#where marc's all UGH I'M GOING TO BE UP ALL DAY

[thevelominati]

[formulapookie]

20 (a kiss on a scar) for MarcMarc

also unrelated, but I read through some of your work and I love it!!

20. a kiss on a scar

Bez is waken from his sleep by a groan coming from the man beside him.

Marc has not been feeling well lately, but as the stubborn idiot his boyfriend is he didn't want Bez to know what bothered him.

Now it's clear he is truly in pain, he's holding his arm tight and trying to regulate his breath.

"Marc? What's going on?" "Nothing nothing go back to sleep" "No it's not nothing Marc, you're hurting, tell me what's going on"

Marc is not one easy to read Bez has found out, not even when he trusts people he lets them see him completely, the only one who may be past all his walls it's Alex, and Bez is still not sure even his brother knows the real Marc.

But the obviousness of his pain it's hard to bypass, especially for someone like Bez who tends to take other's pain and suffering turning them into his owns just to let them free of those weights.

"Marc. Please I want to help you and I need you to tell me how, otherwise I can't and I - I just can't let you suffer like this ok?"

Marc looks like he does some thinking. Tries to be sure he can let down some of his defences in front of Bez.

"My arm. It - I didn't take my painkillers today, it hurts a lot" "Oh God why didn't you take them? Ugh Marc where are they? I'm gonna grab them for you"

Marc hisses again, it's one of those days when the arm just doesn't let him breathe without hurting.

"They uh I think they're in my bag in the blue thing in there" "These?"

Marc lifts up his head to look.

"Yeah I can take them myself Marco don't" "No. you are staying in bed, I'm gonna grab a water bottle and bring it to you, don't you dare move" "But-" "Marc."

Bez sounds resolute, firm in a way it's unusual in their relationship.

Marc knows it's done to help him, to protect him, but he feels like he has to be the one protecting the boy, not the other way around.

He's not quick enough tho, as Bez goes in the kitchen and takes some water, heading back in their room immediately after.

"Here, take - how many did you miss?" "I don't know" "Marc, please" "I think two, this morning and this evening" "Ok here's two, take them" "Marco I can survive without them" "I don't give a fuck, I'm not letting you suffer like this, come on take them"

Marc looks at his boyfriend, worry in his eyes, he feels like a small animal who's been wounded and who's been rescued by him.

He's never - with Vale it was different, there wasn't this tenderness that he and Marco share.

He doesn't know how to navigate it.

"I don't want them" "Marc if you don't take them I'm gonna make you take them with force I don't care, you HAVE to take these, they make your arm feel better no?" "Yeah but... I know people who could manage without I don't want to be weaker than them"

Marco is speechless, because this is just out of this world.

"Marc. Marc look at me. You came back from a surgery and a crash that would've ended anyone's career, but not yours. You fought through it, and won, and now you're winning again! The thing I hate the most about your injury is the fact I wasn't there back then to help you recover from it"

Marc is on the verge of tears, the love Marco has in his eyes, he only experienced it coming from himself towards the others, never the other way around.

"Marc please" "Ok. Just because you ask me"

Bez helps him take the pills, then gets back in bed with him, and hugs him tight.

"You aren't weak Marc. You're the opposite of it. Never say that again ok? Promise me" "Marco I" "Promise. Please. Promise me you'll never say you're weak again"

Marco looks like a kid in need of reassurance everything's gonna be ok, and Marc doesn't have it in his heart to say no.

"Ok. Ok I promise"

Bez smiles, one of his contagious smiles that make Marc curl his lips too.

He moves slightly, placing a soft kiss on Marc's scar, with that never ending love that can be felt through his every action.

"I kiss away your pain see?"

And he just keeps leaving more and more kisses on it, making Marc laugh, a true laugh, not one he trains himself for.

And Bez couldn't be prouder of himself, and of Marc, of course, because even something as simple as accepting help is a great step towards Marc's self esteem and awareness, and he aims at making it perfect.

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Bad Days

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Fandom: Moon Knight Warnings: Reader has a bad day and snaps at their darlings, hurt/comfort, so much fluff, swearing Word Count: 3.6k Summary: You had a bad day and your darlings take care of you

A/N: This fic is set after the show (like 4 years? after) where Reader and their darlings are in an established relationship. This is my first fic (and first x Reader fic ever) on here so I really have no idea what I'm doing. It also started out in first person POV before I changed it to 2nd person POV (so let me know if you see any errors

I also made a playlist for this fic you can feel free to listen to as you read this 💖

Divider by @maysdigitalarts

“How was work, love?” Steven asked, smiling as you walked through the door. There was a soft smile on his face—one he always greeted you with—as he stood up from the couch, but it faltered when he noticed your thunderous expression. “That bad, hmm?”

“I swear to fucking God—” you slammed the door “—if I have to listen to Gloria talk about her cat for another fucking minute, I’ll go mad.” Anger bubbled away beneath your skin, and you wanted to scream. “She wouldn’t stop talking, and when I finally got away, I’d missed my bus and got shit on by a bird!”

You threw your bag on the couch, not caring when it dropped to the floor, and everything spilled out. “I’ve told her time and time again that I couldn’t care less about her damn cat, but it’s like she doesn’t care! She just keeps talking!” You paced about the floor, getting angrier by the minute. “And then when I finally got to my car, I got stuck in all the traffic! It’s like every man and his fucking dog was on that road! And you want to know why there was traffic?”

You turned to Steven and he leaned against the kitchen bench, watching you patiently, warmly. “Why?”

“Because there was a fucking parade! But did they think to tell anyone? Nooo!” You threw your hands in the air. “How the fuck are we supposed to plan around it if we don’t even know about it?” You pressed a hand to your hair, knowing you needed to calm down—Steven didn’t need to hear this. “Ugh! A simple sign would have been nice! They have all the fucking voting signs up, why can’t they put one up about a parade blocking half the fucking road?”

You wound your fingers through your hair and pulled until the sting of the roots grounded you. You could hear Steven’s footsteps behind you as he came closer, but when he rested his hands gently on your shoulders you shied away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t stop to apologise. It felt like the entire world was vibrating and your skin crawled when he touched you. You knew you needed to explain that it wasn’t him—that it was you entirely, but all you could think about then was escape. You needed to get out of there. The fastest way possible. Before you said something you didn’t mean.

“I– I need a minute,” you said in way of the only apology you could make then. “I just– I need a minute.”

Steven covered up the hurt with a nod and a small smile as you started to back away. “I’ll be here, love.”

There was a shift in him as you darted for the balcony; a tightening in his posture and a lowering of his brows as he watched you go. Your heart broke a little as you recognised the switch. After everything that had happened, it was still Marc’s instinct to take control whenever Steven was hurting. And it broke your heart to see them both hurting because of you.

You slipped outside, your skin crackling and soul snapping as everything caught up with you. It was still raining lightly, but you were too hot to care.

You scrabbled for your earphones, snarling at them when they got tangled. Eventually you got them out and into your phone jack, and it felt like you could finally breathe as your music started coming through the tiny speakers. It was a playlist Steven had made specially for your—every song designed to soothe the ache of your soul on the bad days.

You stepped up against the railing and closed your eyes as the rain tapped against your skin and the music wafted through your ears. You dropped your head against the cold metal railing and let out a long breath.

It was like today had been designed just to piss you off. You were good at your job, but today you had made every mistake possible. Half-awake you’d switched the good coffee for the decaf your boss left for the rude guests, then you’d sent the rejection letter to the wrong client, and to top it all off you’d then eaten Kathy’s terrible tuna sandwich instead of the curry you’d been craving since you’d rolled out of bed.

But after all of that, you’d still managed to finish early and laugh with your co-workers about how you needed more sleep. Because you’d been so excited to go home to see the one person you knew could make your whole day brighter that that stuff hadn’t mattered. Not really. Not when you could go home to his arms and just relax.

But then you’d run into Gloria from the accounting firm next door, and it had only gotten worse from there. It was like every possible obstacle and frustration had been placed in your path to keep you away from your darling.

You closed your eyes, your anger switching slowly to regret and self-loathing as you thought of the man back inside. Your darling Steven. The one you’d just snapped at when he’d tried to help you. The one who was never anything but good and kind and wonderfully beautiful. The one who always greeted you with a loving smile and a warm hug. He made your soul sing and your heart soar. The world brightened with every second he was in it, and you’d snapped at him like some hateful idiot.

Suddenly tears were pressing against your eyes, and you were regretting all of it. You swallowed thickly. You turned around and slid to the ground so that your back was against the railing. You pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head into your arms atop them.

You were always like this. Whenever you got mad, you’d push people away. And if they tried to touch you it only got worse. When you got mad like that, it was like your skin was crawling whenever someone touched you—and you hated it. It was like you could have peeled off your skin just to get away from the touch of someone else’s skin on yours.

Because when you were mad, you just wanted to be left alone.

And it never mattered with anyone else because they never mattered, but with your darling Steven—it broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, clearing out the lump in your throat and tipped your head back to the sky. You and your darlings lived on the fourth floor, and the two floors above you didn’t stick out as far, so whenever it rained, the last two rows of tiles on our balcony would always get wet. Like right now. Right now, the tiles beneath you were wet and soaking into your pants, and the rain above you was dripping down your cheeks. And you loved it.

Anger made you hot, and there was nothing better than cool rain and soft music to calm you down.

Logically, you knew today hadn’t been that bad. Only Brad had been unfortunate enough to drink the decaf before he’d switched it, and the client had laughed with you about the mix-up, glad it wasn’t for them. And Kathy had actually thanked you for the excuse to buy lunch than have that sandwich she’d been dreading.

And on better days you didn’t mind talking to Gloria about her cat. It reminded you of the one you’d had growing up. You’d laugh about the copious amounts of cat fur left behind and the crazy runs they’d do after toilet trips.

And traffic wasn’t fun for anyone, but normally you could deal with it with good music and the windows down.

But today was a bad day. And bad days meant crappy moods and jittery limbs.

Your life had been full of bad days before you’d met your darling. Between your parent’s furious divorce and their absentee parenting skills, bad days had been constant growing up. But then you’d met Steven and Marc and the good days had started to balance out the bad days. Even Jake with his teasing had helped brighten the world.

But being in love didn’t mean good days forever. Sometimes the bad days would creep in, and the only way to get through them was soft music and cold things. And patience.

The cold rain seeped through your pants and the shoulders of your shirt, and you took another deep breath. You filled your lungs and let the cold and the wet and the soft music seep in, and you let out the bad moods and the jittery limbs and the crawling skin.

You took a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

And with every deep breath you breathed in the good and breathed out the bad.

***

By the time you opened your eyes again, the sun had gone down, and the drizzle had stopped. Inside, the lights were on, and you could see your darling moving about the kitchen. Even amidst everything bad, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Your heart ached with how much you loved him—all of them.

Steven had been the first—the easiest—to fall in love with. With his shy smiles and passionate ramblings. There were many nights you’d fallen asleep to the sound of his voice, already head over heels for him—even if you hadn’t known it then. It had been like falling in love with your best friend. Easy, soft, and oh-so right.

Marc had been harder. After everything, he hadn’t believed he was worth loving, or that anyone ever could. And he’d been so angry. The number of arguments the two of you had had in the beginning could have started wars. But somewhere between those arguments, you’d fallen for him. With unwavering determination to do right, and that smile he’d give when he thought you weren’t looking—oh that smile could launch a thousand ships.

And Jake… Jake had been a surprise. Marc and Steven had only been half aware of him when you’d started dating them, but when you’d finally met him, loving him was like falling asleep—ridiculously impossible. Every second with him had infuriated you to no end. With his awful smirks and constant teasing, you’d hated every minute. Except not really. Because with every smirk there was a never-ending supply of morning cuddles and late-night talks. Falling in love with Jake had never been a choice—and certainly not one you’d ever change.

Because falling in love with your darlings was easy and impossible and inevitable.

And hurting them was like nails in your heart.

You could feel tears brewing behind your eyes again as you watched them inside, but you swallowed them down. You didn’t have the energy for tears now. All you wanted was to go back inside, into the arms of the men you loved and ask for their forgiveness.

You stood up, joints crackling with disuse, and walked back inside. Marc turned at the sound of the door and watched you—wariness in his eyes—as you set your phone and earphones down.

“Sorry,” you whispered into the quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything until you did. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Today was a bad day.”

He leaned against the countertop, setting the towel down slowly. “How do you feel now?”

There was a wariness in his posture that made your heart ache. You’d been together for four years now, and you’d had plenty of bad days—enough for your darling to know that sometimes the rain and the music didn’t always help.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t mistrust behind that wariness. You knew Marc loved you—it was something he’d never let you forget—but protecting Steven had always been his first priority. And so you couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t—deep down—some part of Marc that thought you would hurt Steven too.

You took a deep breath around the pain that thought brought up. You took your time, wanting to give him an honest answer. “Tired,” you said finally, shoulders slumped. “I just want this day to be over.

Tenderness flooded Marc’s features, and he held his arms out to you. “Come here, baby.”

You were in his arms in an instant, melting when he pulled you in tighter. You breathed him in and shuddered in relief to finally be home.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“You don’t need to apologise, baby.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “We don’t get to control our bad days.” He wound his fingers through your hair as his other arm tightened around your waist. And just like he knew what you were going to say, he said, “And even if all you had were bad days, I’d still love you just as much as I do now.”

Marc shifted against you and Steven’s voice whispered through, “We all would, love.”

You whimpered softly at the love in their voices. Because that was always a worry of yours, on the bad days—and even the good ones. That eventually you’d push your darlings away. That there would be something that would finally push them over the edge and be the final straw.

But every time, they’d just pull you closer and tell you how much they loved you.

You pulled him closer and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always, mi vida.”

***

It was when you started shivering that he finally pulled away. Jake cupped your cheek and tilted his head back to the bathroom behind him. “Shower time. Can’t have you shivering all night—you’ll make me look bad, mi vida.”

You snorted lightly at his teasing, making him grin that full gorgeous grin you so loved.

“There you are,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to yours. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.”

He kissed your forehead softly. “I missed you too.” Jake interlocked your fingers and pulled you towards the bathroom after him. “Come on. Shower time.”

As he got the water to the perfect temperature—burning hot—you stripped wordlessly before stepping into the shower. You sighed in delight under the water, enjoying the burn to your skin. Jake’s grip on your hand loosened as he stepped back to let you enjoy your shower, but you pulled him closer, not ready to let go of him yet.

He stepped in behind you without hesitation—clothes still on—already knowing what you were asking. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he stepped under the spray. You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the rest of the tension melt away. Between the hot water and the arms of your darling around you, you could think of no better place to be.

“Better, mi vida?” he murmured, drawing circles against your skin.

“I’m always better when you’re around,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

Jake let out a soft, choked noise as he pressed his face into your hair and pulled you closer. “Flirt,” he said in a strangled voice.

You smiled into his shoulder. You’d meant every word of it. Since coming into your life Jake, Marc and Steven had made every second of it better. Even the bad days like today were infinitely better than if you’d been alone.

“We’re better when you’re around too, love,” Steven whispered, holding you so tenderly you could have cried. Instead, you just pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Grabbing the soap behind you, he started gently massaging the suds into your skin. He took his time, and you were content to lean into them entirely. You closed your eyes and let them take care of you. It was rare you all had a chance to take your time like this, and you wanted to bask in it. To bask in the attention of your darlings as they planted soft kisses along your shoulders.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

You didn’t know who was in charge of the body now, but you didn’t mind one bit. You knew each of your darlings loved you entirely—just as you loved them—and in times like these you didn’t need to know when they loved you so wonderfully.

They let you stand under the water for another minute before reaching behind you to turn it off. There was a fond smile in his voice as he said, “Come on, baby.” He wrapped a towel around you as you groaned half-heartedly, your head still resting on his shoulder. He laughed as you tried to reach behind you to turn the water back on. “If I let you stay in until you were finished, baby, the world would run out of water.”

“And?” you murmured, not seeing his point at all.

He chuckled lightly and your lips tipped up at the corners at the beautiful sound. “And you wouldn’t be able to have another hot shower ever again.”

“You make a decent point, my darling.” You lifted your head slightly to level him a serious look, even if he could see the tired amusement in your eyes. “But I have an even better counterpoint.”

“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow as he dried you off. “And what’s that, love?”

“Hot water,” you replied with finality, and he laughed.

He cupped your cheeks in his warm palms. “You are ridiculous, mi vida.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose with a smile.

“But I’m your ridiculous,” you said with a half-smile, pulling the towel tighter around you.

He shook his head with a smile. “Yes. You are my ridiculous. Our ridiculous.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips that you leaned into entirely. “Now—our ridiculous—how about we go to bed?”

That sounded like heaven. “But you’re all wet.” You pointed to his soaking clothes.

“And whose fault is that, love?”

You thought about it for a second. “Yours, darling.”

His smile was soft and endearing as he handed you your pyjamas before grabbing his own towel. You leaned against the sink as you watched him unabashedly. You didn’t even bother getting dressed—you just wanted to watch the loves of your life. To drink up every detail of him like it was the last time.

It was moments like these that made your world spin. That made your heart sing. Just watching the light of your world doing something as normal as dressing—and getting to do that, after everything you’d both been through—was beautiful.

I love you all so much, you thought as you watched him towel-dry his hair. It was so domestic that you couldn’t decide whether to kiss him senseless or melt right there. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you. And I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by you.

“Enjoying the show, mi vida?” Your darling raised an eyebrow at you as he caught you staring.

You shrugged like you weren’t still falling in love with him every second. “It could have been slower.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in to plant a series of kisses across your face. “Here I am trying to do something nice, love, and you’re ogling me,” he laughed between kisses.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled—the first real one all afternoon. “You’re my husband. I’m allowed to ogle.”

“Ogle all you want, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart soared at the words and your cheeks ached with the smile you were trying to hold back.

Steven brushed his nose against yours. “I love your smile,” he whispered like a confession. “It’s my favourite part of the day when I get to see them, love.”

Even after all these years, he could still make you blush. So you smiled. It was the least you could do for your darling.

“There it is,” Jake whispered, running his thumb over your lips. “Mi sol.”

You closed your eyes, taking the moment to breathe. All you could smell was their cologne; all you could feel was their arms around you; all you could hear was their heartbeat as you rested your head on their chest. You were entirely surrounded by them, and for the first time that afternoon, you were happy.

“How did I get so lucky—” you whispered, “—to be loved by you?”

Their smile was simple. “You loved us first.”

You pulled their head down for a kiss that held every ounce of your love for them, and they responded with all of theirs.

Not one, but three, you thought to yourself, utterly amazed at your luck. Steven, Marc, Jake—you three mean more to me than you could ever know. I love you all. To the moon and back.

You basked in their attention, content to stand there all night in the arms of your darlings. But after a moment, they pulled you to your bedroom. Insisting you put your pyjamas on—even if Jake did send you a wink—before pulling you into bed.

“Gay pirates?” he said the moment you were curled into his side, and you nodded instantly.

“Gay pirates.” Nothing would make you happier than watching Blackbonnet fall in love while you lay in the arms of the man you loved.

You pressed yourself closer to him as his arm curled around your waist. “Thank you,” you whispered as the TV turned on. “Thank you for being here with me. You are exactly what I needed.”

You didn’t have to explain that you didn’t just mean today.

You could see each of them shining through as they smiled your favourite gorgeous smile. “There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

A/N: After I wrote this, I came up with like three more ideas for these babies so this is definitely going to turn into a series haha

Let me know what you think 💖

[lunathebee]

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!reader (with hints of Steven Grant and Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Warning: fluff, swear words, misunderstanding situations, Marc and Steven being overprotective, cringy dialogue because I can.

A/n: this was requested by my 🌱 anon, I hope you like it (and so sorry for the wait!)

Summary: It's always a mess to stuck with 3 person at the same time.

"Ugh, where the hell is the first aid kit...these are all books" Jake grunted in frustration while dragging his body around the flat. 

It's 8am in the morning for god's sake, his body is all bloody from fighting, Khonsu is right behind his ears telling him the mission is not over, and now he doesn't know where the fuck is the first aid kid. Can this get any worse?

"Steven? Marc?!" A voice called out from outside, along with a knock on the door.

Great, it just gets worse. Jake praised God that the woman would just leave after hearing no answers whatsoever. He even held his breath and stood still like a statue.

"Are you guys okay?!! Why don't you answer your phone? And I see a huge blood trail leading to the flat! I swear to God if you did something stupid-" Y/n's voice was cut off when Jake opened the door, shirtless and still bloodied.

2 pair of eyes met each other and Jake swears he has seen the most beautiful woman in his life, while you, on the other hand, think the man in front of you is the grossest man ever.

"eW-ew, Marc! There is blood all over you. Oh the smell... The first aid kit is on the top shelf, and you can't keep getting away with this Marc, do you know how many times Steven has complained to me?" Y/n passed through Jake and continued rambling, oblivious to the fact that the man in front of her is not her beloved friend.

Jake can't help but turn around. His eyes watch each step of Y/n like a predator watching its prey. "Eres hermoso (you're beautiful)'' Jake blurted out.

"Hm? What did you just said Marc?"

"I'm not Marc princesa (princess)"

"And Steven would never let the blood stick on his face, shut it Marc"

"I'm Jake"

This time, Y/n is the one holding her breath (and standing still like a statue). The man in front of her is Jake. The one Marc and Steven are very well aware exists but don't know much about?

'Shit' you can't help but think of what this man is capable of, god, maybe he will kill you, shoot you right here if he wants to.

Jake rolled his eyes looking at Y/N. Yea, she is cute, but the first aid kit is cuter right now. Having remembered what you had said, Jake reached for the top shelf and felt relieved when his hand touched a small box, but before he could even do anything with it, you rushed to him and forced him to sit down on a chair.

"I don't know you, but I have helped Marc and Steven with injuries like this countless times. I...I can help" Y/n said while refusing to meet Jake's eyes.

Her eyes slowly trailed down to his chest...and his abs...okay maybe the floor is more reasonable to look at (A/n: girl just say you like it 💀).

The two of them stay silent as Jake too tired to give a damn and Y/n too shy to say anything.

The whole flat is filled with awkward tension, so thick to the point you can cut it with a knife, that it's until Jake decided to speak up, "Don't tell Marc and Steven about me, I'm trying to keep my identity low."

Y/n was a bit taken back when she heard it, but she still agreed with a small nod, giving Jake the satisfaction of having the upper hand, and it also gave him the need to give Y/n a compliment.

Only one, but enough to make her knees wobble.

"Good girl"

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

Ever since that day, Y/n has been secretly hoping Jake would 'appears' again. There is something about him that she can't see in her 2 friends, maybe because of his manner. Or his personality? Whatever it is, Y/n is so doomed.

She has been avoiding Steven and Marc because they keep reminding her of Jake, but this didn't go unnoticed by the two men, and that led to a mischievous plan.

===☾︎ ☾︎ ☾︎===

"Guys? Hellooo, it's me" Y/n knock on the door while waiting anxiously for her friends to open it. She wants to apologize for her recent rude behavior and maybe (just maybe) tell them a little bit about Jake.

The door slowly creaked open, and before Y/n could say anything, she was met with an intense glare. So intense, and so familiar to the point she 'accidentally' yelled out "J-JAKE?"

But to Y/n's surprise, the man yelled out even louder than her, "I KNEW IT, STEVEN, YOU WERE RIGHT, THE GLARE WORK"

What is happening right now? Is Marc yelling? And did Steven also participate in this? So many thoughts flooded into Y/n's mind, but one thing was for sure: they know she has met and interacted with Jake.

While you are busy thinking of anything to say, Steven has already taken over the body and is now running to the bed, chaining his foot to the old shackle.

"Bloody hell, I'm doing this. I'm going to chain myself up, that way the evil guy can't hurt you Y/n, you can't stop me!" Steven said frantically with shaky hands.

Y/n can't help but let out a long sigh with a fake cry. First Steven and Marc knew about Jake, then they knew SHE knew about Jake, and now they're convinced Jake is going to murder her at any given moment.

It's going to take a whole day to explain everything, and you're definitely not amused with it.

[aasterisck]

marc x reader - one shot

The door opens before I can continue banging on it. I smile at the man who opens the door but before he says anything I frown.

"You're not Marc," I slowly step into the apartment looking around, "Well...you look like him. But you're not him,"

"Who's Marc? And why are you in my apartment,"

"Does he have a twin?" I start muttering to myself ignoring the non-Mark, "He never told me about a twin," I continue muttering before laughing, "He never told me anything really," Quickly I turn around which seems to startle him muttering a quick apology I ask him more questions, "What's your name then?"

"Steven," I nod, squinting my eyes as I try to remember if Marc ever mentioned a Steven.

"Do you know where Marc is, Steven?"

"I have no idea,"

"So you know Marc?" I grow confused with every passing second.

"I-um...I just met him," he smiles but I furrow my eyebrows not knowing what any of this means.

"Listen," I run a hand through my hair, "Just have him call me okay,"

"Wait!" he extends a hand out to me but before he can continue our heads turn towards the knocking at the door. With a frown I look back at him.

In a split second his eyes change and mine widen, "Marc?" I question quietly and he glances at me. "Oh my-" he quickly places a hand over my mouth, putting a finger up to his and shushing me. I look away taken slightly aback by the sudden motion.

Quickly looking around he grabs a bag as the knocks on the door grow more desperate. I want to question everything but instead I stand there quiet only moving when he drags me towards the window. Throwing the duffle bag over his head he ushers for me to step out of the window. I widen my eyes and shake my head taking a few steps back only for him to pull me in with a kiss.

Gently resting his forehead on mine he whispers, "I won't let you get hurt. Now go," With a sigh I shakily step onto the roof of the building trying with all of my might to not look down. "Go, move," his quiet whispers force me to move along as he closes the window again.

"Why do you make me do these things?" I whisper through my teeth and through his seriousness the corner of his lip twitches.

"What things?" he points over to the wall, "Here," I stand against it closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. I feel my foot slip slightly and I hold onto him, quietly whimpering as he holds me.

"You're going to get us killed one of these days, Marc I swear,"

He gets us off the roof and I take a moment to dry my sweaty palms and decrease my heart rate. Handing him the keys to my car I brush my hair back, looking around as I fan my face with my hands.

"What am I to do with these?" I look at Steven, dropping my head with a sigh. Taking the keys back, I start walking over to my car, realizing Steven isn't following I turn around to find him looking through the duffel bag.

"Hey!" I get his attention, motioning for him to get into the car. "I have no idea where he wants me to go," I mutter as I start the car, tapping on the steering wheel as I blow some air out of my mouth. Looking at the rearview I put the car in drive, "Out of here I suppose," I glance over at Steven before rolling my eyes as he clutches the bag, "Can you please put your seatbelt on,"

"Right, yes, of course," he's flustered as he pulls the seatbelt over and buckles it in. "How'd you and...Marc meet?" I bite the inside of my cheek.

"A friend introduced us," he scoffs, "What?"

"He says you're lying,"

"Well then have him tell you," I look over at him as I make a quick turn, "And ask him where he wants me to go while you two chat it up, will you?" I frown, brushing my hair back as I stop at a red light, with a quick glance over at him I drop my head, "Im sorry Steven. Its not you im mad at...well..." I tilt my head, "I'm not mad..i'm frustrated I should say. At Marc, thats who," the light turns green and we start moving again.

"He says to head to your flat,"

"My flat!" I slightly raise my voice quickly apologising, "No...ugh, fine," I roll my eyes.

"So..." he stops and I glance over at him.

"(y/n),"

"So, (y/n) what's your profession?"

"I'm a doctor,"

"Pediatric?"

"Yes-" I furrow my eyebrows, "Just ask Marc the questions if he's so keen on answering," he laughs at the window, and I tilt my head, "Is he your reflection to you?"

"Yeah, something like that,"

"Interesting and can you control when you..." I trail off as I look for the right word, "Switch out?"

"Not really. No,"

"Hm, that's inconvenient," I laugh.

"At times it is yes," he smiles and his grip on the duffle bag loosens.

"What's in there?" I motion over to it and he opens it and looks through it, but before he can say anything he closes it with a shrug.

"I'm not too sure," I let out a frustrated sigh knowing Marc is having him hide it from me, "I don't know why we can't just tell what's in it," he whispers and I roll my eyes.

After parking we walk up to my apartment. Steven eagerly waits for me to unlock the door. As I open it, I notice his eyes change as he walks in, closing it behind him and locking it. I set the keys down on the counter before removing my jacket and throwing it on one of the chairs in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter as I watch Marc close the blinds and turn on the lights.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm being followed,"

"Well no shit,"

"I had the scarab," he walks over to me, hands extended as I step off the counter.

"Scarab?" I repeat, "The one that takes you to the Tomb of Ammit?" he nods his head and I widen my eyes, "And you had it? Present tense?"

"Yes, (y/n)," he turns around a hand on his hip another on his head as I process the information, looking away only to look back when he's turned back around, "Now i'm going to show you something that might surprise you,"

"What is it?" he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh before opening them and clenching his fists. White bandages wrap around him and his face is covered in a white mask. I cover my open mouth with my hand before turning around. Processing the rush of attraction and surprise before turning around. "Moon knight?" I contain my excitement and confusion, "Which means, Khonshu..." my eyes widen all my feelings being replaced with worry, "Marc, is this safe. Are you alright?" the bandages disappear as quickly as they appeared and he tilts his head.

"He'd like to know what that's supposed to mean,"

I look away with an exaggerated shrug, "You're holding the power of an Egyptian God," I look back at him, "The God of the Moon, Marc, that's got to be a lot of work," concern fills my words.

"I'm fine, but I do need your help,"

"You've got the Moon God what do you need me for?" I scoff, crossing my arms as I lean against the counter again.

"I'll always need you with or without a God, (y/n),"

"Corny,"

"Khonshu agrees,"

"If I put a hand up will he give me a high five?" I tilt my head.

"No,"

"I'm going to do it anyways," I raise my hand for a few seconds before shrugging, "Did he do it?"

"Yes," he's annoyed and I smile.

"You're just saying that," he shakes his head.

"No actually, he gave you a high five," I laugh and he smiles a small smile as he looks at me.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA DISNEY AUs: Hercules (Pt. XVI)

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: a ton of greek mythology because i'm a fucking nerd, immortal contracts, my severe hatred of zeus clashing badly with my absolute adoration of the soft boi that is sweet lovely hades, this is basically just crack and i'm sorry, the day i wrote it i think i lost it, anyway, have fun kids, make good choices, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Megara) Five was born to Cleopatra and Marc Antony and abandoned in a river when he was only a few days old. He floated down the river to Greece, where he was taken in by Klaus, a grieving widow hated by every god but Aphrodite, who pities him since his spouse was her son Ben. (Oh, and Dionysus because it’s Klaus.) Klaus eventually married Diego, and the three of them were a happy family until both of Five’s parents were killed by the gods’ wrath, prompting his lifelong hatred of the gods. He lived on his own for awhile before making friends with a girl named Dolores, but she died at the hands of the Chimera, sent by Hermes as a practical joke (weak little fucker). Five made a deal with the Handler for her life, the deal of Orpheus and Eurydice, but he looked back just a few feet from the surface, trapping her in the underworld forever and sealing his bitterness and resentment for eternity in the strings of Fate. He now refuses to get attached to people out of fear of making the same mistake all over again, and with his brilliance with a sword and sassy nature, it’s not difficult for him to scare people away. The only one who doesn’t back off is Luther - and Five hates him for it, before he loves him.

(Hercules) Luther is a big himbo who just wants to save people. And everybody’s chill with that! Except Five, the only person Luther really wants to save, as he sees him as somewhat of a little brother. Luther began to train to be a warrior when his Spartan wife Allison was killed by Reginald, prompting Luther to go on a whole I-hate-(Zeus)-Reginald spree by basically wandering around Greece and saving Reginald’s damned mistresses and telling Grace all about them so she can fuck him up. He often speaks to the Moon when he’s in need of company, though she never answers because. Ya know. She’s a hunk of ROCK. Anyway, my point is he’s a moron but he’s trying his best so we’re gonna give him a gold star sticker for it okay?

(Hades) The Handler has blue fire for hair and a striking stack of anger issues. She rules her realm with an iron fist and wants to conquer any others she can, making herself queen of the Olympians. So far it’s not going well, but that’s just because Five keeps getting in her way, the little bitch. HEY! TINY TWERP! NEWSFLASH, YOU WORK FOR ME, ASSHOLE! Anyway - he isn’t even scared of her, which really pisses her off, especially because like everyone else is. Including her five muses, who she keeps under control by threatening Klaus, who she keeps under control by threatening Ben, a spirit Klaus seems to care for above all others. Ugh. Weaklings. But soon enough she’ll never have to see them again - high in the clouds, sitting atop an indestructible throne of her enemies’ skulls. Yeah. Take that, Reginald. *sticks tongue out*

(Zeus) Reginald rules the gods and smites anyone who disrespects him, including his son’s wife because, I dunno, she was making him too happy? Yeah. What a major dick. Fuck that guy. (Yes that’s all I’ve got to say MOVING ON -)

(Hera) Grace adores her kids, even if they’re not her kids. She visits the muses often because she has always been and remains the only person in the whole universe the Handler is afraid of, probably because she can and has bring back quite a few of the multiple people her husband has murdered. Five is her favorite living child (Diego is her favorite dead one) and she only puts Luther through hell on all those quests to distract Reginald while she just mosies on down to the Underworld to fight that bitch who’s been imprisoning her sons for like a decade. End of story. Please and thank you.

(The Muses)

Klaus was chosen to marry Ben, who nobody had ever seen but who was rumored to be a monster. They spent every night together, speaking for hours in the dark but never laying eyes on each other, until one day Klaus caught a glimpse of Ben’s face the first time they kissed (platonically because I honestly do not ship them I know I’m surprised and impressed with myself too) and Ben was banished to the Underworld in his heartbreak. (So Psyche and Eros, basically, because I’m a nerd.) Klaus grieved him without rest until he found Five, and began to raise the child as his own, bringing back some semblance of joy in his dreary life. He then fell in love with and married the hunter Diego against the gods’ wishes, the two of them living happily with Five for a few years before Klaus was killed by Poseidon, who was furious with him for stealing the child that was meant to be a victim of the sea, and Artemis, who was fucking pissed at him for stealing her favorite hunter. He now works as one of the five muses, though he’s eventually reunited with his son and they and Diego and Ben are brought back to life to live immortally on Olympus by Grace, who, did I mention, fucking loves her children. Oh, and Klaus kills the Handler with the favor of Aphrodite and Dionysus because fuck that bitch for hurting my son.

Allison was a teacher and a warrior in Sparta, the head of her own legion, when she met and married Luther, a lost soul just looking to save people. She continued to amass power in the army while he played her housewife at home, the two of them just starting to talk about kids when her bitch father-in-law decided to smite her for some fucking reason I dunno, and now she’s here, a muse in the Underworld. Well the joke’s on him, because now she’s immortal, bitch. She can do whatever the fuck she wants. She’s just waiting for her husband to get down to Elysium so she can make out with him again. In the meantime, she focuses on protecting Klaus and the other muses (even Lila and Diego, both of whom insist they don’t need protecting the idiots) as well as coaxing Five down here to fight the Handler, who has ticked her off for the last time. Allison is a fucking Spartan warrior and she will not be pushed aside by some bitchin’-ass power-hungry dickwads! She’s got shit to do, people! Get the fuck out her way!

Lila fell in love with her own reflection, too vain and full of hubris to ever pay attention to anyone else. (Basically Narcissus because I want to and I can.) Aphrodite found this bitch annoying, so she punished her by banishing her to the Underworld and cursing her to never be able to see her own reflection again. Now she mostly hangs out with Diego, finding mortals boring and insatiable, as he is immune to her beauty. Eudora, however, is not - and gods, Lila may not love anything more than herself in this world but Eudora is coming pretty fuckin’ close to fixing that.

Diego was born to be favored by Ares and Athena, becoming a quick favorite of theirs due to his impressive skills with a knife and his honorable moral code. When he and their daughter Eudora bonded on the battlefield, the two gods believed they would be blessed with a union for the ages, but Diego betrayed their kindness when he swore his loyalty to Artemis as one of her hunters, taking an oath of celibacy and maintaining only friendship with Eudora. (So, yes, Orion.) However, he then broke his vow never to fall in love when he met Klaus, who at the time was raising Five alone. He left Artemis’ side to marry him, and lost all three of his once-adoring gods’ favor. When Klaus died, Diego fell into unconventional jobs to support Five, eventually taking up bets in the arena, fighting for prize money. He was Greece’s champion for a long time, beloved by the people and leaving Five with a great number of riches and homes to enjoy, but eventually died against the fearsome lions of Caeser, who had struck a deal with Apollo to do Diego in as revenge for his sister - and none of the three gods that had before considered Diego a son and brother gave him help, though he died without ever pleading for it once. He became a muse, reunited with Klaus, and they wait for their son to come home to Elysium, to be reunited with them forevermore.

Vanya was a muse of Apollo, living a lovely life as his mistress of violin. When she fell in love with Sissy, a servant of Demeter, they had an ill-advised affair that resulted in a magical child named Harlan, which pissed off their patron gods to no end. They were killed for their love and sent to live immortally apart in the Underworld as punishment for abandoning their loyalties and siring a child (though Apollo and Reginald had a fight about this because Apollo is a fabulous bisexual and Reginald is a homophobic piece of shit), always close but never close enough.

(Three Fates)

Agnes has a bad habit of cutting people’s strings by accident, since she’s got such shaky hands. She often steals the eye she shares with her fellow Fates and flirts with Hazel in her free time, knowing even one of her winks can send him sputtering for the hills (read: rocky mountains of fiery molten death). Though largely uncaring about the humans whose strings she cuts, she cares for Five and tries to help him where she can, as he is sweet to her and always takes the time to tell her a story or two when he visits the Underworld, even if he’s in the middle of an epic quest or heist or something or other.

Sissy ran from her abusive husband straight into the arms of Demeter, who accepted her as a refugee in exchange for her eternal servitude. Overjoyed to be rid of Carl, Sissy lived happily in service of her patron goddess until she met Vanya, and fell so deeply in love she could see clearly no more. After their son was born, Reginald killed her, angry at her for having a child with another woman. She now spends her days trying to hack her way to the surface to find her son, who she’s sure is still alive, as she maintains his string as a Fate. She works most days blind, never really caring which of her fellow Fates has the eye, and uses this excuse to explain why she “accidentally” cut Carl’s string prematurely, and also Leonard’s, who she knows used to harass Vanya as a messenger of Eris. Because fuck them. Sissy has no time for morons.

Eudora is the daughter of Ares and Athena, and pleased them greatly with her skills as a warrior and her close relationship to their favored mortal Diego, though she could never quite explain to them that the two of them were never anything romantic. She died honorably in battle and passed into Elysium, where she resided for a few years before hearing of Diego’s death and trying to break both him and his husband Klaus into Elysium with her. This pissed off both the Handler and Eudora’s parents, who hated her for choosing to be loyal to Diego over them. She was therefore punished with the task of being a Fate, a job she hates with a burning passion. Her only joy is Diego, and Lila - a beautiful muse with whom Eudora indulges in a coded flirtation but nothing beyond, both of them knowing Vanya and Sissy’s legend could all too well repeat itself with them if they dared to ever touch. (Also, Eudora loves Five. Like, loves Five. She and Lila are the fun aunts who take him on awesomely dangerous adventures when his parents are on their fifty-sixth honeymoon.)

(Goatman) Pogo is favored by Pan, and trained Luther to become a soldier after Allison died. This pissed off the gods, as Luther was prophesized to change the tides of rule in Olympus, and they told him to stop. He said fuck you. Reginald tried to incinerate him with bolts of lightning. Like fifteen fucking times. Pogo just kept on goin’. It’s honestly concerning how good he is at not dying. (Oh, and he and Five like to make fun of Luther together. That’s not important to the plot but it’s important to me.)

(Pain & Panic)

Hazel is Panic, and therefore is always freaking out about something or other. Due to this, he is horrible at flirting, and the first time he ever tried to he told Agnes that, and I quote, “Your eye looks like a donut but like a dead one not a good one.” Gods help this man. (Hephasteus is trying - but there’s really only so much he can do for a small fire man who works for the Handler and has an anxiety attack at the thought of donuts.)

Cha-Cha is Pain, and therefore is covered in a number of weapons and elements that hurt all those who dare to touch her. She thinks Hazel is a snivelling brat and follows the Handler willingly, doing her bidding without question. She hates Agnes a lot and hates Five more, because they annoy the fuck out of her mistress so of course they annoy the fuck out of her, and she tried to kill Klaus once but all that did was put a target on her back for Aphrodite and Dionysus to rain down hell(?) on her. Fuck. I hate my life.

(Fuckin’ Jesus) Ray is the zombie Jesus. He walks around converting people to the religion of Cheeseburgeranity and has the hots for Allison. Yes I know this entire AU is just crack. I am tired. Give me a break.

Also Patroclus and Achilles are living out a happy life on a gay little farm completely undisturbed and wearing flowercrowns and Hyacinthus and Apollo are having a great-ass time with the lovely aro-ace Miss Daphne Tree (Nymph) and all the Olympian kids are having a gay old time and Five and Nico are like BFFs and Hermes and Hestia are just chillin’ and bein’ BFFs away from all the drama and life is great please and thank you have a nice day.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klainetober one-shot - “Neck Nibbles” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt wakes up to something biting his neck. Blaine claims it's a mosquito. When Kurt wakes in the morning, he discovers that perhaps Blaine was lying ... (2336 words)

Notes: A re-write for the @klainetober prompt 'vampire'. Follows 'One of Those Nights'.

Read on AO3.

Kurt feels a slight pinch, like the prick of a tiny needle injecting into his neck, and in his sleep, he swings a hand to bat the culprit away.

“Oof! Kurt!” Blaine groans, taking the hit square in the eye.

“Wha---?” Kurt mumbles, only partially awake. “What are you doing?” He snorts in a, frankly, unattractive way - a way reserved for muttering in his sleep - then shifts positions, rolling his hips left, then his body, till he’s lying on his side facing away from his boyfriend.

“I’m not doing anything,” Blaine replies. “Go back to sleep.”

Kurt arcs an eyebrow, but he doesn't open his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Go back to sleep."

Kurt would say that Blaine sounds suspiciously awake and coherent for two fifty-two in the morning, but it’s times like these that Kurt forgets his boyfriend is a vampire, not the dapper Prince Charming he fell in love with back at Dalton.

“I’m trying,” Kurt complains, bringing the comforter up to his chin and holding it tight against him to protect his vulnerable neck. “But there’s a mosquito or something in here, and it’s bugging me … hee-hee … bugging me …” Kurt chuckles at his unintended pun, snorting again, which makes him laugh harder.

“I’ll kill it if it comes back,” Blaine promises. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm … okay …” Kurt agrees, shoving skepticism aside and snuggling against the hard body of his boyfriend, who usually opts to lie beside Kurt in bed even though he doesn’t need sleep. “As long as you (yawn) stay here to protect me.”

“Of course.” Blaine smiles, fangs bared as Kurt snores softly. “I’ll stay right here." He kisses Kurt lightly on the forehead. "I'm not going anywhere ...”

***

Kurt can feel the sun within his body telling him it’s time to rise - an occupational hazard of dating a vampire, this sixth sense about the oncoming dawn. It also means that Blaine has made himself scarce, banished to the dark corner of the bedroom by the closet where the sunlight doesn’t reach until noon. The sun has yet to breach the horizon and pierce his sheer drapes, but Kurt can feel it prickling behind his eyelids. 

That’s odd. 

Rarely does that happen unless he and Blaine have a hardcore make-out sesh with lots of biting involved. But weeks of putting in overtime at school and at the diner sent Kurt to bed early, so that definitely didn’t happen.

Heartbreaking.

Short of that strange symptom, his primary concern at the moment is the number that insect did on him last night. Kurt raises a hand to his neck, hissing when his fingertips come in contact with his sore skin.

“Ugh,” he grumbles, rolling his way out of bed. "Must have been a huge mosquito. Filthy bloodsucker ..." He cringes at his own remark, hoping he didn't inadvertently offend his boyfriend. He'll find out after he assesses the damage to his neck. Kurt has extremely sensitive skin. A single bite from a pernicious parasite can make him look like he has a goiter! He needs to figure out how much cover-up he’s going to need to apply before school. 

His feet hit the floor, and immediately the urge to climb back into bed and hide under the covers overwhelms him. 

He got a decent amount of sleep last night. Why is he so damned out of it?

Kurt stumbles blindly over to his vanity and drops onto the stool, groaning at the prospect of opening his eyes. The day would go so much easier if he could keep them shut, but that would probably make taking the subway way more challenging. Kurt blinks his eyes open, lids dragging over sticky corneas, objecting to the idea of letting light anywhere near his retinas. Kurt turns away from the mirror when a stream of light hits the reflective surface and brightens the room.

“Jeez,” Kurt mumbles, putting a hand to his aching head, shielding his eyes. “Hey, Blaine? Did you hand me a hard cider instead of a Diet Coke last night or something? Because I feel awful!”

Blaine doesn’t answer. A few more blinks confirm that Kurt’s boyfriend isn’t even in the room.

Uh-oh, Kurt thinks. That’s never a good sign.

Kurt rubs his eyes hard with the heels of his palms, blinking between rubs to kick-start the watering process. He manages to clear his bleary vision enough to get a decent glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and his jaw drops.

“BLAINE!” Kurt roars when he sees the grotesque purple splotches running up and down his neck, covering nearly every conceivable inch of skin.

“Yes?” Blaine peeks his head in the bedroom door, biting his lower lip when he catches Kurt’s reflection in the mirror. “Can I help you with something, love?”

“Did you do this?” Kurt asks, pawing at his neck, running his fingertips over the marks, gasping in horror at the nastier ones.

“No?” Blaine says uneasily. “It was a mosquito. You ... you said so yourself.”

Kurt frowns.

Blaine is a horrible liar. 

An incredible actor, but a horrible liar.

Not too long ago, Kurt and Blaine stumbled upon another vampire. A friendly vampire. Victim of circumstance, like Blaine, but for a far less comical reason. This vampire warned Kurt to be careful, said that now that Blaine was a vampire, he'd be better at hiding the truth. 

But he isn't. 

Not by a long shot.

He was a better liar when he was human.

Kurt pivots on his stool to glare angrily at Blaine since looking at his non-reflection through the mirror was getting irritating.

“A mosquito did this?” Kurt points to a particularly massive and vicious-looking bite, countering Blaine’s ridiculous lie.

“Y-yes?”  

Kurt turns back to the mirror right as a more intense beam of sunlight hits the glass. He yelps, squeezing his eyes shut hard to avoid the glare.

“Dammit, Blaine!” Kurt leaps off the stool and races to the window to secure the black-out curtains. “You did bite me! I can feel it! All the way to the back of my brain!”

“Only a little,” Blaine finally admits, daring a few steps into the room.

“Only a little? I look like ground meat! Blaine!” Kurt staggers back to his vanity to better examine the damage.

“D-don’t freak out.” Blaine sits on the edge of the bed, watching Kurt set up his arsenal of foundation, intent on covering up the bruises. “The photophobia will wear off in a few hours.”

“It’s not the photophobia that’s bothering me.” Kurt opens a container of green base makeup to prep his violated neck. “If you wanted a late-night snack, could you have at least bitten a spot that won’t show? I have play practice this afternoon, and you know how important this is to me. I look diseased!”

“You could always wear a scarf,” Blaine suggests. "You have tons."

“I bought a new Marc Jacobs shirt with a V-neckline, and none of my scarves go with it,” Kurt argues, turning left and right, whimpering at his boyfriend’s handiwork. “And I was really looking forward to wearing it today.”

“Yeah ... I wanted to ask you about that …”

“Ask me about what?” Kurt asks, dabbing furiously.

“Why the departure from your leather jacket and t-shirts? I mean, you were into fashion when we met, but when I became a … you know …”

“Vampire?” Kurt offers flatly. He has come to terms with it, but, to be honest, there is a part of him that is having a hard time forgiving Blaine over it.

“Yeah, that,” Blaine says sheepishly. “You changed your look. And I know it might sound silly, but it meant something to me. Like, I transformed, and then you did, too. I thought you did it so we would match."

"I did," Kurt admits.

"So ... why are you buying designer clothes again?���

“Because this is an important production, and I want to look a little more professional,” Kurt explains. “I’m not doing it to hurt you if that’s what you think. I'm not that kind of person.”

Blaine nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Is it really that? Or is it because that blond with the sexy English accent is going to be there?” 

"What?" Kurt stops fussing with his makeup, an applicator wedge slathered in primer poised an inch from his skin. "Why would you think ...?" Kurt's eyes go wide. “Wait, wait, wait …” He turns to face Blaine, whose gaze darts away to meticulously examine the threads of Kurt’s Valentina comforter. “Are you jealous?”

Blaine falls silent a moment, gets lost in thought. Then, as if suddenly remembering he's in the middle of a conversation, sputters a weak laugh.

“What? N-no. Not a bit. What do I have to be jealous of?”

“Exactly.” Kurt puts his makeup wedge down and scoots closer, placing his hands on Blaine’s knees. “What do you have to be jealous of?”

“Maybe the fact that you’re living the dream? Not just your dream, but mine, too. A dream I’m never going to be able to fulfill.” Blaine's eyes travel from the comforter to the floor, where a narrow ray of light spreads over the wood. “Or maybe … I'm jealous of this …” He sweeps a hand through the beam, his skin sizzling at the touch of sunlight.

“Blaine! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!” Kurt reaches for Blaine’s burnt hand and holds it in his. He stands and pulls Blaine down the width of the bed, farther away from the window. Kurt sits beside him, rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Oh, honey. We talked about this.”

Blaine shrugs the opposite shoulder, uncomfortable with laying his fears bare, but he doesn’t pull his hand away, curling his fingers over Kurt’s to keep them joined. Kurt looks into Blaine’s face, into glowing red eyes fighting to stay open as the oncoming dawn weighs heavy on him. Kurt knows Blaine’s transformation has been difficult for him to adjust to, but it has never been particularly challenging for them as a couple – not until Kurt landed the starring role in a play that had the potential to go from the humble student theater at NYADA to off-Broadway, with Kurt leading the charge. “No one is going to replace you. And that guy …” Kurt shakes his head. “He doesn’t even come close. Besides ..." Kurt grins "... I’m not the flirt in this relationship. You are.”

"Yeah, well, not so much anymore." Blaine chuckles, tired eyes lifting to meet Kurt’s.

"You have your moments." Kurt raises a hand to cup Blaine’s cold cheek. "You have to trust me."

“I do trust you.” Blaine turns into Kurt’s hand and kisses his wrist, right above the pulse that calls to him incessantly, echoing his need. Blaine doesn’t know if it’s the love he carried over into this immortal life or if that need has always been there, but he has a bond with Kurt – one that would devastate him if it was broken. “It’s that guy I don’t trust. I’ve been to your midnight rehearsals. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.”

“And do you remember the way I used to look at you at Dalton when I thought you weren’t paying attention?”

“Yeah,” Blaine answers with a wistful laugh. “Yeah, I do.” If Blaine closes his eyes, he can see those furtive glances - Kurt's magical blue eyes grazing Blaine's face before returning to his books, smile growing, cheeks burning red.

God, he misses those days. Misses the excitement of newborn love, the kind of urgent, drama-filled attraction that happens only in high school. He mourns the fact that their life together, the one they had planned so carefully, came to such an abrupt end.

It was all his fault.

And nothing he can do will fix it.

“Well, I still do.” Kurt leans in close and presses a kiss to Blaine’s lips. Blaine smiles into it, wants it to go on forever, even when he feels his strength ebbing away. As the sun rises higher in the sky, Blaine’s need to find somewhere dark to rest amplifies, but he’ll do anything to stay like this and keep kissing his boyfriend.

But he can’t, even if he could convince Kurt to play hooky and stay home with him, and that’s one more thing he has to be jealous of.

“I should let you get back to your cover-up,” Blaine says, relinquishing his grip on Kurt’s hand. Kurt looks at his vanity, at the army of small bottles and jars awaiting him, all very expensive. And not a one of them more important than his boyfriend. Not even his clear, alabaster skin is more important to him than Blaine.

“You know what? Fuck it!” Kurt jumps up the bed and pulls Blaine along with him. “So what if I wear a scarf that doesn't match? No one at NYADA really knows fashion anyway."

"What about ... what about the play?" Blaine argues but he's not fighting. He couldn't if he wanted to.

And Lord knows, he doesn't want to.

"I’ll have the makeup girl cover them up. Let her earn her keep. This way, everybody gets to see the marks my baby gave me.”

“Really?” Blaine raises an eyebrow. 

Kurt tugs Blaine on top of him, and Blaine carefully settles over Kurt’s body.

“Yup. In fact, I think I can handle a few more, if you’re not too tired, that is.” Kurt loops his arms around Blaine’s neck, threading his fingers into his hair. His skin may be unnaturally cool to the touch, but his hair still feels like silk. It’s one of Kurt’s favorite things about Blaine’s new body.

“I think I can do that,” Blaine says, biding past the daybreak and finding a clear spot on Kurt’s neck. “We’ll give that makeup girl a run for her money.”

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

Characters © Frederator/Cartoon Network and so forth. Story ©2020 to me! All rights reserved.

This little fic was commissioned by MorbidHero. Enjoy! I'm not a superfan but I hope I still did the fandom justice, more or less. Even though there are no bacon pancakes or appearances from Billy.

Orono Or DIE.

The sign was unique enough to attract attention. That was probably the idea. Still, the girl with the long, black hair and the red-and-blue striped sweater seemed a little surprised when a car pulled over on the long, lonely stretch of Highway 95. Her eyes narrowed to slits as headlights attempted to blast the pupils wide, and she shadowed them with a pale hand.

"Hello!" cried a voice that sounded like a music box. "Are you in need of aid?"

"Uhhhh…" The squinting eyes shifted. "There a person in there?"

"Of course! I am a person! Please, it's too cold to be out here alone!"

The stranger approached the passenger window, bending down to look inside. By the light of the dash screen, she saw a rosy complexion and bright pink hair to match. The girl's round face held the sweetest, most angelic smile she had ever seen.

"I… whoa."

"Yes?"

"N-nothing. You're really gonna give me a lift? I could be an axe murderer."

The driver's eyebrows raised. "Are you an axe murderer?"

"Sorta." She opened her black guitar case, covered in stickers from all manner of bands and destinations, to display a red bass that actually was shaped like an axe, a snarky half-smile displaying some prominent canines. "I slay on this thing alllll the time."

"Oooh! A wandering minstrel! Prithee, do not tarry thither, but let us away in mine chariot!"

"I… huh?"

Cheeks turning a bit rosier, she whispered, "Just get in the car."

With her bass, cardboard sign, and knapsack stashed in the cramped back seat, the two pulled away from the shoulder and back onto the near-deserted highway. There reigned silence for a moment or two until the driver decided to attempt pleasant conversation.

"What's your name, minstrel?"

"Not Minstrel. Marcy. Or Marce, Marceline, Nightmarce… Elvira, if you're everybody in my high school."

"That sounds very unkind, and I am not from your high school so I will not do that." She smiled over at her. "I'm Bonnibel, or Bonnie."

"Cool. This, uh… this car seems weird."

"Oh!" she piped up animatedly. "It is a hybrid, but I have converted the combustion engine to run on used peanut oil."

"Is that why I have a craving for a PB&J out of nowhere?!"

Bonnie laughed, and Marcy wore a smile of her own. That was bizarre; why would she smile at some stranger who just picked her up to give her a lift? "Perhaps! It is also why I will eventually have to visit a Five Guys restaurant to refuel."

Chuckling quietly, Marcy fought down a groan as she struggled out of her black leather boots and propped her feet up on the dash. "Sorry, but I've been walking for hours. Nobody else would pick me up, except for this creepy trucker who would probably have murdered me. With my own axe."

"It is alright! I can't blame you, that sounds like a terrible day. How did you end up out here all by yourself? With no car?"

"Ash, ugh."

"Gesundheit?"

Rolling her eyes, Marcy explained, "No, Ash is my ex. Also the lead guitarist of our band, Vampire Queen. But like, he's been impossible since we broke up, and he threw his guitar at my head during our last show. I told him I wasn't riding in the van with him anymore and they took off without me. Jerkfaces."

Bonnie's expression was completely thunderstruck. She reached over to pat Marceline's thigh. "That is just unacceptable, you could have been hurt!"

"Uh… yeah?" She thought that was obvious. And the sudden physical contact made her squirm.

"No, I mean you should remove him from the band. He is clearly dangerous and you have every right to feel safe on the stage."

"Oh. Well… it's not that easy. He writes half our songs, and he's no great singer but he does know all the guitar parts already. But… I guess he's more replaceable than Fionna or Jake."

"You should send him to prison. Or castrate him," she added, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Which is what finally made Marceline realize neither of her hands were on the wheel. She sat up quick and shouted, "HEY, we're gonna crash! Are you insane?!"

"Hm?" Glancing ahead, she calmly stated, "No we aren't, we're driving perfectly straight. And there are no other cars."

"Well… yeah, but…" She watched their course correct very slightly, still glancing at Bonnie's hands. "Oh, is this one of those self-driving things?"

"Yes! Oh, I see; you thought I was neglecting the wheel." The pink-haired oddity giggled as if Marcy were the weird one.

"Do you just pick up random strangers and scare them to death? Messed up hobby, girl. I can respect it though."

At that, Bonnie's smile lessened as she stared ahead again. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that not everyone has access to the technology I do. I didn't mean to cause you any undue strife."

"Not everybody swallows a dictionary for breakfast, either." When that wiped the smile away entirely, the rocker turned to look out the passenger window as she tightened her arms around her stomach. "Nah… I'm sorry, I'm a bitch."

The car was silent for a few seconds. "You aren't. I just don't spend a lot of time with other people. When I do, they tell me I am awkward."

"Yeah? Agoraphobic or something?" She paused. "Yeah, I know some big words, too."

"I never said you didn't. But no, that isn't the problem. I'm a workaholic. Even when I'm not in my lab, I'm still focused on inventing or revising previous inventions. I like speaking with people, but there never seems to be any time…"

"Dude, nerdslut. Got it."

"WHAT?!"

The outburst was harsher than Marce expected. "Sorry," she muttered, head ducking lower. "I didn't-"

"I'm not a slut! I'm…" Her cheeks began to glow. "I've never even been on a date."

"I was kidding, man. I didn't really mean…" Her fingers ran through her fringe. "Look, you told me you don't get out much. So I'll do my best not to tease you like I normally would, but no promises. I'm pretty edgy." She even threw up devil horns to add to the effect.

"You're teasing. Yes, I understand." The bubbly girl sighed and relaxed, smiling again. Apparently, it was that easy.

"What do you do for a living, anyway? All the inventing…"

"Oh! Have you heard of PeebleCo?"

A brief pause. "If I say 'no', does that mean I'm dumb?"

"It's alright. I am the president and CEO. Though the board members make most of the day-to-day decisions, they consult with me before making any large changes. And I am also the head of the R&D department."

"Whoa. And you're what, like, eighteen?"

"Nineteen."

"Excuse me," she snickered. "But yeah, that's pretty young to have your whole future figured out. I'm still kind of drifting through life in the shadows."

Bonnie shrugged as she pulled off the highway. "It is okay. I know I am strange, and that most people have to take some time to find their true destiny."

"Where… are we going?"

"To this hotel! I have been driving all day."

"Oh. Guess this is where I get off, then."

"It is if you want. Or you are welcome to share my hotel room and I will continue to ferry you to your destination in the morning."

Marceline raised an eyebrow as she watched Bonnie smoothly guide the car into a parking spot — having to use her hands this time, of course. "Are you totally insane, or just the nicest person on the planet?"

"Does it have to be one or the other?" she asked with a huge grin. And yet again, Marcy found she was grinning back.

                                                      ~ o ~

Once they had brought their bags inside, the hitchhiker plopped herself on the bed and kicked off her boots again. Then she started tuning her bass. Bonnie started unpacking her little pink rolling suitcase immediately, though she cast a casual glance over at her guest now and then.

"What? Am I bugging you?"

"Not at all. I have just never seen someone play a guitar in person before."

"Never?!" When the inventor shook her head, Marceline chuckled softly. "Damn, you really don't ever crawl out from under that rock to see what the sun looks like. Not that I do, either."

"It's because I'm working," she protested with a slight pout. "Not because I don't want to meet people. I love people!"

"Oh yeah, me too. They're delicious."

Bonnie cackled as she plugged her BMO's charger into the wall. At least she got that joke. "You're so funny and cool! I wish I was like you."

"No you don't, trust me. I'm kind of a cunt."

"Are you? Well, I think that's still preferable to being boring. I might have an important job but as a person, I am… vanilla pudding."

"Yeah? Well I mean, vanilla pudding can be pretty good. Add a little red food coloring to make people think you're eating ketchup? I like red things, they look more badass."

"Vanilla is not interesting," she sighed as she seated herself on the other twin bed, pulling off her Uggs. Marceline tried not to pay too much attention to how her white leggings hugged her shapely calves and thighs. "Being a vanilla pudding when there are so many chocolate puddings around me… that is why I focus on my work."

The hitchhiker thought that over as she played a couple of notes, a few chords she used in their sets. The hook from "Smoke On The Water", then the bassline from "The Chain".

"I think you're cool, Bonbon."

"You do?" she asked in pure shock. Marcy looked up — and immediately averted her eyes when she saw her company was wearing only her underwear.

"WHOA, hey, warn a girl or something!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she hissed, arms trying to hide parts of her body pointlessly. "The other girls in gym class never cared!"

Pale cheeks flooding with color, the rocker cleared her throat and studied the carpet, watching pale pink toes curl nervously into the fibers. "Gym, yeah. Um… I'm sorry, that was stupid. Me flipping out. If you're cool with stripping down in front of me, like… it's your hotel room…"

"No, you are right, it was my mistake. We have only just met today. And I am decent." When Marceline chanced another glance, she saw a long pink nightgown covering Bonnie from neck to ankle. She was also wearing an embarrassed little smile that was more adorable than it had any right to be.

"You're definitely decent."

"Jingo-jango!"

"Gesundheit?" she re-joked with a slight smirk.

"Free candy!" She practically pounced on the little mint laying on her pillow, unwrapping it and devouring it in mere seconds. "Mmmmhhh… oh, divine!"

The moans of pleasure definitely made Marcy have to clear her throat again. Desire was stirring within her in a way that blindsided her; Bonnie was a girl. One she had met literally that day! Was she losing it?! Sure, she had always known she liked girls as much as boys, but she had never really been serious about one.

"Marcy?"

"SHIT!" she gasped out when she saw those beautiful features only a couple of inches away from her own. It seemed Bonnie's concern had brought her over to the other bed. "I… what? I'm fine, you can go back to getting ready for bed or whatever."

"You are flushed. What if you have a fever, from being out in the cold too long?"

Then the bouncy inventor touched their foreheads together, to check her temperature. Marceline knew that was the reason… yet she still felt her heart speed up, her sweat glands stirring to life.

But she was no shrinking violet. Anti-social, sure, and inexperienced hitting on girls versus guys. But she figured she might as well give it a shot and see what happened.

"You give me fever," she began to sing in a smoky voice. Bonnie's concerned eyes shot wide. "Fever when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight."

A tiny whispered "What?" fell from small pink lips. And not even the oblivious shut-in could miss the rock star's meaning. "Me?"

After they held each other's gaze for a few more seconds, Marceline burst out with a chuckle and looked away, strumming her bass. "Couldn't resist. You're such a cute little marshmallow, it's too easy."

And that was that. Or so she thought. After she had played a few more notes and glanced up again, expecting that Bonnie would have rushed off to the bathroom by now, she saw she was being studied carefully.

"Sorry. Told you I'm a bitch."

"Why are you sorry? If you meant it… which you did…"

"Who says I did?" she grunted. "Hey-"

"I do," Bonnie told her in even tones as she finished pulling the guitar strap from around Marceline's neck. How could this awkward bean be so bold all of a sudden?! "You are blushing like I am blushing. That means you meant it, doesn't it?"

"No. It means… maybe I was out in the cold too long. Whatever."

Sighing like a patient teacher facing an obstinate student, Bonnie leaned over and took her lips gently. And poor Marcy felt her brain short-circuiting. This girl was going for it! How?! This girl?! Even more shameful was that it took three or four seconds for her to pull back from the kiss, panting and clutching at the bedspread.

"WHAT THE WHAT?!"

"Oh wow," Bonnibel whispered, reaching up to touch her own bottom lip with delicate fingers. "I did that."

"Yeah? Like, what, you're surprised you kissed somebody? That's fucking weird!"

"I am. I have never done it before, I didn't think it would be so easy. But I wasn't afraid like I expected to be, and I enjoyed the feeling."

One single fact kept Marcy from harping on about how bold of an assumption it was to kiss her out of nowhere. "Whoa, hold up. I'm really your first?"

"Yes," she breathed, cheeks warming to match Marceline's as she fidgeted with her fingers.

"That… amazing one you just planted on me was your first kiss?!"

Bonnie raised her eyebrows at her. "Oh, it was good?"

"Dude, I'm practically at full sail down here already!" When the hapless girl didn't seem to have any idea what she meant by that, she clarified, "Yes, it was good!"

"Oh. Then it was a successful experiment! Hooray!" Marceline just gaped at her open-mouthed. "We should do more experiments, I think."

"Yeah? What, you think I'm that easy?" she scoffed, trying to focus on reaching for her bass instead of blushing scarlet. But she barely touched the neck before firm hands were pinning her to the bed. "HEY!"

"You will assist me," the girl she had once mistaken for a marshmallow ordered her with a sly smirk.

Marceline finally understood that she had been hoodwinked. Well, not really; she believed this girl had no experience, but she had made the erroneous assumption that also meant she would be timid. Nope.

"I will? That's pretty interesting, I thought I got to decide that part."

"You do. But I already know you will decide to help me." Her hips started shifting on top of Marceline's, eyes briefly falling shut. "Mmm… mm?"

The rocker looked away, waiting for the backlash. Bracing to be shouted at, or called any number of names. She had been down that road before — most recently with Ash, who had no problem doing that to her but only when he was angry.

"You're a transgender person."

Stunned by the bluntness of the phrasing, she finally looked up to see nothing but surprise in Bonnie's features. No judgment, no disgust. "Um… yeah. Well, we prefer just 'trans'."

"Oh! 'Justrans' then." She shifted a few more times, prompting a little groan from both of them. "This will certainly make the experiment easier; I already know how to work with one of these from anatomy class."

Marcy knew she wasn't trying to be cruel. She could tell. But she still hissed up at her, "Can you like, not act like I'm some kind of sex slave robot? There's a real person with a real blackened soul down here."

With a little gasp, she covered her mouth. "Bloobalooby! I'm sorry, you're right." Her hips rolled again, sending a wave of heat down into the rocker from their point of contact, blinding her with pleasure. "Do you consent to experimenting with me sexually, and taking my virginity?"

Marceline could only sputter. And she almost told her 'no' simply because she was so shocked at the entire situation. But it was beginning to feel way too good. Why? Why did she want to?

"Sure. If you really don't care that I'm some problem you picked up off the side of the road."

"You are perfect." For just a second, Marcy felt a flutter in her stomach from such praise. Then Bonnie elaborated, "I'm comfortable with you, and I can tell that you are an adequate size to give me a wonderful first experience."

"Oh. That kind of 'perfect'. Right."

Genuinely puzzled, she tilted her head and asked, "What other kind is there?"

Instead of answering, Marceline pulled her down for a heated kiss. They kept that up while rolling around on the bed, running their fingers through each other's hair, humming into the contact. By the time they came up for air, she realized her sweater had disappeared.

"Can I see you?"

"Oh, is that going to help with the experiment?" Bonnie lowered her voice. "Am I… sexy?"

"Well, duh," she laughed as she dropped her jeans. But she fell speechless when she saw the shapely pink body coming into view. "I'm… yep. Definitely stand by my statement."

"I think you are sexy as well." But she was saying it shyly, as if stating a secret, rather than in a flirty way. This girl really didn't understand human sexuality but she was trying her best.

Weird but cute. And her face was glowing red like a stoplight… and Marceline liked red things.

They fell into each other with eagerness, kissing all over faces and necks as their bodies combined. Bonnibel was so soft inside, and her skin smelled like flowers. The little gasps and mewlings at the foreign sensations only made Marcy throb harder, willed her hips to begin moving.

Minutes later, she broke yet another kiss to whisper urgently, "I'm… I'm gonna finish, I d-don't have… a condom…"

"I'm on birth control, to regulate my cycle. I will not become pregnant." But she was biting her lip. The sensations had changed how she reacted. "Will you…? Please?"

She would. Moans fell freely from both of them as their bodies shifted faster and faster, until the dam burst and Marceline felt both their bodies convulsing with the proof of their pleasure. It was an instant, it was an eternity. It was everything.

As they lay curled up together, silence reigned for a few minutes. Experiment complete. Neither of the new quite what to say. Until finally Bonnie whispered, "You sang."

"Huh?"

"When you ejaculated. It was like singing." She closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips as her hand drifted up to cover her own heart. "It was so sweet…"

Marceline scoffed, resisting the temptation to roll over and away to protect her own feelings. "N-no way. I don't do 'sweet', you're loopy. Literally fucked your brains out."

"No, my brains are still intact," she teased with a light chuckle as she began to draw little circles on Marcy's pale shoulder. "And you sang. And I am very, very satisfied with your 'axe'."

That prompted a gleeful giggle from both women. "Told you. I slay all day, Bonnie-bae."

                                                      THE END