckled nervously, pulling his hand back and rubbing his neck.

“Right well, better get goin’ then,” you urged, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“Right,” Steven said in a breathy tone, prying his eyes away from yours.

You followed closely behind, and you were amazed at the man’s ability to find something to say about everything. Literally everything. While you passed the bathrooms on the way to the staff break room where the lockers were, he told you all about the time one of the tour guides got sick and spent nearly an entire day there. When you passed the meeting room he mentioned Donna, the previous staff manager, and her meetings that, in his words, felt like an excuse for her to berate the employees she didn’t like.

What really impressed you was his vast knowledge of history, particularly where ancient Egypt was concerned. There were a few times where you wondered if he was giving you a formal tour of the museum instead of a quick guide of your new workplace.

“I’m sure the patrons love you. Sounds like you really know your stuff!” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, I just work in the gift shop, m’not a tour guide. Donna crushed that dream any time I brought it up. She could be rather nasty at times…” His eyes grew wide, “sorry, shouldn’t’ve said that. S’wrong to say that about my old boss, I know it, she was just…”

He was looking at you with eyes that begged you to understand his feelings toward his former boss. You could tell he was kind at heart, not even wanting to talk negatively about someone who treated him and so many others unfairly. You put a hand on his shoulder, realizing now how much bigger you were than him. He stood at least six inches shorter than you, and you were a bit more broad shouldered.

“She was right cunt from what I heard. No need for pleasantries,” you said, hoping it would help him feel more comfortable.

He shrugged and smiled, “yeah, yeah you could definitely say that again.”

You were going to like Steven, you could already tell by the way he seemed to be a generally pleasant person to converse with. You’d almost made it to the staff room when a woman walked out. She was wearing a black dress and she smiled at Steven on her way by. You watched how Steven’s eyes changed from nervous to dopey with a slack jaw to match when she said hi to him. It was like you were watching a little boy in school nearly collapse over his crush.

“Who’s that?” You asked as she disappeared around the corner.

“Hm?” Steven turned back to you and his expression shifted back to normal, “oh her? That’s erm…her name is Dylan. She’s a tour guide. Lovely woman.”

You nodded, “well, I’ll have to introduce m’self later, she didn’t seem very interested in talking to me did she?” You chuckled.

“Oh, well I mean…yeah she’s usually really nice. I almost went on a date with her once, mucked that all up.” He looked sad when he said that. “Guess you could give it a go, she likes steak. I know that much.” He frowned at the thought. Clearly she was a sensitive topic for him.

You patted his back, “no worries with me mate, she’s not my type.”

“Yeah well, I don’t really even have a ‘type’ and I still can’t seem to get a girlfriend.”

There was an awkward silence while you stood in the hall in front of the staff lounge. Steven just nodded and sighed. You saw his eyes flick toward the mirror against the wall and then up at you. He gulped and his cheeks slowly started to turn crimson. You looked at him with a concerned expression.

“Everything alright Steven?” You furrowed your brow.

“Y-yeah, yep, yes, right let’s get goin’ then hm?” He opened the door and gestured for you to go inside.

You walked in and saw several lockers along the wall along with a handful of employees all scattered about, mostly on their phones. They all looked at you wide-eyed when you walked in the room. It was easy to forget that you were the one in charge. It wasn’t often people looked at you like that. You cleared your throat and raised up your hand in a greeting to all the staff.

“Hello, I’m…” you told them all your name. You swore you could hear crickets despite it being midday in the middle of a museum in London. “I’m the new staff manager. You can all breathe easy, I’m not here to terrorize you, just here to make sure everyone does their job.”

Your employees all hummed their greetings before returning to their own devices, both literally and figuratively.

You leaned over to Steven’s ear, “tough crowd.”

He jumped and gasped, as though he’d forgotten you were standing right there. He gave you a polite giggle before falling into his normal nervous flurry of words.

“Y-yeah, not the most friendly bunch. They’re also not used to…not Donna so…” He looked at you and nodded, “right, the lockers are right over here. Erm, I’ll just drop off my stuff real fast and then I’ll show you where Donna’s…well…” he chuckled, “your office is.”

Steven walked over to his locker and started putting away his things. You found it endearing, the way his pants were just a little too short, showing off his crisp white socks that disappeared into his loafers. He dropped something on the floor before muttering under his breath and picking it up. You sensed that this was the norm for him. He was a little clumsy, flustered, deceptively good looking, man.

That’s your employee, you reminded yourself, shaking the thoughts that threatened to course through your mind.

“Alright, let’s get on with it shall we?” He flashed a friendly smile before you nodded and let him lead the way.

Steven was a talker, that much was evident by the way he rambled on. By the time he got you to Donna’s old office, you knew everyone’s name who currently worked there, and who had ever worked there before; you’d been given another crash course in Egyptian mythology, and you’d learned that Steven was one of the most observant people you’d ever met. He seemed to know everything about…well…everything.

“I guess I should probably get to the gift shop. Those scarab jellies aren’t gonna sell themselves,” Steven rolled his eyes and chuckled on his way out the door.

Your office wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. You had a nice window looking out at the front entrance of the museum. The people of London were bustling around the street, going into various shops and driving their cars. You turned when your door opened, it was John, the museum director; your good friend.

“Hey!” He said, coming up and giving you a big hug with a firm pat on the back.

He was shorter than you too. You had a tendency to tower over most people you met. He spread his arms out and gestured around the office.

“Look at you! Mr. Big Wig! How do you like your office?” He leaned on the desk with one hand.

“I like it. It’s a bit dark in here, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Good, good, listen, I’ve got to get to a meeting, just wanted to stop in and make sure you found everything alright. I sent you a memo with your job description and the scheduling and all that so if you have any questions let me know yeah?” He patted your shoulder and took his leave.

You got yourself settled in before finally looking at your emails. Sure enough your schedule and details were right where he said they’d be. It was the simple nine to five, nothing special there, except it looked like Wednesdays you were meant to come in a little later, and leave later too.

“Hm, inventory,” you muttered to yourself.

It wasn’t your idea of a fun way to spend your Wednesday nights, stuck in the museum storage room counting hippo plushies, but when you learned you would be joined by Steven, it made it not feel so bad in the end. It didn’t feel like something the boss should have to do, it seemed like something the employees should have no issue handling themselves, but you weren’t going to question it so early into your new job.

Two nights later, on Wednesday, you found yourself in the stock room waiting for the anxious gift shop employee to meet you down there. No one had shown you how to do this yet, so you were relying on him to give you the rundown. When he finally made it, he was flustered, running in and apologizing on repeat until you yelled over him.

“Steven!” You shouted in a booming voice.

He looked at you with those big brown doe eyes, “y-yeah?”

“Stop apologizing,” you gave him a friendly smirk, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He seemed surprised before letting out a sigh of relief, “well, thank goodness, that’s a first.”

“She was that bad, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You have no idea mate. Meanest lady I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowin’ in my entire life.”

You watched Steven’s eyes flick over to one of the glass picture frames on the floor that had posters for the upcoming museum event. He tilted his head as though he were listening to someone. You cleared your throat, to which he jumped and looked at you again, giving you a friendly smile and a nervous laugh.

“Sorry…though I had something’ in my teeth. Shall we then?”

Steven started showing you how to take inventory of all the items in storage, and while you paid as close attention as you could, you couldn’t help getting distracted just listening to him talk. He was animated, passionate, and had an opinion about every item he picked up. At one point he looked at you and sighed.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep ramblin’ on. Used to drive Donna mental just listenin’ to me. She used to say it was the worst part of workin’ inventory.” He clicked the scanning gun over another barcode.

“Steven if I hear you apologize one more time, I’ll have you cleaning the toilets instead of workin’ down here with me yeah?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah, right, so–damn.” He chuckled, “s’harder than you think to avoid sayin’ it.”

You were focused on Steven again, and just how good looking he was. You had a clear attraction to him, despite his awkwardness and disheveled appearance. In fact, that was part of what captivated you about him. He was effortlessly handsome, and the nervousness could be quite endearing.

“What, do I have something on my face?” He asked, face turning red under your gaze.

You shook your head quickly, feeling embarrassment wash over you, “no, sorry I was just spacing out s’all.”

That was all it took for you to start the spiral that was falling in love with Steven Grant, the tardy, handsome, gift shoppist who worked under you.

Moon Knight Male Reader Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

[cosplayproblemsposts]

Prompt list (Fluff)

Fluff:

1 "Tag your it"

2 "Don't look at me, it's his/their fault"

3 "Don't move...Pow!"

4 "That's so dumb"

5 "May I...Kiss you"

6 "Don't look now mister grumps coming this way"

7 "Hey, don't blame me for pinching your cheek"

8 "Look at you taking charge of your own life"

9 "Look out world here comes Holmes and Watson"

10 "Your just...fascinating I guess"

11 "No and yes, I did indeed enjoyed YOUR donuts but I also cried because of guilt"

12 "No ones gonna be looking at you, welp besides me of course"

13 "You are the person/Man you are meant to be not what they want you to be"

14 "No, tears on this fun train"

15 "Look I know I fell over but let's over look that and get straight to the point...I've...I don't know"

16 "Excuse my language but FUCK! I'm dumb"

17 "No need to give me anything beside your word, I'll meet you again no matter what"

18 " Don't see what's wrong with your body, your perfect the way you are. I'm just disappointed that you don't know how Handsome/gorgeous you are?"

19 "Don't look at me like that...UGH fine let's get ice cream"

20 "Don't say that, you're are the most greatest Person/Man I've ever love and adore. I love you dummy"

[thatpogue]

Chai's, Pets and Security.

Pairings: Steven Grant/Male Original Character, Marc Spector/Male Original Character, Jake Lockley/Male Original Character.

Warnings: Swearing, Voilence, etc

Part 1/?

For the first time since parking the coffee van around the corner of a popular meseum, James got distracted.

Order after order, faces forgotten in seconds, pleasant greetings being shared only by him, the rain just touching his arm - there he was, a kind face in the masses of snappy customers.

He didn't know if kind was the right word to use, because on any other day, at any other time - James would've thought this man to be intimidating.

Dark curls, sharp but rugged features - surprisingly built arms under the clothes that swamped him.

But his widened eyes shadowed by dark bags, hands resting curled on top of the only surface separating them, screamed the total opposite.

James had to blink himself out of his studying gaze, "Sorry, what can I get ya?" 

The man's brows flew an inch up his forehead, perhaps because of his not-exactly-british accent. "Do you use almond milk at all?" He shuffled a bit, gaze jumping away. "Sorry."

James spotted the name tag attached to his jacket.

Steven.

"Hey, nothing wrong with that. In fact -" James spun around to display the array of milks, pointing with a flourish at each of them, "- we have soy, lactose free, coconut and, ah-ha. You're in luck!"

He flipped the milk carton dramatically and caught it again, "Almond. What can I get you?"

Steven's shoulders slumped and his mouth curled a tad at the end. "Chai latte'd be lovely. Three sugars, please."

"'Course."

"I haven't seen this around before." Steven said, a lilt on the end making it seem like a question. "Are you new to the area?" His lifted a perfect brow.

Flicking through the machine and reaching for the sugar, James nodded, "You could say that." He laughed. "I just moved to London, if you can tell by the accent."

"It's a nice difference, really." Steven shrugged, twisting his fingers together on the wood. "I don't hear it very often."

They were the opposite of each other - between Steven's British, and James's Australian. Brunette and blonde, brown eyes and blue eyes.

"I like yours. Sounds fancy." James smiled, swiping a marker from one of the drawers and quickly scribbling Steven's name on the lid.

Steven chuckled. Although hesitant, it was a soft, warm sound and his eyes lit up when James turned to face him, the take-away cup cradled in a large, gloved hand.

James's eyes lingered on callousled but gentle fingers when trading the Chai for the exact amount of cash.

He almost hit his head on the way back up, and snorted when his hat took the brunt, tumbling to the ground.

"Thanks. . . mate." Steven hesitated, squinting up when the sun started shining through the gap in the clouds.

James answered his unsaid question. "It's James."

Steven nodded, took a sip, swirled it around in his mouth, and blinked a few times. Each blink accompanied by wider eyes.

The reaction had James bashful, "Good?"

"It's bloody delicious, better than the stuff at work I'll give you that." Steven smiled, a bit wider this time. Both hands curved around the cup, his sleeves drawn down to his knuckles.

Teeth on display in a proud grin, eyes squinted. "I'll be here every two days."

"God, don't tell me that. I'd get addicted."

"Who knows, regulars might get discount." James brushed a hand through his hair to settle it, and shoved the baseball cap on backwards.

"Well, then, I'll be here on Friday, yeah?" Steven joked, hopping lightly on his heels, "Gotta start somewhere."

There were a few customers settling into line behind him, and James felt a bit disappointed. He hadn't had a moment to chat with anyone like Steven since he'd come to London.

Steven flicked his wrist up, checking the time. "I better jog on." He nodded, awkwardly, pointing behind him. "Uh, yeah - laters."

"I better see you on Friday, Steven!"

And off he went, across the street, to the left and around the corner, bounding up the steps towards the meseum.

Steven took another sip, shoulders loosening under its warmth - he noticed, suddenly, the writing atop the lid.

Steven! In sharp, thin letters. His lips twitched up in a small smile.

Three more paces in, and then he paused, head whipping over his shoulder because when had he told James his name-?

Steven whacked himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

His name badge! Of course.

He let out a soft laugh, shook his head, and continued on to work. He definitely didn't think about the sincere, wide grin having been sent his way.

[myfandomlikesandstories]

Need You Now

Marc Spector x GN reader

Genre: fluff, hurt comfort

Summary: Need You Now by Lady Antebellum songfic. You and Marc have been thinking about each other late at night, and you decide to phone him.

Warnings: Marc drinking

Word count: 1437

It was late at night, and you were half sitting half lying on your couch with your phone. You were scrolling through pictures of a guy you were seeing, Marc Spector.

It was an on and off thing, no hard feelings, but you two just... Saw each other. On occasion. You would go on a date, have a wonderful time, and not find any time to meet again for a few weeks.

After a particularly long time, about 5 weeks in which you didn't meet and barely spoke, a date was finally scheduled. Marc showed up looking tired, sad and guilty. He apologized for not being able to meet up, and for not calling.

He said he didn't understand why you wouldn't just ghost him, and why you even agreed to see him now. If he were any other person, things would have been different. You wouldn't just "talk" to someone with no commitment for so long, you had standards.

But there was just something about him. There was something relentless about this Marc guy, you felt as if your life would be totally different if you just left. That was silly, just a weird gut feeling but you didn't dismiss it. No harm no foul, right?

You thought of calling him. Obviously you shouldn't, it was 1 AM, but honestly? You missed him. It was stupid. He wouldn't pick up. He'd think you're weird. Clingy. He'd brush you off and ghost you for good.

Did he think of you as much as you thought of him? Nah, can't be. He would have made a move by now, or at least try to talk to you more. You never even cross his mind, that's why he doesn't call. Shame that for you, it happened all the time.

--------------------

Marc Spector poured yet another shot of whiskey into a glass and swallowed it immediately. He wondered why wouldn't he drink straight from the bottle, no reason bothering with a glass. He wondered many things that night, like why couldn't he take his eyes off the door? He felt the urge to just rip it open and run into the night.

"Shouldn't be drinking anyway," he grumbled as he poured another shot. Steven would nag him for it all day. Marc had agreed to work something out with Steven over his drinking problem. He said he'd only drink if he was feeling absolutely miserable... Which was most of the time. But tonight was truly spectacular in that field.

He couldn't get you off his mind. Did he really wish to disappear in the cold night air, or did he just want to hear a knock? He wished with all his might to see a text from you pop up on his phone. You texted him, once, when he was having a particularly bad day. He never felt relief like that in his life. It was like a ray of warm sunshine burst through the cloud over his head. It made him feel special, honestly. That YOU chose to talk to HIM. He reaaaally wanted you to just sweep in and save him from himself. In a back corner of his mind, he realized he wanted you to love him.

"It's weird to think that about someone," he dismissed himself. No way you thought about him, certainly not like that, certainly not at 1:15 in the morning! "I need to get a grip." He sighed. "And to stop talking to yourself." Marc thought, and rested his head on the table.

--------------------

You sighed anxiously, finger hovering over the call button. You were thinking too much and too little at the same time. Your head was flooded with the impossible possibility of Marc returning your affection, and so you managed to completely forsake the idea to text him first. Never mind. "It's now or never," you told yourself and called.

The ring roused Marc from his drunken half sleep on his kitchen table, and he sprang to his feet, stumbling and falling as he tried to reach his phone on the counter. He would have felt insanely ridiculous if it were anyone else calling, and would berate himself endlessly. Luckily, it was you.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Marc! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, don't worry, you didn't. Um, how are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, sorry, I didn't expect you to actually pick up."

"Well, I'm here. Why'd you call?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you're free sometime this week? Maybe tomorrow?"

Marc was a little surprised, both by the whole situation of his damn wish coming true, and by you asking to see him again.

"Yes, yeah, I am. Is 7 PM okay?"

"Yeah! Perfect, thank you. I'm sorry I called this late," you apologized, but the triumph was present in your voice. "See you then!"

"Yeah, goodnight." He said.

"Goodnight."

None of you hung up, and a few moments passed. Just before you ended the call, you heard Marc's voice again.

"Wait!" He pleaded, louder than he meant. He would have never done this sober.

"Yeah?"

"Could you please stay on the line?" He asked timidly. It was really unlike him, but he couldn't let you go.

"Of course." You reassured. He sounded a bit panicked. "Are you okay, though?"

"Uhh," he hesitated. He obviously couldn't tell you he was sad and drunk and thinking about you and praying that you'd call, right? That'd be creepy. Why was he even talking to you? He tried to stop himself before, saying that you don't need him in your life. He's bad for you, he's a burden, you shouldn't be near him. He felt guilty for being with you and felt guilty for leaving. Without you, he felt his heart was so empty it could stop. He'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all, he guessed.

"Marc? You there?"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright, everything is okay." You registered something was really wrong. "I'm here. You can tell me. I'm worried about you."

Marc was shocked. Did he hear you right? You were worried about him? He gulped. He didn't want you to worry. You told him once you liked it when people are open about their emotions. Here goes nothing.

"Um, yeah, no, uh, I'm... Not doing so great. I'm sorry. I'm pretty drunk. Hehe, I actually kinda faceplanted while running to pick up the phone," he said and ran a hand over his face. His voice sounded very sad suddenly. "I don't want to be alone."

You heard him take a sharp, shaky breath.

"I need you."

You breathed deeply. "I'm sorry, Marc."

Here it comes, he braces himself for impact.

You decided taking risks was working for you tonight. "I'll be at your place in 15 minutes?"

Marc was stunned. "Really?"

"I just need to throw together a bag, I'll stay the night with you, yeah?"

"Thank you," he said, shocked and grateful.

"Just hang in there." You said and ended the call, going to pack yourself an overnight bag and drive over to his place.

Marc's head was spinning now, and he sat down.

--------------------

15 minutes later, you knocked on his door. Marc went to open it and was greeted by the sight of you in your pajamas, holding a small backpack. You dropped it on the floor inside the apartment and when the door was closed behind you, you engulfed Marc in your arms.

He rested his head on your shoulder, breathing you in and holding you close. You tightened your grip around him and rubbed his back.

"Thank you for coming." He said quietly. "I'm sorry."

You let go of him, and a wave of pain washed through his bones. Instead of walking away, you took his face in your hands.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear. Thank you for letting me help you."

He looked at you with his now wet, puppy dog brown eyes, grateful and utterly confused by your kindness, and pulled you into a hug again.

You stayed that way for a minute or two, and broke apart only to get into his bed together and cuddle. You pulled his head to your chest, and he snuggled happily into the crook of your neck as he wrapped his heavy arms (and a leg) around your body. You held him close, kissed his forehead and his hairline, and he planted a few soft kisses on your neck and chest. You didn't know what you would do without one another. Tomorrow would be good, you knew so.

--------------------

Just tagging some mutuals:

MASTERLIST

@luke-o-lophus @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @romanarose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @writingforcurrentobsessions2

[melodygatesauthor]

I'm so excited for this! Really hoping I find the time to participate!!

Yayy!!!

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3