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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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moon boys headcanons

where they like to kiss you—besides the lips

note: not my best work, but i thought it was a cutesie idea—

steven

your forehead

of course, he’d adore kissing your lips, but forehead kisses are his specialty.

he’ll return home from work, he’ll pull you into his arms, and peck your forehead sweetly.

“ ‘ello darling, you alright? how was the day?”

laying in bed together, the moment you fall asleep, he’ll kiss your forehead once again.

“sleep well luv.”

and once in the morning, he’d roll over to face you, give you a quick peck on the forehead before asking how you slept, what you dreamt about, etc.

this man is just an absolute sweetheart and that’s all she wrote.

marc

your hands

he’s a sucker for your hands

the two of you will just be laying on the couch together, hands intertwined when he’ll lift your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss against them. marc isn’t the best with conveying how he feels so it’s just a cute way for him to show affection towards you.

this usually also happens after long conversations, whether it’s settling a dispute or talking about the future.

he’ll reach forward, taking your hand in his, giving it a squeeze before raising it to his lips, kissing it softly, usually followed by, “i’m lucky to have you,” i love you,” or “i don’t deserve you”

it’s a special way for him to show he cares.

jake

your neck

yes. your neck.

jake lockley is an absolute flirt, and he will use any chance he gets to have his hands on you.

you’ll be cooking dinner at the stove, and jake will come up from behind, snake his arms around your waist.

“cariño,” he’ll greet before peppering soft kisses along your neck.

nothing too needy, just soft loving pecks.

it happens all the time. he’ll find any excuse to leave gentle kisses on your neck.

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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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You take care of the Moon boys when they are sick <3

Warning/triggers: mild angst, fluff, fluff, fluff (just a lot of it <3), no use of Y/N, google translated Spanish

A/N: I had so much fun writing this ;)

Steven

You wake up to the sound of Steven coughing. He's in the kitchen making coffee for the both of you, as always. You walk up to him, hugging him from behind and trailing kisses down his neck.

'Good morning, hon,' you whisper, 'Good morning, love.' Steven feels hot, well, he is hot (duh) but right now he feels heated up.

Your brows furrow as you move beside him, 'Are you okay?' You ask but Steven abruptly pulls away from you and sneezes, covering his face with his elbow. 'Do you have a fever?' You ask again, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. 'No, I am fine,' he says shaking his big hands that were partly covered by the long sleeves of his t-shirt in front of his face. He coughs again.

'No you are not.' You say, taking the coffee cups from his hands. 'Love, you don't - 'Steven.' You don't give him the chance to finish, 'get in bed. You should rest, no work for you today.'

'I'll bring you coffee and cookies and meds you are sick, you need rest.' You tell him, already working on the coffee. 'Alright...' Steven says before kissing you on the cheek and making his way to the bed.

You walk up to Steven with a tray of coffee, the cookies he liked the best, and his meds. He sits up in bed, 'Love, you didn't have to -' 'Of course, I had to,' you say, sitting next to him in bed.

You two spend the rest of the day cuddled up in bed, binge-watching your favorite TV shows and movies.

Your head is placed on Steven's shoulder, kissing his neck and jaw. Steven was touch starved, you knew it and you'd made it your mission to give him all the touch he'd ever missed having.

'Don't you have work, darling?' Steven asks. You grin, 'I'm calling in sick,' you tell him as your lips meet his. Steven looks into your eyes, 'if you keep going on, you will have to call in sick,' he says. You kiss him anyway. 'That doesn't sound so bad to me,' you whisper, his nose brushing against yours.

By the evening, Steven has taken a good five hours of sleep while you completed some work. He feels much better when he wakes up and walks up to you. 'Let's get out of here,' he says, placing his chin on your head. You turn to him, taking your glasses off, 'you sure? Do you feel better?' You ask. Steven smiles at you, 'tons. Thanks to you,' he says, kissing your head.

You both grab your jackets and walk out of the apartment. You spend your time strolling in a park, eating burritos, and drinking hot chocolate.

It's a nice day but being with Steven makes it perfect. Everything feels perfect when you are with him. He's undoubtedly the best thing that ever happened to you.

You love him so much, you could burst from the feeling alone.

By the time you reach Steven's apartment, you have sneezed three times (you know because Steven was counting) and Steven's getting worried.

'I told you, love' he says when you are standing in front of the apartment door, 'you are going to catch a fever staying close to me. Look at you now,' he sounds concerned. But you chuckle, throwing your arms around his neck, 'it's fine,' you tell him, 'it means more cuddles and hot chocolates after all, doesn't it?'

Steven's concerned for you but you look so cute smiling like this that he can't help but smile with you. 'Maybe,' he says, pulling you closer by the waist.

Marc

You wake up with Marc sleeping next to you. He's cuddled up with you, his head resting on your chest. It's weird because usually Marc's up and about before you are. Reading the newspaper or grocery shopping or simply going on a walk. But today he was here and you liked it.

You push your fingers through Marc's hair and kiss his head. He feels warm. Marc always feels warm when he wakes up but today he is burning up.

'Marc,' you whisper, close to his ear - not wanting to wake him up. 'Mhm-hmm', he replies, nodding into your chest. 'Are you okay?' You ask. He looks up at you, his brown eyes looking like pools of honey in the sunlight streaming through the window. 'I'm fine.' He replies gruffly. His face is red. Awfully red.

'Are you sick?' You ask again, placing your palm on his cheek, 'you're burning up,' you mutter. 'No. I said I'm fine,' his voice is rougher than usual. He is absolutely sick.

Marc tries to move away from you but you wrap your arms around him before he can, he grumbles but ends up cuddling with you anyway.

Your sweet, grumpy boyfriend, oh, how you loved him.

Both of you stay like that for some time. But eventually, you have to get up and go about the day.

Marc wants to go to work. You tell him he can't but he wouldn't listen to you.

'Babe, you're sick.' 'No, I'm not.'

'I checked your temperature, honey, you need rest. And medicines.' Marc makes a face at you. 'I told you -' 'Marc,' your voice is much more stern now. 'Please, Marc, babe, it's one day. Stay in bed, yeah?' This time he doesn't argue.

You know Marc's stubborn but you won't let his stubbornness get into the way of his health.

You put his favorite soup for cooking and go out to get some medicines for him. Thankfully, he stays in bed.

When you come back home, Marc's fast asleep. You watch him like that. Sleeping so peacefully, like a child.

You know why Marc's the way he is. He didn't have a... great childhood. Well, let's be honest, he had an awful, traumatizing one, and for a long time, he has taken care of himself all alone.

You can understand why it's hard for him to ask for help or even accept help and love when it's given to him. It's hard for him to let people in, to let himself be taken care of.

But Marc is your boyfriend which means that somewhere, somehow you did something right and he let you in. And just like that, you will let him know that it's okay to let you care for him. That it's okay to be vulnerable in front of you, that he doesn't have to hide anything.

You make some coffee for yourself and get in bed with Marc. You are sitting up, reading a book and his head is in your lap, your fingers moving through his curls.

You drop the book after some time just to admire the person in front of you. He was so beautiful it made your heart flutter. You could look at him forever.

When Marc wakes up after a few hours he's still grumpy and tired.

'Just take the medicines, love,' you insist. Marc shrugs, 'Don't need them. I feel fine.' 'Marc-' 'You don't have to worry about me,' he cuts you off.

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes. You don't mean to cry but it happens anyway. You are not irritated, you are not tired of Marc. You could never tire of him. But you are scared. You are scared that he won't let you help him and it'll get worse. It's just a fever but you can't help but want it to go away and Marc to feel better.

Marc's expression softens when he notices the tears in your eyes. He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, 'I'm sorry,' he says, 'didn't mean to sound like that,' he takes the medicines from your hand.

After that Marc doesn't fight it. He lets you give him a massage, eats what you cook for him without a word, and by the time he takes a hot shower he is feeling very much better and his fever's gone.

It had been... a day. For Marc and for you. He has been quiet and angry the whole day but at night, finally, he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around you.

'Thank you,' he whispers into your hair. You are sitting in his lap, 'you don't have to thank me, Marc,' you say taking his face in your hands. Marc sighs, 'I know I can be... difficult. I just-' 'No you're not,' you interrupt him, 'not to me... ever,' you say.

Marc smiles, 'I love you,' he whispers before planting a kiss on your lips. You want to reply and tell him you love him too but he's kissing you with everything and you don't want to break the spell.

Jake

You come home to find Jake in the kitchen. He's cooking pasta, you can tell by the smell. Or maybe he's just heating up the pasta you made this morning.

You practically run across the house to get to him and plant a kiss on his cheek, hugging him by the side. 'Hello, babe', you say. But your smile drops the moment you see him. His eyes aren't set and sharp as they usually are, instead they are tired and he looks a bit lousy.

You are confused if it's Steven who's fronting but you know it's Jake when he says, 'Hola, cariño,' he smiles at you.

You push yourself between the kitchen counter and Jake, taking his face in your hands.

'You look tired,' you say. He coughs a little before replying, 'goddamn fever. But don't you worry about it, princesa.'

'You should rest, Jake, what are you doing?' You say, taking his hands in yours. 'Apparently, Khonshu's freaky armor can't protect you from diseases -' he sneezes and curses under his breath.

Okay, Jake hates being sick. He doesn't like it. It makes him feel weak and really soft and pathetic for some reason.

You take off his hat and ruffle his curls with your fingers, saying, 'How about you take some rest and I'll get the food? Get in bed, hm?' Jake smirks, snaking his hands around your waist, 'You really do want me in your bed don't you, mi vida?' You roll your eyes at his comment but a blush creeps up your neck. 'Did I forget the part where I said you need to rest?' You say, a smile tugging on your lips. He frowns.

'I don't need rest. What I need is a good fu- 'Jake' you stop him mid-sentence, glaring. 'What?' He shrugs and walks into the bedroom.

You sigh. Your breath going at a rapid speed. Jake really is good at getting to you. He makes you want to kiss him all the time. But, despite everything, Jake always puts things off, neglecting his needs. Like, right now. He won't admit that he is sick. He wouldn't let you look after him but you have to.

You care for him. Deeply. And you have to make sure that he's okay.

You walk into the bedroom with the pasta plate in your hands. Jake's on the bed. He's removed his shirt, and his bare skin glistens in the dim light.

Your breath catches in your throat.

'How do you feel? You ask Jake, sitting by him on the bed.

He mumbles something and wraps his arms around your waist, his head in your lap.

'I am tired, cariño,' he finally admits after a few moments of silence. You smile, 'I know,' you say, raking your fingers through his soft curls, 'It's alright,' you tell him. He lets out a weary sigh and snuggles closer to you. Your back rests against the wall.

Jake doesn't really spend a lot of time with you. He is barely ever fronting. He isn't much of a talker either, he expresses his feelings with his actions more than his words.

It has been some... work, trying to understand Jake. He's like a puzzle you can't solve, but you want him to know you're trying. Because you love him and he deserves everything.

Your eyes fall on Jake's broad shoulders and their slight movement as he breathes. You move your hands to touch his neck. His skin is still hot despite taking the medicines.

You massage his back in slow, brisk movements. For a moment you think he might fight it but he doesn't say anything,

'Feels good?' You ask. He nods in reply.

Jake is different when it comes to the three of them. Unlike Marc and Steven, he's never had a... life. He's always inside, barely ever fronting. He thinks of himself as only a protector of the system. That he's someone Marc needs when things get worse. You don't want him to think of himself like that.

You want Jake to know that he's just as deserving of love as any of them, that he's more than just a protector. He's more than just the worst parts of Marc turned into a person.

He's soft and loving, and the most amazing person you know.

Jake moves, sitting up in bed beside you making you stop abruptly.

'You don't have to go driving tonight, you know?' You say, sitting in front of him. Partly on the bed, partly on his lap, the inside of your knees draped around his thighs.

'Yo se,' he replies with a sigh, 'but I still have to go be the fist of vengeance.' You frown at his comment, 'You deserve a day off I think.' It makes him chuckle.

'Give me your arm,' you whisper, taking his arm in your hands. You thought a good massage would make him feel better.

But, apparently, this isn't what he wants. Jake wraps his palm around your wrist and pulls you to him. Your hands resting on his chest and your faces inches apart and then, he plants a kiss on your lips.

Somehow you trying to give Jake a massage turns into a hot make-out session. Not that you had any complaints. If this was what he needed then you'd give it to him.

Afterwards, you two lay on the bed, your head resting on Jake's shoulder. He's playing with your hair.

He isn't feverish anymore but his skin is still warm.

'How do you feel?' You ask him now, 'Maravilloso, mi amor.' He says and you chuckle as he kisses your jaw.

You might not know everything about Jake but you know that you love him. So much. And that's really all that matters.

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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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Man in the Mirror

Kinktober Day 19: Voyeurism

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant, afab!fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life omg), dirty talk, slight degradation, Steven watches Marc fuck you through a mirror idk what to tell you (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back with the boys because I love them and I cannot help myself okay!!! And this is consensual, even though Steven doesn't exactly know it at the beginning, he just thinks he's being a perv. But in my fics, everyone is a perv alright! (this month I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Steven knows it’s wrong, God, it’s fucking wrong, but it’s like he can’t stop himself.

There’s something about the way Marc fucks you, the way you scrabble at the bedsheets when the shoves you into a lewd arch, his hand pressing into your back. The way you moan for it, heaving breaths into your lungs. It’s the way Marc talks to you through it, talking to you like you’re the filthy one, like you’re the one who’s desperate for it, even though Steven knows it’s both of you.

“God damn, baby,” Marc snarls, fucking into you hard enough that tears are starting to leak down your cheeks. “You’re fucking sucking me in, sweetheart. Feels good, huh? Getting fucked like you need?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you gasp through the moans he forces out of your mouth with every thrust. “It’s so fucking good, Marc, you’re so fucking deep.”

Steven should stop, right now. Go hide in the headspace, go to sleep and let you both have some privacy. Fuck, he's as naked as Marc is right now, he should feel exposed, have some god damn decency. But it’s like he’s stuck in place, staring in through the mirror as Marc rips you apart in ways he’s never dreamed to. It’s fucking addicting to watch the way your eyes roll back, the way your ass smacks back against Marc every time he shoves himself in, in, in. He reaches down to his bare cock and squeezes, unable to help it.

You’d only put this mirror up a week ago, and he hadn't even thought about the positioning of it. It’s placed on the wall right across from the foot of your bed, and fuck, he can see everything. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought about this view when he had helped you set it straight, Marc coming into view in the reflection and smirking at Steven like he knew something he didn’t. Steven had brushed it off.

He shouldn’t have fucking brushed it off.

Because he’s sure, almost fucking positive, that Marc had somehow known. He’d known that Steven would watch, just like this, how Marc takes care of their girl. How he destroys you in ways that Steven can’t even think up on his own. It’s a special kind of torture, seeing you like this and not feeling it, not feeling you.

Marc’s thrusts are brutal, violent like the man himself. He treats you with so much care normally, Steven has seen it, but this isn’t gentle in the least. And you love it, crying out and drooling onto your sheets as Marc rips you to pieces, pulling you back onto his cock with thick fingers digging hard into your hips. He’s not sure how long he’s been watching intently, unable to tear his gaze away, when he sees Marc’s head snap up.

Looking right fucking at him.

Steven should go, disappear from the consciousness entirely, but it’s like he’s glued to the spot, his gaze locked with Marc’s. Marc’s thrusts don’t stutter, don’t stop, and you’re blissfully unaware as Marc watches Steven watch you.

Until Marc grins like the bastard he is, and leans down to mutter, just loud enough for Steven to hear, ��Guess who’s here, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what?” you gasp through Marc’s unrelenting thrusts.

“He’s watching, baby,” Marc smiles, glancing up at Steven. “Just like you wanted.”

You wanted- you wanted? Steven’s breath catches in his throat, he’s pretty sure his heart stops fucking beating.

“Steven,” you moan like it’s been punched out of you. “Steven’s here.”

“He’s watchin’ in that mirror you put up, sweetheart,” Marc says, “Watching me fuck you.” Steven is flushed beet-red, he knows it, but still, he watches. “Look at him, baby,” Marc growls, “Fucking look at him.”

Marc reaches up and curls a fist into your hair, tugging your head up to look straight into the mirror, straight at Steven. And God, you’re beautiful, tears falling down your face, your lips plump from the way you’ve been biting at them. You can’t see him, Steven knows that, but you look anyway, like you really can.

“She wanted this,” Marc snarls, and you clench your eyes shut, like you want to hide from Steven’s gaze. “She put that mirror up, hoping you’d watch like this. Wanted me to watch you both too, Steven.” You whine, and Marc’s thrusts seem to get even harder. “Our baby’s a little slut, just wants someone to watch her get fucked, isn’t that right, honey?”

“Your-” you gasp, staring into the mirror, like you’re talking to Steven, too. “Your slut, fuck, just yours.”

Marc fucking growls, his hips driving his cock into you. Steven can hear the way your pussy squishes around him, so wet you’re dripping down onto the sheets beneath you. Your body is covered in sweat, glinting in the light, practically glowing.

“Gonna let him fuck you after this, baby?” Marc grits, “Fucking whore for this cock, can’t get enough.” You slur a stream of yesyesyesyes as Marc reaches beneath you to start rubbing furiously at your clit, and you tremble beneath him.

“C’mon, gorgeous, cum for me.” Marc glances up at Steven. “Cum for both of us.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth gaping open around a silent scream as you gush down Marc’s cock, body shaking as Marc fucks you through it, letting out a strangled groan of his own. Steven is hard as a fucking rock, straining against his stomach, begging for your touch. He watches as Marc thrusts deep and stills, his eyelids fluttering as he pumps you full of his cum.

You slump into the sheets, and Marc slides out of you, leaning down to kiss down your spine, muttering little praises of “such a good girl,” and “took it so well, looked so pretty,” into your skin. You roll onto your back, tugging Marc down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Marc smiles against your mouth, and Steven feels that familiar pull to the front.

He shuts his eyes, and when he blinks them open again, you’re smiling up at him, reaching up to brush a reverent hand across his jaw.

“Enjoyed the show?” you whisper, and Steven can’t help the way he grins, the way his heart flutters.

“More than you know, darling,” he mutters, and leans to lick into your mouth. “Got to give Marc a show now, yeah?”

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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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Chain 'round my neck

A/N: ...can you still tell taylor swift is my entire personality this year? Whatever. Title comes from the song "Call it what you want" from Taylor Swift.

@flufftober - Day 23 Trinket

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

Word count: 820

Flufftober masterlist

He was going to hate you. Steven was going to get home any minute now, and he was going to hate you. You had been looking for the necklace for what felt like hours now, everything you had in your handbag now scattered on the bed, your boxes of earrings emptied out the same way, yet the very same necklace Steven gave you for your birthday, with your initial beautifully carved in gold, was nowhere to be found.

Did someone ripped it on the bus? Did you take it off at work and don’t remember? Damn it, you didn’t even had a good excuse for it and you could already hear the clink of Steven’s keys outside the door. “I’m home!” He called, with his usual chirpy tone and a smile in his voice.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, going through your scattered belonging one last time before facing him.

“I have a surprise for you, love!” The excitement in his voice only twisted your stomach more, guilt eating your insides.

“Steven, honey, before you say anything-”

“Is everything alright, love?” Steven found you sitting by the edge of your bed, the place you landed after giving up with your search. He joind your side, backpack still across his body, finding your hand and looking for your eyes.

“No, it’s not alright.” You took a deap breath, bracing yourself and looking for the strength you needed. “I lost the necklace you gave me.” Your eyes were filled with tears when you looked up at him, and even though you expected him to get mad, you still squeezed his hand; it was natural by now, looking for his reassurance any time you were upset.

“Oh. Honey you didn’t-” Steven tried to stop you, but you kept going about it anyway.

“No, no, I did. I lost it, and I don’t remember how or when, I don’t even remember if I wore it this morning now and I feel like shit because I love it so much and-”

“I have it.” He spoke a bit louder, only so you could hear him above your nervous rant.

“What?” You asked after a beat. “You have it?”

Searching in his bag, Steven pulled out a little red velvet bag and placed it on your hand, leaning to see your reaction only to find you confused.

“I took it this morning because I needed to get it fixed for this.” He signaled the bag with his head, waiting for you to move and open it, not realizing how confused you were until he looked at you and saw your furrowed eyebrows. Steven chuckled, kissing your cheek sweetly, making you turn to look at him with tear-filled eyes. “Here, let me.”

With delicate fingers Steven took the small bag and untied the cords, opening it and pulling your necklace out of it. Extending it over your hand, you felt your heart swelling when, right next to your golden initial, you saw a golden moon - a crescent moon, pointing to the right just as the moon in their suits did.

“Seven… this is…” You were speechless, looking at the moon in your hand not knowing what to say.

“I saw it at an antique shop, the one we like by the museum. I saw it last week when I went for a book and it made me think of you, and how beautiful it would look on you. I needed the chain to get that little loop on top just right, I’m sorry, I should have-” He stopped when your hand reached his cheek, cupping it before meeting his lips in the middle.

“It’s beautiful.” You beamed, kissing him again and feeling him smile too. “Thank you,” You whispered, not trusting your own voice after going through so many emotions only to land in the love you had for him.

He swiftly took it from your hand, softly turning your shoulder to guide you to face away from him so he could place the necklace were it belong around your neck. When you faced him again you were both smiling like a goofs, the reflection of the sunset outside casting over your room making the charm shine.

“Now we’re all matching.” Steven said with a grin, his eyes locked with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for an embrace that made the remains of the worry and anxiety you felt before fade away, leaving nothing but the endless love you felt for each other.

“I’m sorry I freaked out.” You whispered, now feeling a bit embarrassed.

He chuckled and held you tighter, his voice soft and affectionate. “You know I love a good treasure hunt.”

Maybe you necklace was never lost, yet still, you had found once again how truly lucky you were to have Steven in your life, making every moment as enchanting as a crescent moon on a starry night.

🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

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thursdaywritings · 1 year ago

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Steven Grant- Farm Day

Summary/Note: Hi! I would love to to show Steven Grant the animals on a dairy farm. So this is that blurb. It is a simplified fanfic perfect nice version of a farm so don’t @ me to argue about it

Contents: animals, talking to a vegan about where non-vegan food (milk and eggs) comes from (~800 words)

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“Cow.” Steven points to the dairy cow that has wandered over toward the two of you.

You nod. “You’ve said that about fifteen times now, Steven.”

“Worth repeating though, innit?” He watches the peaceful cows grazing in the pasture, the brown Jersey cows and darker brown and white Gurnseys, the black and white Holsteins. He hasn’t been able to pick a favorite.

You’ve been leaning on the fence with him for about twenty minutes while he studies them.

Big, brown cow eyes looking at big, brown cow eyes.

“Didn’t think I’d like the country,” he says to you. “But it’s not as quiet as I thought it’d be. The smell leaves a bit to be desired. Proper rank.”

You smile. “As different as you, Marc, and Jake are, the one thing you have in common is that you are all city boys.”

“Right you are, love,” Steven leans over and kisses you on the cheek.

“But you were the only one brave enough to risk stepping in cow shit with me,” you hug him.

“Oh Gods, Marc wouldn’t even discuss it,” Steven says, wrapping his arms around you. “But Jake does want to see the baby animals. Got any of those ‘round here?”

“Of course. Kittens, little ducklings, calves, all kinds of adorable babies.”

You pull him away from the fence, knowing he’d stand there all day if you let him. He holds your hand as you walk back toward the barn.

“You want to go collect some eggs with me?” You squeeze his hand.

His face goes from content to horrified. “What? Like out of the backside of a chicken?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to reach in there and pull them out. The hens lay them and-“

“Oh love, no, you can’t do that. Those poor little baby chickens. You can’t eat them.” He turns his big eyes to you.

“They’re not fertilized. They’re not baby chickens. They’re just… eggs.”

His face scrunches up. “That’s better, yeah, but aren’t they still warm? Like, from the chicken’s butt?”

You laugh loudly. “If that’s how you want to think of it.”

“I don’t wanna think about it at all,” Steven shudders. “Best let the chickens alone for now.”

“If you say so, Steven. We can have tofu scramble instead.”

You walk together into the front room of the barn, where the milk is stored. It’s clean and washed down, the stainless steel equipment and sinks almost laboratory-like. Steven pauses and looks at his reflection in the metal of the gigantic tank used to hold the milk. He makes another scrunched up face.

“Not doing that, Marc,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

Steven looks like he might gag. “Marc wants to see inside the tank thingie, where the milk is. Gods, he wants to drink it. Asking a bloody vegan to do that. No, you can’t have the body if that’s what you’re going to do with it.” Steven shuts his mouth tightly.

“If Marc wants a drink, then he can get his ass out here and do some of the actual work. It’s not fair he gets to reap the rewards and you have to be the one to scrape crap off of your shoes.”

Steven panics and twists his body to look at his feet.

“I didn’t mean literally, hun,” you say to him. “Come on, let’s go pet the calves.”

He smiles in relief and you head further inside, to where the animals are. There are a few small calves near the front, still clean and new to the world. Their curious faces perk up when they see you. Steven’s eyes go wide and he bends over slightly as he zips toward them.

“Love,” he says, “how on earth did you ever leave this place?”

He reaches down to pet their heads, the calves twist to try to nibble at his fingers, nudging him with their big, wet noses.

You rub Steven’s back with your hand. “It was difficult,” you say, “but frankly I knew I wanted to move to the city, something different. And in a town this small, it was impossible to find someone to date. I’m either related to him or my sister has already dated him. Not a lot of options.”

He turns his gaze back to you, a warm and loving look that you could absolutely never leave behind.

“I can’t say I’d ever give up my books for a tractor, but this is the nicest day I’ve had in ages,” Steven says.

“You would be more of the gentleman farmer-type,” you say. “Like in an Austen novel.”

“Oh, I could get into that. Taking you for a walk with you through the fields, stealing kisses under trees. Sounds like something we could do after lunch.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He smiles, thinking about it. He scratches the calves idly behind their ears as he looks at you.

“Love?” He says. “I think I’ve stepped in shit.”

“You have.”

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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What would you say are the MC trio, Moon Boys, and Miguel’s biggest kinks/fantasies/positions/etc?

Feel free just to rapid-fire list them since this is a handful of characters, to just pic a specific group, or totally ignore this altogether if it’s too much!

I’m just particularly curious about all of them, what their preferences are individually (especially like, for example, what Boa/Santi prefer vs Boa/Frankie, or Steven/Reader vs Marc/Reader, or…Miguel/Nena vs Miguel/Cielito👀). Like, does Santi find it a little easier to be vulnerable with just Boa? Do Steven and Marc ever lovingly bully Reader by tag-teaming? (I don’t know where I saw it but the phrase, “I can gangbang you all by myself,” said by Marc has lived rent-free in my head for d a y s.)

Thank you so much if you do decide to indulge in answering this ask, and if you don’t! Your writing makes me so happy and I hope to be as good as you one day! :)

OOOH I LOVE THIS ASK!!! Sorry this has taken me ages to get through.

Homecoming Dynamics

I think you're absolutely right nonny. Santi does find it easier to be emotionally vulnerable with Boa. Partly it's because of their longstanding friendship since childhood and how Boa has known the more vulnerable and personal parts of Santiago where he doesn't need to be tough. It's hard to stay tough in front of the woman who watched you get tricked by an older kid to trade Charizard for a Magikarp for a Pokemon trade, or the first time you got broken up with and ended up crying at a Mcdonalds booth.

However I think in bed it's actually the opposite? Santiago finds it a lot easier to relinquish control with Frankie. Because Frankie "takes" it from him, Santiago loves how Frankie gets stern and orders him to listen to him/obey. In a way that makes Santiago switch off his brain as he doesn't have to think and he lets Frankie be in control and for him that is such an easy act and a relief all at once. Whereas with Boa (she purposefully) asks him to surrender control which is an active choice on his part that brings up all sorts of emotional vulnerabilities that messes with his head.

Red Flags dynamic

OOOOOOOOOOOF ok ok that quote! it's from an Oscar Isaac zoom theater he did with Marissa Tomei and I AM OBSESSED WITH IT! I think applied to the Red Flags dynamics, those words, that sentence would come out of Jake's mouth. I can just seeeeeeeeeeeee it.

I think Marc for all his need for control and how he likes to be stern with reader, he also really really spoils her. He's also immensely private and possessive with his private (and regular) time with her and balks at the idea of switching/tag-teaming in that way.

However Steven/Jake... I think those two menaces would be all up for it. Steven because by the time he's THAT gone, there's no composure left in him. If Jake is with her and goads him and lets him take over Steven absolutely 100000% would JUMP at the chance. If anything the difficulty with tag-teaming is for Jake to convince Steven to give back control of the body.

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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A warmup. Something about Oscar Isaac is just so MMM

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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Based on a request by @mintellaine: Moon Boys married prompts #6&7: being able to predict the other's moves & predict the other's words

Content: f!reader, action, violence, fluff, kissing, mentions of food

Word Count: 805

Moon Knight's cape swished valiantly behind him as his muscular thigh thrusted outward in a punishing kick. The foul-smelling, ghastly supernatural creature yelped, its phantom bones crunching as it careened toward you.

"Drop!"

"Yep!"

Your body had already instinctively reacted. Sprinting forward, you dropped to your knees, skidding under the creature. Raising your arm, you dragged your curved dagger through its hairy abdomen.

Your enemy's ear-piercing shriek momentarily disoriented you, propelling you into a stumble, rather than you flipping to your feet with your usual grace.

Before even your shoulder could graze the bruising asphalt, a white gauze-wrapped arm slid underneath you, absorbing your fall. Tucking you in tightly to the solid safety of his chest, the two of you hit the rooftop with an "umph."

Heavy breaths pushed past your lips as you came down from your adrenaline rush, cocooned carefully inside your husband's white cape. His glowing, moonbeam eyes narrowed into slits as he inspected you for injury.

"Give me a second?" You panted, grateful for his protective embrace.

"Yeah, I can do that," he answered, his mask disappearing.

"Hi," you breathlessly whispered, smiling at his handsome face.

"Hey," he casually returned, admiration etched into his cute smirk. "That was a hell of a move."

"Thanks, I - "

" - learned from the best," he grinned.

Pulling you to your feet, Marc grasped your arms to steady you.

Suddenly, white gauze melted away as a shining, three-piece deliciously tight suit appeared.

"Darling, you were amazing," Steven bragged...but before he could compliment your attire, which he was always prone to do, even mid-fight, his warm brown eyes widened in panic.

You were already ducking as the word left his mouth. Scrambling away from this newest threat, you heard the crunch of bone.

White, gloved fists brutally connected with the jaw of yet another vile creature. Where were these things coming from?

Rolling out of the way, you scurried around behind the beast, mindful of the roof's edge. But before you could attack with your daggers, it lunged backward, knocking you dangerously close to your doom.

Steven, whose white mask was in place now, leapt into the air brandishing his signature heavy batons. "Get away from her, you!"

Having gained the creature's attention, it turned and attacked him with a screeching howl. Steven became a flurry of moonlit precision, striking blow after kick after thud with his batons. This gave you time to attack from the back. With a cry of fury, you lunged forward with all your might, sinking two daggers into the creature's gangly back.

It screeched - its ghastly body arching in agony as Steven tipped his sassy chin in a final salute. "That's m'wife, mate."

Then the creature was ash.

You stood across from your husband - a dagger in each hand, hair a wild mess, chest heaving, hoping that was your final fight tonight.

"Wow...look at you," Steven marveled, his mask disappearing once more.

"I probably look as crazy as that thing...before it disintegrated," you laughed, tucking your daggers away.

"Not possible," he chuckled. "But let me guess: you're bloody starving." You always were after a good fight.

With a cute shrug, your nose crinkled in delight, "You read my mind."

"Dumplings?" He proposed, knowing how much you loved them.

"Mmm, the way to my heart," you murmured, yanking his tie and pulling his lips to yours.

The adrenaline of a fight always brought some spice to your marriage, and your knees gave out a little as Steven's tongue ran along the seam of your lips. Opening your mouth to him, you felt the beautiful proof of his life - his hot, panting breath, mingling with the slightly salty tinge of sweat from his exertion.

He was safe. And all yours.

Strong arms swept you up into a possessive embrace. Marc. His tongue licked in hotly into your mouth, tangling with yours, as the fullness of his lips caressed your own deliciously.

"Do we have to get vegan dumplings?" He pouted, nibbling your lips one at a time.

"Babe, you know that place on the corner always adds pork dumplings to Steven's vegan order."

With one final kiss, his mask and hood cloaked his face once more.

"Ready?" Marc proposed, nodding down to the street below.

"Do you even have to ask?" You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck trustingly. The moon was full tonight, so its Knight would glide across the sky with ease.

With you tucked closely to his side, Marc leaped into the night sky. The thrill of flying...or falling gracefully overwhelmed you, making you giggle childishly in delight.

"This is my favorite way to travel!" You called over the whoosh of air around you.

"Thanks, but - "

" - don't tell Jake, I know," you finished his sentence, knowing how much Jake liked to drive you around (and drive you wild).

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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literally incredible

Steven Grant oblivious roommate headcanons pt. 6

SGORH masterlist

Part 6: You help Steven Grant of the Gift Shop with inventory

Steven doesn’t fall asleep the rest of the night after the ankle-restraint-discovery incident. But you do, in his bed.

You don't mean to. Steven tells you a little about his sleeping disorder.

It honestly doesn't sound quite like a sleeping disorder

The sound of his voice is so sweet and so soft it lulls you right to sleep

Steven can't sleep with you in his bed. He simply stares at your lovely face

He falls asleep on your shoulder on the bus

Donna is fed up with all the work he’s missed. She puts him on inventory again.

It’s closing time and you feel sad to be going home without Steven. You don’t always work the same shifts or days, but you hate that he has to stay here late again.

You decide to help him. The look on his face when you bound up to the gift shop counter at closing time is priceless.

“How’s my favorite gift shoppist?” You grin. “Want some help?”

He stammers, he protests, but finally, his already hunched shoulders somehow drop even further, in relief. “That would be lovely, actually.”

You're complete dorks the rest of the night. You keep pretending to "scan" Steven and follow it with the silliest comments.

"One Egyptology genius." Beep. He grins.

"One comfiest shoulder ever," he counters. Beep.

"One best roommate ever." Beep.

"One best coworker ever," he replies earnestly. "Not even getting paid right now."

"I don't mind," you shrug, smiling gently. "Sweetest guy in the world." Beep.

He nudges your shoulder. "You really think so?"

You nudge him right back. "'Course I do."

Dark eyebrows arch inquisitively. He doesn't know how to believe you.

The two of you return to your task for several quiet moments. Since you've known him, Steven has filled every silence, and, unlike your co-workers, you realize now that you love it.

But he's quiet now, shuffling through and scanning some last minute trinkets.

Finally, he turns back to you. "One best friend ever." Beep. "Maybe the only one I've ever had."

You melt. How can that possibly be true?

You finish inventory and Steven shuts down the shop. The museum is dark now - a little eery, honestly.

As you head toward the exit, his head cocks curiously as he stops and looks around.

He suddenly wanders back the way you came, into the heart of the darkened museum. He calls out, "Here, boy," as if if he hears a dog?

"I could have sworn I heard..." he murmurs, looking this way and that.

Suddenly, Steven stops short, eyes going wide as his lips part with shallow breaths. "D-did you hear that?"

You've heard nothing. But his eyes look past you, suddenly wild with terror, and before you can ask him what's wrong, he's jerking you by the arm and shoving you into a crouching position behind a tall pillar.

"Oh god, oh god," he pants, pulling you against his body even as he panics.

"Steven, what's wrong? What is it?" You don't understand.

He squeezes you. "Don't make a sound," he whispers. "It's out there."

He's shaking. And you don't know what could have scared him so.

Drawing in a ragged breath, he squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment, as if gathering his courage. "I won't let anything happen to you."

tbc...

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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Steven Grant oblivious roommate headcanons Pt. 2

Read part 1 SGORH masterlist

Part 2: Adjusting to life in Steven's cluttered, vegan, insomniac existence.

At first, you put your best foot forward, since you're pretty sure Steven isn't charging you the correct amount of rent

You always do the dishes and pick up around the flat. (Steven is a bit of a hoarder- clean, but clutter-y)

Every day you have off work just kills him: he comes home to find you in an oversized t-shirt, hanging down to mid-thigh, making it look like you're not wearing shorts underneath.

A little sheen of sweat shines on your forehead and neck

"You don't have to do all this, honestly, love. Let me help."

He calls you "love" now - you think it's cute. You and he get along so well.

"Steven, I would be homeless without you, I don't mind."

You guys make a chore chart for the fridge that really helps.

Your laptop is often on the kitchen counter, open to vegan recipes

You have sweetly attempted and failed several meals

"Let's go shopping together next time. I'll show you all the best deals."

He finally works up the courage to reach for your hand one evening. Your cheek is covered in corn flour - you're an adorable mess. His heart is about to burst with gratitude (and desire)

"This is your home. You don't have to prove that you deserve to be here."

You absolutely melt. Proving yourself is something you've always felt you had to do, since you were a kid.

"Steven, you're an absolute angel." You throw your arms around him.

He can't breathe. You're so lovely, kind and sweet. The last thing he wants to do is open his mouth and mess up your friendship

He also can't have you thinking he asked you to live with him out of some creepy ulterior motive.

No, he will have to keep his feelings to himself.

You start to realize Steven isn't sleeping. You see and hear him up at all hours reading and solving puzzles.

One night you creep out of your "bedroom" space to check on him and discover him nose deep in a book, adorable reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

It takes him a minute, but when he notices you there, he jumps, profusely apologizing for waking you up.

"You didn't, it's okay," you insist, asking if it's okay to come and sit near him.

His heart rate triples as you draw near.

You smile warmly. "I like your glasses." A blush creeps up his neck. You don't see it.

Then you offer to make him some calming tea and he knows he's a goner.

tbc.....

Coming up: Steven can't sleep. He can't remember asking Dylan out on a date. Why do you feel weird about it? After all, you have a date too.

muahahahaha

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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been so incredibly busy the last like. month & a half but i am back !!! need to catch up on everything omg

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thursdaywritings · 2 years ago

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With You part 15

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Recovery is a lifelong, active choice. You are Marc deal with a rough night a little differently this time.

Pairings: Marc Spector x gn!reader (Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader) No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: angst, fluff (more under the cut)

Warnings: DON'T worry - it's not as dramatic as the warnings sound, I promise: cursing, struggles with alcoholism/addiction, references to past abuse, trauma and violence, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

"You know, when I was a kid...I never had anyone to look out for me. Not once. Not even my dad, but now..." His jaw twitched as he fought through his emotions, "Now I have three of you."

Summer had turned to fall and the crisp, damp air made you long for the comfort of home. True, your flat was ancient and drafty, but your husband was there, waiting for you with some warm soup and likely an evening of cozy cuddles.

At least, that's what Steven had texted you about earlier.

As you turned the key in the deadbolt and pushed the old, heavy door open, your eyes widened, attempting to adjust to the darkness within. With only the entry way lamp left on for you, it was difficult to gauge who was home, or what they were doing.

"Babe?" You called out, leaving your bag and shoes in their normal spot before clicking the door closed and turning the lock. The flooring creaked as you shuffled toward your room to change out of your scrubs, but you stopped, hearing Marc's voice from the darkened kitchen.

"In here."

He was dressed in Steven's jumper, the worn navy faded to a dull cobalt - sleeves that normally draped down to Steven's knuckles pushed haphazardly halfway up to his elbows. Hands clenching the counter's edge, he stared out the kitchen window at the pale moon.

The breadth of his shoulders expanded with a loud, sorrowful breath.

Approaching him slowly, you noticed a bottle of vodka on the countertop to his right.

Shit.

Also - vodka? Since when? Marc drank whiskey, or he used to drink beer, back before he realized he really was not among the ranks of those who could drink socially.

"Marc," you softly called, making sure he knew you were behind him, attempting to inch closer. "Hey."

His grip on the counter's edge caused his knuckles to strain, and in better lighting, you thought they would probably be turning white.

Your chest heaved with relief as one hand released the countertop and carefully extended behind his back, toward you.

That was all the invitation you needed to surge forward, grasping his fingers and taking them with you around his soft stomach. You wrapped yourself around him from behind, squeezing as you pressed your cheek against the solid heat of his back.

"Tell me you're not hurt," you brokenly whispered, knowing that his recent alcoholic endeavors had all centered around Khonshu scaring and harming him.

"I'm okay," he mumbled after a tense silence. "It's okay. I just bought it. I didn't...I didn't drink it. I didn't..."

"Good, baby," you murmured, squeezing him tighter. "That's good."

Needing to feel more of you, he yanked on your forearm, pulling you around, meeting you halfway until he could wrap you close to his thundering heart.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his palms spreading, pressing you into the mold of his body - one hand pushing at your lower back while the other slid up to cradle your neck. His grip was desperate, yet his fingertips brushed tenderly as if you were a delicate thing he could destroy.

He swallowed down a wave of nausea at the thought of disappointing you again. And again, and again. To a certain degree, he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened or how he got to be in this dark kitchen with a bottle of vodka beside him.

You were uncharacteristically silent so his troubled mind began to fill in terrible stories about what you must be thinking, and how he might have done permanent damage.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked, moving along the nonexistent conversation. He needed to know this like he needed air in his lungs. It was a familiar cycle to him - failing and awaiting the heavy ax of punishment – from his mother, from the military, from other mercenaries and killers, from Khonshu.

"Please...say something."

"I’m not angry," you softly returned, easing back to peer up into his dark, troubled eyes. "And it’s not because I don’t care, or don’t expect things from you." You referenced a previous argument, making sure he knew that your lack of reaction was, indeed, not a lack of investment.

Tracing your fingertips over the angle of his jaw your eyes danced over his features, as if checking to be certain that he was unharmed. "To be honest, I...I’m actually scared."

Mark’s heart sank, guilt twisting his insides for making you uncomfortable in any way, and especially for scaring you.

Then you explained.

"When I first walked in, I was so afraid someone hurt you – are you sure you’re okay?"

With a heavy sigh, his forehead dropped to touch yours. "No, it’s not like that – I’m not physically hurt."

Daring to meet your eyes again his grip on you tightened as if he were afraid you might quite literally slip through his fingers.

"I can’t explain why I bought it, really. But...I can try."

He seemed hopeless to make any sense of how he got here, or what was going on inside him.

"Okay, baby," you soothed, tracing the fullness of his bottom lip with your thumb. "Can we talk about it?"

He eagerly nodded, the slightest swell of accomplishment blooming in his chest as he started to realize how close he'd come to having a drink...but didn't.

The two of you settled onto the old sofa after you changed into an oversized cardigan and joggers, and ordered takeaway on your phone, since there was clearly no soup, despite Steven's previous offer.

Marc nestled into one end of the couch and had sweetly asked to hold you. So you draped yourself across his lap, your legs extending down the length of the sofa while your arms encircled his neck.

"I'm glad I didn't drink," he admitted out loud, which...was huge for Marc.

"You should be," you lovingly encouraged, smiling at him tenderly.

"You're so good to me," he uttered, gazing at you adoringly. "I would understand, you know - if you were upset at me, for wasting money and...just..."

"Is that what you think it is? A waste of money?" You asked him frankly.

His thick eyebrows knitted as he contemplated your meaning.

"Would it not be more wasteful if the bottle were empty?" You went on. "I think you would feel a lot worse. And that would be a waste."

"Yeah, I guess so," he slowly nodded.

"So - tell me what you were thinking when you walked into the store...or when you were standing outside the window, thinking about going in. What happened?"

So Marc confessed.

Jake had been busy at night lately, so they were tired. One of Steven's classes got cancelled so he dragged himself into bed for an afternoon nap, intending to make soup and spend the evening with you.

But it was Marc who awakened abruptly from a nightmare: a torment including broken bottles, torn flesh and punishing blows.

You fucking knew it. It always came back to that stupid god.

"I was dreaming about her," Marc explained, to your slight surprise, "about something I'd forgotten, until the night I was attacked."

Then you realized this specific misery was not from the night Khonshu abandoned him in the middle of a brutal attack. He was remembering something older.

"She...sometimes she would sing while she cooked," he confessed, reminding you of the rare, tender moment Jake had shared with her - that she cooked while singing in Spanish, and that sometimes Jake helped her. He had almost seemed like he felt guilty for holding a fond memory of her after what she'd done.

Marc was apparently recounting the flip side of that memory.

He went on to explain that he didn't remember much about it, but he must have been helping her cook (or perhaps, in this case, it was Jake). What he did recall, however, was that he dropped a glass skillet lid by accident. His mom had asked him to stir the food contained within, and when Marc reached for the lid's handle, its heat burned his palm, causing him to drop it to the floor, where it shattered.

He had jumped back, profusely apologizing, but it was too late. Wendy was halfway into a bottle of something or other. She picked it up and said, "Oh, are we breaking things today?"

Then she broke the bottle on the counter's edge and brandished it as a weapon against her only remaining child.

Marc's details thereafter were vague, but they included a cut on his arm, curses in Spanish (no wonder he didn't speak it anymore), and a trip upstairs that ended in belt whelps, sobbing and another lonely night spent afraid and starving.

"When those men attacked me that night, I...it's like I could instantly remember her face and her voice and just...I think Jake told you he took the body while I was staring at my reflection in the window of a liquor store. Or...right after I started walking away."

By now, tears had spilled down your cheeks, as they did any time he shared another piece of his past with you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I...I didn't remember it that clearly until I woke up today."

His sweet, brown eyes were wide and pleading with you to understand. After all this time, he still felt he was the one who had done something wrong.

Smoothing your thumb over his cheek, you granted him a tender smile. "There's nothing to apologize for. You never have to be sorry for opening up to me."

He nodded quickly, his voice high pitched, almost like a child's. "I know, but - I made you cry. I always think I've told you everything bad and it's over with, you know? That there won't ever be any more of my shit to say. But then, there's always more. I'm sorry."

"Marc," you gasped, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his mouth. "That's why I'm here, baby. I'm here to listen - for whatever you need. You haven't done anything wrong. This was done to you."

The familiar wrinkle formed between his dark eyebrows as he nodded, seriously listening to what you had to say. "You're right," he admitted. "It's a lot of shit to remember - my life, I mean. But still...I shouldn't have bought that alcohol."

His bottom lip turned down in a bit of an adorable frowny pout. "I made a therapy appointment, and...I thought about what she might say, you know, about taking ownership. And that's the thing I can control, right?"

You nodded encouragingly, hoping he would continue - your heart swelling with pride over how far he'd come. You could approve or disapprove of his alcohol purchase, but what mattered was what Marc himself thought of his choice.

"So...I shouldn't have bought it. It wasn't productive," he continued sincerely. "And...it was wasteful. But I didn't drink it. So...that's something."

You kissed the pad of your thumb before pressing it to the wrinkle between his eyes. "That's my guy. Proud of you."

That move always dissolved his contemplative frown into what could almost be considered a shy smile.

"I still probably need some 'stress relief' though." He winked as the sound of your laughter filled the flat.

The next day, you walked Marc to a meeting to get his six month sobriety chip. The two of you decided to celebrate with a night out. You couldn't be more proud of him for getting back on track, and not breaking his sobriety since he'd learned about Jake and Khonshu.

The two of you returned home and decided to cuddle up on the rooftop, before the fall weather started getting too chilly.

"This is nice," you murmured, laying your head on Marc's shoulder. You were seated on a couple thick quilts with a smaller one wrapped around you both.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Thanks for going out with me tonight."

"Of course, baby, I'm so proud of you."

He gave you that sexy little smirk of his - pretty much the closest he ever came to a full smile. Reaching for your hand, he slid his fingers through yours. "I love you, you know. More than anything."

You melted as his heated gaze lured you in. "I love you too. More than anything."

He peered into your eyes for a few seconds longer, and you thought he might kiss you, but he cleared his throat instead.

"I need to talk to you about something, okay?" His dark eyebrows shifted - he looked a little nervous. "Just...hear me out. It's important."

Squeezing his hand, you nodded. "Anything, Marc."

It took a moment for him to continue, Releasing your hand, he stared straight ahead. You knew him well enough to realize he needed a minute - and that this must be significant to him.

"I'm going to talk to Khonshu," he finally announced, with difficultly. "I need to talk to him - to settle some things."

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. This was Marc, after all. He thought deeply and carefully about everything and he didn't just blurt things out.

Steven liked to think about everything out loud. Your evenings were often filled with not only a comical and detailed retelling of the day's antics, but he would actually sort through his feelings verbally. It was easy to know where you stood with Steven at all times, but it was, occasionally, a trifle exhausting - though not unwelcome.

If this were Jake, you would already be challenging him, arguing passionately about how this was a bad idea. Jake had no problem arguing right back until he convinced you.

But this was Marc. So you waited, and you listened.

"I can't...I just can't sit in the back seat of my life anymore," he began to explain, after a long exhale. Another silence followed - almost uncomfortably long. You finally realized he was gazing at your profile.

"I'm happy with you," he softly admitted. "Being married to you. You know that, don't you?"

Granting him a sweet smile, you nodded. "I do. But I'm always glad to hear it."

His attention shifted back to the darkened sky. He always tended to feel a little more comfortable communicating without direct eye contact.

"I like the life we have here. I'm good with Steven doing the things he does, and even Jake. It took some time, but...it works now, I think." He chuckled at himself. "Maybe I was an ass before, about Jake. But - I know he loves you."

Linking your arm through his, you laid your head on his shoulder and just let him talk.

"He does love you," Marc repeated softly. "And Steven does. And I do. I am happy."

"Me too," you quickly assured him.

Another silence. A breeze swirled around you, automatically drawing you closer to his warmth.

"But this thing with Khonshu - I can't stay out of it. He's in our lives because of me. I have to deal with him."

Treading as carefully as you could manage, you chanced a question. "What do you mean, deal with him? Didn't Jake make a deal to protect you?"

"That's not what I'm talking about," he quickly defended, stiffening. "And I didn't ask Jake to do that."

Okay, back to waiting on him to explain.

"Even though I'm six months sober, this is the main thing I can't really break through. I feel like I can't really have control of my life until I settle whatever this is with him."

He was on a roll now, so you didn't want to stop him, despite your concerns over his safety.

"I talked to them, you know - Steven and Jake."

"And what did they say?" You softly asked, soothingly stroking his arm with your fingertips.

So he explained that Jake hoped their current setup could work out. Jake would take care of Moon Knight and keep Marc safely out of it. Somewhat conversely, Steven understood Marc's need to confront, or at least consult Khonshu. Steven knew what it felt like to be left out of the loop in his own life.

"So what I want to know is - what do you think?"

Even though you'd been biting your tongue, holding back your opinion, now that he'd given you the floor, you found yourself a little stumped. Instead of playing games, however, you decided to be direct, as usual.

"I'm conflicted, honestly," you softly returned. "I respect your choice and I support you. I understand why you think you need to talk to him. But I'm scared he'll hurt you - physically or mentally. Or both. And I don't want that.

"But if it's as bad as you're saying, then you can't live like this. You're right, you have to settle it. You have to decide if you are Moon Knight."

"I am," he answered resolutely. "I am Moon Knight."

Coming up: The conclusion to "With You"

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