#marc(h) madness

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

Sweet dreams

Pairing: Moon system x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1k

Summary: you are having a foursome with the moon boys

Warnings: foursome, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, anal f!receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, that's it I guess?

Author's note: good old porn without plot. Each of the boys has their own physical body. And don't say you haven't thought about it at least once, I still won't believe you!😈

Happy Oscar's and Moon system’s birthday, fandom!🥳

━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━

It was a homey, cozy evening you spent with your boys watching your favorite movie. Your back was pressed against Marc's firm chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You were wearing only a loose white t-shirt from one of your boyfriends. Your outstretched, naked legs rested on Steven's lap, sitting on the couch next to you two; he stroked them a little absent-mindedly, intently watching what was happening on the screen. Jake settled right on the floor; your fingers played with the curls of pitch-black hair at the back of his head, and every now and then he caught your hand and pressed a kiss to it.

- Baby, - Marc's lips touched your earlobe first, then your soft cheek; his low, quiet voice sent goosebumps down your spine, - would you... Would you like to have sex with the three of us?

Reaching for the remote, Jake switched off the TV and turned around. Three pairs of dark brown eyes were staring at you, waiting for your answer. The question Marc asked made you feel hot. Your heart thudded in your chest, thumping against your ribs, your mouth instantly dry, and you felt your whole body start to shiver with the excitement of anticipation.

You shifted your gaze from Steven to Jake, and then turned to look into Marc's eyes.

- Yes, - you breathed out. As if the answer could be any other way...

The next second, Marc's lips covered yours. Jake, without hesitation, took advantage of his comfortable position: kneeling in front of you, he slid his palms up your thighs, spread them wider, picked up your hips and turned them slightly toward him, then pulled down your panties and pressed his mouth against your pretty, exposed pussy. A pitiful whimper escaped from your chest.

For a few moments Steven watched admiringly. You and him had made love many times, but this... this was something incredible. It was the most arousing thing he could imagine. Noticing Marc squeezing your breasts through the white cotton, rolling the hard peas of your nipples between his fingers, Steven finally moved closer and began slowly, inch by inch, lifting the hem of your shirt, placing kisses on the warm skin of your belly and then your chest. Freeing your tender, soft breasts at last, he drew one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked on it, bobbing his head slightly, while rubbing the other one with his fingertips.

Jake could feel your juices running down his chin. Your orgasm was coming rapidly; you were already frantically rocking your hips, literally fucking his mouth, pulling the hair on the top of his head. All of this was driving him wild with delight. He loved sharing you with his hermanos; there was no jealousy in your relationship, for you loved each of them equally, you belonged to each of them equally, and neither of you doubted it.

- That's it, - Marc whispered hoarsely, - our good girl. So perfect for us. 

You exploded into a mind-blowing orgasm, shuddering all over your body. Lost in sensation, you felt yourself continue to be caressed by three pairs of hands, continue to be kissed by three pairs of lips.

Still drifting in sweet post-orgasmic pleasure, you suddenly felt yourself being picked up in someone's arms.

- It's time for us to move to a more comfortable place, - Jake announced, heading for the bedroom.

You couldn't hold back an absolutely pornographic moan as you slowly lowered yourself onto Steven's cock. From the orgasm you'd just had, your supersensitive pussy was so damn hot and so wet that it squelched lewdly with every thrust.

So wet that Jake didn't need any extra lube when he pressed the thick tip of his cock against the tight little hole of your ass.

- Easy! - Marc barked as you cried out loudly, taking the other man inside you.

- It's okay, - Jake purred, one hand stroking your back, the fingers of the other gently stimulating your clit, - I'm the one who took the virginity of that pretty, sweet ass, remember? I know what I'm doing.

And damn it, he really knew. It wasn't hard for the three of you to find the right rhythm. You felt so deliciously full, the sensation was fucking perfect - two cocks moving in sync inside you, Steven's hands on your breasts, Jake's fingers on your clit. The only thing missing was...

- Marc... - you opened your squeezed eyes and reached out to him, - I want you.

Slightly frowning, he didn't take his burning gaze off you. Steven and Jake slowed down.

- I... I need to be sure that everything's okay. That you're okay. That we won't go overboard.

- My love, I'm okay. I promise. Please, come here. I want you so bad. Please?

How the hell could he say no to you?

During the time you'd been together, you'd already gotten to know each other inside and out. Your boys knew what you liked, and you knew what liked each of them. So it wasn't hard for you to make Marc let out a low guttural moan as you wrapped your palm around his cock and sucked his balls.

Your second orgasm didn't take long to come. Steven cum simultaneously with you, Jake - a few moments later. After recovering a little, you focused all your attention on Marc. As you sucked him off, you felt the hot sperm slowly dripping down the inside of your thighs from your two open, properly fucked holes.

Marc cum, pushing roughly down your throat and hoarsely breathing out your name. After swallowing every last drop, you satisfiedly licked your lips and looked up at him. He affectionately touched your cheek.

You opened your eyes.

With a slight smile, Marc was looking at you attentively, propped up on his elbow. You blinked. The room was dark - it wasn't morning yet. There were just the two of you.

- What's up, babygirl?

- Nothing, - you felt your panties were soaking wet, - I just had a dream...

━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━

[my-secret-shame]

🤩Spin the wheel!😨

This character is now OBSESSED with you.

[howellatme-writes]

Kintsugi

Steven Grant x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader

Summary: You get into a fight with Marc Spector. You thought he and Steven were twins. He confesses he has DID, you both fight, and you both mutually break up with each other. You really miss them and see a tea set in a thrift store, prompting you to go back to apologize.

Themes and warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, exs to lovers, fighting about D.I.D., D.I.D based on the show, crying, hints of abuse but not explicitly mentioned, not beta-read, no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader (If I missed any warnings pls, let me know, and I'll add!)

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Thank you to @silvernight-m for finding broken/fractured mirror/glass pics of the boys! <3

Retail therapy is supposed to make everything better. You wander down the aisles of the thrift store on a Saturday afternoon. You had a couple of sweaters on your arm, but they didn’t fill the void like you initially thought. Maybe some decor? You look through some old framed posters, and wall art, but nothing catches your eye. Maybe there’s a quirky mug that will put a smile on your face. You look through, and most of them are faded sublimated mugs from cities you never heard of. You chuckle and see one with a frog wearing a cowboy hat sitting on top of a prickly cactus. That did not look comfy. You add that to your retail therapy pile, grasping it by the handle as you wander further down the kitchen section.

Something catches your eye and you stop. A broken deep blue teapot mended with gold, with two teacups to match. You set the frog mug down and pick up the teacup, tracing along the crack repaired with gold, examining the other teacup, you feel your eyes water. Kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, accentuating the breaks that make them more unique and beautiful. You couldn’t believe something so beautiful was sitting on this shelf. You quickly walk around the corner grabbing a basket. You gingerly lay down the sweaters, wrapping up the teapot and cups, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“I’ve been trying to tell you I have Dissociative Identity Disorder! Steven is another personality. We’re learning to co-exist…but it’s difficult.”

“What do you mean!?!? Steven said you were twins!”

“Have you ever seen Steven and me in this apartment together? Have you ever wondered why there is only one bed?” Marc had asked with his arms crossed defensively, he pauses and you don’t say a word, “I’m not playing mind games with you!”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you are. You both led me on. If this is some fucked up joke -”

“You think my life is a joke to you? Do you seriously think this is fun for me? Do you think I want to do this with every person I meet? To live like this? I was ready to sit back and let Steven live his life, but then you walked into mine and gave me a reason-!” He had been pacing with his hands trembling in a way that wasn’t like anything you had seen him do before, ”This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you… But Steven-” You watched him run his hands through his curls, looking like he was at his limit, “He thought you’d be different, thought you’d understand! You know what? Just leave. Get out. GET OUT!”

You had gotten up off the couch as he shouted at you to leave, sick of watching him pace back and forth. You were too upset to understand the complexity, and he was upset that you reacted like everyone else. You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and turned towards the door…

You felt his hand grip your wrist, and you turned to see Marc ruffle his hair. But the voice was Steven’s. His eyes were watering with sadness at having his heart broken in real time. “See…it’s me. Messy curls and all.”

You froze. It truly was Steven. You couldn’t explain how you knew, but the body carried itself differently. “No…” you pleaded, shaking your head. You were angry, but now you’re just scared. How could a body or a person go from seething anger to crying desperation so quickly? “No…What’s wrong with you? This is too much.”

“Don’t go.” Steven asks his hand tightening on your wrist, speaking your name softly, “Please don’t go.”

You looked terrified, shaking your head no, and backing up as he tried to step forward. You had refused to see and understand what was right there in front of you, “I don’t know what this is…but I can’t do this.”

“No, no no, please don’t go.” Steven pleaded, but his grip on your wrist loosened, letting your wrist slip through his hand as you told him it was over, not even bothering to zip up your boots as you tripped over his shoes and hurriedly left his apartment for the last time.

It had been a couple of weeks since Marc and you called it off and you walked out of each other's lives. It was mutual in the moment, so why did you feel like shit? You spent the first weekend in bed nursing your broken heart with Ben & Jerry’s. Then as time went by and you started to miss Steven and Marc. You couldn’t walk into a bookstore without looking at the history section for Egyptology books. You could care less about the Cubs, but you were still keeping track of their season to know how Marc was doing. When the museum had a new space exhibit, you knew that was something all 3 of you could enjoy, but you couldn't go by yourself. It confused you, you still referred to them separately even though they were one person. They were one person, right? 

You sipped tea from the Egyptian mug that had once been Steven's favorite when he visited. The more you discovered about dissociative identity disorder, the worse you felt. You cried when you realized it was due to childhood trauma, not wanting to imagine what might have caused it. All you could picture was a scared little Marc or Steven, and it broke your heart. You learned some basics about different personalities and better understood why they seem to have memory issues. The next day, you tried to send them a lengthy apology text, but it wouldn’t go through. They had blocked your number.

This led you to the thrift shop, where you checked out the sweaters and the tea set. Cradling them in your arms with both hands, you went home and spent the night with the tea set on the table, internally debating whether you should show up at Marc and Steven’s door with your apology teapot. Would they even open the door for you? Steven might, but you can see Marc pretending he’s not home. Your chest is tight and you feel hot as you bury your face in your hands, paralyzed by indecision. That was until you decided if things couldn’t be fixed between the three of you, you could show them remorse, apologize, and wish them the best. Marc and Steven deserved some kindness. It was the least you could do.

You brace yourself for this conversation, taking a deep breath before finally knocking. Your heart pounding, you pick up the bag with the tea set in anticipation, not knowing what to expect on the other side. You hold your breath and look down at the foot of the door, looking for shadows from movement. Instead, there is deafening silence. You knock again, softer this time. “Marc? Steven?” You asked hesitantly.

Unintelligible whispering on the other side of the door prompts you to continue, “I can hear you. Marc? Steven? Open up, please?” You pause and the hushed whispering stops. “I know you probably don't want to see me again. I get it. I wouldn’t want to see me either. Just- Just hear me out? I promise you can slam the door in my face if you don’t like what I have to say. I promise I won’t come back. Look… I’m sorry about our fight. Can I come in and apologize properly?” You nervously step back as you hear the locks being undone. Your anxiety was high, but now you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. The door opens, and you briefly look him up and down before you guess, ”Marc?”

He propped the door open with his foot, and crossed his arms, “Yeah? What do you want? To apologize, or get those Extended Edition Lord of the Rings DVDs back?”

“It’s not about the- Oh, I forgot about those actually.” you pause and try to recall what else you had left before shaking your head, “I want to apologize…to the system.” you finish, the terminology still foreign on your lips even though you rehearsed this apology in the mirror the night before.

You see him uncross his arms and stand up a little straighter, his lips parting as his brow furrows slightly. He quickly steels himself and gestures to the gift with a tilt of his head to study your intentions. “And what about that?”

“It’s a gift if you'll accept it. I found it at the thrift shop, so if you boys hate it, don’t feel bad about re-donating it,” you explain as he eyes the bag hesitantly. Marc steps back to let you walk in.

“Sorry about the mess. I haven’t been picking up after Steven lately,” he mumbles. Slipping your shoes off, you realize the apartment has been neglected. Dirty dishes in the sink, take-away containers piled on top of the counter, clothes in random places on the floor. Steven always said he was messy, so you wonder if Steven had been the only one fronting for a while. The thought made you sad as you followed him through the small kitchen area to the living room. Marc led you to the couch, and you both sat down on opposite ends. “How have you been?” you asked timidly, putting the gift bag between you on the middle cushion. 

Marc is tense as he leans forward, scoffs, shakes his head, and gestures to the mess around you both. “I haven’t. This is all Steven.”

“You're just letting Steven have all of the time? You’re not…present?” you ask worriedly

“Look just do your apology tour and go, okay? I don’t need this, but apparently you do.” Marc said, crossing his arms again and looking at you impatiently.

“Marc, I'm asking because I care. Don’t try to push me away before I-” you cut yourself off before he does. You take a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” you start, flexing your fingers, your thumb pushing into your palm to ground yourself. “I obviously didn’t know about your condition. I didn’t want things to get complicated between us. What he had was simple in comparison. I didn’t want to listen, and I’m sorry about the hurtful things I said to you. I liked the idea of you and Steven as twins. Of course I wondered why Steven was British and you weren’t, or why there was only one bed in this apartment, I didn’t want to look past the answers you gave me. I wanted to believe the simplicity.” you look up at him, his expression is still cold, but you think he breaks for a moment as you wipe your eyes, “We were happy, right? I enjoyed having Steven around, even if you weren’t here. Things just got more complicated when I realized Steven was flirting with me…Then when you told me about DID- It just got a million times more complicated. I-”

Marc stays silent and you fumble with the drawstring of the giftbag as you remember the fight, “I was pissed, but as the days went by I still missed you. I missed Steven. My feelings for you both confused me, but I missed this system. I wanted to understand.”

“Understand why we’re so fucked up in the head?” Marc asks quietly, the edge to his voice disappearing. 

“I wanted to understand why your mind does what it does.” You reach across to take his hand in yours, “You’re not fucked up.”

“And what bullshit are you going to spew to make yourself feel better, huh?” Marc asks, taking his hand away.

“Just…open the gift, please?” you plead, pushing it a few inches toward him, biting your lip nervously.

He raises an eyebrow as he takes the gift, rolling up his sleeves slightly to take tissue paper out, glancing at you again as he sees objects wrapped in old newspapers. He takes out the first thing and unwraps it. “A lid?” he sets it on his thigh, grabbing the next piece, unwrapping it, and turning it around in his hands, following the gold, “A tea set. You got us a tea set? This is Steven. This isn’t me,” he observed dryly and placed the teapot on the coffee table and unwrapped the next pile of newspaper.

“Do you know what Kintsugi is?” you ask quietly 

“...no,” Marc confessed, holding the unwrapped cup in his hand

“Kintsugi, gold, fixing the cracks in the broken pottery. There’s beauty in mending what’s broken.” You watch him twirl the cup in his hand, looking at the gold seam. “Making the cup prettier and more appreciated. Knowing what the cup had to go through to arrive where it's at.” You take the cup from him, setting it next to the teapot. Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist when you take his hands in yours. “It reminded me of you. It helped me look at D.I.D. in a new light. Marc…your mind is beautiful.”

“...I don’t know if I deserve that.” he gulps, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at the teapot, avoiding your gaze. He looks like he was absorbing the metaphor, and slowly realizing that you did try to take the time to try to understand and do some research. It was more than most people. His walls were finally coming down and he whispered almost as if to himself. “It’s a struggle.”

“Baby…” you whisper tearfully, “I don’t know what happened, or who hurt you.” you look down at his hands, mentally kicking yourself for crying, “but you didn’t deserve it. You were just a little boy, right? No boy deserves what happened to you.” Marc lets out a little exhale and you see his hand tighten around yours. You close your eyes and shake your head, reaffirming, “Your mind is beautiful. Your trauma could have broken you, but your mind did what it could to keep you safe. Steven is your gold, and he's a part of you that I'll be forever thankful for. You're still here because of him. You’re a team.”

He’s silent and you look up at him expecting him to kick you out, but you can tell the analogy caught him off guard. The idea that Steven was the gold fixing his cracks, that together they both made something beautiful hit him hard. Marc’s voice cracks with raw emotion, “Kintsugi…I never thought of it that way…I-” Marc trails off, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and hesitantly wipe away a tear from his cheek as his eyes search yours. The both of you had moved closer to each other without even realizing it, “For everything. I had no idea. I never came across this in real life. I want to understand Dissociative Identity Disorder. I want to understand YOU. I want to understand Steven. This system.”

He whispers your name, “I’m not good at this…I don’t know how to…” His hand covers yours, you can see how much this means to him.

“You’re beautiful…and so strong. I'm sorry,” you repeat softly and set the gift bag with the rest of the set on the coffee table.

To your surprise, he allows himself to be held, burying his head into your neck, his nose rubbing against you. Marc inhales deeply, remembering the sweet scent synonymous with you. His fingers clutch the fabric of your sweatshirt as he trembled. After a long silence you hear him mumble, his voice tinged with a pain you haven’t heard before as he murmurs against your skin, “It was our mom…after our brother died.” Marc didn’t say much more, but you continue to hold him. You tighten your embrace after his admission, trying to wordlessly convey your comfort with touch, rubbing his arm and occasionally running your fingers through his curls, desperately hoping this fragile relationship could be mended.

After a while, you hear Steven say, “You were his gold, too, you know.” He pulls back from you as you gasp. Marc's eyes are red from his silent crying, but Steven looks calm, sad, and composed. “Sorry, Steven again. Hi.” He waved awkwardly, as if he needed to reintroduce himself.

You quickly sniffed and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “You startled me, is all.” You shook your head, struggling to recover from Marc’s confession. “...but I'm not his gold. We broke each other’s hearts…Why did Marc go? Is Marc alright?”

“He’s a little overwhelmed right now, but he'll come around,” Steven admitted. Smiling, he looks over at the tea set and grabs a cup to examine, “Curious finding this in a thrift shop, but Gold, huh? Steven Grant, precious Gold keeping it all together? That's not just me, luv. We've both got a lot of cracks, but when you were here…” Steven paused musing, “The cracks didn't seem like they'd break us.”

“I just want you both to be okay.”

“We're trying. It's hard sometimes.” Steven set the cup down and hesitantly played with the delicate chain of the necklace you forgot you were wearing, eventually resting his forehead against yours. His fingers lightly run gingerly over your neck, causing you to shiver, “I think with you around we might just get there. Ya know? Find our balance.”

You could feel his nose brushing yours, his breath fanning over your lips, but you were still so hesitant, “Steven…I don't know how this is supposed to go.”

“I wish I knew. I…I don’t have all the answers,” Steven chuckled, caressing your cheek. In a hushed whisper, glancing down at your lips and meeting your eyes, he confessed, “It's complicated, but I know we both care about you a lot.”

Steven's closeness was intoxicating; he looked like Marc at the moment, but he was distinctly Steven. You couldn’t help but wonder what other ways he was different. With his lips just a breath away from yours, all you could think about is how different it would feel to kiss him, and how badly you craved those lips against yours once again. “Is this something Marc wants too?” You question, not wanting to cross a line Marc might’ve drawn in the sand if he was fronting.

“He does. We both do. We want this. We need you. I need you, luv.” Steven pleaded, “Every day you were the gold that helped keep us together—the constant in our chaotic lives.”

“Oh Steven…That means the world to me.” You murmur your fingers tracing his jawline as you pull back slightly. He misinterpreted you moving back as rejection, but you still held him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can…Marc…is he able to tell me this himself?”

Steven’s posture sags slightly as he says your name, burying his head in your shoulder, “it's not that easy. We can’t control who fronts. Marc hasn’t fronted since you left, ‘cept for just now. Left me here to fend for myself. Come on mate, do us a solid for once.” he grumbles to himself before looking back up at you again.

“The both of you are a team…he can’t leave you like that. Can he hear me?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly at Steven’s admission that Marc hid himself away this whole time.

“Yeah, I’m sure he can hear you, love.” Steven sighed, feeling defeated with Marc’s lack of a response, until you gave in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle kiss meant for him as much as it was a kiss for Marc to try and draw him back.

“Marc…I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can.” You start resting your head against Steven’s as his nose nuzzled yours. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just wanted to show you that I see Steven and you. Marc, please don’t feel like you need to hide from me.” Your fingers run through the messy curls, attempting to soothe Steven and coax Marc into fronting again, “I miss you. We don’t have all the answers, but we can take it day by day, right?” You search Steven’s face for any signal or change, but it was just the same puppy eyes looking back at you, “Anything?”

Steven sighs, shaking his head. He looks around the apartment for some sign in its Marc in a reflection, but all he sees is himself, “Nothing.”

The two of you sit on his couch cuddled up together, if Marc wanted nothing to do with you after tonight, you at least had this night with Steven. It was looking like he wasn’t coming back. You both had tried to relax and watch a documentary. Your head laid on his shoulder and he kept turning to kiss the top of your head, Steven had his arm wrapped around you as you curled into him, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb occasionally rubbing the small patch of exposed skin between your jeans and sweatshirt. You look up at him with a sad smile and heavy heart as the credits roll for the documentary, “Steven…this was nice…but…”

“It was…but…?” Steven worriedly echoed back to you. “But what?”

“I don’t think I can be with one alter, and be the ex of another.” You confess sitting up as he reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table, “It would be too complicated, wouldn't it? Especially if he doesn’t want to see me again. I can’t do that to Marc.”

Steven gulped and nodded, looking at his reflection in the TV in desperation, then turned to you. He took your hands in his, afraid you were leaving him again. “Can you maybe just wait a little longer?”

You glance at the TV and only see your reflections as the credits roll over the black screen, you look at Steven and the tv again a little confused, “Steven, I-I must have really screwed up. I don’t think I can come back from that fight. He still hasn't forgiven me.”

“Just one more episode, love?” He tried to bargain, eager for you to stay, even if the both of you are in this weird cuddly limbo. “It’s late, but it’s not midnight yet. You can stay over. I’ll sleep on the couch. Maybe he’ll come ‘round in the morning.”

“I don’t know, Steven. I want to stay, but the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave,” you say quietly, resigning that maybe this is the last time you see both of them, “Maybe he’ll unblock my number and text me if and when he’s ready…”

You feel him reach up to caress your face, holding the back of your head to gently prevent you from getting up, “Don’t go,” he whispers, “Don’t give up on us.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and feel like it’s the last time you left this apartment, Marc had made his choice and left you and Steven to deal with the aftermath when he retreated into the headspace, “He must’ve already made his decision. Please, Steven, haven’t we already cried enough?”

“Lemme say a proper goodbye this time.” He says softly as his fingertips trace your lips.

You purse your lips and finally nod as he leans in for one last kiss, and it’s passionate, desperate. Steven seems filled with an urgency that sends shivers down your spine. He’s gripping at your sweater, your hips, your thighs like he needs to memorize the feel of you, but never wanting to let you go. He’s trying to hold and feel every inch of you for the first and last time. You gasp as you feel his tongue and you’re gripping his curls, losing yourself in the moment, knowing it’s farewell, but wishing the kiss could last for an eternity. You’re both left breathless, knowing that this moment is both an ending and an unspoken wish for something more. You can’t meet his gaze as you reluctantly rise from the couch, wishing you could stay. 

You feel a heavy ache in your chest when his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back into his lap, just like when you left the apartment last time. Except this time, you’re not scared by the two of them switching who fronts. It’s not Steven begging you for another kiss like you initially thought. “Marc?” you ask in confusion.

“I didn’t block your number just so you could waltz back into my life, hit me with some deep symbolic pottery. You really think I’d let you go after all of that? You’d send me cryptic gifts every other week until I finally get the hint.” Marc laughs dryly. Studying his eyes, you see a maelstrom of hurt, desire, and yearning behind those eyes that weren’t there with Steven moments ago.

“Marc, I-” he kisses you hard as he pulls you in. He groans as your hands slide under his sweater to feel the warm skin of his back, clinging to him like you could keep him fronting if you just held him tight enough. “-I didn’t know what you wanted” He silences you again with his lips as he lays you down on the couch with your legs draped over his lap, hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

“I want this.” he exhales and murmurs earnestly, his lips still hovering against yours, “I don’t care if I don’t know how to do it right– I just want you. We want a real shot at this– no more hiding behind each other. We can find our way and pick up the pieces. Like Kint-watsit? Suki?”

“Kintsugi.” you smile, interlocking your hand with his, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Kintsugi,” Marc repeats.

[ierofrnkk]

some very special boys for a very special day!

my contribution for Marc(h) Madness; Marc’s birthday and Oscar’s birthday!!

this took too long

my hand hurts :(

[virtie333]

Oscar and skirts

Y'all know I love him in them! So much so I wrote Poe wearing them in one of my fics. I briefly thought about writing something for Oscar's birthday, but since the majority of my Tumblr followers don't read my stuff anyway, I didn't make the effort. However, I will share this snippet from Kinetic (my greatest hit and the story that literally kept me alive in 2022) detailing 'skirt smut'. Call this my Sinful Sunday contribution.

Rey put her hands on his chest, then slid them up to his bare shoulders, running them down his biceps. She could feel him tense up and he stood straight, dropping his arms to grab her elbows. “Rey,” he started. 

“Do you remember when you caught Willow and I laughing yesterday?” she asked, not letting him continue. She let her hands drift down to his abdomen. “Do you know why we were laughing?”

Still frowning, he shook his head. 

“She was telling me why she liked the native clothing,” Rey continued. Reaching for the edge of his skirt, she said softly, “Easy access.” She brought her hands underneath the kilt, easily finding his penis, which was already stiffening rather impressively. She remembered Poe telling her how quickly he became aroused around her. 

He closed his eyes and hissed. “Rey, we shouldn’t.” His grip on her elbows tightened, but he didn’t try and move her away. 

“Why shouldn’t we?” she asked, her voice breathy as she stroked him. “Willow will make sure they give us time.”

He shook his head, opening his eyes to look at her, his expression almost sad. 

Rey brought her face up to his, still stroking his erection; after last night, she knew exactly what he liked. “Who knows when we’ll get a chance to be alone again?” she whispered. “Please?” She kissed him, and he responded instantly. Gently, their lips and tongues danced, soft moans sounding first from one, then the other. Rey felt the now familiar surge of moisture as her body prepared to accept his. 

Poe tightened his grip on her elbows even more and turned her around so that she was up against the desk. She felt it dig against the small of her back and knew that it was too high for what she had in mind. Poe seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. “Turn around,” he whispered against her lips. 

She smiled. “Commander, you are obsessed with my backside!” she teased as she did as he asked. 

“I am obsessed with all of your sides,” he responded, whispering into her hair as he pulled up her long skirt. She felt his fingers delve into her wet folds and he groaned, nosing her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. He moved his hips into her and she felt the tip of his cock as he teased her with it. “Such a good girl getting ready for me so fast,” he muttered, and Rey felt a chill slink up her spine at his praise; she would never get tired of hearing it. 

Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed himself into her. Rey moaned, reminded once more how large he was. But he felt so perfect, so right. Once his hips were flush up against her buttocks, he held still for a moment, his hands tight on her waist, his face still buried against her neck, his nose tickling the back of her ear. Then he began to move. 

Rey felt herself leaning over the desk as Poe plunged deep over and over again, his pace getting faster and faster. Her soft cries matched his thrusts, and she reached forward to grip the other side of the desk, bracing herself as their bodies slammed against each other. One of his hands left her hip and reached around her front, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves right above where he was sliding in and out of her. She tensed immediately, feeling her body start to fly. 

“I’m not gonna last, Sunshine,” he growled. “I’m taking you with me!” 

Rey nodded, her vision going white as his fingers strummed her to completion. For a moment she panicked; she hoped she didn’t break anything! But then the pleasure overrode her fear and she cried out. 

Poe was hammering into her, his own release imminent, and finally she felt him reach it. The hand that had been toying with her clit came up, and his arm encircled her waist, holding her tightly against him. Breathing hard, they stood still for a moment, but then Poe pulled out of her and gently turned her around, releasing her just enough for their skirts to fall back into place. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her close, and without question she wrapped her own arms around him, burying her face against his neck. She shuddered, suddenly feeling emotional, and tried to hold back the tears she could feel forming in her eyes; why did this feel like goodbye?

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

Me 🤝🏻 Steven

InCorrect Moon Knight quote inspired by this beautiful post 🥰

[sainzzsturns]

tease

H. Fort x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none, lowercase intended, sorry in advance for any grammar errors english it’s my first language.

summary: where reader finds it funny how grumpy and shy hector gets when teased by his teammates

a/n: for one of my fav players whose extremely underrated, like how is no one talking about his assist to fermin on thursday???

you were picking héctor up from his practice at the barça grounds since you would leave work around the time he finished up.

you noticed you were still a bit early so you parked your car and entered the hallway at the estadi olímpic.

your access was allowed since most of the people working there already knew you from picking your boyfriend up and sometimes giving his teammates rides.

you walked up the stairs in your light washed jeans and white long sleeve shirt covered with a pink jacket since it was more of a chilly day.

you saw xavi discussing something with frankie as you gave them a wave and sat somewhere in the stands to watch the rest of practice.

héctor soon noticed you and gave you a wave, you blew him a kiss back. you instantly noticed lamine going in his direction starting to tease him about his girlfriend.

“ooh héctor’s blushing!” he yelled, fermín soon joined the teasing as well.

you giggled looking at your boyfriend’s tall structure turning to the boys with a intimidating stare.

“oh he thinks he’s so strong and intimidating…” marc joined in as well, causing you to giggle even more.

“callate” héctor growled in response, trying to hide the reddened of his cheeks. (shut up)

the boys continued laughing until xavi told them they were good to go.

héctor ran up to you, giving you a kiss and collecting his things, which you had sat beside. he began walking out, shaking his hand out, signaling for you to take it, which you did.

you came across the rest of the team in the hallways, hugging joão félix and pablo, who were talking while filling up their water bottles.

“ah lamine do you need a ride again?” you asked when you spotted him, being that last time his mom wasn’t able to.

“i’m sure he doesn’t, if he does marc can give him one.” héctor said firmly, looking at the boy.

“oh my god dude you can’t seriously be mad, we were just teasing you!” lamine said.

“yeah it’s okay babe.” you said as well.

héctor rolled his eyes, “well do you need a ride or no?” he asked.

“i’m good thank’s for asking babe” he teased héctor again.

you swore you could see the littlest grin on your boyfriend’s face as he slapped the back of lamine’s neck as the youngest giggled.

“bye babe…” lamine sang as you and héctor left.

when you arrived home héctor made his way to the bathroom to take a shower while you prepared lunch for the both of you.

just as you were finishing up he came down the stairs in a pair of black sweats and a white t-shirt.

he hugged you from behind while you mixed the rice in the pan, his strong arms laying above your chest.

“it’s so funny how shy you get when the boys tease you.” you said to him.

“no it’s not, don’t even start.”

“but it is! you always have this mean face but you’re really just a soft little boy.” you said again, his hands moving down to your waist giving it a squeeze as he hid his red face in your neck.

“i’m not ‘soft’ im literally 6’1” he groaned into your skin embarrassed.

“well you’re just a big baby.” you said, turning to him. “my baby…”

“you’re so corny” he answered rolling his eyes and lowering himself to give your a kiss

“you love me!” you argued back.

“a lot, cariño” he answered. (sweetheart)

[my-secret-shame]

Spin the wheel 2 times. You are trapped in a room with these characters for 24 hours.

[sl0t4matt]

m. guiu bf! head canons (requested)

❀ he‘s crazy about you.

❀ his friends like to tease him about how obsessed he is with you but he doesn’t care. how could he not? in his eyes you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. outside and inside.

❀ he doesn’t want to spend his time with anyone that isn’t you.

❀ “marc! we’re gonna go out to eat with the team. you know, to celebrate tonight’s win.”

❀ “i’m okay, my girl is waiting for me.” he would say.

❀ you on the other hand like to also go out with your friends, since you never want to be that person, that does nothing with her friends anymore just because she’s dating someone.

❀ marc understands and waits in your bed for you, or calls hector out, since he’s always pissed marc completely neglects him when you’re around him.

❀ he just can’t help it. he’s head over heels for you. you got him charmed.

❀ you always send thirsty edits of him to him on tiktok.

❀ “fuck i look good.” he would say.

❀ but oh, can he be a part of the sassy man apocalypse. hitting you with comebacks you wouldn’t have even thought about. not even just that he would hit you with smart ass remarks. he was good with them. leaving you speechless sometimes.

❀ one thing about marc is he will spoil you. no matter how many times you tell him not to. that you do not need that prada bag on your pinterest board. it seems to be going in one ear and out of the other because he has almost bought you your whole pinterest wishlist.

❀ one of his most expensive gifts would be the catier bracelet that has his name engraved on it. you wear it every day to show everyone off but also feel close to him no matter where he is.

❀ you were so mad at him for buying it at first because of the price and how you don’t need all of that. that he’s enough. but he says he “wanted to” and shushes you.

❀ you’re his passenger princess.

❀ you have all of your lip products in his car. it almost looks like it’s your car.

❀ he always lets you put on your playlist since you think his music taste is shit.

❀ you influenced him though, because now he knows almost every song of your favourite artists and also listens to them while practice.

❀ he gets you your favourite flowers on every date you guys have. you could say it’s his love language to surprise you with flowers. even if the both of you just lay in your bed and watch a movie.

❀ when he’s coming to your house, he not only brings you flowers but also your mom and sweets for your siblings.

❀ another one of his love languages is physical touch. from only holding your waist in room full of people to kissing up your thighs as he goes down on you.

❀ he loves giving you head and tasting you. you think it gives him some sort of ego boost to please you.

❀ he also thinks it’s so hot when you wear his barca jersey while riding him. when you tried it for the first time it was just for fun wanting to try something new. you moaned “visca barca” in his ear, meaning for it to be funny. but he took it seriously and came three seconds after you said it. (😭)

❀ “please ma keep it on!” he would groan.

❀ can be such a whiny bitch sometimes when it comes to waiting to fuck you.

❀ it doesn’t help he would get hard at the most random moments.

❀ you lean into marc, your hand steading yourself on his leg to kiss him. your soft lips meet his for a few seconds then pull on his bottom lip teasingly.

❀ “let’s go in!” you pat his leg, leaning back in the seat as you wait for marc to open the door for you like he always does.

❀ “i-. uhm. can’t.” he coughs. you laugh loudly. “marc!! again?” you shake your head. “you’re pathetic!” you tease him laughing.

❀ you look down at the tent growing in his pants. “you’re not helping!” he groans his head falling back.

❀ “you want me to help you?” you poke his chest, winking. he sighs looking out. people won’t see us due to his black windows anyways.

❀ “fuck yeah. please do.”

❀ like said he loves you wearing his jersey that also speaks for the matches. it gives him strength to win, so you make sure that the barca jersey you’re wearing has the number 38 printed on it.

❀ you’re an emotional mess on his games. one time you’re celebrating that your boyfriends team scored, the other you’re cursing the refs and opponents.

❀ no one wants to face you when marc is scoring a goal. you’re going full crazy. yelling and chanting his name like an embarrassing mom. clapping and jumping like you’re completely mental.

❀ he points up to the bleachers to you, taking every opportunity on dedicating the goal to you. he would blow a kiss and you’d do the same after calming yourself down.

❀ you have a ritual for after the game. when the both of you come back from the game, you would give him a little reward for scoring ;)

❀ though it’s not really a valid one because when he loses, you try releasing his anger with doing the same thing.

❀ he would drag your hair while you give him head due to his anger.

❀ after completely ruining you he would apologise like the soft boyfriend he is.

❀ “sorry if i was too rough, baby.” he would say looking down on you.

❀ “it’s okay.” you would smile, eyes still glossy.

❀ after, you would lay your head on his chest and force him to stroke your arm until you fall asleep.

[faretheeoscar]

Hey guys, I’m making this post to tell you that I’m gonna go on an indefinite Hiatus for the foreseeable close future, don’t know if I’m even gonna post for Oscar’s birthday and I’m sorry I’m not gonna go through Marc(h) Madness.

I lost my dog yesterday, my best friend in the whole world got taken from me unexpectedly due to an accident she had and I’m on the other side of the world alone trying to somehow get my bearings and mourning I didn’t even got a proper goodbye. She went to sleep with a lot of love and people that cared for her, they sang her the song I used to sing her as a puppy and that brings me a little peace of mind, but still it pains me in a way I’ve never thought I would experience, and it's sending me into a very bad state of mental health.

My posts on my queue are probably gonna keep updating and if I see the light somehow in these days I’ll probably post the thing I was working for Oscar’s birthday since it’s almost done, but I still don’t know if it’s gonna happen. There will be some projects that I was part of that will come out in the next months and I will totally share them with you if I can.

Most importantly, I'm gonna reach out personally to all the people who were on commissions queue and hopefully you guys understand why I can’t keep on working right now.

With that been said, my parents are going through a lot right now with the costs of the hospital, the cremation and all that, I hate to do this and ask for support, and not being able to provide anything in exchange for it, but if anyone has the means or can help with a small amount right now I would appreciate it with all my heart.

Last thing is my discord account is probably where I’m gonna be slightly active from time to time, to not get totally recluse, so if anyone wants to reach out, is the same @faretheeoscar and my DM’s are always open there.

Love you all, hope to see you soon 🤍

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

What if I told you I voted for Will? 👉🏻👈🏻

Oscar Isaac March Madness - FINAL

previous round

Can I just say good for you William!

Thanks for having fun in my silly little polls!

[bubuslutty]

The adventures of an ex-mercenary, avatar, cab driver and ex-gift shopist & his university student friend and neighbour!

part of the "I'm friends with the moon" au & can be read as stand-alone

pairing: platonic moon boys x fem!reader

word count: 582

tags: 3rd pov, she/her pronouns, reader insert, no descriptions of physical appearance, no beta read so all mistakes r mine

warnings: none

summary: my own hcs of some snippets of the life of the moon boys with their chaotic neighbour 💙

When Steven ends up telling her how everything happened, and I mean everything from season 1. At the end of it, reader’s eyes are red, her nose is runny and she has snot running down her nose, her hair is sticking in every direction and she has her head between her hands while rocking against the wall. Basically, she falls into a mini depressive episode that lasts 2-3 days.

“What the fuck, guys??”

☆

When reader finds out about everything that has happened, she also learns about Khonshu. And she gets freaked out big time when she’s hanging out with Marc, sitting on a chair next to the tank, watching Gus swim, (well, Gus 2.0 as well, really) there’s a gust of wind that comes out of nowhere and she screams and runs to Marc, “What was that?? What was that??? Marc?? Marc-” and she has to stand there, watching him glare at something invisible in the middle of Steven’s flat while she’s almost pissing herself.

☆

For a few weeks, any gust of wind makes her jump and she screams when she feels cold air hit her feet and runs out to her flat, banging on Steven’s door which he opens, obviously worried, and she tells him Khonshu’s in her flat and he has to assure her it was just the wind because if it was, he would have felt his presence.

☆

Khonshu doesn’t often appear when she’s around, but when he does, she curses at him, “You lying CUNT!” and Marc has to watch her trying to fight nothing (literal air) while Khonshu’s watching her from the other side of the room, the side she wasn’t standing in. "Is this woman mad?"

"Don't talk to my friend like that."

"So you have friends now?"

☆

Once, reader suspects she has a rat in her flat and freaks out and runs to get a strong and capable man to get rid of it, aka one of her neighbours. And it happens that Jake was fronting that day and she tells him she heard a tiny squeak and she thinks there’s a rat somewhere in her flat. And Jake says, “don’t worry, I gotcha.”

And mr. mustache and fat ass pulls a gun in the middle of her flat and reader grabs onto the wall and her boob, trying to calm her heart so she wouldn’t die of a heart attack at such young age, heck she hasn’t even seen BTS in a concert yet, it’s too early to die!

now imagine reader screaming and jake chasing a rat while pointing his gun at the rodent with a crazy grin on his face.

"DON'T KILL IT! DONT KILL IT!" reader is screaming, and jake screams back, "WHY DID YOU CALL ME THEN?

☆

When reader gets into something new and obsesses over it, she shows up to their door and knocks on it, basically like, “Excuse me sir, do you have time to talk about our Lord and Saviour, Jesus christ?”

And if marc happens to be fronting and is in his edgy feels, he shouts at her to “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Marcie pooh, let me tell you about the lore of this band I like!” She says like a villain, trying to share their very evil plan.

“NO!”

“Come on, let me iiinnnn! Please, Marc!” She says, trying to squeeze her arm through the crack between the door and doorframe.

But not only she likes to annoy them (sometimes) in waking, but also when she's supposed to be sleeping, when THEY'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya

[tiptapricot]

MK ship dynamic hcs continued with marcjake!

They start out with a lot of animosity when meeting. Marc has a lot of trepidation and deep seated fears and judgements about there being parts he didn’t know about, about not being as “in control” as he thought he was, and Jake has his own frustrations about how things in the past have been handled, and the things him and Marc disagree on when it comes to their shared wellbeing. The overlap of those feelings causes a lot of friction, and a lot more arguments during the immediate time post Jake reveal

They’re two guys used to bottling up their emotions, to focusing on an end goal and not including themself in the forefront of that, and that means communication is a bitch

Steven tries his best to get in the middle of them, but there’s still several months of headaches, and days full of shouting in their head, and people not being around when they need to be. It’s tough

Jake is the one that ends up breaking the tension. Him and Marc are butting heads again, over something small that’s grown into something larger, and Jake snaps at him. “You’re not fucking alone in this, Spector.”

Marc quiets for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you aren’t the only one that’s gone through this shit. I was there too. I pulled our ass out of that house, I pulled our ass out of the military when you were running straight into fire, and I pulled our ass out of Cairo. It’s not just you. It never has been. So I get it, yeah? It can really suck, to have to keep going, to have to cover yourself up, to keep track of everything, but you get over it and get in line. I’ve had to.”

It’s not really the way he meant to say it, but once it’s out there’s no going back. Marc slips away, leaving a ruffling of anger and something heavy right beneath their sternum, and Jake throws his hands up and gets back to whatever they were doing

It’s over the next week that the interaction really settles in

It changes something for Marc, in how he sees Jake. He can’t unhear what was said, can’t shake the tactile push of Jake’s words. It was so fucking familiar, the feelings in them, and he—Dammit

Steven talked once, about recognition of the self through the other, but this… Marc doesn’t want this. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like

It’s hard not to notice, afterwards, the way Jake doesn’t snap at him for why he’s doing something, but what he’s doing as a result (like he knows, like he’s been through this himself)

It’s hard not to notice the way his presence is always felt with a heaviness in their hands and around their shoulders, an ache in the joints, making everything feel more worn

It’s hard not to notice that when he’s mad he hasn’t been listened to, mad that he’s been alone, that he knows why it happened

It’s a terrible thing, for Marc to realize how alike they are

It makes it hard to hold onto his anger. Instead of an obstacle, and enemy, a Someone to shove away so the world can be simpler, Jake becomes a synchronized step, old footprints Marc knows the rhythm to

He’s pissed about it anyway, though

Jake doesn’t comment, when Marc stops pushing back and trying to draw answers out of him, and just hovers. Just watches

Jake’s in the flat one night after being out serving Khonshu, sitting in their kitchen with his gloved knuckles pressed into a small bowl of ice, when Marc settles forward. Their neck tingles and the world blurs a bit, and Jake hisses when Marc helps register more of the pain

“Can you go?” Jake asks through gritted teeth.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why are you still wearing gloves?”

“Ice burn isn’t great, Spector.” And cold, bloody, wetness is one of the last things Jake wants to subject his fingers to

There’s something like a sigh and then the world thins as Marc pushes through him, shouldering Jake to the side. He lets him, too tired to push back

Marc stares for a moment after the switch, and then peels off the gloves, wincing at the tug on their badly split knuckles. “Clean first,” he mutters. “Then ice.”

He takes them to the bathroom and rinses their hands, working gentler than he usually does. Maybe because he thinks Jake will snip at him if he’s too rough, or maybe just because he’s always been better at being careful with others than himself

Marc does the alcohol rub too, the little strips of gauze, the band aids. Then he swipes a dishcloth from the kitchen and a bag of peas from the freezer, and settles on the couch, coolness seeping over their fingertips

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Together they stare up at the ceiling, a bitter acceptance settling deep and hesitant somewhere in the quiet

They don’t end up talking much more, after that. Not in full Words and Voice conversations, at least

When they do it’s usually from the fallout of something building, from the difficulty of Working through feelings, or knowing How to

They continue to get frustrated, continue to miss the mark on assumptions and bottle things up.

Marc fronts for most of a mission for Khonshu once, when they’ve been dosed with some toxin that throws their brain out of wack, and Jake simmers angrily for a week before Marc realizes it was his recklessness got Jake pissed

In turn, Marc constantly gets annoyed at Jake’s clothes being left around the flat or his shoes tracking dirt in the door, and it bursts into a rather long trail of back and forth notes in their phone about how to share their space and what their cleanliness boundaries are

Keeping up Work and Home and Hobbies and Moon Knight is a lot. Jake is busy, Marc is busy, Steven is busy, and collectively they are tired, so clear talking doesn’t happen all the time. But…

There’s another aspect to what settles that’s… different

Sometimes the lack of Words isn’t the silent treatment, or a volcano building pressure. Sometimes it’s just… that they don’t need to

Jake gets when Marc is tense and snappy the morning after a nightmare. Marc knows what it’s like to crash after a bad mission and to wake up with their body sore and hardly wanting to move. They both know what it’s like to stare at the numbers on their phone and wish it felt good to call them

They get each other, as much as Marc may loathe to admit it at first. They both understand what it’s like to lose themselves in protecting others, to squirrel feelings away where they won’t hurt, to hide. It’s something different than they can get with other people or with Steven. Not better, just different

They both try to say the quiet part through actions, to Show whatever kind of appreciation has grown instead of Admitting it. They do little things, passively, with the other in mind. Just because they know better, of course, or because it makes their life easier. It doesn’t mean much in the big scheme, really

Jake begins casually checking that Marc eats a varied diet, that he’s getting himself good food and not sacrificing flavor for efficiency (or allowing Steven to snack without getting any actual meals in). That shifts into getting him to get fancy takeout now and then (whether by Jake ordering it himself or by Marc finding a menu and a number left on the counter), to allow Marc little pleasures that are his and to find enjoyment without being afraid

Marc does his own little upkeep. When he’s annoyed at clothes being left around, he folds them, and at some point it becomes a relaxing routine instead of a pointed move. He sets Jake’s shoes by the door, and puts the coffee pot on when he feels the slow, slushy shift of him coming towards front after a night of something tiring. Marc gets the car washed, and dusts the vents, and swaps out the air freshener when it goes stale, and buys new pocket tissues.

They never discuss it beyond passing comments (“Is this the right place?” “Best on the South Side.” or “You wrinkled my tie, Marc.”). Discussing it would be too far. Discussing it would be something different.

In times they meet in headspace, when Jake emerges from his locked up corners of the inner world, they mostly do things in parallel play

Jake fiddles with the old cab he has in there, the one that always needs some kind of repairs, and Marc will sit quietly and pretend he’s not flipping through old NASA magazines they still have memorized from childhood

Jake strikes up a conversation about that once. (“You still into space?” “You still into driving?” Jake laughs loud and Marc cracks a grin. He’s tugged forward to a Mars exhibit at Steven’s old work a few days later)

The arguments that pop up get shorter. The miscommunication gets a bit better. The flames lull to embers, and it takes both of them time to admit that means there’s warmth there now

Wasn’t it meant to be rotten work? All of this. Especially to the other, especially if it was them.

Because it isn’t

Marc thinks it’s nice to make jokes in Spanish again, and to have rock and jazz and Latin pop stuck in his head on bus rides

Jake can admit that seeing Marc smile gives him way more of a kick than getting him to swear, and that having someone there to keep him company on late nights is better than a lonely parking lot

None of that means the bite goes away, that the struggle to fit edge to edge ever smooths, but at the same time…

At the same time there are distant hands to care for bruised knuckles, and a leather anchor to cling to during flashbacks, and someone else to say “I know right?” when memories resurface that make the floor shake.

There’s a camaraderie there, in their mutual weariness, in their shared fear of failing to protect the people they love, and their history of fighting and surviving

And sure, they both get that after a point, but… well shit, it wasn’t meant to feel like this

Marc isn’t meant to find himself fiddling with Jake’s gloves, only to lean down and rest his cheek on the leather. Jake isn’t meant to smile a bit wider and feel a warm heat in his throat when Marc’s close to front. They aren’t meant to have silent, parallel activity turn into hips side by side as one of them tells a story, and then into hands brushing together, and into the muted touch of holding.

But fuck if it isn’t nice, if it doesn’t feel good, and safe, and sweet

Neither of them know how to say it. They pinch and gripe and snap, but Love is not a word they know how to say. It’s so sappy

Not that they need to. Not that they’ve ever really had to Say the things that matter. It comes through anyway

There are weary cuddles, looks that pass meaning easily because they’ve seen the same one on their own face in the mirror, reassurances, strong hands and safe corners of headspace when the world outside is too loud

Marc leaves unfinished tic tac toe boards and messages in morse code in Jake’s jacket pockets. Jake gets him an in-box Blast Off from eBay for Chanukah one year. They make a Google doc to argue over sports

One afternoon, Marc’s helping get food ready for Shabbat (at Steven’s insistence for them to actually rest and focus for a weekend) when he’s hit with a thick wave of dissociation. Nothing happens for a bit. No thoughts, just the untethered movement of a chest and eyes staring down, and then the hand reaches up, and the hand presses against lips. A little flash of red and green and deep brown bloom behind Marc’s eyes, and when his hand settles down again, brushed with a kiss of wetness, he huffs slightly, smiling

Jake keeps Marc floating. He tugs him up by his collar and says You aren’t allowed to drown, it will get better. You do not get to give up.

Marc gives Jake a place to stand. He straightens his hat and looks him dead in the eyes and knows him for it. You don’t get to disappear. You don’t get to be overshadowed by this weight.

And within all of it there is something gentle, something that stems from having been through the same type of wars, and being a safe understanding place for the other to retreat to

They’re dual hands holding the same mug of sweet coffee. The “Got onions. Check freezer for ice cream.” in their notes and the “Jake, did you tape the game?” sticky noted onto the front door. They’re warm kisses pressed against temples and curls and facial hair waiting to be shaved (Not a chance, Spector, let me have this one). They are a pause, and rolled up sleeves, and thumbs rubbing absentmindedly on the chafed impression of watch bands and glovelines

(JakeSteven)

[transparentcomputertidalwave]

Venezia, l'auto con 700 mila chilometri: «Ci ho girato l'Europa. Il contachilometri è ripartito da zero» di Lorenzo Pastuglia Il record della Opel Astra diesel di Luigi Cella, 48 anni, di Portogruaro:«Il viaggio più bello? Quello fino a Rotterdam» Ripubblichiamo questo articolo di Lorenzo Pastuglia, uno dei più apprezzati dalle nostre lettrici e dai nostri lettori nel 2024 Oltre 700 mila chilometri (precisamente 710.505 al 16 gennaio) a bordo di un’Opel Astra Caravan Club 1.7 DTi del 2002, in allestimento Club e a trazione anteriore. Un’impresa che ha dell’incredibile, ma che in realtà è stata realizzata da varie persone in Europa. L’ultimo è Luigi Cella, un 48enne originario di Portogruaro (Venezia) che nella vita di tutti i giorni è un conducente di camion in una ditta pubblica di San Vito al Tagliamento (Pordenone, Friuli). La sua inseparabile utilitaria resiste alla grande e non sembra perdere un colpo: «Quando lo scorso novembre ho superato i 700 mila chilometri, sul contatore è comparsa la scritta “Full” (“Pieno” in inglese, ndr) ed è ripartito da zero — racconta Celli — Questo traguardo ha stupito sia il venditore dell’auto sia i meccanici dell’officina a Portogruaro, dove l’ho portata per fare un controllo dopo quando accaduto». Da Portogruaro a Rotterdam Il motore Isuzu della Opel Astra — un quattro cilindri in linea con potenza di 75 Cv, coppia di 165 Nm e velocità massima di 165 km/h abbinata a un cambio manuale cinque marce — ha portato Cella in lungo e in largo. Ben oltre i consueti viaggi casa-lavoro lunghi 50 chilometri, fra andata e ritorno: «Il viaggio più bello e lungo è stato da Portogruaro a Rotterdam, in Olanda, nel 2010 — aggiunge — Allora feci 1.300 chilometri e guidai per 12 ore continue. Durante quel viaggio, un agente di polizia mi fermò in Germania, a Norimberga, per un normale controllo. Mi chiese dove andassi e quando gli ho risposto Rotterdam lui esclamò ridendo: "This it’s not normal, you are mad (“Non è normale, sei pazzo, ndr”)". Scherzando gli risposi: “For me, this is normal” (“Per me è normale”)».

[my-secret-shame]

FUCK - MARRY - KILL

(Totally pinching this idea from the amazing @peepawispunk and her fabulous Pedro wheel!)

Spin the wheel 3 times and get 3 different Oscar Isaac characters, then decides whose getting ⭐️Fucked, Married, and Killed⭐️

I'd love to know your choices 💚

[waru-chan8]

The whole Marc-Pecco incident is so funny when you hear it with the interview that gave in Parc Fermé to DAZN. Because Marc is “I move to not disturbe him” and Pecco just actually says “ well I was at 360 Km/H and even if he is out of my line he was disturbing me (like no rider shouldn’t be on track when I was there)”.

And the cherry on top, Marc saying that Pecco shooting and getting mad with him is what made him actually be a little shit.

This is peak comedy