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romanarose · 2 years

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Seattle: Part 2

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

Part 1 : Part 3

Masterlist here

Seattle Masterlist

Also come see me on tik tok at romana_the_cryptid

Summary: Marc gets another phone call, and this time, she might be ready to accept help.

A/N: thank you so much for all the support for his story! I decided to change it from "reader" to an OC, bc I write better this way. Everything is the same as in the original Seattle story, she's Jewish, only difference is her name is Rebecca. I decided to make things get a little worse for Rebecca and Marc, but after this chapter, now they'll start getting better.

WARNINGS!! Okay so warnings will have spoilers but I don't want to trigger anyone. So if you'd like to skip this and not have anything spoiled, just to the cut. If you need warnings, here they are. Domestic violence, sexual assault via condom tampering, pregnancy, talk of abortion, miscarriage.

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3 weeks went by without a word. Nothing. Marc didn’t dare text or call Rebecca; he knew better. That wasn’t the first late night phone call, but it was the first after a hospital visit. How can she not see it? How can she not see how much love she deserves? No one deserves what's happening to her. Hadn’t she told him the same thing?

“Marc stop, you didn’t deserve any of it.” Becca had held him, late one night, resting her head on his chest while his head laid on the duffle bag that held everything he owned. “What happened wasn’t your fault, and you know it. Your mom is batshit. No one deserves physical abuse. You were a child, a child who had to go through mourning alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

Did Becca think she deserved it? Did she think she was less worthy of love than him? Why was she, who was nothing but kind and thoughtful, the exception? Can’t you just call her? Check in? What if I call and Jack answers? If she got hurt because of that… I know, I know… I just… Yeah, me too buddy.

He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. He usually let it ring out in his pocket, choosing whether or not to call back later,, but decided to answer. When he pulled his phone out of his dark washed jeans, his heart jumped when Rebecca’s name. “Are you okay?” He answered with a start.

“Can’t I just call you?” He could hear her trying to smile, but there was a strain in her voice, and a lot of noises in the background he couldn’t distinguish.

“Are you just calling me?”

A pause… “I’m in an ambulance.”

Marc kicked the wall of the building he stood by “Fuck!” His hands found his hair, pulling at it as he tried to keep calm. “What's happening?”

“Marc-ah, I need you to focus, I’m on my way to the hospital and the EMT is kind enough to let me call you, so I need you to focus, okay?”

Marc felt more sober than he ever had in his life. “Talk to me, honey”

“I’m hyped on on adrenaline and pain right now, so maybe I’m just thinking clearly, but I need you to come get me-”

That’s how they met. Really met, anyway. They knew each other through Hebrew school, but ran in different circles. Rebecca’s family was the subject of a lot of gossip due to her dad's known affairs, and later, her mom's cancer. Marc remembers little Becca showing up on his doorstep sometime after Randell's death holding some casserole dish for him. She said she had made it herself, and by the way it tasted, that was probably true. “I thought, well, everyone brings food the week of the funeral, but I figured this way you didn’t have to worry about Shabbot. Or at least part of it.” His mom wasn’t worried about Shabbat at all, she wouldn’t worry about it again. But that shitty cassarol was the only thing he ate that weekend, his dad too drowned in grief and managing the household alone to notice there was nothing left to eat.

“Yeah, yeah of course-”

“Marc, -oof- please shut up. I love you but everything hurts and I need you to just listen for once. I'm going to Seattle Grace Hospital, I need you to come out here and do. not. let me leave with Jack. When I come down from all this, I’m going to make excuses like I always do, and I cannot go back with him. He will fucking kill me in a few years, you know this. FUCK, that shit hurts.”

“What-” Marc stopped himself, not sure if she’s done.

“He saw I called you after I got out of the hospital. I have to go, just, can you please come? I’ll pay you back-”

Marc hit the brick of the building with the side of his fist, which hurt significantly “Stop, you’re not paying for shit, Becca. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of it. I’m going to get you out of there.”

“I love you.” Rebecca sharply sucks in your breath. “Don’t let me die in this stupid fucking city.” Her voice breaks, praying he’ll bail her out just one more time…

Marc started speed walking toward his apartment, he was getting her out. “Never, sweetheart, never. I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay?”

“I gotta go, they're hyping me up on painkillers and I’m going to stop making sense…” Her speech was already getting less than clear.

“Can you just… Can you lay the phone down by your head? So I can hear you?”

The tears were finally coming again and he quickly tried to get to his apartment to find flights. It was noon and he wondered if there would be any flights left. He heard her ask the EMT, then return to the phone. “Yeah, I can do that Marc.”

For the next few months, food around the house could be scarce. Not because of lack of money, but because of where his parent’s attention was. Wendy was out of commission. She really only went to the store for alcohol and her food. Elias had so much going on from mourning and services and bills… After a few months, he got the hang of things, but there were a fair amount of times Marc went to school without food. Of course, she noticed. She always noticed when people needed help. She’d always giving him some of her food. A piece of fruit and a twinkie. Half her sandwich and some carrots. Sometimes she would insist she wasn't hungry, and he could have all of it. Marc would usually refuse, but sometimes it had just been so long and he was so hungry… That’s why he was so protective of her. She had lost her mom the year before, was suffering on her own, but she still took him in.

“It’s gonna be okay, Beccs. I promise.”

“Sure” was all she could reply through the pain in her ribs.

Marc listened to the sounds in the ambulance

‘Concussion’

‘Broken’

‘Burns’

Fuck, what did he do to her?

The EMT took the phone and told him she was out of it on the pain meds. She couldn’t tell him anything, but Marc knew it was a little piece of mercy to even inform him they were hanging up.

‘We’re going to Seattle buddy, buckle up.’

‘Oh bullocks, I hate grunge’ Steven jokes, trying to make Marc smile. It worked, even just a little and even for just a second.

Marc was lucky enough to find a flight leaving that night. Seattle was literally on the other side of the country from New York, and between that and the time change, Marc stepped out of the airport at 6. He had checked the visiting hours; he still had time.

They talked about everything. When you have no money, there isn't a lot else to kill time. Both of them worked as much as they could, of course, but there were still seemingly endless hours to kill. When you don’t have a house to clean or a car to fix, that frees up a lot of time. There were a lot of long, hot summer days with nothing to do. After the incident where Rebecca had passed out from the heat, Marc tried to keep her cool as much as possible. Elias had warned him that after you get heat stroke once, you get more sensitive to heat. They began spreading a lot of time at the beach, much to Marc’s constant stress. Rebecca had never asked to go to the beach, never suggested anything water related outside of the fountain parks, fully aware that Marc hadn’t swam since his brother’s death. Infact, there were multiple times she had refused to go when Marc insisted. But eventually, on a particularly hot day, she couldn’t resist.

When Marc finally saw Rebecca for the first time in years, she was barely recognizable as she slept. The nurse warned Marc that she was sleeping, but Rebecca had given a message that if a Marc Spector came, they were to let him in. She looked different. Very different. Disturbingly different. Her hair, normally medium brown and curly, was straightened and lightened to an almost caramel color. And she was thin. He could see it in her face, she’d lost weight. Growing up, Rebecca’s weight was a point of mild annoyance for her. She was always confident, always wore what she wanted, but there were always little comments she made here and there. Not something he ever saw her caring enough to do anything about. She wasn’t one to change herself in general. Marc wondered how much of these changes were Jack’s idea, or if he had simply beaten down her confidence enough that she took it upon herself.

“Marc?” Becca stirred from her nap. Recognizing her friend, her face lit up. There she was. There was the girl he knew.

Marc strode over to her side, sitting on the chair as she sat up “Hey Rivkah- no don’t sit up, rest” She didn’t listen. Never does. Marc helps prop up pillows behind her, knowing damn well he can’t argue with her. He brushed her straightened hair from her face; it was thick as ever. “You’re safe now, I’m here” He was cataloging any injuries he could find. There was the busted lip and a bruise around her eyes, but the most disturbing was the burns on the right side of her face and neck.

She saw him eyeing her. “Marc it’s fine, don’t-”

“Stop” it came out a little more harsh than he meant it to. “Don’t start doing that-”

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re mitigating, you always do this you always-” Marc took a breath, dialing back his frustration. “Every time you call me, you always tell me it’s fine. But it’s not. Tell me what he did.”

Becca closed her eyes, she knew she had to honest with him. She spoke almost monotonously. “When he saw that I had called you, he confronted me. I had just boiled tea and had the water in my cup.” She opened her brown eyes, but didn’t look at him. “He threw the water in my face.”

“Fuck, Beccs…” Marc moved his hands behind the hospital bed, hiding the way his fists clenched. Never was he more thankful to Khonshu than he was right now. Jack was going to pay for this one.

“Marc, don’t. I know what you’re thinking, no Moon Knight shit.”

It was like she could read his mind… “He can’t keep getting away with it, Beccs, and you’re not staying with him.”

“It’s not that simple, Marc”

The man was too stunned to speak. “Rebecca you can’t be serious…”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked at him, pleading with him to understand, although she couldn't understand herself. “He’s my husband, Marc.”

Slowly, over the rest of the summer, they made their way to the water. Temperature right off Lake Michigan was always cooler than the city was, so it already cooled them down. With baby steps, Marc slowly dipped his toes in the water, eventually allowing the water up to his waist. Marc would follow Rebecca everywhere she swam, Rebecca remained conscious in her swimming too far out, as to not make Marc go further than he was comfortable. He would never stop her from swimming, he would never stop her from doing anything… not that he could if he tried. Rebecca was always the kind of girl where if you told her she couldn’t, she would do it just to prove a point. That’s what he loved. Her ability to be unapologetically herself.

He resisted the urge to throw his hands up in frustration. “We’re Jewish! We believe in divorce! We’re not baptists!”

When she looked away from him again, glaring at the floor, he sighed, continuing. “What else. What else did he do?”

She muttered something he couldn’t quite hear.

“He broke your ribs?!” Marc felt like he could kill Jack. His rage was blinding, a white hot furry he had to try and push back. He couldn’t be freaking out right now, she needed him here.

“Bruised, Marc. Bruised them.” She turned back to him, almost glaring. “Just bruised. He said he’s going to go to therapy, and he’s going to stop drink-”

“He was here?”

She looked like she had been caught. She didn’t mean to let that slip. “Y-yeah. He’s um… he’s getting dinner right now. I was going to tell you not to come, but he…” She wished she could stop talking. Stop telling Marc everything, maybe he’d leave her be. But this was Marc, her Marc, she’d known him since pretty much as far back as she could remember. There weren't any secrets. “He took my phone.”

Marc shook his head. “No. No he’s not coming back in here, I swear to god, Beccs, he’s not touching you again.”

“Marc…” She closed her eyes, resigning herself to… something. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here-”

Before Marc could interject, Jack came in the door. He didn’t look as nervous as he should’ve been. “Marc, should’ve known you’d show up.” He was holding a bag of chinese food from down the street.

Marc instinctively stood up, placing himself between Jack and Rebecca. “When you burn my friend’s face, yeah, I’m gonna come.”

Jack slowly set down the food. “Friend, huh?” He was straightening up, almost postering. Not that he really needed to, Jack was several inches taller than Marc, but Marc was not intimidated.

“Yeah, my friend. I need you to leave, otherwise we’re going to have a problem.” Marc took a step towards Jack, itching for a reason to hit him.

One of their favorite activities when the inseparable pair were too tired to swim was to lay in the water, the waves splashing up to cover their legs and dip under their backs. Marc had never envisioned that he would ever be comfortable like this, but he was. Perhaps it was the way she held Marc's hand. One of her hands laced with Marc’s and her other wrapped around his arm, securing him to her. They would lay like this for hours, either in silence or talking. Talking came so easy with her in a way it never was with anyone else. He supposed it was because there was nothing to hide. His brother, his mom, being homeless, the marines, mercenary, moon knight…. She had been there for all of it, in different ways.

‘Do you want kids?’ She had asked, rather suddenly one day.

Marc thought about this, and for a long time. She held his hand for at least a minute while he considered, never pressuring him for an answer. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d be good at it.’

He felt her turn to him, frowning. He avoided her gaze. “Marc, that’s not true. You’d be an amazing dad’ she paused before answering. ‘You’re not your mom, honey’

Marc couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of him with a baby. ‘I wouldn’t know how to take care of it, honestly’ He continued to avoid looking at her. When she was in that swimsuit, he had to actively stop his eyeline from drifting down. He respected her, he loved her… but he was still 18 after all.

She had spoken so softly, he had shivered. ‘You take care of me…’

Jack laughed. He fucking laughed at Marc. “Oh yeah? You gonna take her away on your white horse, back to your shitty apartment? Gonna fix all her problems until she finally fucks you?”

“You shut the fuck up” Marc, don’t fall for it, he’s taunting you “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” He took another step, pointing his finger at the bastard in front of him.

“You gonna raise the baby too?”

Jack’s words hung in the air and for a moment all Marc could do was stare at Jack’s smug face. Jesus… His stomach dropped as the realization kicked in. She was pregnant. She was pregnant with Jack’s baby and now she was never going to leave.

A small voice from behind him. “Jack, what are you talking about?” Rebecca looked as confused and scared as Marc did.

Marc stepped back, just enough so she could talk to him, but close enough he could still protect her.

“You’re pregnant, Becca. You hadn’t notice your period is late?”

Rebecca looked like she was still processing, still connecting the dots. “I… my period has always been unpredictable… sometimes it doesn’t come… and we use condoms…”

“You thought we used condoms. You’ve been throwing up, gaining weight”

The realization hit Becca like a brick. He had purposefully gotten her pregnant. He had violated her body to trap her in this hell of a marriage. “Get out.” Her voice was shaky, but firm. “Get the fuck out of here, Jack.” She wanted Marc’s hand, but she was frozen. “I’m leaving.”

Jack took a step forward, but stopped when Marc moved in front of Becca. He wanted to allow her the autonomy to end this herself, but Jack was not going near her. Not again.

Jack eyed Marc up and down. “You gonna raise the baby?”

There was no hesitation. “If she decides to have it, yes.”

Jack scoffed, turning to Rebecca who looked frozen in shock, hand on her stomach. “You have an abortion, and I swear to god, I will kill you.”

Becca whimpered, looking at him in terror. “Please leave.” She turned to Marc, pleadingly. “Marc, please make him leave, please?”

Marc didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped up to Jack. “You have two choices, Jack. One, you can leave and walk away with all your bones intact, or two, I will make you leave and you’ll be lucky to walk away with your life.”

When Jack had initially entered the room, Jack thought he could take Marc, no problem. But the way the shorter man looked at him right now was fucking feral. Jack had no doubt in his mind that Marc would tear him limb from limb. Wanting to keep some semblance of control, he turned to Rebecca one last time. “I’ll see you soon, Becca” he winked, and left as Marc started walking towards him.

Marc slammed the hospital door behind Jack, rushing back to Rebecca when he heard her start to cry, pushing away every bit of anger that was threatening to blow over. He’d deal with Jack later. Right now, she needs him. Marc sat on the bed, very very carefully taking her in his arms, being mindful of her bruised ribs and the scalded skin. “Oh honey, it’s gonna be okay, metuka. I promise.”

She tried to hold him tighter but winced when she hurt her ribs. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant… my period was so irregular I… I just assumed I couldn’t… I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

‘What about you, Beccs? Any kids in your future?’ He allowed himself to look at her pretty face, her dark curls splattered in the sand.

She grinned. ‘Oh yeah. Lots of ‘em. I’m gonna break the cycle. Those little kids are going to be so fucking loved.’

‘You’ll be a great mom, Becca.’ He meant it. Marc had never met a woman who was more loving and thoughtful. There was no doubt in his mind that she’s excel as a mother.

Marc let go, not wanting to hurt her more. She was taking deep breaths, calming down. “Don’t worry about that now, okay? We’ll get to New York and get you an appointment with a doctor, see how far you are. New York’s abortion laws aren’t too bad, you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do. I promise to support whatever it is.”

She shook her head. “You don’t want a baby in your apartment, Marc”

“Beccs, don’t worry about-”

“Don’t lie to me”

“Rivkah, I swear to you that if you want the baby, I will help you.” Marc promised. Her body had already been violated in a variety of ways, the least he could do is allow her autonomy over this. “And I swear to god that if you get an abortion, he won’t touch you. Don’t let any of that affect your choice.“ He touched the side of her voice that wasn’t burned, and she closed her eyes, leaning into him. “It’s all up to you”

“All I ever wanted was to be a mom…” Her voice cracked, she was scared to death, uncertainty clouding her senses.

Marc kissed her forehead gently. “If that’s what you want, that is what you’ll be”

That night, after Rebecca fell asleep, Marc found himself in front of her apartment, banging on the door. I don’t know if this is a good idea… Steven warned. But Marc wasn’t listening. He was going to get her necessary items, kick Jack’s ass, and go. When Jack opened the door, there was a gun in Marc’s face. This did not phase him. Marc quickly disarmed Jack, pistol whipping him before he unleashed the last several years of hatred. For every time he hurt her, violated her, insulted her, Marc laid another blow.

Marc, that’s enough… Steven spoke softly, warning Marc before he took it too far. Breathless, Marc pulled himself off Jack’s beaten body. “Where’s her papers.” Jack carefully directed Marc to Becca’s social, birth certificate insurance card, etc, and the phone she had stolen as well. He found a few backpacks and filled them up with things she might need: He walked by the shelf in her bedroom, spotting a small teddy bear. He couldn’t fucking beleive it.

It was the summer they were homeless, there was a fair in town and although Marc hated crowds, Rebecca was so excited to see the bands that were playing. She hadn’t asked for a single thing, but Marc had insisted on spending just a little bit of money. They had gone on the ferris wheel and she nearly squeezed the life out of his hand on the tilt-a-whirl. They split a funnel cake while they watched the free show and she had managed to flirt a couple beers from the bartender who didn’t bother checking ID. Every time they walked by the balloon darts, he caught Becca eyeing a teddy bear. She would never in her life ask Marc to waste money on that scam, but all Marc wanted was to see her smile. He’d give his last dime to see her smile… So he tried to win it. And tried again. And tried a third time. After spending way too much money, he had won her the teddy bear, grinning ear to ear as she squealed, jumping up and down and hugging him. She slept with it every night that summer, and it had been in the bed the night they had made love. He couldn’t believe she kept it all these years…

When he came back to the hospital, he knew something was wrong. The hall outside her room was a commotion, doctors and nurses going out. “What’s happening?” He demanded, running to the room. The nuse older nurse that had been working with Rebecca gave him a look. “Honey, you know I can’t tell you that.” Of course. Marc wasn’t her husband. He was a coward when they were kids and missed his chance. He wasn’t her husband.

Marc gave an apologetic nod to the nurse and pushed his way in, where he found his pretty girl curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around her head.

“Sweetheart, Beccs…” Marc sat on the beds, stroking her hair. “What’s going on…” a thousand worst case seniors ran through his head. Why did he leave? How could he leave her here? Of course something had happened in the hours he was gone…

She didn’t come out of her huddle. “You don’t have to worry about a baby anymore…”

It was then that Marc noticed her nightgown had been changed, as were the sheets of the bed.

“Oh honey… I’m so sorry…” She shook her head that was still in her arms. “I didn’t even know if I wanted it…” She spoke through broken sobs.

Marc was unsure how to respond. She didn’t know if she was going to keep it, but she wasn’t sure if she had wanted an abortion either. “Can I lay with you?” Marc wasn’t could with words, but he could be there with her, he could hold her.

“If you want, but I’m still bleeding, you might-” Get blood on you she almost said, but Marc was already climbing in the bed, she happily made room for him.

“Don’t worry about that, honey. Can I hold you?” He asked. He wanted every move he made to be approved by her. Rebecca nodded, and Marc slipped an arm around her waist, ever-conscious of her ribs.

There was a moment of silence as she cried before she spoke. “She said it wasn’t my fault. The nurse. She said it wasn’t me…”

Marc brushed the hair with the back of his hand. “Of course not, Beccs, none of this is your fault. Any of it.”

“I asked if this was because I wasn’t taking care of it, since I still drank and wasn’t taking vitamins, if I did something…”

“Oh honey, no…” Marc wanted to take it all away from her. Whether or not she had wanted the baby, he understood this was a horrific thing to go through

“She said the stress my body took today might have induced it…” A shaking breath, and she winced at the pain in her ribs. “He made me get pregnant and he made me miscarry. I didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

That summer, they had existed as a unit. What they had, they shared. What they didn’t have they went without together. It had always been that way. Since the day Rebecca had shown up at his doorstep, sharing the food she had while dealing with her dad’s abuse. Every day of middle school where Rebecca helped cover a bruise with make-up. Every time in high school when Marc was sick with no one to care for him and she brought him soup and medicine she stole from her dad’s cabinet. Every time Marc defended her from shitty men or held her when he couldn’t protect her from one in particular. Back then, it had been her dad. Now, it was Jack. He hadn’t been able to protect her from her dad or Jack, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

There Marc held her, whispering soft assurances and words of love in her ear as Rebecca cried herself to sleep in his arms.

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I hope this wasn't too dark y'all, I promise this is the worst of it. I needed something that Rebeca couldn't mitigate, something that Jack could never come back from. The rest of the fic will be Marc helping Rebecca get back on her feet, helping her find herself again, their relationship progressing, and both of them reconnecting with their faith.

Tagging everyone who had asked for a part two, this ill be around 5-10 parts, so if you don't want to be on the tag list, lmk! I won't be offended. It'll probably be closer to 5-7 parts.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories

#marc spector fanfic #steven grant #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #Marc spector hurt #marc spector comfort #hurt comfort #moon knight #moon knight series #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac #moon knight hurt comfort #Marc spector x jewish!reader #jewish marc spector

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ivystoryweaver · 9 months

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Happy New Year, Jake

Happy Rosh Hashanah to the Moon Knight system

I haven't written enough for Jake, so he gets an impromptu story this lovely Rosh Hashanah (New Year).

Pairing: Jake Lockley x gn!reader

Word Count: 820

Content: Fluff, slight feelings of unworthiness, mentions of food, alters mentioned, brief reference to past trauma, mentions of religion and religious practices, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You asked Marc and Steven if you could do this.

Celebrate something with Jake.

Marc had some happy memories of holidays - Passover meals - finding the afikomen and getting a few dollars for it. The food, the wine, the prayers, the traditions.

Hanukkah wasn't quite as big of a holiday, but there were presents and dreidel to play and latkes to eat.

There were candles to light and services to attend.

Then, one day, there was no more happiness.

Steven's memories were spotty at best, but they were happy. His heart was rooted in the traditions of those before him.

But Jake had none of this. He was a shadow - a creature of the night. He had only been in your life for less than a year.

Jake was a difficult man to get to know. He preferred to keep to himself, but he was soft for you - that, he could not fight.

You didn't want to ambush him, or even surprise him. You asked his permission.

"Could...do you think we could have a little dinner for New Year's?" You asked him one night, moonlight spilling across the bed as you drew circles on his bare chest with your fingertips.

"New Year's?" He gruffed out, confused. "In September?"

"Rosh Hashanah," you supplied. "You know...the new year. If you want. I wanted to make you dinner - just something nice."

Jake's calloused hands scratched lightly down the curve of your back. "Not sure, mi vida. Better ask - "

"I did," you interrupted. "Marc's not ready yet and Steven is okay skipping this year - at least the dinner so you and I can share it. Only if that's okay with you. It doesn't have to be anything you're uncomfortable with."

The stubble of his chin tickled the skin of your cheek as he whispered back and forth with you.

"Okay. Yeah. I...I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do, but...sure."

You were excited, having hoped Jake wouldn't turn you down.

You prepared a savory meal - doing most of the work the night before. You set an elegant yet simple table, with your best dishes, a tablecloth and your grandmother's silver.

A round challah loaf sat on her silver serving platter. You prepared apples and honey to symbolize the hope for a sweet year. You also served pomegranates and some vegetables. You made some brisket for Marc to eat later. Wine glasses and water glasses were set appropriately. You were ready.

You put the finishing touches on the table just as Jake emerged from your bedroom, straightening his tie. Jake was no stranger to wearing a tie or looking absolutely dashing at any given moment.

But this was something else. Instead of his typical leather jacket, he wore a dark suit jacket. Noticing your blatant stare, he ran a hand over the stubble of his jaw.

"I think this is like a...proper dinner," he attempted, sounding a little like Steven. "This too much?"

"Jake," you breathed, floating toward him. "You look incredible." Placing your hands on his muscled chest, you leaned in and brushed your lips tenderly over his.

"Shana Tovah," you wished him, motioning for him to have a seat at the table. But he pulled you back to his side, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

As you sat down to enjoy your holiday meal, your heart burned within your chest each time Jake seemed uncertain about what exactly to do. The last thing you wanted was make him uncomfortable, or make him somehow feel less...Jewish? Than Steven or Marc.

You only desired for him to be who he was. But you wanted him to feel a part of his history too, if he was comfortable.

"You okay?" You quietly asked, watching as he dipped his apple slice into the honey.

He paused, his warm brown eyes going wide. "Did I do something wrong? Is there like a prayer?"

"Jake, you can't do anything wrong. This is for you. Just...be with me." You reached across the table and squeezed his hand, watching as his shoulders relaxed.

"This is nice, baby," he spoke up after a few minutes. Leaning in, he made sure to catch your eye. "It's really nice. Thank you...for thinking of me."

You smiled warmly. "Of course, I'm always thinking of you."

You shared your special meal and some traditions together, feeling so warm inside and so grateful for this man of yours. When you got up from the table, he pulled you close and told you how amazing you looked.

"Gotta dress up like this again so I can take you out," he roughly whispered against your ear while holding you against him.

Easing back, you brushed your fingers along his jaw. "You mean 'take me out' a date, right? And not...your nighttime job?" You teased.

"Very funny," he mocked, scooping you up into a hug, where you stayed for a while, content in his arms.

"Happy new year, baby," he whispered, feeling like he belonged.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #holiday fic #rosh hashanah #new year #happy new year #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight system #moon knight fic #jewish holidays #oscar isaac characters

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loelysian · 2 years

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metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life

pairing: moon knight system x isis!avatar reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: following isis’ orders, you head to cairo in search of an ancient artifact that could threaten the exposure of the gods. the problem? marc spector was deployed on the same mission.

note: after reading up on isis, i thought she was the most exciting goddess to write about and have y/n represent. i plan on having steven show up next chapter and jake will be present here and there since much like the show, he isn't exactly a known alter yet. like i mentioned in my namor x reader fic, since i am a jewish-arab writer, it is hinted that y/n also belongs to those cultures but if you do not, that is completely fine. if i've offended you, feel free to let me know so i can fix my mistake and apologize to you personally. thank you and enjoy chapter one.

warning: depictions of violence and choking. if you are easily squeamish, this might not be the fic for you.

Breathe.

As you dipped behind the corner and hid among numerous street vendors, you took the time to catch your breath. This wasn’t the first time you’d been chased and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but you had to admit whoever was after you was fast. He’d nearly cornered you numerous times, demanding you hand over the amulet. You only held the satchel you had over your shoulder closer to your chest as you baselessly kicked out, hoping to make contact with some part of his body—anything to get as far away from him as you could. Thankfully, you’d made contact with what you thought was his stomach and lept over him as he reached to grab for you. One thing you could always appreciate about Cairo was how busy it was, even at night. The lights were always on no matter what, people were always out selling things and music was always heard from every direction of the city.

In and out.

To be discreet, you grabbed a cloth you noticed one of the shop-owners had on a vacant table and did your best to wrap it around your face, hoping the man didn’t remember what you were wearing. Distantly, you felt Isis’ presence. Oftentimes, she followed you around on your missions to make sure you were following her directions. She spoke to you like a mother would to a child but to you, she felt more like a teacher—a mentor in many ways. Right now, you felt she was reminding you to stay focused—to stay alert. To breathe. Sometimes you forgot to do that.

Stay focused.

Slipping down a darkened alleyway, you used this to your advantage as you shut your eyes, focusing on the energy around you. When you became Isis’ avatar, she’d given you abilities you hadn’t thought were possible. You could heal any living being with the right intentions and while you were only still learning, you’d discovered you also had telekinetic abilities that stemmed from the magic Isis was known to perform.

Climb.

Once you opened your eyes, you noticed a ladder to the right of you and climbed up as quickly as you could. This would give you the advantage as you would be able to scan the crowds and pinpoint where the man was. As you made it to the top, you were glad to find you were the only one there. In Cairo, most buildings were connected so if you had to make a run for it, you were confident you’d be able to best him. Crouching by the ledge, your scarf blew in the wind as you peered down from overhead, watching people go about their days with varying expressions on their faces. Some were smiling while others wore frowns. Since you were so full of adrenaline, you weren’t sure how you felt.

He’s coming.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as an array of goosebumps trickled up and down your arms. You knew what that meant. You dropped the satchel containing the amulet and hid it behind a vase that happened to be to your left. You’d have to make sure you kept it in your peripheral vision.

Know who you represent.

Was the last thing you heard from Isis as the man grew closer and closer. For a moment, you thought you were being surrounded until he revealed himself. He didn’t look very happy. You glared at him.

“I know what you are here for, and you will not get it.” you spoke calmly, yet demanding.

“Look. I don’t want to make this hard on the both of us, but only one of us is leaving here with that amulet and we both know who that’ll be.” so he wanted to play? You had him right where you wanted him.

“Yes, we do.” you muttered.

At your sides, you summoned two identical knives and charged toward the man. He clearly hadn’t been anticipating that at all.

He was as strong as you were—as resilient—none of your punches, no matter how strong, were doing anything and he wasn’t giving up at all. He’d had you pinned against the ground more than once and though you kept throwing him off, you were only human. There was sand in your hair, the scarf having blown away a while back. The sun was taunting the both of you as you battled on the roof, beads of sweat dripping off both of your faces in tandem. Any time you tried to spawn a weapon, the man was one step ahead, knocking it out of your hands as it scattered away and eventually vanished into thin air. The amulet was still in the pot and you couldn’t help but glance over every now and then to make sure it was still there.

“Just give it up,” you grunted out after a painful punch to the gut. He was relentless.

“I don’t talk during fights.” his voice was gritty as you pinned him to the ground, pressing both his arms into the concrete so he couldn’t grab you from behind.

“Well I do,” you snarled as he tried to free himself.

He’d been glaring at you until something from behind you caught his attention, his eyes softening. You noticed the multiple shadows that seemed to appear from nowhere and hesitantly, you let go of his hands to get a look at who’d shown up.

“Well what do we have here.” the voice came from a tall, frail man who was surrounded by a group of fighters. Your eyes shifted toward the pot and quickly shot back to the elder in front of you. Thankfully, your satchel was still in there.

“This doesn’t concern you.” came from behind you. It was from the man you’d been running from. You really had no idea who any of these people were.

“Oh, but I think it does.” the old man shouts. You were out of your element here. This was bigger than anything you’d done for Isis before. “You have something I want and I intend to leave here with it in my possession.” he spoke before coughing into his arm.

“What is it we have?” you tried to play it off like the amulet wasn’t sitting right behind them.

“The key to Isis.” what? “She will heal me if I have this in my possession. Inside the amulet, there is a map that will lead me to a pyramid. From there, I must place the amulet under the eclipse and wait for her to show herself.” no wonder Isis had sent you after it. If the old man went through with this, it wouldn’t just free her—it would free everyone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you said.

“Search them both.” the old man ordered. Immediately, two of the guards who stood beside the old man marched toward the two of you and pushed the both of you to the ground. Despite the sun beating down on the two of you, your blood ran cold when you noticed the guns they had in their pockets. Something told you they weren’t afraid to use them.

You had no choice but to sit there as they checked every inch of your body, including beneath your shirt, to make sure you didn’t have the amulet. It made you uncomfortable but you complied to appease the man and hopefully get out of there as fast as possible.

“Neither of them have it, sir.” one of the inspectors told him in a hushed tone. This only seemed to worsen the old man’s anger as his eyes trailed from you to your attacker.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Tell me where the amulet is or I'll gut you right here!” he yelled in his anger, his grip on your chin tightening.

“I,” you struggled to get out. “I don’t know where it is.” you gasped when he let go, holding your face in your hands.

“She’s lying! She knows.” he held a shaky finger in your direction before it fell against his side.

Once you were certain the old man couldn’t hear you, you slowly moved your body toward your attacker.

“It’s in the pot.” you whispered. That caught his attention. “I couldn’t let you take it off of me.” you finished.

“We have to get to it before they notice something’s up.” he whispered back. “How about you distract them-” you cut him off. Absolutely not.

“What, so you can run off with the amulet and bring me back to square one? I don’t think so.” you rushed, your voice hot.

“Well that makes two of us.” you were about to give up until you thought of something.

“How about we take out the men and leave together with the amulet. There’s no way he can hold both of us off.” you whispered. He seemed to agree with you, nodding before he stood up.

Oh, so you were doing this now.

You quickly joined him and focused on two throwing knives materializing into your hands. You smiled once you felt the weight of them in your palms.

Your attacker was already handling the other guard so you snuck up behind the other and politely tapped him on the shoulder, waiting for him to turn around. Little did he know you’d already pocketed his gun so there was nothing he could do but surrender. Once he saw you and your knives, he barrelled toward you, hoping to knock you off your feet but you briskly moved out of the way, watching as he toppled into the man your attacker was fighting, effectively knocking both of them out.

Well, that was quicker than you’d expected.

Your attacker was lying on the ground looking up at you with something akin to what you thought starstruck might look like. As your knives faded away, you reached out a hand and helped him to his feet.

The old man had vanished completely from the roof and as your attacker tried to look for him, you grabbed the satchel and felt around inside for the amulet, smiling to yourself when the cold stone came in contact with your hand.

“I have it! Let’s get out of here,” you shouted before you felt someone wrapping their arms around your throat from behind, causing you to drop the satchel. You tried to punch at their arms but you were only so big and they had the upper hand.

“Get out of here,” you choked out. You weren’t sure how long you were going to last. Whoever was behind you was practically choking you to death. “Take the amulet. Run!” your voice was hoarse as your windpipes were struggling to intake air.

‘Marc. Save her.’ a voice you’d never heard before. spoke to the two of you from above. It was deep and you looked at who you assumed was Marc and hoped he’d stop wasting his time, grab the satchel and run but he didn’t.

He grabbed the gun he’d stolen from one of the guards and shot the man who was choking you square in the forehead. You felt the life drain from his body as he fell backward, the grip from your throat easing as you collapsed to your knees, gasping for air. Marc ran toward you and helped you to your feet as he grabbed the satchel and shoved it under his arm, leading you toward the ladder. You were still coughing and were certain there was going to be a nasty ringed bruise around your throat the next day. Wiping at the stray tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes, you quickly but cautiously climbed down the ladder, jumping once you made it to the bottom.

Once Marc made it to the ground, the two of you ran toward the crowd in order to lose the other guard who would surely be waking up soon. You made sure to keep an eye on your satchel as he ushered you toward a busy building that read hotel in Arabic.

“A treat for almost trying to kill me.” you stated sarcastically. Marc grumbled and led you inside where you waited at the front desk for an employee to check in.

“Hi! Welcome to the Horizon Nile. How can I help you today,” the man who was working the computer asked. He was speaking arabic. At Marc’s confusion, you stepped forward with a smile.

“We’d like two rooms please. Emphasis on two.” you replied. You’d grown up speaking Arabic and since you visited Cairo so often, it helped that you were so fluent.

“I’m afraid the only available room we have is a one bedroom suite. Couple’s fight?” he asked. You reeled back. You hadn’t expected him to ask that.

“No, we’re not together.” you rushed out, clearly uncomfortable. This seemed to peak Marc’s interest, who turned toward you.

“What did he ask?” he said, crossing his arms.

“Nothing important.” you mumbled in english before replying to the man in arabic. “We’ll take the room for a night.” you said, nudging for Marc to hand over your satchel so you could pay for it. However, when Marc noticed you pulling your wallet out, he stopped you and reached into his back pocket.

“You keep your wallet in your pocket when you’re chasing people?” you asked, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“Nobody ever gets close enough to touch me, sweetheart.” he muttered before handing the man his credit card. You tried to ignore the nickname he’d just called you to no avail.

“There was only one room available, partner.” you said, voice void of any emotion.

“Fantastic.” sounds like Marc was just as thrilled as you were.

This was going to be a long night.

#marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockely x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight system x reader #jewish reader #arab reader

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years

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Double Wedding Bells (Moon Knight x desi!reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Three men and two very different wedding ceremonies, how hard could that be?

Warnings: I am not Jewish or Telugu so there might be some things that are not precisely accurate, almost all of the stuff that is ceremony-wise is gotten through research, mentions of DID.

Word Count: 1.8k words

A/N: This is a request from @sodonuthideout thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write this <3333 (translations are at the end of the fic, enjoy)

Moon Boys POV

Marc fidgets with his cufflinks again, tugging the edge of his suit as he frowns at Steven and Jake in the mirror.

“We look fine, hermano, calm your nerves.” Jake says, giving Marc a smile.

“Yea, bruv, we cleaned up pretty well.” Steven chimed in with a blinding grin.

“I can’t believe that we’re getting married to her.” Marc whispers.

After 2 and a half years of courting Y/N, the boys decided about 2 months ago that it was time to pop the important question. They knew that they didn't want to spend the rest of their life with anyone else if it wasn’t her. She was their lucky charm, the light to their darkness and so much has gone so well for them over the past few years that Marc could hardly believe it.

He had reconciled with his father and they both had been going to therapy sessions where Marc has been dealing with his past traumas and DID. His relationship with Y/N had never been better and although he was still Moon Knight, Khonshu has been much more relaxed over the past few months.

“Looking great, my Knight.” Khonshu says, patting Marc’s shoulders.

A knock sounded at the door and Marc’s father opened the door and peeked through. He walked up to Marc and smiled at him, taking in his son. He adjusted his tie and Marc saw a tear slip from his fathers eyes, which he automatically brushed off his face.

“I’m so proud of the man that you have become, my son. Thank you for taking me back into your life.” his father says, cupping Marc’s face with his hands. “It's time.”

Taking a deep breath and adjusting his kippah, Marc followed his father out of the room.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc stared at the ketubah, waiting for Y/N. He nervously looked at the rabbi who smiled reassuringly back at him. Soon, the sweet smell of roses mixed with the heavenly smell of Y/N’s signature perfume floated towards him. When Marc turned to look at her, he swore that he could have been knocked off his feet in an instant.

She was wearing a beautiful pure white lace saree with a long sleeved blouse, topped with a stunning veil that was cascading down her perfectly curled hair down her back. The veil was a small gift from Khonshu, who had a soft spot for Y/N, and Marc could see little silver crescent moons on the veil glowing slightly, making her look absolutely ethereal while she clutched the modest bouquet of white roses. He almost didn’t hear Steven and Jake audibly gasp in the headspace as he stared dreamily at her.

She reached out and gave Marc’s hand a soothing squeeze and the both of them turned to look at the ketubah, reading it and signing it with Marc’s father and the rabbi as witnesses. Marc then turned back to her, as instructed by the rabbi, and took a long look at her beautiful smiling face before he veilling her.

He then stepped forward to take his place beside his father as she took her place in the middle of her parents. To Marc, this was probably the most overwhelming part of the ceremony where he had to walk to the chuppah lacking one parent.

“It's alright, Marc, Jake and I are here with you every step of the way.” Steven’s voice fills Marc’s pounding heart with the supportive affirmation and he realigns himself again as they begin to walk down the aisle.

Marc took his place on the right of the decorated chuppah while Y/N took her place in front of him, her parents behind her. They only invited a few people that were very close to them for this ceremony. Marc caught Frenchie’s eye, who gave him a wink and Marc grinned back at his old friend. The various rituals and blessings went by quicker than Marc expected it to.

The guest cheered “Mazel tov!” as Marc hears the glass shatter under his heel. He turned to look at his Y/N who was smiling at him with the most beautiful look on her face.

“Ready for the other ceremony, my handsome husbands?” she whispers.

“Ready when you are, our angelic wife.”

Your POV

You stared down at the beautiful gorintaku that covered both of your arms as your mom helped you with your nakshi vaddanam, a beautiful but heavy pure gold belt that adorned your belly. The vaddanam was a gift from Steven, who had carefully picked out the belt after thoroughly researching it, finding one that suited your style as well as complemented your tradition.

They had popped the question on a random Tuesday night when you were lying on their lap reading a book with your tongue between your teeth and a stupid expression on your face as you judged the book characters actions. Marc was the one who was fronting when the question was asked and it was so fluid, as if he was asking what's for dinner the next day.

You remember staring down at the band that Marc was holding between his fingers absolutely confused. Your mind had refused to work for a few seconds until Marc’s soft cough filled your ringing ears. You could barely form the words to say yes to the question because of the sheer shock that was coursing through your head.

Your best friend, who is also your maid of honor, grabbed the eyelash glue and tapped a little on your forehead, helping your papidi billa stick to your forehead, right above the special gold amulet that was tied with yellow thread. You felt like a real regal queen in your red and gold saree. The veil that was gifted by Khonshu for the Jewish ceremony had magically shifted colors to match your saree, now a sheer gold with tiny glowing gold crescents and was pinned to the top of your braid that had been done up with fresh fragrant flowers.

You couldn't wait to get married to your boys again and you could feel the waterworks starting up. You were so exhausted with all the prep you had to do but so excited to start your new life with the boys. The nerves started edging up on you this morning and all you wanted to do is see their face and feel their presence next to you.

“Come, kanna, it's time to go up to the mandapam.” Your mother says, pressing a small kiss on your temple.

You say a little prayer, hoping that everything would go as smooth as possible and you grab your best friend’s hand, taking a deep breath to diminish the nerves.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You take your place in the middle chair between your parents, behind the curtain called the terasala, which was hiding Marc from your view and the ceremony starts. You watch as your parents wash his feet and offer him your hand. Marc states his promises after accepting your hand and you feel your eyes tearing up again, listening to his soft sweet voice.

The priest calls the auspicious time as cumin and jaggery paste is smeared on your hand. You lift your hand over the curtain until you feel Marc’s soft curls under your hand and you feel his hand on your head. The curtain drops and you see Marc for the first time, wearing a silk white kurta and dhoti with the same amulet tied around his forehead. You grin at him as rose petals cascade over the both of you.

All you could focus on is Marc’s beautiful deep set eyes and how you are doing this so that you could spend the rest of your living days staring into those adoring eyes. Those eyes flashed to Steven and then to Jake and back again to Marc. You wanted all of them, the good, the bad and the ugly. You never wanted anything more in your life.

He sends you a small wink as the both of you lower your hands and the priest hands him the mangalsutra. Yellow rice rains around you and him as the music around you crescendos.

Marc leans in and ties the sacred yellow thread smeared with haldi around your neck with three knots.

“I love you, I love you so much.” he whispers.

“I love you too.” you say as tears run down your face, the feeling of peace settling in you as Marc seals the eternal action with an unceremonious kiss on your forehead.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Translations:

Hermano: Brother

Kippah: A kippah, yarmulke, or koppel is a brimless cap, usually made of cloth, traditionally worn by Jewish males to fulfill the customary requirement that the head be covered.

Ketubah: A ketubah is a Jewish marriage contract.

Chuppah: A canopy under which the bride and groom stand during a Jewish wedding ceremony.

Mazel tov: "Mazel tov" or "mazal tov" is a Jewish phrase used to express congratulations for a happy and significant occasion or event.

Gorintaku: AKA henna. Temporary body art resulting from the staining of the skin from the dyes.

Nakshi vaddanam: This ornament is worn on the belly of the bride. In earlier days, this belt had a lot of significance as it was a symbol showing the woman’s child-bearing abilities. The Vaddanam would often be designed with precious and semi-precious beautiful stones. Most often, this belt would be carved with different images of Lord Vishnu, Goddess Lakshmi and her consort

Papidi billa: “Papidi billa”(maang tikka) is a piece of jewelry worn in the middle of parting of the hair and is meant for adorning the forehead.

Saree: A sari or saree is a women's garment from the Indian subcontinent, that consists of an un-stitched stretch of woven fabric arranged over the body as a robe, with one end tied to the waist, while the other end rests over one shoulder as a stole (shawl), baring a part of the midriff

Kanna: Darling

Mandapam: A wedding Mandap is a mandap (covered structure with pillars) temporarily erected for the purpose of a Hindu or Jain wedding. The main wedding ceremonies take place under the mandap.

Terasala: Tera means curtain and sela is cloth. So, it literally means a cloth used as a curtain, between the bride and the groom.

Kurta: A loose collarless shirt of a type worn by people in South Asia

Dhoti: A garment worn by male Hindus, consisting of a piece of material tied around the waist and extending to cover most of the legs.

Mangalsutra: In many parts of India a pendant necklace — called a mangalsutra, or “auspicious thread,” is tied around a Hindu bride's neck during the wedding ceremony, a symbol that the couple is bound in matrimony and an indication of the bride's new status as a married woman

Tagging: @pakhiya @brekkers-desigirl @wordacadabra @ahookedheroespureheart @swiggy-needs-mental-help @mintpurplemnm @soumya-13 @softieekayy

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oofouchoww · 2 years

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you know the wider moon knight fandom doesn’t actually care about jewish people when there’s more nsfw posts on the moon knight tag then anyone even mentioning the fact we are in the holiest days in the jewish calendar.

shana tova my loves <3

#moon knight imagine #moon knight #jake lockley #jewish #steven grant #disney #marc spector x reader #marc spector

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

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Chicago - Oneshot

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 12.7k

Summary: You and Marc go back to Chicago.

Warnings: as close to smut as I can write, 18+ only please, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex), reader takes the morning after pill, essentially a dive into Marc's past

A/N: I am not Jewish so if there is anything I misrepresented, particularly regarding Jewish burial practices please let me know.

This is part of The Dress universe, but can be read on its own.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Marc’s hand is heavy and warm within yours. It not only carries your hand, but the weight of the world and the love he holds for you. Even on a day like today, as you both walk down the street towards a home that had been turned into a prison for him, you can feel the weight of his love. It hangs about you like a cloud heavy with rain, rumbling with thunder.

He’d insisted that he take your luggage, and it’s now click-click-clicking across the square cobblestones of the sidewalk. Your carry-on, a small backpack, is slung over one of his shoulders, bumping into his own backpack on the other shoulder.

Always the light-packer, Marc hadn’t checked any luggage, though it was complimentary with the international flight. So, you’d packed a couple of things for him as well. Steven’s latest book, a favourite baseball cap of Marc’s, a fuzzy, soft blanket that was a favourite of the three of you. Bits and pieces of home that weren’t a necessity, like the items in his backpack, but a comfort. Something to help him stay calm, grounded. Face the week ahead a little easier.

At the bottom of it all, squeezed between a pair of sweatpants and Marc’s favourite dress, is a little surprise. A Cubs jersey that you’d scavenged half of London to get your hands on. You’re planning to wear it on Sunday, when the Cubs were playing the Mets, a home game that Marc was going to take you to.

“Hey,” you slow down, right before the final twist to his home street. Marc had, on purpose, given the taxi driver the wrong address. You’d stayed quiet and let him pretend you didn’t realise, that you hadn’t sifted through the mail a few months ago and the address on an expedited letter from the United States hadn’t caught your eye. “You know…” you don’t mean to pressure him to look at you, knowing that this is already exponentially hard for him. But he does. He turns to you with soft eyes, tense shoulders.

“You know…” you’re fumbling for words now, wishing you had that magical ability of Marc’s to say exactly the right thing, in the least amount of words. With a sigh and tilt of your chin, you lean up a little towards him. On instinct, Marc presses his forehead against yours. His eyes fall closed. The heat of his breath against your face is more comforting than the sun. “We can go away now, take the rest of the week off and be tourists. Go to all those tacky places everyone raves about.”

Your eyes fall open just in time to catch a smile break across Marc’s face like a butterfly. The smell of his cologne is wrapping around you. You feel indestructible beside him. You hope he feels the same.

“Don’t worry, honey,” there’s the traces of the smile still in his voice, even if his face is neutral again. “I’ll take you to see The Bean regardless.” He squeezes your hand, turns the corner with renewed strength.

He knows that that’s the last thing you’ve come here to see. As the two of you were going to the bank to get a mortgage pre-approval, a bank that you’d made sure had an international branch in Spain, you’d hesitated. Paused and asked him if it was possible that you were moving too fast.

Misunderstanding your intentions, Marc had dropped to one knee and stuttered out a half-proposal before you’d dragged him up by the shoulders and told him what you meant.

So, Marc delayed your appointment with the advisor, booked two round flights for Chicago and took a couple extra shifts at work.

A month later, here you were.

You convince him to let you help with the luggage as you climb the stairs to the red-brick townhouse. The place you’d only heard of through Marc and Steven’s stories. You wait patiently, let Marc collect himself and grab the knocker in his own time. There are light curtains drawn at the windows, which shuffle at the sound of his knock, a grey head of curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses peeking out from the little gap before it disappears, and the lock and its door clicks open.

Surreal, it’s all surreal really. The house and the curtains you don’t recall ever having made their way into any of the stories you’d heard. Marc’s father, who, even a wrinkled and old, looks the spitting image of his son.

“Hi, Marc,” he speaks up first, his grip on the door so tight that his knuckles turn white. His gaze falls to you, searching. You smile at him, let Marc decide how, when and if he wants to introduce you to his father. If he wanted to turn back now, without even a hello, you’d let him.

You hope Marc knows that you’d do anything for him, let him do anything to you.

“Hi,” Marc’s voice is more gruff than when he talks with you. He lets go of your hand and smooths his palm down your back, pulling you into his side. He introduces you, tells his father your name, “My partner.” Marc hates the word girlfriend, you know that it makes his mouth sour to say it. A label that wasn’t fitting for what you were.

“Hi, Mr. Spector,” the words fall onto the little mat in front of the door. You step over them as you step into his arms for a hug. His whiskers scratch your skin as you feel a kiss pressed close to your temple. The weight of words unsaid, conversations to be had is heavy around the three of you.

“Elias please,” up close you can see the tears in his eyes, as he grips your shoulder comfortingly and lets you go. Magnet-like as always, you return to Marc’s side. His father gives the two of you another shaky smile, fidgets as he pushes his glasses back up his nose, plays with the hem of his cardigan. He waits a second longer than what would be considered normal, his eyes drifting up and down your frames quickly before he opens his mouth to say something but thinks the better of it. Stepping to the side, he opens the door for you, “Please, come in.”

You silently help Marc tug the suitcase into the door, let your hand rest on his a second too long on the handle, close the door quietly behind you.

The squeal of the kettle is the saving grace from the weighted silence that would have fallen on the three of you. Elias rushes to the kitchen, tells you in half-sentences to make yourself at home. He’s a flurry of curls and the worn wool of his sweater.

You do as he heads, take your shoes off and reach to take Marc’s hand in yours again. He shucks the backpacks off him, tosses them to the side, intertwines your fingers and starts going into the house.

He pauses when he catches sight of the pillows and blankets that are on one of the bottom stairs of the staircase. You squeeze his hand and lean up, whisper to him over the clanging of cabinets and the murmuring from the kitchen, that you don’t have to stay the week here, that there are plenty of cheap hotels nearby or farther away, if that’s what he wants, you’d be happy to stay at.

He nods, tense and curt. Leads you over to the couch, places your hand on his knee with a reaffirming tap of his hand. You catch his eye and he winks at you. Heavy and weighted. You smile back at him, squeeze his leg and let him know that it’s ok. More for yourself than him, you lean in and kiss his cheek. Fleeting, you feel like a girl before prom, sneaking in a kiss like this in his childhood house.

A tray of three mugs, all mismatched and chipped are plopped in front of you. A shaky smile sent your way from Elias. You don’t miss the way they drop to his son, the way his fingers tremble and find refuge in the magazines strewn on the table. Tutting he starts to gather them up, “Sorry, I-I, I’ve meant to clean this place up, but no matter what I do, the mess stays the same, and after a while trying I just gave up,” he pauses and looks at the two of you. “I don’t often get visitors.”

“You have a lovely home,” you look around, catch sight of a sepia-tinted photo hanging on the walls of a smiling little boy with chubby cheeks and look away as if burned. “Is it a remodel or?”

You know Marc is laughing at you, internally at least. Though the mortgage pre-approval still had to be approved, you’d taken up the house search with a commitment that scared him sometimes. He’d wake in the middle of the night, see you still scrolling on your computer after you’d promised him that you’d be done in just five minutes, baby, I have a feeling this is the one. You had an eye for houses now, would look upon them with a buying hand and could speak lingo that he barely understood.

The first time you talk with Marc’s father, your father-in-law of sorts, you speak about nothing at all. Marc stays quiet through all of it, dropping in quiet, strained sentences in between your words. Lets his hands wander where he wants them, your legs and arms, around your back and shoulders. It’s his way of letting you know that it’s alright, you’re doing good, he’s doing good.

Elias asks you about your job, London, your family. Sometimes, you think you’ve caught Marc smiling, his smile that hides behind his eyes. You can’t look at him too long for fear of making him too uncomfortable and so, you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you or if it’s really just Marc.

You miss him. He’s sitting right next to you, his hands warm against your body, and yet your heart yearns for him in ways you’ve only dreamt of someone else longing for you.

You drink tea and eat some crackers, hear the crack in Marc’s voice when he asks his father why he’s still buying these things.

“They’re good, they’ve become my favourite too,” there’s a faltering smile on Elias’ face, a crack in his voice that mirrors Marc’s.

You make a mental note of the brand and decide that it’s worth it to buy another suitcase just to be filled up with the crackers. Marc’s hands flutter to your waist.

As he starts to calm down, you see glimpses of the man Elias has become. Soft-spoken with a gentle temperament. A father grieving over two sons and a wife.

Your heart quivers as you think about how it’d feel to lose Marc, Marc whom you’ve only known for a few years. Marc whose fingers are trying to push the tension out of your muscles. Your treasure, Marc.

That evening, Marc devours a whole deep-dish pizza by himself, makes your heart warm with his renewed appetite. That evening, he decides that he wants to spend the night at his father’s. Mumbles something along the lines of getting a cab at this hour. So, you help his father make up the guest room for you, help Marc lug the suitcase up and stay discretely quiet as you pass the closed door right at the top of the stairs.

Elias sneaks in when he hears the shower running, sees the opened suitcase still filled with clothes, and his face falls.

“I-uh,” there’s a loss of zeal in his actions, as he holds up a handful of towels. “Just thought I’d drop these off, for extra. Though I don’t think you’ll be needing them anymore.” His gaze falls back to the suitcase, the empty chest of drawers.

“You know, Elias,” you stand up and take the towels from him, place them on the bed and make him hold your eyes. “We don’t actually have a hotel booked.”

He grins, forces himself to stop and then grins again and runs his hand across his face, looking away. The scene makes you smile, biting the inside of your cheek. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

In a burst of affection, he wraps his arms around you, hugs you much harder than what he did in the entrance of his home with the heat of Marc’s gaze on him. You feel a scratchy brush of his lips as he kisses your forehead, pulls away and looks you up and down again. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears the shower being turned off and rushes away. “Well, good night.”

“Good night,” the door closes moments later, only for the bathroom door to open and reveal Marc, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“My father was in here,” he swallows thickly, running a hand over his face in a gesture eerily similar to Elias’ a few moments ago.

You nod, take a towel and lead Marc into a chair. “Just dropping off some things we might need.” You start working the water out of his hair, knowing that he’d just let it dry, sopping wet as it is right now, and risk getting a cold. You refrain from scenting him like a dog, though you know Marc always smells amazing after a shower, and it makes you curl yourself into his body at nights in your sleep. You know tonight is going to be no different, if the jet lag doesn’t get to you.

Taking care of Marc’s hair is one of your favourite things to do with him. You like drawing him a bath filled with bubbles, pouring water over his hair and working in shampoo and conditioner. His hair is beautiful, and you hope that, when the time is right, his child will have the same.

When the majority of the water has been absorbed into the towel, you hang it up, and search through your suitcase for the little bottle of hair product you’d bought for him. The bottle that he begrudgingly uses for your sake, Steven less so. It makes their hair softer, more defined, easier to manage.

“Fuck, baby, you packed that thing?” You hope his eye doesn’t fall on all the other things you’ve packed, not wanting to go through the charade where he scolds you for packing sentimentally and not practically. Where he holds up items accusingly and tilts his head, silently asking you what was going through your head.

The answer is embarrassing. Him. Always him and Steven. They’re your world and you’re not sure if you want to explain to Marc that it’s difficult to stop thinking about the world, even for just a few moments.

“Hush, Spector,” you come back behind him and open the bottle, pour some of the product into your hand. Marc’s eyes fall shut as you start to work it into his hair. “You need to keep your curls moisturised, otherwise they get all frizzy.”

“Maybe I like them frizzy.” In the privacy of your shared room, you see his walls eb away, and he turns back into the man you’ve grown to know. Witty, affectionate, teasing. He always loves you, that never changes wherever you are.

So, you quip back and forth with him, let him kiss you breathless in bed and tease you a little more about getting turned on so easily. He’s escaping a little, letting the pressure of the house fade away into nothingness. You read to him out loud, let his hands crawl under your shirt and shamelessly grope at your chest, press his nose in the space between your breasts knowing that that’s where you always spray your perfume.

The sheets are soft against your skin, Marc’s body and his love warming you up. The house quiets down, the curtains are drawn. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. Marc falls asleep earlier than you, so entangled with you that you can feel his heartbeat against yours. Your hearts start to sync up together and the rhythm makes you sleepy.

The headlights of a car are dulled by the blinds as it hums its way down the street. Marc’s even breaths are the last things you register before falling asleep yourself.

The stress of the day before gets to Marc more than the jet lag, and as he sleeps soundly, you slip away from him and put on a sweater of his, padding softly downstairs with a book. The sun has barely risen and you’ve barely gotten over four hours of sleep, but another minute in bed with Marc, seeing him sleeping so effortlessly when you couldn’t was going to drive you insane.

So, downstairs it was.

The smell of coffee and toasted bread takes you by surprise. You peer into the kitchen to see Marc’s father, in a plaid robe and slippers standing and looking outside the window into the backyard, his hair a crowsnest. There’s the gentle drip of the coffee machine, the hum of the fridge, abandoned plates and glasses from last night’s dinner in the sink.

“Morning,” you say quietly for fear of breaking the early morning calm you and Steven love so much.

“Hi,” he’s beaming at you as he turns around. In another whirlwind of movements, he rushes you to the dining table, set on being a good host. He presses a cup in your hands, places some sugar on the table and asks if you take anything else with your coffee. He offers to buy some cream for you, if that’s what you prefer. Unspoken but still there is the question of Marc, the answer to which he’s dying to hear.

Like his son, it seems, Elias talks through his eyes.

You smile and let him know that it’s alright, tacking on that Marc drinks his coffee black anyways. You stay quiet about Steven, about his experimental superfood, plant-based lattes he gifts you every morning. The way his eyes light up when you compliment them, the way he kisses your forehead and cheeks and the way your heart stutters when you think of having to leave him for work.

Elias latches on to that little bit of information like a moth to a flame, “Black?” His eyes light up, he plays his nails against the ceramic of his own mug and makes quiet clinks. Nodding, you confirm and he shakes himself out of his trance, “You sleep alright? Was the bed comfortable?”

“Yes, very,” you opt not to tell him about the jet lag, about how your eyes are glueing together when you blink. You take a sip of coffee instead, “Just an early riser that’s all.”

“Good, good,” he shifts, adjusts his glasses, brushes his hand through his hair.

“Did you sleep well?” you’re spooning some sugar into your coffee, expecting that the conversation is going to go in the same direction as the night before.

Laughing nervously, he looks away from you, “No, actually. Couldn’t lay still for the life of me. Too nervous I guess.”

Your eyes soften, “It must have been hard for you, with Marc gone for so long.”

“What?” he turns back to you with trembling lips that he hides behind his coffee cup. “Oh, well-” he makes a low noise at the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like Marc’s when he’s trying to push back tears “-can’t say I blame him for staying away that much. I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

You smile at him, look down at your coffee to alleviate some of the pressure settling in the room around you. Your loyalties to Marc and Steven are wrapped tight around your heart, and they keep you quiet as you don’t try to contest Elias’ claim. To say that there wasn’t a time you had just as much unbridled hatred toward the man sitting in front of you as you had for his wife would be wrong to say. But you’re in his home, with his son, here to cross bridges, alleviate the weight on Marc’s shoulders a little, and so, though you don’t try to actively comfort Elias, you don’t bring him down either.

There’s still much to learn about him, to figure out, and you won’t cause any more unnecessary drama this week than there will already be. The photo is still hanging on the wall, right behind the couch you and Marc were sitting on yesterday, beaming like a spotlight that you discretely ignore.

Instead you stand up, head to the sink and start on the dishes from the night before, warding off any half-hearted attempts of Elias’ to stay put, that guests don’t do chores in his house. You tell him that you don’t mind, that you like having something to do with your hands. So, he sits quietly and reads through yesterday’s paper, finishes his coffee.

The sun starts to rise to the melody of the running tap, the occasional rustle of the paper.

Your mind drifts back to yesterday in the plane, it felt like lifetimes ago. Marc had claimed that he was going to stay awake the whole eight hour plane ride. That you two were travelling west, you’d gain an ungodly amount of hours, and get there only three hours, Chicago time, after your departure.

He told you to go to sleep, for he knew how long you were up the night before packing. That he’d stay awake, not only for his circadian rhythm, but for you as well. Make sure he got yours and his money’s worth of aeroplane snacks, let you lay on his shoulder, wake you up before landing so you could pop your ears ahead of time.

His high ideals had lasted him all of take-off. The moment the plane leaped into the sky it was as if someone pressed the off switch in his mind. He collapsed into your lap almost instantly, and you had no choice but to stay awake so as to ensure you got the cookies for his sweet tooth, thread your fingers through his hair and wake him up before landing so his ears would pop ahead of time.

You drank your fill of Marc in those hours. Gazed down at him for so long that your neck became sore and you started getting concerned gazes from the flight attendants. Your eyes traced his face, in a well-known rhythm you spent the early mornings playing until he woke up and pulled you back into his arms again with a grumble.

You dry your hands and turn around, come to sit back down at the table and take your coffee and book in hand.

For a few seconds you wish you’d stayed in bed, so you could do the same with Marc. So you could give him some soft touches and kiss his neck until he pushed you away.

“You’re good for him, I can tell,” at the sound of his voice your gaze focuses back in and you realise you’ve never actually focused on the page. You look at him and he offers you a meek smile.

Your heart stutters, you’re not sure if you can tell Elias how much that sentence means to you, that you’re going to store it away, bring it out for when you’re feeling doubtful and play it over and over to comfort you. “Oh,” a smile creeps on your face, eyes fill with tears before you look down and blink them away. This trip was for you as much as it was for Marc it seemed. “I-I…I’m not-” you take a stuttering breath away and wipe away a stray tear and smile at Elias. “He’s good for me too, brings out the best in me.”

Touch comforts you, he must have noticed that last night with his son touching you every second of every minute. Elias reaches forward and places a warm hand on yours, giving you a gentle squeeze.

He pulls away, fidgets with the edge of his newspaper and makes a faint crinkling sound, “Do you mind me asking how you two met?”

You tell him it’s alright. Run through the story over again. The bookstore, Marc, the sushi place and how his son was so nervous you were scared that he’d gotten food poisoning.

It feels like you’ve taken a stack of photographs, held your thumb against the edge and are flipping through at rapid pace. You try to slow down, go back and forth in your story as you try to savour the moment, make Elias see the high-energy atmosphere of the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the way Marc looked at you as if you held the sun in your arms, the way your heart flip-flopped around through the whole thing and how you were awash with disappointment when he didn’t kiss you at the end.

The narrative is so jumbled up now, that you’re not even sure where you are in the story of your first date before he surprises you, shows you that he’s been hanging on to every word you’ve said until now, even if it just sounds like confused, lovesick ramblings to your ears. “I thought they were tulips?”

You’re at that point where Marc is walking you back to your place, where he tells you to stay where you are for just one minute as he pops into a florist shop, closing for the day and returns with a box of long-stemmed roses and a sheepish expression on his face. “No, he got me both,” you still feel giddy when you think of that night, still feel like it was plucked out of a fairy tale. “Tulips before, and roses after.”

Your cheeks heat up under the scrutiny of his stare, as he tries to sort out what he thinks of it and you look back down to your book.

Though you might joke around with Marc about it sometimes, it was a small detail about the beginning of your relationship with him that you felt was as vital to your health as your heart.

When you’re with friends, you state the fact proudly, that your partner got you not one, but two bouquets on your first date to show that he was serious, that the body-crushing connection between your souls was not one-sided. You still have the roses, dried up and placed lovingly in the box they came in, tucked away safely in your closet. Every once in a while, usually when you’re alone in your apartment, you put on the outfit you wore that night and take the flowers out of their box, twirling around your living room with them cradled in your arms like a baby.

Marc would surely laugh at you if he knew you did this. Elias is most likely on his way to find it all ridiculous, call you a senseless romantic and take back his positive judgement of you.

“Why both?” is all he asks.

You try not to read into it too much and decide not tell him about how Marc had overanalyzed himself into a little corner of his mind and changed his mind before the date, had almost cancelled on you if it wasn’t so late. “He couldn’t decide, so I got both.”

“That’s lovely,” his warm tone is what convinces you to look back at him. There’s not a trace of resentment in his features. His face is soft, eyebrows wrinkled together in sympathy. Elias is more perceptive than you give him credit for, “Truly, it’s a lovely story.”

A little flame of possessiveness flares up inside you. Mine. You want to tell him that it’s your story, that you lived through it and you were the one that got to tell it and make other people look at you and Marc with jealousy laced into their body like the back of a corset.

You bite your tongue instead, watch as he gets up and refills your coffee cups, rummages through the pantry for a package of cookies, and offers them to you.

“They’re really very good,” he presses with a slight smile when you decline. He reminds you of the way Steven strings adverbs together as if making a pearl necklace. You relent and smile back at him, thank him and take one.

Trying to talk with Elias, without having had a conversation about it first with Marc, is worse than walking on eggshells. It’s not even walking, just meaningless circles around and around. As soon as you start to make some progress, the leash around your neck is pulled back, reminding you that you still need to talk with Marc, Marc still needs to talk with his father.

The last thing you want to do is betray Marc’s trust, the last thing you want is to make Elias feel he can’t trust you.

The sound of water running through the pipes comes from upstairs and you excuse yourself to your room to go check on Marc.

He’s still in the washroom when you go up, the bed neatly made with all the corners tucked in. Though Marc often tries to stop his presence from making an impression on the world around him, the room radiates with him, his soul a candle that you like to hold to your chest to warm you up, as it lights the space around you.

Over the years, you’ve come to realise how you’ve grown to be dependent on Marc’s presence. How your skin tingles when you’re away from him, the way your fingers itch to touch him if he’s close by. It’s the by-product of spending almost every minute you’ve had with him, alone, usually in his apartment or yours.

Now, you know that if he’s not in bed with you, you’ll need an extra blanket to stay warm enough to sleep. Physically and emotionally, you depend on Marc, and so does Marc depend on you. It’s the most intimate bond you’ve ever shared with a person, that comes with its little perks and side effects.

So, when Marc opens the door of the washroom, rubbing at his eye with the back of his finger and catches sight of you, he bounds the length of the room in moments and is hugging you as if he hasn’t seen you in three years. It’s an aspect of your life a therapist would frown upon and would immediately start taking steps to fix.

You don’t care. You like the way your heart flutters when it’s away from Marc, the way it flutters when you see him again. The way he holds you as if you’re life itself and everything in between.

“Where were you?” he murmurs into your hair. He presses his hands into your shoulder blades and closes the particles of space between you. “Woke up alone.”

You make a small noise at the back of your throat, hug him tighter. The image he puts in your mind makes you hurt, “M’sorry. I couldn’t sleep. Jet lag.”

There’s a sound at the back of his throat that mirrors yours. With his hand soothing the back of your head, he tells you that you shouldn’t nap today, no matter how hard it’ll be. That he’ll treat you instead to an early bedtime and fix your sleep schedule overnight.

“You’re so sweet,” you pull away and cup his face, running your thumbs over the soft skin underneath his eyes. “For taking care of me the way you do.”

His hands come to rest on yours, he smiles that subtle Marc smile that to an untrained eye looks like indifference. To you it looks like love, adoration, the promise of taking care of you for as long as you’ll have him. Eyes falling closed, you feel his forehead against yours before it’s even there.

He’s perfect.

He’s yours and he’s perfect and you’re his. You never want to be parted from him from this day on. You want to wake up beside him for the rest of your mornings left. You want him and everything else he has to offer you. A life without Marc Spector in it doesn’t make sense to you anymore. A life where the intense need and desire your soul holds for his is returned to you in spades.

Marc Spector has integrated himself into your heart as an extra artery, vital and essential. You can’t fathom living without him as much as you can’t fathom living without your coffee machine or living without an artery.

The intense feelings wash over you, the exhaustion probably kicking in right around now and you hear Marc cooing, feel his shaking fingers wiping away your tears, “Now, honey…” you open your eyes and smile watery, two tears spilling over your cheeks as you do. You know how easily Marc gets affected when you cry, and you try to stop, “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and look down. Taking his hands, you guide them back to where they were on your face. He guides you in turn to look back up at him, and sends you a nervous smile once you do, “I love you, Marc.”

He doesn’t need to say it back for you to hear it from him, yet he does, and he makes you cry even more because of it, “I love you.” Marc knows how itchy your skin gets if your tears fall and dry, so he’s quick to wipe them away, a crease furrowed between his eyebrows, “But I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, nothing,” you half-laugh, half-cry. He shoots you a look, that makes you elaborate, “I missed you that’s all.”

“I was just upstairs, honey,” he’s teasing you lightly, but you know he knows what you mean. He makes sure of that by kissing you, and you push some of his hair behind his ears, letting your hands rest on his neck. His arms slither around your waist, and they start to lean in your weight into his body.

They’re innocent touches, but with Marc the intention is there, and they’re too early for where you are, for what the time is right now. But you’ve never known how to say no to Marc, particularly when he’s giving you the soft things your body craves for.

There’s a clatter of pots and pans downstairs, that brings you out of the little love cloud you’ve been sharing until now. Reminds you that you’re not at his place, in London, where he can kiss your collarbones whenever he likes and make you weak in the knees.

You pull away and you see the walls shoot back up in his face, see his smile fade, and the frown take its place. He kisses the space above and then below your lips, finally pressing a butterfly of a kiss on them.

You hear his question without him having to say it, and can see it on his face, “I’ll only take a minute.”

“Alright,” he squeezes your hips, looks down at you for a second too long before heading out the door and downstairs.

Elias will be spending the morning at the community centre, running his weekly carpentry class for teenagers. He’d invited you two to join, but Marc had only shook his head.

Breakfast had passed like the dinner the night before. You chatted with Elias as if you’d bumped into him in passing at a coffee shop and were sharing a table for the next half hour. Marc is silent beside you as his father raved on and on about the different attractions Chicago had to offer, discreetly slipping in the lowering crime rates and top-rated schools in the area.

Maybe not as discreet as he’d hoped however, since Marc shifts and clears his throat pointedly. You place your hand on his thigh, and he takes your hand in his.

He’d asked you two what you were planning on doing with the day, when Marc speaks up, “Shedd.” It takes his father and you by surprise. He’s speechless and you’re staring at him, “I got a couple discount tickets online.”

“Well,” Elias starts to fiddle with his fork, until it drops out of his hand and clangs to the plate underneath. “Oh-well, have fun. It’s…lovely…used to take Marc there all the time.”

He doesn’t even give you a moment to respond before he starts clearing the table. Marc’s returned to his phone, and he starts asking about borrowing the car, what the traffic was looking like right about now towards downtown.

They’re pretending like this wasn’t the first time Elias has voluntarily pressed a finger on the blister of the past that hangs heavy around the house like fog. But it was there, and you’re going to hold on to the little snippet of the Marc you were given over breakfast.

He likes Fritos’ corn chips and the aquarium.

You file it all away, store it for an opportune time.

You know you’re already going to start searching for good aquariums in London, probably Spain as well, probably look at membership pricings on top of it.

In London, you don’t often get to see Marc drive. Sometimes, he rents a car for the day. Usually, you’re riding the trains and buses with him and Steven, because it’s cheaper and convenient. But you like watching him drive. Watching his side profile, the way his neck looks as he shoulder checks and changes lanes.

Your mother always told you the best way to know someone was when they sat behind the wheel. Every time he’s sat behind the wheel, he’s made you only fall harder for him. He’s found different ways for your affection to grow in different parts of your body, like an overripe potato sprouting out in the most bizarre places.

He must feel the way your eyes are trained on his face, for he chuckles, places a warm hand on your thigh and squeezes, “You’re starin’.” His accent started to come out the moment you’d stepped foot in the airport. It’s a tilt to his voice that makes you heady, like all aspects of Marc Spector do.

“I am,” you sigh exaggeratedly and look out the window instead. “Can’t help myself. You look so pretty.” It’s a corny pick-up line at best, probably far too immature for where your relationship is at.

But to your surprise, it affects him heavily. The colour rises to his face, his eyes darting back and forth between the rearview mirror enough times for you to know that he’s not checking the cars behind him. “I fly you all the way to fuckin’ Chicago and you can’t quit staring at me like a creep.”

This makes you laugh, makes you seek out his hand on your leg and intertwine your fingers together so you can run your thumb against his palm. “How’s Steven doing?” He hasn’t fronted since you two had left the flat. It wasn’t that long ago, but for Steven it’s been ages.

“Oh, just fine,” his eyes catch the rearview mirror and he grins, changes lanes and merges off the highway. He pauses, glances at the mirror again and then rolls his eyes, “He also says that you should try chamomile tea tonight, to sleep better.”

“I will.” You feel giddy, “Tell him thanks for me.”

“He’s heard you,” his voice is a little strained as he looks over his shoulder, once, twice and changes lanes. A horn is blared and he grumbles, glaring through the rearview mirror at the car behind him, “Fuckin’ tourists.”

Pouting, you say, “But I want you to tell Steven, I don’t want Steven to hear it from me.”

When a glance in your direction tells him that you’re deadly serious about this, even if there’s a smile hanging around your face, he looks back to the rearview mirror and mutters, “She says thanks. For the tea.” He stops at a red light and keeps looking at the mirror. After a pause, “He says he loves you.”

You press the backs of your fingers against your cheeks, as they start heating up, “And do you love me?”

“I love you. Of course.” You know he does. You don’t need to hear it from him to know. Yet he knows you like it when he says it, so he does, and makes the butterflies take flight inside your chest.

Shedd is enormous. The attendant who checks your tickets tells you to set aside a good three hours if you want to see the whole thing. They rave about the beluga whales, pointing out various presentations happening in different exhibits that day and their times.

You can tell from the disgruntled little downturn of Marc’s mouth that he’s only trying to be agreeable. It’s the same look Steven gets when someone tries to dispute a claim he’s made about Egyptology.

But, unlike his alter who is quick to correct and to defend, Marc just shuffles further inside his little shell, bites his cheek and tries to bide his time until it’s over.

You wish he wouldn’t be so tolerant, so flexible with his boundaries. At the beginning of your relationship, and still even now, it creates a lot of tension between you two. Sometimes, you don’t know how to identify certain triggers and stimulations of his, certain things he’d rather not do but puts up with for your sake and pretends to be fine with it.

Of course, he’s not fine with it. He lets it build and fester inside of him for so long that he self-destructs. Retreats into himself at the smallest comment and doesn’t front for weeks at a time.

So, instead, you feign interest in one of the exhibitions and manage to cut the conversation short. A glance at Marc shows that the hinge of his jaw has relaxed, the corner of his mouth turned neutral. His hand is warm and comforting on the small of your back as he guides you towards the entrance and you wonder if you could fall in love with him more.

First, Marc takes you to see the Moon jellyfish in the Wild Reef exhibit. There, you also see three types of sharks, and a chocolate-chip starfish, the name and appearance of which delights you. It delights Marc as well, you know for you’ve grown accustomed to his type of humour, but he’s just better at hiding it than you.

However, he’s amused enough by your reaction to the clownfish, similar to the children around you who are parroting the words it’s Nemo! over and over again, to smile. Actually smile and he holds it long enough for you to catch it, and he grins when he catches your eye.

You realise how much of Marc you’ve been missing out on in London, Steven’s stomping ground. In Chicago, there are memories of Marc in every corner, the soft shadow of him as a child following behind you wherever you go.

It’s there in the practised ease with which he takes you through the streets, how comfortable he is behind the wheel of the car, the way his eyes twinkle the same way Steven’s did when you met Crawley for the first time when he sees a familiar street corner.

It’s there when he leans into the glass of another exhibit and murmurs a faint, “Hey, old lady,” to Nickel, the green sea turtle, and arguably the star of the whole show. You’re not sure if you’re just being a romantic but you manage to fool yourself into thinking that there’s a spark of recognition in the animal’s eye as well as she glides smoothly past Marc’s face and cuts through the middle of a school of angelfish.

But he’s also still your Marc. Just because Chicago is familiar to him, he doesn’t forget you, your intricate language made up of gestures and looks. He sees when you’ve become oversaturated with what you’ve seen, where a fish starts to look like any old fish and he changes itinerary without ever telling you.

The next stop was supposed to be the Oceanarium, but Marc takes a left turn instead of a right and takes you to the cafe and buys you a cinnamon roll that he’ll eat half of anyways but he’ll never confess to later. He gets himself a coffee and for you a hot drink.

Even the sight of him pulling American bills out of his wallet, the familiar leather fraying and hanging on by the seams, twists your stomach and chest together into swirls.

Marc, ever resistant to voluntary change because he’s had so much of it in his life, still pays with cash. It’s one of his old habits from the days he’s lived in secret from Steven and has never shaken off. It goes hand-in-hand in the way he cleans out the coffee filter the moment it’s brewed, how he actively seeks out one-pot recipes to minimise the time he spends cleaning up after himself.

He’s sitting across from you, tucked into a corner with his back to the wall and stuffing some of the roll into his mouth. There’s a bit of filling that’s left over at the corner of his lips, and you smear it away with your thumb, still deep in thought.

You see now that his muscle memory kicked in the moment your plane landed yesterday.

Chicago seems to have accepted Marc back into its fabric without a qualm and question of where he’s been the past twenty years.

His home is with you and Steven. In the memories you’ve built together and the soft touches you’ve given to and will continue to give to each other. But he grew up in Chicago.

To know Marc completely is to also discover the city he grew up in. To know the city is to know Marc.

You’ll hear an inflection in a word from a stranger passing by. You’ll see a mannerism, a furtive glance of an eye.

And it clicks into place for you.

Attitudes and behaviours that you found strange in Marc you now attribute to the city. And for that, you fall in love with the people as well.

You fall in love with the attendant at the front of the aquarium, the cabbie who brought you from the airport to Elias’. There’s a child a few metres away from you that calls out to his friend, his hey distinctly similar to Marc’s cadence of speech. You love that child, no older than seven, after having seen just a brief seven second glance of him.

The murmur of the music around you filters to your ears. The hiss and hum of the espresso machines of the cafe, the squeak of a toddler’s shoes as she tramples in front of her parents.

The American accents that were initially grating to your ears have revealed their true nature to you, gold mines where bits and pieces of the man you love reside.

This was what you were searching for when you asked Marc to take you to Chicago. To be able to see him carry himself with the practised ease Steven carries around his books and messily scrawled notes.

Chicago, though it has equal parts good and bad memories, acts like a salve for Marc.

He’s missed the city without ever knowing that he has.

“Marc?” You’re not sure if this is the best way to approach him about it. His gaze flicks back to yours. “Did…” the question formed easier in your head. With a tsk, you reach for his free hand and he gives it to you without question, save for the concerned waves of his eyes.

As always, everything becomes remarkably clear and simple the moment his skin meets yours. “How,” you swallow down your fear and his hand squeezes yours affectionately. “How often did you come here with Elias?”

His face closes off, tension returning to his shoulders as his mouth turns down. You loosen your grip on his hand in preparation for the moment that he will inevitably pull away from you.

The moment never comes.

“You almost done with that?” his eyes are downturned to the table, and he gestures with his head to the cinnamon roll.

“Yeah.”

His hand still in yours, he finishes it off without a word, washing it down with the remainder of your drinks. He doesn’t spare you a glance through it all, making your heart crawl up your throat with every second that passes.

You want to get up and leave him. It would be the easier thing to do. To take your hand away before he gets the chance to, and go see the beluga whales and dolphins by yourself, Marc be damned.

It would be easier, but it would be horribly wrong. To ask him a question so heavy and weighted and not be there for the inevitable spiral when he’s stuck with you through much the same.

So, you try and remind yourself that the many conversations you’ve had with Marc usually are like this anyways. You and Marc always have unlimited rain checks for each other. Sometimes it ends up being awkward and clunky, and if you read into it too much, it can look like he’s avoiding you.

It’s what works so well about your relationship. There’s the acknowledgment that conversations like these are supposed to be awkward and clunky, and to a third party it might seem avoidant. But it’s the conditions under which both you and Marc thrive off of.

He stands up now, gathering up your coffee cups and plates, placing them on the counter of the cafe.

When he comes back, he takes your coat in his arm and guides you towards the exit, back towards the Oceanarium.

Before you arrive, you stop, and look at him. “Marc, can I kiss you?” You wonder if he’ll taste like cinnamon.

He does. You kiss the corner of his mouth first, then press your lips together. He tastes like cinnamon and coffee, and if you close your eyes, you think that things will be alright between you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, slightly out of breath like you are after all of Marc’s kisses.

“‘Course,” he wraps his free arm around your waist and starts to walk. “You never gotta ask.”

The beluga whales exceed your expectations. You were expecting to be enthralled with the sea otters and their playful circles and flips in the water as they tried to rub water into their fur.

But it’s the smooth glide of the whales, their chirps and bellows that enthral you. The way they look like they’re smiling at you when they open their mouths in front of you. Their playful side-eyes as they bob their heads up above the water.

In many ways they remind you of Steven.

In many more ways, they remind you of Marc, of the soft, duvet-like interior he manages to shield so well from so many, including you sometimes.

Guilt crawls up into your stomach as you remember what happened in the cafe, and a sharp tide of self-loathing washes over you. You feel unworthy of even standing so close to the animals, let alone looking at them.

You go and sit down on one of the benches. You’re uncharacteristically cold for the humid air around you.

Marc’s jacket is draped over your shoulders and he sits down beside you, rubbing his palms together as he looks down at them.

The jacket smells like him, of course it does. But it also reminds you of the London apartment, their bed and myriad of blankets and quilts on top of it.

You think of Gus and hope that he’s doing ok, that the automatic feeder is doing its job. You miss Gus as well, the soothing hum of his water filter having ten times the effect the aquarium could have on you. Pushing your arms through the sleeves of Marc’s jacket, you do up the top bottom and cross your legs.

“Are you tired?”

You can feel him looking at you and you look back at him, “A little.”

“Do you want to go?”

You shake your head in response. He bites his upper lip and frowns, looking back down to the floor. The sight tugs at your throat, for how hard he’s trying for you and you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers together. You press your other hand to the back of his, caging it in between your own.

You’re content to stay like this forever.

“They uh-” his voice is raspy when he starts to talk. He stops and clears his throat, “They loved the beluga whales.” You shuffle along the bench and press your shoulder against his. “My father and…” his throat moves as he swallows harshly and you want to press your fingers against his neck to feel it, but you also refuse to move from where you are right now. “Randall.”

Your look back to the animals, swimming around blissfully unaware of the weight that’s associated with them in Marc’s mind.

Leaning forward, you kiss his temple, the curve of his ear.

“I liked Nickel the best,” he’s not looking at you but you’re looking at him. Images of the sea turtle rise back up in your mind, the soft murmur of his voice floating in your ears.

You think back to the photo hanging up in Elias’ living room, you think of Elias this morning, shy and bashful, not knowing what to do with himself.

“What about Steven?”

He gives you a dry chuckle, squeezes your hand, “Hates aquariums with a passion.”

“Is he ok? With all this?” You’re smiling, thinking of the depression of fear and disgust that would have been on his face, had he been fronting.

Marc nods his head, almost imperceptibly.

His arm falls around your shoulders and he pulls you into him as much as he can. “We,” he takes a deep breath and lets it out. You feel the way his ribs expand and contract with it. “Roro and I would fight all the time about where we should go.”

You’re suddenly acutely aware of where you are, of the way he’d asked you if you were tired and wanted to leave, “Marc, if you want we can go somewhere else-”

He shakes his head, soothing his hand against your shoulder, “My father always settled the whole thing with a cinnamon roll. And after-” he presses his nose against your head and takes a deep breath. “After…Roro, he would still bring me here every weekend, and let me sit with Nickel as long as I wanted.”

A ball rolls towards his feet, breaking him out of the dreamlike state he was in. A platter of footsteps follows soon after, a little girl no more than four or five years old looking up at him shyly. The ball is made out of a green plastic, littered with small daisies.

Letting go of you, Marc stoops down and picks it up with both hands, as though it was made out of glass. “This yours, honey?” His accent is strong now, you almost don’t recognise his voice.

She nods, daring to take a couple steps forwards. Marc holds out the ball for her to take and in a furtive movement, she snatches it from him and runs away.

When the girl disappears out of view, he looks at you, offers you a small smile that you scoop from his palms and press into your skin.

It’s late afternoon by the time you’re done with Shedd.

You say you want to see Nickel again, and let Marc stay with her as long as he wanted. You spend more time looking at him than the turtle, and you don’t regret a minute of it.

The sun is shining a heated red that hits your skin and warms you straight to your bone marrow. Marc buys you a hot dog from a stand close to the aquarium. He kisses you lazily as you try to eat it, littering his love along your shoulders and neck.

You fall asleep on the drive back and he makes no move to wake you, despite the fact that he’d promised to fix your sleep schedule overnight and that was contingent on the fact that you stay awake for the rest of the day. He’s quiet as he carries you from the car and back to your bed and you’re about to fall asleep again when he whispers to you that he’s going to be going on a walk with his father.

You dream of Nickel and the beluga whales. Of plastic balls and squeaking shoes. Of Marc with a baby and soft sunshine that feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

Marc is silent as you go through the motions of getting a hotel room, his presence as heavy as the hand he’s keeping on the side of your waist. He hasn’t said a single word since he’d woken you up and said that he wasn’t going to be spending the night at Elias’.

You’re not sure where he is right now, what Steven is telling him and even, if Steven is there at all, soothing Marc in ways you only wish you could. You can only do what you can, and it usually just feels inadequate.

The moment the door closes behind you in the room, Marc’s agony is let go of. It spills out of his chest and into yours. You feel him hesitate, you feel him start to pull back, to zip up and run away from you. But you have it. You grapple, hold your arms open for him and he runs back to you.

Pushing you up against the wall, he kisses you, his mouth rough on yours as he starts to tear away at your clothes until you’re naked. It feels intensely vulnerable, to feel the rough material of his jeans rubbing against your thighs, to be so exposed when he’s still covered.

But his hands start to wander and you feel dressed in love again. You’re not sure how much of Marc you’re going to see tonight, any if all. You’ll accept what he’s going to give you, you want to give him the feeling of being enough, a feeling he’s never gotten from Wendy or Elias.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck. A low groan rumbles through you, the pressure of his body against yours lifting, “I’ll go-”

“No,” he looks at you in surprise. You’re shaking your head, keeling over with the weight of what he’s asking of you, and desperate to give it to him, to soothe him better, “No, Marc, I don’t mind.” You’ll find a pharmacy in the morning and get the pill. The last thing you want is for him to be separated from you right now. Looping your arms around his neck you bring his forehead to yours.

His hands drop to your waist, his voice aching with desire and a fleeting sense of control, “You sure?”

You reassure him again wordlessly, pressing a butterfly of a kiss to his lips, fingers finding purchase in the collar of his jacket and urging him to take it off. He listens, of course he listens, even now when he has every right not to. He grants the small wishes of your heart and deepens the kiss, so your ears go staticky and you can barely make out the faint thud of his jacket hitting the ground.

His fingers go to the soft skin behind your knees, pressing softly. You jump, he’s there and he catches you, stumbling towards the bed and holding you as you fall back onto the covers. His lips never leave yours, the immense pain oozing out of him and onto you only making you want to merge your skin with his even to take a bit of the weight off of him.

Instead, you reach for his belt, so overwhelmed with the emotions Marc is making you feel that your fingers start to fumble. You’re about to flip him on his back, so you can kiss down his chest, so he can thread his fingers through your hair and use your mouth the way he wants to when he stops. He’s able to read you better than himself, knowing what you want to do even before you do it.

There’s the brief glimpses of remorse and guilt, apologies streaming from his eyes, “Ok,” you nod, grasping his face between your hands. “It’s ok, honey.” He’s barely touched you, and you’re already breathless, desperation wet between your thighs.

He swallows, the emotions receding back like the tide of the ocean. Dipping his fingers between your folds, he hides in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin that burn like hot coals.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing at the way he touches you.

Fervent and loving.

It’s always like this with him, but the pain, the years of agony he’s had to endure alone are heavy and present in each movement of his against your body right now. It brings tears to your eyes, tears you feel you have no right to shed. Taking deep shuddering breaths, you push them away, try to think of Marc, only of Marc, to be here and present for him like he’s done countless times with you.

The fire burns down your chest as he kisses down between breasts, to your navel and lower stomach. He pauses for a moment and reaches for your hands, eyes brushing against yours as he guides them towards his head. When he presses his mouth against your core, you cry out.

Marc makes you come two times like that. Shuddering and gasping out his name as he moans and presses his hips against the bed.

He’s right there with you, but he’s never felt farther away. In the AC’d air of the hotel room, the goosebumps rise to your skin as he doesn’t relent, searching and desperate between your legs. You push back the hair falling in front of his forehead, in hopes of catching his eye. When you do, he presses two fingers inside you, curls them just right and makes stars explode in your mind.

Just as quickly, the cold ebbs away from your body, a searing heat spreading like wildfire in its place. You’re still laying down on your back, but you grow lightheaded, losing your sense of direction for a moment. Marc’s name falls from your lips over and over again.

At that moment nothing exists apart from him, apart from the love you hold for him and the way you want to press your hands against his wounds until they stop bleeding, no matter how long it takes, no matter what it takes.

The goodness, the kindness that on his best days he doubts the existence of, is there. It’s always there. Shining bright inside his chest, and bathing you in warmth and love. There’s never a moment where you doubt it’s there. It’d be like trying to ignore the existence of the sun.

If there’s anyone deserving of affection and adoration it’s Marc Spector, who, after a world of pain can still touch you so gently and make pleasure alight in your body. You’re set on giving it to him, everyday and in every way you can until he realises that it’s his right to take.

Slowly, the fuzz fades away from the edges of your mind, your sense of North returning. Marc’s leaving sticky kisses to the inside of your thighs and you feel it’s been years since you last saw him. You cup his cheek in your hand, and guide him back to your face. He moves a little easier than before, and doesn’t resist when you lean up and capture his lips.

Your taste floods your mouth and a feral curl of possessiveness takes a hold of the chambers of your heart. Hooking a leg around his waist, you press him down into you, his arousal hard against your thigh. He’s still fully clothed, and the sensation of the denim against your skin is ten times as intense as it was at the beginning.

Marc curls a hand into your hair, you drift your fingers down his back, feeling for his muscles underneath his shirt. He nips at your bottom lip and makes you whimper, unconsciously pressing your hips up.

Pulling away, lips swollen and eyes blown, curls falling forward on his head, his voice is rough when he says, “You still sure?” You hum, trying to pull your thoughts together to see what he’s trying to say. Chest still struggling to return your breath to normal, you nod. It’s not enough for Marc, he kisses your cheek, nudges his nose against yours, “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes focus back into him, into the slick that hangs around the edges of his mouth like dew and makes the heat rise in your lower stomach. “Yeah,” you lose all hope of returning your heartbeat to normal. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”

When Marc presses into you, you lose your North. You forget where you are and what happened and will happen soon enough. You know only of Marc, of the agony he holds to himself like a second skin and you feel yourself drown in it.

Your anchor, your only rock in a turbulent sea of mothers wielding belts and deadly tides threatening to pull you under is Marc, the darkened brown of his eyes, the thundering of his heart, the way he’s seated deep inside you and the way he thrusts, gentle and rough all at once.

You’re not able to control the tears anymore, and with each press of his hips against yours, they roll down your cheeks, and you cry out.

Marc isn’t hurting you. He could never. But for a brief moment, you feel as if your skin has truly fused with his, and that you can feel the torture pressed into his body like the fibres of a cotton-weave fabric. A primal anger rises inside you, and if you could, you would have burned the world to the ground at that moment, starting with the townhouse on Milwaukee avenue.

When you come, it’s with his name on your lips. He’s whispering or murmuring things to you, broken by his moans. You don’t understand a thing. You only know of the aching need inside your heart to make sure Marc isn’t hurt again.

The faint beep and click of the room door opening wakes you. You’re disoriented almost immediately, the sliver of light streams in from the hallway and disappears the moment he closes the door and steps in doing nothing to help remind you where you are.

Your head pounds and your legs are sore, but you reach up to the bedside lamp and turn it on. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you drifted off. When your legs rub together as you sit up to lean against the headboard, the sticky, rough feeling you’re expecting is not there.

Marc looks at you, the rustle of the white paper bag in his grip sounds out as his knuckles lose their colour.

“Hi,” you watch him as he comes to sit beside you on the bed. You find a strange amount of comfort in the way the duvet creases underneath his weight, the physics of the way the mattress leans towards him and makes you lean towards him in turn.

He tugs at the staple holding the bag together until it rips open, “I got you some levonorgestrel.” He takes out a small blue box, a protein bar and a bottle of water. “The pharmacist said to-uh-” his eye catches yours and he looks away as if burned “-to take it with food. Said it helps with the nausea.”

Only Marc would be able to know what you were only planning on doing ahead of time, and do it first.

“She also said to take it as soon as possible,” he wrings his hands together, ears going red as he continues to refuse to look at you. Scrunching his nose, he shakes his head, “That whole ‘morning after’ thing is sortuva myth.”

On instinct, a quip rises to your tongue, something about him changing his mind about you having his kid, something to make him a tad bit flustered and to see him floundering for words. You bite it back, silently reach for the protein bar and start to eat it.

After about half of it is finished, you open the box and break out the pill from the foil, washing it down with water. You finish the bottle and place it on the side table.

He nods to the rest of the protein bar in your lap, “Can you finish that?” He reaches back inside the bag, a bag of chips, a chocolate bar, and two more levonorgestrel boxes come out in his hand. “There’s more, just in case you might throw up.”

“Marc?” he looks in your direction, not at you. “Thank you,” his gaze snaps up to yours, shock and remorse written over it, the ever present bags a little deeper than they were this morning. “For taking care of me the way you do.”

His face starts to twitch and you lean forward on your knees to cup his cheeks with your palms. “I love you,” you murmur, eyes roving his face, faint scars from childhood Khonshu was either too lazy or too cruel to remove. There’s one just above his eyebrow that calls out to you, and you press your lips against it. “I love you, Marc Spector.”

You feel his arms wrap around your waist, his face press into your neck. His shoulders start to shake and his tears start to fall against your skin and down your chest.

The whimpers he lets out strike straight to your heart.

Steven had one time recounted to you the sheer helplessness he’d felt watching Marc cry on the street at Wendy’s shiva. You only remember being struck with the sudden urge to hug Marc, to give him the soft things he’s deserved since he was a child and was cruelly deprived of.

Now, you thread your fingers through his hair, you kiss at his temple and feel the same helplessness Steven described to you. It wracks at your bones, your lungs. The other half of your soul is crying and all you can do is wipe away his tears.

In a rough voice, he starts to mumble his apologies. Though you want to reassure him he has nothing to apologise for, you only say that it’s alright, that he’s forgiven, that he’s safe with you and you love him. That he’s enough.

Your eyes fall shut and the tears start to fall in tandem with Marc’s silently. He presses his fingers into your skin and pulls you closer. You climb into his lap, not letting go of the hold you have of him.

His sobs die off suddenly, but his chest is still heaving, shoulders shaking with the exertion of holding them back. You soothe your hand against his cheek and make him look at you. Blotchy-eyed and a tear-stained face looks back, eyebrows furrowed in pain.

“It’s ok, baby,” your thumbs move to wipe away his tears. “Darling, I’m here.”

He breaks down again, pulling you into his frame as he cries out. You press one hand to his heart, the other to the back of his head. He still feels miles away from you. You yearn for him as you would yearn for blood.

Moments or maybe hours later, you’re half-expecting Steven to front, considering the way he’s gone quiet. He presses a kiss to your chest, to your collarbone, to the junction of your shoulder and neck. You let your hands drift down his back in comforting shapes that you hope are working to calm him down, to make him feel loved.

“I’m sorry,” Marc’s voice is rough, but considerably calmer, and it rumbles through you. The feeling brings you great pleasure, because it means Marc is still here, and with you.

You shake your head, slide your fingers underneath his chin and lift his face to yours. A couple of words and sentences arise, but they seem redundant, incapable of expressing what you want to say, how you feel and what you want Marc to feel.

Instead, you kiss his cheek, his other cheek, the space between his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. The skin underneath his eyes is wet, but you press your lips there all the same. You kiss the space above his mouth, the corners, his chin and finally, you cup his face, one hand on his cheek, the other on his neck so you can feel his pulse and revel in it, and so you can kiss him.

Randall’s grave is a soft off-white. There’s the Star of David on top, some writing in Hebrew and his name in capitals below. Underneath are a short set of years that tugs at your heart.

There’s a collection of stones both on his gravestone and on the ground surrounding.

You and Marc add to it, each of you putting one down with your left hands.

When Elias opens the door for you two, it’s clear that he hadn’t been expecting either of you to show up again.

How you’d been in this exact spot a couple days ago, jet-lagged and ridden with anxiety, nostalgia almost kicking you in the stomach before you remember how much has changed and how much you’re hoping will change.

Still, if Marc wanted to turn back right now, without even a hello, you’d let him.

Some things would never change.

“Hi,” Marc is the one to speak up first, fiddling with the button on the suitcase handle. Elias, eyes puffy and stained red, is about to speak before his son beats him to it, “Hi, Dad.”

He lets out a sob and you can see how hard he’s holding himself back from taking Marc into his arms. Instead, Elias reaches forward and clasps his upper arm, “Hi.” His voice is warm and watery with unshed tears.

In heartbeats, Marc is hugging his father. Though you can’t see his face, you see the way his frame trembles in Elias’ arms, the way the many burdens he’s carried on his shoulders have lifted.

You’re about to turn away to find something to occupy yourself with when Elias sniffs and clears his throat, “Please, come in. I’ll put the kettle on.” He catches Marc’s eye and smiles, giddy and boyish. He makes no move to wipe it off his face.

And, even better, the gift you’ve always asked for, Marc grins back.

The crowd is livid, vibrating with the excitement of the match and the heat of the late summer day.

Marc is muttering underneath his breath, perched on the edge of his seat, his eyes tracking every movement on the diamond. He’s so deeply invested in it that it’s cute.

Baseball. Another bit of Marc that you get to revel in. Baseball and turtles and corn chips.

“Are you happy you came, Marc?” you lean in and ask during a brief lull.

It had taken some convincing on your part to take him here, after he’d seen the jersey and his favourite dress on you.

He turns and catches your eye. “Yeah,” he grins and kisses you, your heart in his chest and his hands warm around your waist.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider leaving feedback, I've been working on this for about five months.

Masterlist here.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

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campingwiththecharmings · 7 months

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*These weren’t necessarily written and/or posted in September, but that’s when I read them 😊

(finally caught up, phew! thanks for your patience y'all ❤️)

🔥 - explicit/mature content

Star Wars

🔥The Nerve (Din Djarin x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme

Rookie Mistake (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @groguspicklejar (i've recced this before, but now there are more parts so 😌)

Poe Dameron falling in love with his best friend (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @i-belong-to-the-stars

Pièce de rèsistance (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @the-little-ewok

Moon Knight

🔥Be Lost (Dom!Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @juneknight

🔥Dark Necessities (Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (i've recced this before but it's amazing and now there's a part 3 🙃)

🔥reciprocation (Best Friend!Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @runa-falls

🔥Zombie Apocolypse AU with Marc (Marc Spector x F!Reader) - @xbellaxcarolinax

Serenade (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @missdictatorme

Shava Tova (Moon Boys x Non-Jewish!Reader) - @romanarose

🔥Prettiest Sounds (Steven Grant x F!Reader) - @romanarose

Tell Me About it (Jake Lockley x Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Triple Frontier

🔥Mine. (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @burstanddecay

Night drive (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @dailyreverie

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

🔥miguel o’hara fucks you to sleep (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @beautysamour

🔥Earth 703 (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @xbellaxcarolinax

🔥college miggy helping you out (College AU!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @reinasei

Scenes from a Marriage

🔥Filthy (Jonathan Levy x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Ex Machina

🔥Good Moring (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

🔥Fever (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Lightningface

🔥Perv!Neighbour Basil finds your camgirl account (Perv!Basil Stitt x Camgirl!F!Reader) - @redeyerhaenyra

The Two Faces of January

🔥Sativa (Rydal Keener x F!Reader) - @whatthefishh (part of the Oxford Comma series❤️)

Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️

*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.

**If you’d like to have your fic removed from the list, I completely understand, just let me know

#poe dameron x reader #din djarin x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #santiago garcia x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #jonathan levy x reader #nathan bateman x reader #basil stitt x reader #rydal keener x reader #fic rec #q

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commander-writergirl · 1 year

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Flames in the Window

Synopsis: Khonsu pulls Marc away for a mission, but for once you aren’t following him. And Marc has to make the tough choice: doing what Khonsu askes or spending Hanukkah with you.

Pair: Marc Spector x Jewish!fem!Reader, Steven Grant x Jewish!fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x Jewish!fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: light angst

Word Count: 2,080

A/N: not antisemitism allowed. Also please feel free to send me asks about the Moon System and their Jewish girlfriend hehe. Also I think the comics are influencing how I write cause it’s very different from the show.

Tags: @romanarose @softlybarnes

“What do you mean you don’t want to come with me?” Marc stared wide-eyed at you. You always went with him on his missions. But standing in the New York apartment he had moved into, you stood arms crossed.

“I’m not traveling with you on another mission. I don’t care what Khonsu wants, I’m not doing it.” Marc was surprised with how quickly you got your mind wrapped around the fact that Marc worked as Moon Knight serving an Egyptian God. But you were also very mad, and he was prepared for the jabs come Passover.

Marc walked over to you and rubbed your arms. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Tomorrow is the 25th of Kislev.”

Marc raised an eyebrow, “No its December 3rd.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Hanukkah falls on the 25th of Kislev in the Hebrew calendar. Tomorrow is the 25th of Kislev.”

Marc sighed and closed his eyes. “Right.” He shook his head, “So we take a travel menorah.” Marc grinned at you.

You scuffed, “I’m not celebrating a holiday based on Judaism standing against oppression while you do errands for an Egyptian Deity.”

He had to give you credit. With how devoted you were, he half expected you to call him a hypocrite and break up with him when he told you about Khonsu. Khonsu even said you would leave because it would be the last straw. But you were still here, you still wanted to be with him, them.

He sighed, “Okay, you stay here in New York. I’ll go do this mission and when it's done, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Marc watched as the anger drained from your face and you looked down, “I want you to stay.” You whispered.

Marc sighed and kissed your forehead. He hugged you closely. “I know baby, but I have to do this.” You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Promise me, you’ll be back before the last night.” You looked up at him, chin pressed to his chest.

Marc thought over the timeline. He leaves in an hour. Hanukkah starts tomorrow. With travel and everything he’d be gone, five days tops. “It will be five days, tops. I promise to be back before the last candle is lit.” He smiled at you, stroking your cheek.

“I’m gonna hold you to that one Spector.” You stood on your tip toes and kissed him.

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

“We’re not getting back in time, are we?” Steven asked as Marc tried to track their target. He and Jake were becoming constant reminders that in two days Hanukkah would end.

Sadly, for Marc, he was in an area that had a Jewish population, and he was reminded each night that he was closer to breaking his promise to you. So, between his Alters and the universe, Marc felt like he was going to break your heart.

“Amigo, if we don’t get back--”

Marc interpreted Jake, “I know, I know.” Marc sighed. This wasn’t supposed to take this long, but given it was the holidays, Marc should have realized the target would be surrounded with family; including children.

“Maybe we could come back after the holidays.” Steven suggested. It was a thought Marc had been thinking about as well. If he came back right after, the target would still be here, and the family would be gone already.

“My son, you must finish this before leaving.” Marc tensed as Khonsu’s voice surrounded him. Marc dropped his gaze from the target.

“I made her a promise.”

“But without me, that promise wouldn’t exist. You owe me your life.”

Marc clutched his fists. Even though Khonsu was unable to show himself, he still made himself known. Marc knew what you would say that Marc has his free will. That it seems to be the one thing he sold when he took Khonsu’s deal.

“I have done everything you asked of me. Even when it went against my own morals. The target you want gone will still be here when I get back.” Marc began to pack his stuff. “I’m going home to my girlfriend to celebrate Hanukkah with her.”

Marc put his bag over his shoulder and began to walk to the ladder leading down to the side alley.

“This will cost you Marc Spector.” Khonsu said as Marc’s feet touched the ground.

“Well according to you, you already own me.” Marc grumbled heading for his hotel room to get his plane ticket to get home to you.

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

You stood cleaning out the wax drip from the night before to get the new candles in. It was the seventh night and each night you worried more and more that Marc wasn’t going to make it back in time. You trusted his promises but when it came to traditions, it was always hard to figure out what he was willing to do.

You sighed and began to set up the candles for the night’s lighting save for the Shamash. You traced your finger over the bird and flower design along the Hanukkiah body. It had become a tradition in your family to gift a new Hanukkiah on the first night.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open the one for this year as your parents had gotten it specifically for you and Marc.

You sniffled and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes. You weren’t going to cry. It wasn’t worth crying over. You knew this was his life, that these were his choices.

You took a deep breath as a knock sound. You pushed your hair back and walked to the door. You opened it and came face to face with Moon Flowers and Sunflowers. You blinked at them before they moved to show you a pair of dark brown eyes.

“Hi baby.” Marc said shyly.

You blinked at him, “You’re here.”

“Yea, well I made you a promise.” He smiled lightly, “That and Jake and Steven would never forgive me if I broke it.”

You stepped back and Marc walked in dropping his bag and closed the door with his foot. You carefully took the flowers from him and walked to the kitchen. Marc following close behind you.

He looked around the kitchen as you set the flowers in water. He could see the remnants of latkes, you probably ate days ago with apple sauce, he guessed from the empty jar. And on the platter usually used for cake or pie, now sat sufganiyot.

“Oh, she made them at home,” Steven mused. All three could see that the sufganiyot weren’t uniformed and could see chocolate peeking out.

“Do you want one?” You asked after following Marc’s gaze.

“Maybe later,” he gave you a soft smile before pulling you to him. “So, what exactly did you make while I was gone?”

“Besides the sufganiyot where my Israeli friend kept on giving her two cents?” You smiled wrapping your arms around his neck. “I made Latkes, I tried Hanukkah honey balls-”

“Honey balls?” Marc asked as Jake snickered. Such a child.

“Fried dough covered in honey. It was actually pretty good considering I don’t like honey.” You giggled while playing with his curls. “I was planning on make some rugelach, but I started missing you too much.” Your smile fell away and you looked down. “I was worried you weren’t coming home.”

“Well, we’re here now.” Marc lifted your chin. “And you have us for the rest of the time.”

You smiled and held his wrist. You watched as his eyes rounded out and his shoulders relaxed. “Did you happen to make your famous challah, mi Vida?”

You bit your lower lip. Jake had slowly become obsessed with the challah you made. Maybe because you sometimes used honey and cinnamon instead of sugar and salt. “Sorry, I decided to go to services since my boys were gone.”

Jake pouted, “Well I guess you’ll have to make it up to us. I remember something about blintz?”

You rolled your eyes. You were going to kill your mother for introducing Jake to blintz. “Fruit or cheese?”

Jake gave a lopsided grin, “Surprise me.”

You smiled and pecked his lips before walking back towards the front window to light the Hanukkiah. Jake kept his hands on your waist the whole time. Once you stood in front of the table you had set up, you felt him tense behind you. “Marc?”

He hummed, “They just want to observe tonight.” You nodded and reached around him to dim the lights.

Marc looked around as the blue and white fairy lights stung up. That’s also when he noticed all the little things. There was a dancing rabbi animatronic, a few figurine bears holding dreidels and Hanukkiahs. He also noticed the living room table had a runner with varies symbols on it ranging from the Magen David to plates full of latkes. He wishes you could have been here to help you decorate.

Next Year, he promised himself.

When the smell of sulfur hit his nose, Marc faced forward again and wrapped his hand around yours that was holding the Shamash. He didn’t remember the prayers as clearly, so he listened to you and mouthed along as you both lit the seven candles; left to right, lighting the newest candle first.

When all the candles were lit, and you placed the Shamash in its place, Marc stood holding you as the flames flickered.

“I used to get the order mixed up,” Marc said. You looked at him. “My father would say, you set them up right to left and I thought that was how we light them, but he would always smile ruffle my hair and tell me we light them left to right. I used to pout cause it felt so simple and yet I forgot every year.”

“My dad used to fix me cause I would always get confused too.” You whispered, not wanting to break the ambience.

Marc kissed your forehead before nuzzling his nose with yours. “I promise, next year will be better.”

“Maybe we can even invite your dad?” You searched his face.

“Baby steps.” he whispered, gripping your waist.

“Baby steps.” you stroked his cheek and pecked his lips. “You did this with me and that’s a great step.”

He smiled, “So I noticed a box when I came in from your parents...”

“Oh yes they sent us a new Hanukkiah.” You said before moving from his hold and going to grab the box. “I didn’t want to open it without you.”

Marc chuckled, “They have high hopes for me sticking around, huh?”

You chewed on your lower lip as you sat on the couch. You weren’t going to tell him; it would be too much pressure. “I guess but let's enjoy it.” You smiled patting the spot next to you.

Marc walked over and sat next to you. You began ripping into the packaging and peeled the tape away. When you pulled it out, Marc blinked at it.

The Hanukkiah was glass fused with foiled gold and silver. You both realized it resembled that of a half moon. The candle holders were embedded in the glass, save for the Shamash which was raised to stand taller than the rest.

You handed it to Marc and pulled the card out of the box and opened it.

“To Y/N and Marc,

Chag Sameach! We saw this menorah while visiting family and thought of you two. Two halves to a whole.

We know Marc struggles with his Jewish identity but with you, our sweet Y/N, we know you will fill the other half.

We hope to see you for Pesach this year and wish you the best.

Much Love,

Mom and Dad.”

You folded the card up and set it back in the box before setting it on the floor. You looked at Marc to see his thumb rubbing against the body of the hanukkiah and a tear slip down his cheek. You wiped it away and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“I can’t believe, I almost missed opening this with you.” He gave a shuddered breath before setting the gift down and pulling you into his lap.

You closed your eyes as he nuzzled into your neck. You began to stroke his curls, letting one wrap around your finger loosely. “But you didn’t, and that’s the important fact.”

You worked to hold back your tears again as Marc sniffled. You two sitting in silence as the Hanukkah lights flickered in the window.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #Marc spector x Jewish!Reader #fem!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #Steven Grant x Jewish!reader #jake lockely x fem!reader #Jake lockley x jewish!reader #marvel #my fic #hanukkah fic #hanukkah #jewish representation #holiday season

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romanarose · 9 months

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Shava Tova

Moon Boys x non-jewish!reader

Join my taglist! Masterlist Moon Knight master list

Summary: You go to Rosh Hashanah services in Chicago with your boys, and are happy to learn more about this part of themselves.

Warnings: Illusions to Marc's childhood, Judaism references I try to explain. Reader isn't Jewish and I'm aware my readers are from different religious backgrounds but I think in a majority (from what I know?) it's okay to attend services and participate in things like the tashlich. I try to keep it vague though, but only you really know what you are comfortable with so use discression!

A/N: I am not Jewish, I am a hopeful convert! This year was my first Rosh Hashanah and I was very moved by it all. I'm lucky enough to have gotten to know a friend there and her and her family are very welcoming and have been wonderful explaining this holiday and others and preparing me for Yom Kippur. That being said, I attend a reform temple. I do not know what denomination Marc is, but my evidence seems to point to conservative. Also, I know traditions are different country to country and group to group (Ashkenazi, Sephardi etc) all have different practices. I tried to stick to what I found the most universal in my studying but I am always ready and willing to be corrected. If there is something incorrect, please let me know!

****************

You always thought he looked so handsome like this, with his prayer shawl and kippah on… it didn’t hurt that he was dressed up for the holiday in a black suit. His Kippah and tallit were white, the traditional color for Rash Hashanah, and your dress matched him.

You’d gone to a few holidays with him, and tried to come to shabbat whenever you could, but today was special. Rosh Hashanah was an important holiday and the first time you were going with Steven, and the first time you were going to a service of any kind where his father was the rabbi.

You had met Steven last year in January and were thrilled when Elias invited you both to come to Chicago for the High Holy days, Rosh Hashanah, which was the start of the new year in the Hebrew Calendar, and Yom Kippur was next week and a day of atonement. Rosh Hashanah was a favorite of Steven’s so he would be fronting during services, although Marc would come to the front when people came to talk to him; people he had known in childhood. It was going to be a little difficult for Marc, but he’s said he’s made a lot of progress in recent years regarding his family, and you were so proud of him.

Marc would be fronting for Yom Kippur, a holiday based around atonement for sins. Steven was the one who usually fronted during shabbat, he was the most insistent on staying observant, but Marc and Jake had their days too. Jake liked Purim, and Passover and Hanukkah had multiple days making it easy for them all to get time, Elias knew of all the boys, and although Jake was more guarded for Marc’s sake, Steven was thrilled to help Marc rebuild his relationship as he and Elias got to know each other.

You’d met Elias earlier this week, but were determined to make a good impression at services, following along as best you could and participating where was appropriate as a non-Jew; you were just so thankful they boys were sharing this part with you, and between meeting their dad, Marc showing you around his hometown and celebrating the High Holy Days with them, you felt like a part of their family.

Still, you were nervous. “Do I look okay?” You ask Steven as he adjusted his tie in the mirror.

When he turned to you, his face lit up so bright you couldn’t help but smile with him. “Oh, love!” Steven walked over to where you stood. “You look absolutely ravishing.” He wrapped you up in your arms and kissed your hair so he didn’t mess up your makeup, but his lips trailed down to your neck.

“Steven!” You giggle. “I’m not trying to look sexy, I want to make a good impression! Is this dress not appropriate?”

Marc fronted. “It’s beautiful, baby, so are you. Although you’re gonna wanna wear sandals.”

You tried your best to follow along. You didn’t know a lick of Hebrew except a handful of words you’d picked up during shabbat and from what Steven explained to you, but you were trying.

The music was beautiful and kept you engaged, and it was fun to see everyone tapping their feet, even if you weren’t sure when you were supposed to; you followed Steven’s lead for that. Elias has greeted you warmly when he saw you and Steven, and although you didn’t get the chance to talk much (as a rabbi, he had many people to welcome), Steven promised there would be time at home.

During one part, Elias welcomed everyone to wrap their tallit around their neighbor, and when Steven wrapped you up in his tallit you really did feel like a part of his family, a part of him. You and him stayed wrapped up like that even after that prayer was done.

“Steven?”

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s beautiful.”

After the service, the congregation walked a few blocks down to Lake Michigan for the Tashlich, getting into the sand beach. This is why Marc suggested sandals.

Steven handed you bread. “We’ll say a prayer, and then you think of your sins during the year and tear off a piece of the bread into the water for each sin.”

Jake fronted. “Although considering last night, we might need more than one slice.”

“Jake!” You whispered, gently smacking his arm before taking off your sandles, as Steven took off his socks and shoes. Most didn’t get in the water, but you wanted to wade, to feel the cool lake water on your toes. “We need to come back next summer so we can swim.”

Steven kissed you. “I’d love that. I love everything we do together.”

You then turn to focus on the task at hand, casting the sinful bread into the water to be washed away. You swore Marc had fronted during this cleansing, only confirmed to you by the way he reach out for you when you stumbled leaving the water.

Back at the synagogue, there was bread, honey and apples, Steven explaining it was meant to ring in a ‘sweet’ new year. It was delicious, and clearly the people put a lot of care into planning it.

“This apple bread is BUSSIN” You practically moan as you devour it.

Elias’s voice behind you. “Thank you, I made that one, actually”

You gasp, turning around and covering your mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my go- uh, gosh. Shoot, sorry.”

Jake is laughing at your fumbling, but Elias powers through like nothing happened. “It’s alright, did you enjoy the service?”

“Yes! I really loved the… uuhh… Marc, baby, what was that part I liked?”

Marc’s hand was firmly clasped with yours; his stability when he was anxious. “The shofar”

“Yeah, the shofar!”

Elias nodded. “Marc ever tell you he was the ba’al tokeah one year?”

Marc leaned in to clarify that was what the person who blew the shofar was called.

You lit up at that, Marc didn’t play instruments so this was new information. “No he didn’t!”

“And he played Hamen in his Hebrew school play for Purim, have you ever been to Purim?”

Shaking you head, you squeeze Marc’s hand three times in reassurance, and he squeezes it three times right back. You knew any mention of his childhood was contentious, but he had mentioned no wanting to tiptoe around it anymore. “I didn’t go last year, we had just begun dating back then.”

“You’ll have to go some time, it’s definitely a fun one.”

“You gonna take me next year?” You smile at your boyfriend.

He smiled right back. “I think that can be arranged.”

Elias excused himself, needing to see a few more people before the family service that afternoon, promising you had his attention that evening.

Steven stayed firmly by your side. “Are you having a good time? It’s not too much?”

You lean into him, happily munching on some honey covered apples. “I’m having a wonderful time.” Looking at him again, you place a hand softly on his cheek and smile when he keens into you. “I wanna know all the things that make you, you, and this is something obviously important. Thank you for inviting me.”

Steven bought you in for a soft, modest kiss, his lips tasting like honey and you were sure yours were the same. “Thank you for coming with me, and thank you for taking us as we are. All the good and bad.”

"Shana tova, Steven."

"Shana tova."

***************

SHANA TOVA TO MY JEWISH READERS! I know I'm late but after services I took like a 2 hour nap lolololol.

Also, I have another Rosh Hashanah fic! this was posted last year... can you believe ive been writing over a year?!?!?!

Love ya'll. Gotta admit I'm a little nervous bc posting Jewish content always makes the wierdos come out in my asks lol.

@fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @littlenosoul @missdictatorme @steven-grants-world @ahookedheroespureheart @runa-falls @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @@myfandomlikesandstories

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon boys x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #moon boys #fanfiction #jake lockley #moon knight fluff #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #marc spector #jewish marc spector

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whatthefishh · 1 year

Text

Merry, Happy

AN: self indulgent fic of the week #2. This is part one of three little blurbs of what I think a friendship with the moon boys would look like during Ramadan (and if reader has an inevitable, obvious, unmistakable crush on them). In no way am I trying to misrepresent the boys from their original presentation of Jewish, and if I have in any way please let me know. This is mainly just focused on reader’s time during this month, not to take away from anything the boys do on their own.

Tagging some people who might be interested but this is a no pressure tag ❤️ @looneytooz @marc-spectors-wife @copingchaos @romanarose @xbellaxcarolinax @in-between-the-cafes @melodygatesauthor @360iris @annautumnsoul @minigirl87 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kittyofalltrades @outlawsredemption

No warnings, just a very short fluff HC

Part I - Steven Grant x Muslim!reader ❤️

Steven and you have a little routine at work: you make meaningful eye contact across the gift shop floor, one of you raises your eyebrow and the other nods, signalling it was time to take your coffee break together

This usually consisted of him drinking one of his niche tea flavours that you’ve never heard of and you making your coffee with the machine in the break room

Then Ramadan came. Steven, of course, wished you, knowing about your religious views after having been work friends for so long

Not to mention the little crush he's been harbouring on you. And no, Steven doesn’t know you like him like that either because he thinks every time he catches you watching him it’s because he’s doing something wrong and you’re probably laughing at him

You came in to work that day with a sticky note on your locker with little drawings of the moon on it, and a hastily written note saying “Happy Ramadan” in his messy handwriting, and he made sure to tell you, too, when he saw you

His demeanour never failed to make you comfortable and happy around him. His soft nature easily coaxing smiles from you but this felt sweeter than any of those other times, your face heating up as you calmed your racing heart.

Nobody had ever gone out of their way to make you feel so seen in a workplace about your faith, and you were used to it. It was something you had come to accept a long time ago, but seeing your friend (whom you already had a hard time not fawning over) put in effort to make you feel celebrated made your heart melt. You had to hold back tears as you thanked him with a watery smile.

Steven unusually was missing during your coffee break that day, and the next, which was slightly disheartening after his sweet gestures but you told yourself he wasn’t your boyfriend and he didn’t have to report to you.

At first you assumed he just missed it because of Donna, or maybe he wasn’t in the next day, or maybe he got caught up overexplaining something to some curious kid who shoved garbage in the displays. Honestly, it could’ve very well been a lot of things. Regardless, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

On the fourth day he missed your joined breaks, you hunted him down and found him sitting outside on the steps, drinking a tea he’d purchased from the cafe (not his preferred brand or flavour) and munching on a scone that, from the look on his face, wasn’t very good

“Steven? What… what are you doing out here?”

He almost choked on said scone

“Um, hi- uh. Thought I shouldn’t eat in front of you, since y’know… since you can’t eat ‘n all.”

The fact that Steven didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by eating in front of you so he sat outside in the chill March air, all by himself, made you melt. If possible, your crush on this adorable, dishevelled man grew even larger.

You then proceeded to yell at him (affectionately) to come inside before he caught a cold as he looked up at you sheepishly, muttering “alright, alright” while he dusted off his bum from where he was sitting

You vowed to bring him a box full of treats for Eid, and maybe a little extra gift depending on what you could find in East London for him

#steven grant fluff #steven grant imagine #steven grant fanfiction #moonknight fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #moonknight fluff #moon knight fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moonknight headcanons #moonknight hc #Steven grant x Muslim!reader #Marc Spector x Muslim!reader

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Fanfic Recs List!

(not necessarily written in November, but that’s when I read ‘em! - a little shorter than normal, beacause I was unwell during most of Dec.)

🎀 - fluff ☔ - angst 🍑 - smut

🎀 thunder only happens when it’s raining (llewyn davis x reader) - @eyelessfaces

🍑A Change (Marc Spector x gn!reader) - @romanarose

🍑Seattle Series (Marc Spector X Jewish!OC) - @romanarose

🍑More Than Alright (Steven x Layla) - @howaboutcastiel

🍑The Eye of the Moon Series (Moon Boys System x Layla x Desi!OFC) - @nadja-antipaxos

🎀Secret Santa With Steven (Steven Grant x reader) - @grantspectortrash

🎀New Year (Steven x Layla) - @otherworldsys

🍑Crazy Bitch (Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader) - @romanarose

🍑Kyoko’s Secret Santa (Nathan Bateman x f!reader) - @kittyofalltrades

🍑The Consequences Of Being A Brat (Nathan Bateman x afab!reader) - @midgardian-witch

🍑 Come And Put Your Name On It (Poe Dameron x f!reader) - @welcometostayingawake

🎀Midnight (Poe Dameron x GN!Reader) - @campingwiththecharmings

They are all amazing!

#fanfic #fanfic recs #fanfic recommendations #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #moon knight #moon knight mcu #llewyn davis #nathan bateman #poe dameron

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oofouchoww · 2 years

Note

hello, i just wanted to ask if you were okay with answering questions about judaism, I’ve been doing lots of research to try and include it for the mk sys but there’s some that are too niche for google to answer haha. it’s totally chill if not!

yeah, im fine with answering questions regarding judaism, but i want it to be known that i'm not the same denomination as the system is in the comics which is orthodox. so while i can answer questions, i also suggest researching about orthodox judaism as another tool.

#marc spector x reader #jake lockley #moon knight #steven grant #jewish #moon knight imagine #marc spector #disney

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80pairsofcrocs · 1 year

Text

baby scarab || HOLIDAY SPECIAL

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : enjoy my late christmas/hanukkah special :))

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, mentions of violence, language, lil angst, v*nom, very rushed and hard to read, short but i worked hard on it :). let me know if i missed anything.

~~~

the eight days of hanukkah, and the one day of christmas.

~~~

your fathers had casually told you in conversation about their jewish heritage, but you didn't know much about it up until now.

so you asked them, 'what exactly is hanukkah?' because you didn't know the specifics.

right after you asked you though you did so rudely but they assured you that you were fine and began to explain.

so basically, there are eight days in hanukkah.

this year it started from december 18, to december 26.

on the first night, two of the candles on the menorah are lit, the reason being for the second to be a sort of 'helper' candle.

then every day after that, it's just a single candle. every night after the sun sets for about thirty minutes.

marc told you that he used to give and receive gifts such as jewelry and fried foods, which is where he got his necklace as a kid.

you liked his necklace. the simple chain he never took off did show that even before you both visited his dad, that he still cared enough to wear it.

because on the plane ride back from chicago, he briefly explained that he had gotten the chain when he was very young as a hanukkah gift from his father.

so now, that takes you to now, digging through a couple boxes you still hadn't unpacked from you moving in.

the christmas decorations.

you had only two boxes, a bit big and overflowing. you didn't have much but your love for decorating for the holidays is the reason you have any at all.

you had a tiny christmas tree you sat on your window ledge in your living room, so that you could stick gifts the couple people you knew gave you early there so that you could open them christmas morning.

the first person to ever give you a christmas gift was natalie.

you presumably ex boss.

she got you your own mug out of the cafes gift shop. in your favorite color too.

you nearly cried opening it since you'd never gotten one before.

back on topic, after your dads had explained hanukkah to you, and casually told you they didn't exactly celebrate it anymore, you were on a mission.

to the store. by yourself. it was going against marc's rules, since he didn't want you going out when it's so busy.

you know, because early christmas shoppers.

but that's not what you were looking for, you were looking for hanukkah decor.

you got white and blue christmas lights to hang off the wall in the living room, for aesthetic purposes.

and you got blue and white tinsel to put on the tree.

so now you were strolling down the aisles with your basket full of the two items, when you saw what you needed next.

and thank god it was only 15 dollars for a menorah and 5 extra for the nine candles.

plus you had to get special lighting sticks or whatever.

you grab the gold metal menorah, deciding it would suit your dads better than the silver one, and lay it carefully in the basket.

but right as you were about to walk off, you turned your head to see an unfamiliar face.

and he seemed to see you too.

he had short brown hair, and a very short beard. he also was wearing a grey hoodie and looked to be in a panic.

he was staring right at you, and seemed to be getting closer.

you internally panicked and froze.

"hey, hey, have you seen a uh.. i.. i lost something- someone and i was wondering if you've seen him" he asks quickly and you let out a breath.

okay, so he was just looking for someone, that's why he looked panicked.

you relaxed a bit. "what's he look like?" you ask, hoping to remember if you've seen whoever this guy is looking for.

"ummm- he's really big" he whispers and you make a face. "and he's loud- i'm sure if you'd seen him you'd know" he shakes his head and begins to walk backwards.

"i'm sorry, i don't think i've seen him, i hope you find him" you say while he looks around the rest of the store distractedly.

"yeah, yeah, thanks" he says before completely leaving.

you simply just keep shopping after that, hoping that strange man found whoever he was looking for.

you were on your way home now with everything you went for, and you were about to step into the elevator in your building when your senses started ringing in your head.

you turned around and saw nothing.

the elevator closed, and you looked down at your shoes to see this black.. blob?

you stepped away from it, hoping it was just like tar or something.

but then it started moving.

your breathing picked up and you backed away and up the wall so that your feet weren't touching the ground.

whatever the blob was seemed to not like that so it followed after you and up the wall as well, while you kicked at it.

"nO- get away!" you yell at it before it attaches itself to you leg and looks to almost deep into your clothes.

you feel a sort of stinging on your leg, and then nothing.

you drop your shopping bags and fall off the wall, rolling up your pant leg while ignoring the pain spiking in your lower back.

there was nothing on your leg, but in it- your whole body now it seems.

your veins were flooding with the black substance, until all of a sudden it stopped right as the elevator did.

it opened and an older lady looks down at you strangely.

"are you alright?" she asks, noticing you were on the floor in a state of panic.

you just nod, quickly getting up and getting out with your bags to get in your apartment.

and there was jake, waiting for you while writing something in a notebook at the kitchen counter.

"jake!" you exclaim, making him put the pen he was holding down to help you with the bags.

"jake- you- please believe me! there was this thing in the elevator and now it's like inside me or something-"

"woah, slow down, take a deep breath" he tells you, setting the bags down on the floor and holding your shoulders still.

"what happened?" steven asks once you calm down, jake still in control of the body.

"there was this.. black thing in the elevator" you start. "and it attached to me, and now it's in me?" you try to explain.

jake let's out a breath and let's go of your shoulders.

"okay.. one of you take over, i don't know what to do" he says and nothing happens.

"..guys?" he asks into the air, and you scoff.

"no, it's your turn to be the dad, so go comfort your daughter" steven scolds but marc speaks up.

"steven, this could be serious" he puts out his point of view.

"it is! it's probably an alien and now i'm going to die!" you shout, so jake shushes you and pulls you into a quick hug.

"you're not going to die, we'll make sure of it" he starts. "besides, whatever it was, you're stronger than it"

"i wouldn't think so" a new voice says so you make a face at jake.

"did you hear that?" you begin. "that voice?"

jake shakes his head. "you okay?" he asks and you shake your head.

"it's talking to me" you whisper, as if whatever was inside you couldn't hear you.

jake just purses his lips and nods. "how about you go lie down? take a- take a nice nap"

"wha- you think it delusional?" you ask while he guides you to the couch by your shoulders.

"nonono- just.. tired. maybe your senses are acting up, who knows" he pushes you down onto the couch and all but throws the blanket hanging off of it at you.

"papa-"

"mi vida-"

"do you know something i don't?"

jake doesn't say anything but khonshu appears perched on the back of the couch.

"he does" the bird starts and you turn to glare at jake. "you know the incident? back in 2018?"

jake sighs and nods, which makes both marc and steven start talking at the same time.

"hey you said no more secrets" marc complains.

"i forgot" jake shrugs. "it was 4 years ago" he waves marc off and you sharpen your glare.

"if it's who we think it is, then we have to get it out of you" jake continues, turning to you who's wide eyed.

"who? it's a person?!" you panic, and jake sighs.

"calm down, he won't hurt you" he says and your eye twitches.

"who, jake?!"

"just go to sleep and i handle it, i can talk to him" he sighs and you stand from your spot.

"no, jake. if there's something in me then i want to at least know what- or who- or- i don't fucking know-" you cut yourself off with a groan.

jake sighs. "then we need to find someone first. the reason he's in you is because you were the nearest person he could live in until he found his.. owner.. person" he tries his best to explain based on what he knows.

you stay silent, deciding to sit back down and put your head in your hands.

"you okay?" jake asks, sitting back down next to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"yeah, just- i don't know, i can never get a damn break" you sigh.

"i know, we're sorry" he sighs, before noticing your medicine bottle on the counter.

"have you taken your medicine today yet, baby?" marc asks for him.

you also see that it's on the counter and point your wrist at it. "no, i got it"

"wait don't!-" jake tries to put your hand down, but you had already shot the web.

well, when i say web i mean black gooey webs.

your eyes widen as far as they can go. "hoLY SHIT!" you exclaim.

"WHYS IT BLACK?" steven yells, earning a look from you

"steven you can't just ask why somethings black-" marc scolds but you shush them.

"no shut up!" you take a breath. "why- why's it moving..?"

the black goo that was attached to the counter starts moving faster back towards you, making up a ball until you feel a pressure on your shoulder, then look to see an alien like face made up of the ball.

"will you stop with the yelling?" is the first thing it says, while you're frozen in shock, staring at its white eyes and it's two dozen pointy teeth.

"you're one to talk, parasite" jake sneers, pointing at it.

"don't call me a parasite!" it yells.

"hypocrite" jake mumbles, and you take a shaky breath in before looking away from the alien like creature.

"hey, kid, you okay? he won't hurt you-" marc gets rudely interrupted.

"yes i will! but not on purpose!" it shouts again, and jake sighs.

"well where's your owner?" he asks and the alien scoffs.

"eddie brock is not my owner! he is my.. friend"

"yeah? and who are you?" you shoot your head to him, snapping out of your trance.

"i am venom, and you are mine...... temporarily" he quiets down and you simply nod once before turning to jake.

"get it- him off" you correct yourself.

"no! i must find eddie!" the alien now known as venom argues.

jake just sighs and tilts his head a bit. "he's right, if we don't find brock he won't leave" he tells you and you scoff.

"that's not fair, now he's gonna ruin hanukkah for you guys" you say before gasping, covering your mouth and venoms eyes widen and he disappears back into your shoulder.

marc ends up fronting out of surprise, and he looks at you with semi widened eyes.

"oh shit- i'm so so sorry" you start. "i just thought i could get like a menorah for you guys and learn to make like latkes and brisket for you guys but now i offended you all-"

"hey slow down" marc moves to sit closer to you. "..did you mean it?" he asks and you nod.

"it's insensitive. i should've asked you first, now it feels like i'm forcing it. you don't have to" you say quickly, taking a short breath after.

marc sighs and takes your hand in his.

"would you like to show us what you got?"

~~~

six days had already passed.

that meant it was the seventh day of hanukkah, which meant today was christmas eve.

and you still haven't wrapped your gifts for your dads, your mom, or casper and his family. minus his shit dad.

you'd even gotten khonshu one and a little something for pedro and luna.

so you were locked in your room, trying to make as little noise as possible while trying to neatly wrap the gifts.

you got steven a new book he'd been wanting for a while now, about egyptian mythology of course.

you hoped it would let him learn more so that if he got that job in the museum he'd be prepared.

you made jake a hat. yes, you'd looked up how to make a newsboy hat one day in december and decided that would be his present.

and yes, you measured his head in his sleep. you just hope he was actually asleep though and not just faking.

and yes, there was an embroidered cat on it. just a little one.

and for marc, you called his dad.

this could either make him happy or make him hate you forever.

one night, you'd gotten a call from a random number, and you decided to answer it. it ended up being elias, and he wasn't doing too well so you talked him through some anxiety and invited him over for christmas and hanukkah.

elias was thrilled to have been invited over by his granddaughter, and took the offer immediately.

so now you had to finish wrapping the presents and you were good to go.

meanwhile, your fathers were having the same problem.

they had each gotten you something, but were unsure if you'd like it.

but they put their doubts aside and wrapped them up, leaving them under the tree as you were still in your room.

now, they just had to wait for layla to arrive.

now, in your room you finishes wrapping presents and you sat staring out the window, watching snow whip around in the harsh london winds.

"what are the pills for?" black goo forms onto your shoulder, revealing venom, who had been bothering you non stop ever since he attached to you.

you sigh, and turn to look at him. "for my schizophrenia. it's a- it's a mental illness" you answer and he just blinks his beady eyes at you.

"like what those weirdos have?"

"no" you scoff. "my dads aren't sick, and they aren't weirdos. they just.. it's just how they turned out to be and it's not a bad thing" you try to reason and the alien like forgive just tilts his head at you.

"eddie is a weirdo" venom begins. "all he's good for is feeding me" he says and you raise an eyebrow, not believing him a bit.

"okay" you answer skeptically. "now shoo, i have to put these under the tree" you say, gathering the wrapped gifts in your arms while venom disappears while grumbling about life being unfair.

you open the door with your free hand but shooting a web at the handle and yanking on it, possibly breaking it and make your way to the living room, where the tree sat decorated with blue and white lights.

instead of a star on the top, there was a sparkling crescent moon.

your dads menorah was sat on a window sill, five candles in it, the sixth being put on tonight.

"who's lighting it tonight?" you ask, setting the presents down under the tree.

"i believe it's marc's turn" steven answers, clicking at the keypad on his computer.

"what are you doing?"

"hm?" he hums, looking up at you through his glasses that rested on the tip of his nose.

"i asked what you were doing" you reply, going to sit next to him on the couch.

you peek over to see that he was online shopping, to which you clicked your tongue at.

"you know it's bad luck to shop for yourself right before christmas?" you ask and he gives you a look, closing the computer and setting it on the empty space to the other side of him.

"why's that?" he asks in return, furrowing his eyebrows.

"because then if someone already got it for you, you'd feel bad" you shrug, scooting closer to him to lay your head on his shoulder.

steven sighs and puts an arm around you, like a side hug.

"i guess that makes sense" he mumbles. "i've just never had someone get me a gift before" he confesses and you lift your head up, looking into his eyes with a frown.

"really?" you ask and he nods.

"that's bullshit" you scoff.

steven just chuckles. "it's nothing to get mad over, love" he starts. "it's never bothered me"

"are you sure?"

"positive"

you just make a face and stand back up, heading to the kitchen.

"now what are you doing?" steven asks, and you promptly ignore him, setting his tea kettle on the stove and turning it on after putting water in it.

steven sighs, getting up to follow you into the kitchen.

"making tea" you mumble.

"what's wrong? was it something i said?" steven asks, standing next to you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

you sigh, looking away from the warming kettle and up to him. "no, i'm just thinking"

"that's dangerous, i can practically see your gears turning" he teases, and then starts in seriousness. "i know, being infected with an alien for the holidays isn't fun-"

"steven he's constantly watching, and talking to me" you interrupt.

steven sighs, turning you completely towards him by your shoulders.

"you'll get through it darling. i know it's hard, but i promise we'll find eddie brock and get rid of him-"

"get rid of?!" venom yells, making himself known on top of your shoulder, steven letting go to back up a step.

"i could kill this annoying mortal if i wanted to!" venom shouts, making you scoff.

"but you won't because we still need to find eddie, and jake is almost there" you tell him and he hums.

"well he better hurry up because your liver looks delicious right about now" threatens venom.

"hey! you are not going to eat my daughters liver!" marc fronts, yelling in venoms face.

venom just grunts and disappears back into your arm, making you sigh.

"i can't live like this anymore" you whine, and then jake seems to front, then smiles at you.

"mi vida, i think i know where he is"

~~~

jake had been driving with you in the passengers seat for almost an hour now.

he drank stevens tea that you made him out of a thermos, and every time he took a sip he made a face and complained that it wasn't coffee.

and now, you and jake were wandering in a park, trying not to slip on the icy sidewalks.

"are you sure he's here?" you ask, shivering and trying to hide your hands deeper in your pockets.

"he has to be, even venom could smell him, right?" jake asks in return, and venom comes out, nodding.

"yes! now find him faster, i need chocolate!" he yells in jakes face.

jake scoffs and stops, seeing a man sitting on a bench in the cold all by himself.

"EDDIE!" venom yells, and against your control, you end up almost sprinting over to the familiar man, almost tripping over your feet as venom leaves you body and attaches to the guy.

it was an extremely weird sensation. it was like the same feeling you get from throwing up but through your eyes and your brain.

yeah, 0/10. would not recommend.

jake rushed after you, holding you close to him, wary of the stranger.

"hey wait a minute, you're that kid from the store" the man starts. "i- my names eddie.." he trails off, looking to jake who now had a protective arm around your shoulder.

"..thanks for bringing venom back, i hope he wasn't too much trouble-"

"he threatened to eat my daughters liver and her kidneys if she didn't make herself sick eating chocolate for the last couple days" jake says without taking a breath.

eddie chuckles uncomfortably. and readjusts his jacket.

"i'm sorry about that, he's not usually that-"

"don't worry about it, you're lucky she isn't dead or you'd be too" jake threatens and guides you away back towards the car.

"well- thank you!" eddie yells after you both, so you turn around and wave.

"do you have to be such a dick to him?" you ask and jake sighs.

"yes"

~~~

you got back home after the sun set, which meant it was time for marc to light the sixth candle on the menorah.

you'd already been venom free for three hours so that was something, and even layla was home now.

you were stringing christmas lights all over khonshu when marc calls you over to the window sill, where the menorah sat.

you and layla were on one side, marc on the other, getting everything ready.

"thank you both for being here" marc says to you and layla, and you see her hand grab his, intertwining their fingers together.

you smiled at the sight as marc lit the candle, mumbling a few words to himself before letting out a slow breath and moving his free hand to where his necklace was lying under his shirt.

you could sense something, and before you know it there's a knock on the door, and your eyes widen.

"who could that be?" layla mumbles, and marc gets up, you following him to try and block the door.

"hey what are you-"

"marc-"

"what's going on?" layla asks, coming towards the both of you.

"y/n open the door" marc orders and you shake your head.

"please?" layla asks and you sigh, turning around towards the door, unlocking it and opening it.

"..dad?" marc breaths out.

elias stands awkwardly outside the apartment door, in shock to see marc not glaring at him.

"happy hanukkah, son"

and before anything else, marc moves past you to hug his father for the first time in what felt like forever.

~~~

"so that's why i'm here" elias finishes after explaining how and why he showed up at your apartment at night.

"thank you, kid" marc gives you a short kiss on the head from where he sat next to you on the couch.

"now it's getting late, so how about you-"

"nooooo but i'm not tired" you say and layla smiles, and gives you a sad look.

"i know little scarab, but tomorrow's christmas and we still have gifts to put out" layla says and you groan, getting up.

"i'll see you guys in the morning i guess- BUT WAIT-" you stop, gaining everyone's attention.

"where's elias gonna sleep?" you ask and marc shrugs.

"he can take my bed if he wants" he answers and layla nods.

"we have no problem taking the couch" layla adds on, but elias shakes his head.

"i'm alright with taking the couch, i'm only staying one night anyways" he replies and marc sighs in defeat, knowing he wouldn't win.

"..alright then, goodnight y/n" marc says, jake and steven saying the same but only you could hear.

"sweet dreams little scarab"

"'night kiddo" elias smiles to you, and you smile back before turning to go into your room.

you were so glad marc didn't freak when he saw his dad at the door.

now, you weren't expecting what you were going to see the next morning.

about a dozen wrapped presents sat under the tree, including the ones you made for your family.

you cried when you finished opening everything, as you felt you didn't deserve it.

it was the first christmas you had genuinely enjoyed because you were surrounded by family.

and because that family loves their gifts and made sure to give you the tightest hug imaginable.

you'd just have to give you gift to casper when you saw him next at school, and you were sure he'd at least like it if not love it.

but yes, you were finally surrounded by family for the holidays.

and you even celebrated hanukkah with your dads, who were grateful for you for bringing it up and going out of your way to make sure it was pleasurable for them.

because that's what family is for, and they are always home for the holidays.

it was crazy, yes, but it was with your family.

and it will be from here on out.

~~~

A/N : MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HANUKKAH GUYS!!!

i have never actually celebrated hanukkah so i hope i got everything right and didnt offend anyone, i did this for fun and to also who the moon boys heritage

love you guys :))

~~~

taglist ---

@alexloveskili @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @thebiggestsimpshrimp @guyinachair27 @astrobuzzsstuff @mooonlight-and-stars @moonlighting87 @mateihavenoidea @inactive-things @alondrashultz @femalemarvelself @queenthorin1 @haileymorelikestupid @jvdethirlwall @justtiredandvibing @winterfrostsarmy @themapoftinyperfectthings @littlebird101 @atzlena @httpslinow @arrowurboat @m-brekker @lifeandbandmembers-blog @adamcarlsenslvr @violet-19999 @seninjakitey @bestgirlpip @panic-in-the-multiverse @in-between-the-cafes @branolagar @bl6o6dy @annoyingmarvelreader @bee-a-cool-kid @buzzitsbeee @wintergirlsoilder2 @crow-carcass @you-bloody-shank @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @valiantphantomangel @50shadesofcrocs @rayrlupin @kingshitonly @brekkers-desigirl @hutaos-gh0st @kayane28 @nevaeh-jasso @lizlil @scarabgrant @luvxxee @certainchildmentality @yikesitskennawrites @alexisabirdie @zlatolait-writes @thursdaywritings @izzzzy-the-amazing @angrykitsune01

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mthofferings · 8 months

Photo

Tiptapricot

See Tiptapricot’s existing works here and here.

Preferred contact methods: Tumblr: Tiptapricot Email: [email protected] Instagram: tiptapricot_vibes

Preferred organizations: - Autistic Self Advocacy Network - Native American Rights Fund - RIP Medical Debt - The Bail Project - Transgender Law Center (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Sfw: Fluff, angst, horror, inhuman exploration, domesticity, falling in love, nonsexual intimacy, role swap, missing scenes, time loop/time travel AUs, sci fi, mixed canons from media, trans exploration, aspec exploration. Nsfw: explicit content with any of the above, transmasc porn, t-dick smut, frottage, grinding, monster sex, tentacles, aphrodisiacs, cock warming, weird sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, more if asked.

Will not create works that contain: Yandere, dark!AUs, intentional OOC, scat play, piss play, non-monster blood play, heavy BDSM, bestiality, underage sex (whether between minors or between an adult and a minor), incestuous content, childbirth, period sex, cannibalism (aspects of monster-related eating may be discussed), race play, age play, medical abuse, suicide/self harm (references and content may be discussed), heavy non-con/dub-con (aspects involved in kinks may be discussed), heavy gore/heavy sexual gore (can be discussed in certain contexts), explicit and visceral murder, religious alteration/other religion AUs for Jewish characters, plural erasure/separate body/no system AUs for plural characters, magical genderswap/other gender AUs (fantastical trans explorations may be discussed), Bemis's run, Pepose’s City of the Dead characterization (though plot elements from CotD are welcome to be utilized), OCs, reader inserts

-- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1125

Will create works for the following relationships: Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Layla El-Faouly/Steven Grant/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Logan/Charles Xavier - X-Men: Evolution Miguel O'Hara-centric - Spider-Verse (animated films) Miguel O'Hara/Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson - Spider-Verse (animated films) Jean-Paul Duchamp/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Layla El-Faouly/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Greer Grant Nelson/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Jean-Paul Duchamp & Layla El-Faouly & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley & Marc Spector - 616, MCU Astronaut Marc/Jean-Paul Duchamp - 616, MCU Yehya Badr & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley & Marc Spector & the Midnight Mission crew - 616, MCU

Work Description: (This is my SFW listing, if you are interested in explicit/sexual work, please look for my other auction.) This listing is for a generally safe for work fic piece starting at ~1,000 words. Each $5 bid will increase the piece’s word count by ~500 words, up to ~5,000 words maximum. If desired by the winner, the resulting word count may be split among multiple smaller fics. It may also inhabit a lower word count than the maximum if it is hit in bidding (IE: even if this auction hits a $55 bid, if you would like only a 2k word fic, I can do that). Word count is not exact and I may go slightly over or under depending on what fits the story best, but I will try to stick as close as I can. Due to current projects and plans, I will not be able to begin active prose work on this piece until early 2024 (likely early January, if not a bit later. I will communicate my availability with the winner). Discussions, planning, and an outline are welcome to be discussed and hammered out before then. This piece as well as my other listing will be taking the place of two regular commission slots for my January opening, and it is unlikely I will open more slots at that time. Winning a listing from me here is the best way to guarantee a slot from me in the near future. Clarifications for listed relationships: For any group platonic relationships or polyamorous romantic relationships, I am open to the whole group listed, as well as any combination of characters listed within that group (IE: I am open to writing polyamorous Marc/Steven/Jake, as well as only Marc/Jake or only Marc/Steven. This applies to platonic groups like the Midnight Mission Crew as well, as in I am open to writing stories only featuring Badr, Reese, and Soldier being friends, or only Steven and The House of Shadows). If a relationship you are interested in is not listed here but seems to fit with what I’m open to (IE: Greer & Frenchie, House of Shadows-centric, or even Miguel & The Moon Knight System), you are welcome to bid and reach out to discuss it with me. I may not be open to all pair ups or explorations, however, so please make sure you are at least interested in a story with what I already have listed currently. The "Astronaut Marc" listing refers to Captain Spector/Commander/MK-1 AKA the spaceman alter featured in the Lemire run, and his inner world version of Frenchie who fights alongside him. I am open to headcanoned characterizations/stories for these two, as well as larger AUs should the winner want to do something extra fun with them. Further content clarifications: I am open to melding aspects of different universes together in whatever way the winner would like (IE: MCU Moon Knight System interacting with Lemire Run events). Additionally, characters regularly a part of the chosen cast but not listed above are welcome (IE: Gena, Crawley, Lyla, Mayday), and additional side characters or Marvel cameos are welcome as long as I am given ample communication on versions and where to find information on them if I’m not familiar with them. While 616 is listed for all Moon Knight characters, I am not comfortable writing for runs I am not familiar with or am uncomfortable with (see DNWs above for some runs). I am most familiar with the Lemire 2016 run and the MacKay 2021 run versions of the characters. Headcanoned versions of additional Moon Knight system headmates are allowed to a certain extent (IE: Mr. Knight as a separate headmate or Dr. Harrow as a separate headmate would be fine, an original child alter would not). Examples of my work can be found in my portfolio links! What I have posted covers a range of content and word count, depending on the length and story type you are looking for. When contacting me after winning, please have a general idea of the story you would like to see. Further discussion on things like specific beats, headcanons, point of view, and tense may be discussed after.

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 2061

Will create works for the following relationships: Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Layla El-Faouly/Steven Grant/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Miguel O'Hara/Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson - Spider-Verse (animated films) Miguel O'Hara-centric - Spider-Verse (animated films) Khonshu-centric - 616, MCU Jean-Paul Duchamp/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Jean-Paul Duchamp/Steven Grant - 616 Layla El-Faouly/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Greer Grant Nelson/Marc Spector - 616, MCU Astronaut Marc/Jean-Paul Duchamp - 616, MCU The House of Shadows-centric - 616

Work Description: (This is my NSFW listing, if you are interested in non-sexual work, please look for my other auction.) This listing is for a sexually explicit fic piece starting at ~1,000 words. Each $2 bid will increase the piece’s word count by ~200 words, up to ~4,000 words maximum. If desired by the winner, the resulting word count may be split among multiple smaller fics. It may also inhabit a lower word count than the maximum if it is hit in bidding (IE: even if this auction hits a $40 bid, if you would like only a 2k word fic, I can do that). Word count is not exact and I may go slightly over or under depending on what fits the story best, but I will try to stick as close as I can. Due to current projects and plans, I will not be able to begin active prose work on this piece until early 2024 (likely early January, if not a bit later. I will communicate my availability with the winner). Discussions, planning, and an outline are welcome to be discussed and hammered out before then. This piece as well as my other listing will be taking the place of two regular commission slots for my January opening, and it is unlikely I will open more slots at that time. Winning a listing from me here is the best way to guarantee a slot from me in the near future. Clarifications for listed relationships/characters: For any polyamorous relationships, I am open to the whole group listed, as well as any combination of characters listed within that group (IE: I am open to writing polyamorous Marc/Steven/Jake/Jean-Paul, as well as any combination within such as Marc/Jake, Jean-Paul/Jake/Steven, etc.). If a relationship you are interested in is not listed here but seems to fit with what I’m open to (IE: Layla and Jean-Paul both being with the Moon Knight System at the same time, someone engaging sexually with the House of Shadows, Miguel x MK System) you are welcome to bid and reach out to discuss it with me. I may not be open to all pair ups or explorations, however, so please make sure you are at least interested in a story with what I already have listed. The "Astronaut Marc" listing refers to Captain Spector/Commander/MK-1 AKA the spaceman alter featured in the Lemire run, and his inner world version of Frenchie who fights alongside him. I am open to headcanoned characterizations/stories for these two, as well as larger AUs should the winner want to do something extra fun with them. Both the House of Shadows and Khonshu are listed as I greatly enjoy inanimate/nonhuman/godly sex, and if anyone out there would like some good old eldritch building or god fucking, I am very very open to that. I am very specific about how I pair Khonshu with other characters, however, so work with him would be less flexible on what I’m open for outside of a solo scenario. Although comics Steven/Jean-Paul is covered by my polyamorous relationship pair up rule, I am especially interested in the MacKay versions of Steven and Jean-Paul as a ship, and would love to create for them. Further content clarifications: I would like the focus of this story to be on sexual intimacy, porn, etc. as I’m interested in creating a short and smutty piece we can both be excited about and have fun with, so as long as it fits with my content boundaries, weird and wild ideas are welcome! Plot build up outside of the main sexual content will be kept to a minimum unless further discussed. I am open to melding aspects of different universes together in whatever way the winner would like (IE: MCU Moon Knight System interacting with Lemire Run events). Additionally, characters regularly a part of the chosen cast but not listed above are welcome to feature (IE: Gena, Crawley, Lyla, Mayday), and additional side characters or Marvel cameos are welcome but only in brief mentions or appearances. Trans headcanons are more than welcome for any character! And further headcanons such as kink preference, body features (bottom growth, top surgery/bottom surgery or not, etc.) may be discussed as well. While 616 is listed for all Moon Knight characters, I am not comfortable writing for runs I am not familiar with or am uncomfortable with (see DNWs above for some runs). I am most familiar with the Lemire 2016 run and the MacKay 2021 run versions of the characters. Headcanoned versions of additional Moon Knight system headmates are allowed to a certain extent (IE: Mr. Knight as a separate headmate or Dr. Harrow as a separate headmate would be fine, an original child alter would not). Examples of my explicit work can be found in my portfolio links! If you would like further examples of my explicit content, a few short original pieces may be found here and here. When contacting me after winning, please have a general idea of the story you would like to see. Further discussion on things like specific beats, headcanons, point of view, and tense may be discussed after.

Ratings: Explicit

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#Tiptapricot #auction: fic #mth 2023

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l3m0ncyan · 1 year

Text

New to Life | Holiday Special

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Teen! reader

Masterlist

Summary: After finding out that Hanukkah brings bad memories to Marc and Steven, Y/N decides to bring the holiday back to them; but this time give them a memory they wont forget.

Note: If I get anything wrong about jewish traditions, please let me know!

P.S this is gonna be based off my series, hence the name, but Ill add a kind of recap in case yall don't wanna read all 11 chapters lmao.

—————————————————

Y/N stood triumphantly on a chair, staring at her decorations, as she hung up the last of the colorful lights in her apartment. The door unexpectedly opened, catching her off guard and almost causing her to slip. The chair wobbled, and she attempted to grab the back of it, but was aided by a few hands.

“Woah! I got you!” Marc held her up before she could fall.

She slowly climbed from the chair, regaining her balance. Marc crossed his arms as she returned the chair to the dining table to inspect her work. Y/N stood to the side as if she were being scored by Gordon Ramsey.

“Wow, you really went all out” He breathed out.

Each wall in her apartment had a light hanging from it. Garland was also hung around the room, and there were a few Santa and deer statues on the tables. To top it all off, she had a fake Christmas tree in the corner with a few gifts she had purchased for herself.

"Yup, that's my mission during the holidays. Anyway, what brought you here?" She bundled the decorations' packaging and quickly moved it to the trash can.

Marc examines the details of a ceramic Santa but puts it back. "I was just wondering if you wanted some tea that Steven thought you'd like."

She shrugs and nods, “Sure, let me just get my jacket”

She grabbed her jacket from the couch and walked over to her door. She bowed and motioned for Marc to go first. He rolled his eyes but continued, followed by Y/N.

Being across-the-hall neighbors was convenient because she or he didn't have to take an elevator or walk more than three steps to each other's apartment. For context, Y/N moved in a few months ago.

—

She was only 18 years old when she moved from California to London to attend her dream college. On the first day, she met Steven, who helped her in unlocking her door, which was difficult to do. Working with him in the gift shop resulted in her being attacked by a jackal a week later, bringing her and Marc together.

The basic gist is that she later assisted Marc and Steven in stopping a man named Harrow from destroying the world. On the way, she ran into their ex-wife, Layla, who had to return to Egypt to continue her archeology business', with the help of a certain goddess.

Something that may have gone unnoticed was that Y/N also gained an unusual ability. It was discovered that she had a symbiotic relationship with a symbiote. They are now known as Mania.

Anyways back to the actual story.

—

Marc opened the door for Y/N and set his jacket on a nearby table. The apartment's bareness was the first thing Y/N noticed. It was completely dark, as it had always been, with no lights or signs of color.

She sat at the dining table after following Marc to the kitchen. Twirling her thumbs and looking around, she noticed Marc's body tensing up before returning to normal. He smiled warmly and walked over to the stove to get a kettle.

He returned to the table and poured Y/N's and his cup of tea. She smelled the mug and an aroma of vanilla and cranberry as he slid it over to her. She had never considered combining those two elements until now. It was a good mixture though.

"There you have it, let me know what you think. I believe it will put you in the holiday spirit," Steven said with a smile.

Taking a sip, her eyes widened a bit, and nodded in approval, “It’s sweet, you made it yourself?”

"I did buy a few herbs and combined them. There wasn't much work put in," he shrugged.

She nodded, “You still did a great job” she continued to sip tea.

Steven sat across from her, taking in the time they were spending together. With winter approaching, the heat from the mug guided them in restoring their fingertips' temperature.

She continued to look around the apartment, still wondering why it was so colorless. "Something on your mind?" Steven asked as he set his cup down.

"Isn't Hannukah in a couple of days?" she scratched her head.

Steven paused to think, "I believe it is, why?"

"It's because I've noticed you two haven't exactly decorated or even talked about it”

Steven paused and thought for a few seconds. He had a melancholy look when he did. It seemed like he was thinking about a thought or a memory. He cleared his throat and went back to being his almost happy self.

"I've always spent most seasons alone, so when Hanukkah would come around, I never bothered in celebrating it" he gave a side smile.

Y/N nodded, "What about this year? You're not alone this time; you have me and Marc"

"Yes that is true innit," He looked up, "But I don't want to change your winter traditions just for me. Plus Marc isn't quite fond of the holiday"

"Why?"

"Well..." he trails and turns to a nearby reflection.

“Just turn down the question, she doesn’t have to know”

Sighing, he shakes his head, "It is nothing to worry about. Anyways, how about we finish our tea and get some rest?”

Y/N smiles and nods, still she was left curious on why the two didnt celebrate. Yet, that was something for a later time.

After they finish their drinks, Steven took her cup and his to wash it. She offered to help but he said how it was just two dishes so it wasn’t a big deal. Once finished, Steven told Y/N to bundle herself for the night before she left since degrees would drop. She thanked him and then went off to her apartment.

——

Back at her apartment, she changed out of her casual clothes and sat on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She imagined various reasons on why Marc and Steven didn't want to celebrate Hanukkah. She was probably being pushy just thinking about it, but she didn't like people missing out on holidays.

Yes, they’ve only known each other for a few months, but that creates a bond. Doesn’t it? Especially when you die with them and come back to life.

She felt like the polar opposite of a Grinch or a Scrooge. She wanted them to take part in a celebration for the winter season. She just wanted them to be happy. Especially after everything that went down the last few months, they needed a nice change of pace. She sighed and hugged a pillow close to her side. She hoped she'd fall asleep soon before her thoughts consumed her.

“Why are you making a big deal of this”

Again, she hoped.

"Because it's depressing to think of them dealing with all that shit from Cairo and still not being able to do anything for the one time of year when people are happy," she continued, her eyes closed, feeling the cold bite her fingers.

“Then ignore them. Take pride that you can and they can not”

"That's what an asshole does, and we hate those kinds of people remember?"

“Right, then in invite them”

“They dont celebrate Christmas, they’re Jewish”

“How is that a problem?”

"Because they celebrate Hanukkah, dude you were literally right there when we were talking about it!" she became irritated.

“...What is the difference?”

“Good night!”

The symbiote stopped talking after she covered her head with the covers. Fortunately, the rest of the night was peaceful, and Y/N was able to sleep.

—

She asked Marc if he wanted to go shopping with her the next day. She described her plans for shopping for herself and her family back home. He agreed and followed her because he had no other plans. When he went out, he never looked for places to spend money; he just wanted to take a break.

Aside from that, he wanted to make make sure Y/N did not get into too much trouble. One time they went out, they were caught up in a hostage situation at a discount store. Of course, Mania and Y/N were there to stop it, but Marc and Steven had no idea it was them; they just thought it was some monster wreaking havoc in the city.

They still don't know about Y/N's and Mania's symbiotic relationship.

Y/N dragged Marc over to Westfield, a popular shopping mall in London, after hearing about it. Her gaze scanned the structure from bottom to top as she stood in front of it. It was more extravagant than the ones she had in California. The entrance wall was made of blue-tinted glass. However, it was linked to another building with large white bricks and a glass-covered portion sticking out. The words 'Westfield' were written in red slanted letters on the building's side.

She adjusted her tote bag, hoping it was just for show and that the stores weren't too expensive. As they enter, they notice that the building is two stories tall, with escalators leading to the top. Thankfully, she recognized many stores from home, such as Forever 21 and Hot Topic.

"Where to first?" Marc asked with his hands in his pockets.

She gestured to and walked over to a store that sold items for her younger family members. They looked around for nice but cheap gifts for her family, which was hard since it's been a while since she has seen them. Marc did his best to help her by showing her a range of items, but the majority of them were expensive. After battling through the crowds, Y/N purchased a few items and moved on to the next store.

The entire shopping experience had both of them wanting to pick fights or quit and leave. Marc was taken aback by the number of people trying to buy gifts for their families at this time of year though. Mostly because his own family never made a big deal about giving or receiving gifts around this season. So seeing all this movement was a bit new.

Because it was new to him, he occasionally let Steven take over. Oh, and Steven was having a great time as well. He never understood the hype of shopping or seeing things for sale; not just because of his lack of celebration but because he thought it was bizarre many would shove each other to get one item that was only a dollar less than its original price.

But here he was pushing people, apologizing when he did, in order to take a look at many things. A few would be for Y/N's family and some would catch his eye. When he did, he would reach in and take it back to Y/N to see if it was suitable. He would then ask her if there was anything they liked or found interesting and he would go on a search for something like it.

At the end of their shopping trip, each of them had at least two bags full of random items. As they made their way back to the bus stop, Y/N felt bad about having Marc lug all those bags but fortunately, they were able to go on the bus and rest.

——

They were still a few blocks away from the apartment building after exiting the bus. The chilly air however made them rush, so they would be home soon. Well honestly it was Y/N rushing him, she was new to the cold weather. Marc wasn't so much since he grew up in Chicago where it was cold normally compared to California.

"I don't think I've seen so many adults fighting dude. You saw those guys fighting for a controller?" Y/N almost breathed out the memory.

Marc gave a small laugh, "Those idiots didn't even get it at the end, some kid did"

"For real, also sorry about making you carry all that" She looked over at the large bags from various stores.

He shrugged, "Its alright, its better than seeing you trying to carry them all"

"Are you saying that for kind reasons or to make fun of reasons?"

"Both"

"Meanie, I bet Steven wouldn't laugh at my weakness. Right, Steven?" She waited for him to respond, but there was no response. She looked over at him, bewildered, but he wasn't there.

Turns out something caught his eye on a window display.

She walked back to him and noticed how his eyes were soft as he looked at the items. The only time he has looked at someone like that was when he talked to Layla. She followed his eyes and noticed a display with many Jewish decorations.

It had a blue cloth with gold lining on the table cover. A few dreidels and gold chocolate coins were strewn about. What drew their attention was the menorah that sat at the center of the table. It was made of gold and had nine candle holders. They contained candles with an ombre pattern of white to blue. Eight of them were identical, except for the one in the center, which had a Star of David on the stem. The main stem of the menorah that held the rest of the branches was inscribed with Jewish phrases. It was truly breathtaking.

"It's pretty..." she smiled.

Marc nodded, "...it is". His eyes were still glued on it, holding a sort of love for it.

"Whys is the center one different?" She looked over at him and he hesitated.

"It's a...shamash candle. It's to help light the other ones during Hanukkah" he pointed out.

She nodded, "You should buy it, Hannukah is close. Plus it'll add some color to your guys place"

Marc knew where this was going and he shook his head, beginning to walk away, "Next time"

Baffled, she looked at the menorah and back to Marc's walking figure, "Wait what?"

She ran up to him, gripping the bags to make sure they slip from her grasp, and looked for an answer in his eyes, "Why?"

"I don't have room or time for it, maybe next year" he continued looking straight ahead,

"You can make room, plus you don't even work for Khonshu anymore so you have enough time"

Marc ignored her and continued trying to make it home, giving many excuses like how he didn't have money but Y/N would then offer to buy it for him. It seemed like the conversation wasn't going anywhere so she walked in front of him and he skid to a stop.

"What is stopping you?" looking straight at his eyes and he seems annoyed.

"You can tell her, Marc. It'll be different this time"

"Why do you want me to?" his face wrinkled, trying to comprehend why this topic was still going.

"Because you're going to be all alone in your apartment and probably sad and lonely while everyone else is happy"

"Just tell her, Marc"

"I think I'll be fine," he moves around her to get through but she gets in front of him again.

"If it makes you feel better, I can celebrate with you! I can cook some stuff too and we can hang out at your place. Then you guys won't be alone-" Her smile turned as she was cut off.

"Why do you care so much?" He said rather harshly, "You're just a neighbor and a coworker for me and Steven"

Y/N inhaled deeply, feeling her body get a wave of a mental wound. It hurt, but it was true. She had no actual connection to the holiday or them, so why was she making such a big deal about it? It was his life, not hers, and he had the maturity to make that choice.

Marc's eyes widened when he saw her hurt expression. He didn't mean to say those words; it was a coping mechanism he used frequently. But now he was staring back at Y/N, who was looking at him with dejection in her eyes.

He immediately gave Steven control, forcing him to hide in the mind space. Steven looked down at her and smiled reassuringly, guiding her back on their way.

"He didn't mean it; as I said before, he is quite sensitive on the matter," he continued to hold the bags on the way back.

"...Am I being too pushy with you guys?" she looked down at her feet.

"No, it's rather very 'you' to be worried about small things like a holiday"

"It's not that small. Just tell me why?" She almost begged Steven. "I've told him stuff about my life back at the Field of Reeds when I needed to, and he listened. The least I can do is listen to his too, he doesn't have to hold it all in"

Steven thinned his lips and looked at the passing mirrors on her side. Marc's reflection returned a guilty look to Y/N. He knew she wouldn't mind him talking about his childhood, but he didn't want to add that weight to her shoulders. He also didn't want her to change the way she acted around him.

“…that will have to be a different topic for a different day. How about instead we focus on how your family will react with these gifts” he gestured the bags to her, trying to get a smile out of her.

Seeing what he was doing, she obliged, “uh yeah”

“Atta girl, now I think that with just a few bows and whatnot, and you’ll have amazing looking presents” he continued babble about her family and decorations.

All Y/N could do was listen, she was still a bit sad that they both didn’t trust her in sharing their past. It made her wonder if she was trying to force this closeness too far.

—

Before Y/N could tell Steven good night, she made sure that Marc also heard it from her.

“Hey Marc, you might be angry with me or something but good night dude” she waved at Steven.

He smiled and gave a small nod before going into his apartment. Closing the door, Y/N looked at her apartment and at all the Christmas decorations. Currently, she was still sensitive to what Marc told her. She knew he didn't mean it but it still hurt.

She sat on her couch and looked up at the ceiling, recalling how the two looked as they brought up their Jewish holiday. It was the same way she looked whenever she remembered the day her grandfather died or when her mother yelled at her cruelly. It was like their perspective of Hanukkah was one similar. Where something horrible happened that day, that has been engraved in their minds.

She felt almost like a cartoon character as she felt the lightbulb in her head go off. If they hadn’t celebrated, that means the last image they have is of something terrible. So why not try to replace that image with one more positive?

She took out her phone and began researching the holiday and a few traditions. What the menorah symbolized. How to play dreidels. Ways to cook Jewish foods. And the types of decorations that some families use. She looked up family vlogs of Jewish families to make Marc and Steven feel even more at ease.

Gathering all her information, she began planning the surprise for Steven and Marc.

The next day, Y/N spent it by buying ingredients and a few decorations that were in blue and white. Back at her apartment, she began practicing in cooking the meals and wouldn’t come out until she perfected them. At times Steven would call to check on her, seeing that she has been locked away in her flat. All she would say is that she was fine and that she was just getting a few things ready for the holidays.

However, the boys were concerned because she hadn't been seen all day. Marc, in particular, believed she was angry at them and refused to speak to them. Steven would reassure Marc that it wasn't the case, but Marc was already convinced.

"Mate, Y/N isn't mad at us. If she was, she would have cursed at us long before we ended the conversation," Steven joked, attempting to cheer Marc up.

"…Maybe," Marc would say before disappearing into his headspace, where he would continue to think of ways to apologize to her.

As the sun began to set, Y/N gave one last look before patting herself on the back. She had tried numerous times to improve the cooking and would continue to do so to see if they wouldn't kill Marc and Steven. She considered it a success because she was still breathing.

She was nervous about pulling this surprise because she didn't know how the boys would react. Will they be grateful? Or would they be furious with her?

They made it clear that they didn’t want to celebrate.

The only way to find out was to wait until tomorrow. The plan was to wait for them to leave their apartment, which they usually did in the evening to go for a walk. With them gone for at least an hour or two, she had enough time to set everything up.

“You sure it’s going to work? What if they decide to stay in?”

“Then… I’ll ask them to bring me some supplies or something, I don’t know” she shrugged and began to put the decoration away in a bag.

“This is gonna go to shit”

“Thanks for the optimism”she said sarcastically.

———

It was the next day, and Y/N had spent it preparing various Jewish foods. The whole apartment was filled with a mixed aroma of sweet and savory. She wrapped the trays in foil to keep them warm until the time came. She looked up decorating ideas and built inspiration as she waited for the time to come.

She waited for the man across the hall to open his door and leave, as he did every time. She peered through the peephole when she heard the door close and saw Marc walk towards the elevator. She waited a few moments to make sure he didn't return, which he didn't.

As he walked away, he appeared to be deep in thought; perhaps she had caused him to have flashbacks of those bad memories. Or, hopefully, he was thinking about enjoying the holiday and went to do some last-minute shopping. Not to worry, she had it covered.

"I think it's neither of those, especially the second one"

"Shush"

She began gathering the decorations and making her way to their apartment once she was certain. They got in by having Mania open the door from the inside by slipping under the space between the door and the floor. Y/N took in her surroundings and mentally mapped out everything.

“Okay, okay, this should be easy” she breathed out.

———

The sun had set after an hour, and Marc was on his way back to his apartment. Going out was routine, but he needed to this time. He wanted to get something Y/N as an apology. He didn’t know how, he couldn’t even apologize to Layla for what he did to her. Normally, giving flowers worked, but he knew Y/N wasn't into that sort of thing, and it would be strange to receive a bouquet from a man twice her age.

Instead, he got her a bag of things she liked as a peace offering with the help of Steven. It was filled with her favorite snacks and a few items from her favorite shows, such as a t-shirt and mug.

Marc walked to the elevator after opening the complex's entrance. As the elevator climbed the levels of the building, he breathed in and out to try to relax. He was nervous because he was afraid she would yell at him or refuse to open the door for him.

“Marc, she isn’t one to hold grudges, I think... I’m sure she is over it”

“You don’t know that. She hasn’t talked to us since we went to the mall. I shouldn’t have said that, maybe I should have told her or just taken the offer” Marc gripped the bag and stared at the floor.

He stepped out of the elevator and walked to Y/N’s door. He stood there for a second before knocking. Waiting for a sign, he knocked again but there was nothing. Swallowing heavily, he knew she was upset and didn't want to open the door. She was probably on her bed, her eyes puffy from crying herself to sleep, thinking about his comment.

He didn’t want to force her to open the door, so he turned to Steven and his place. As his hand moved to the doorknob, he heard shuffling inside and his senses went up. He remembers he locked the door, he could even ask Steven, he was there.

It went smoothly when he gave it a turn. He slowly opened the door, taken aback. He was tense and ready to fight anyone who charged at him, but no one did.

Instead, he noticed blue and white streamers dangling from the ceiling. He moved slowly through the apartment, ending up behind Gus' fish tank. He noticed Steven's desk, where he used to read, had been cleaned up, and there was a blue table cover. It had a white table runner with the Star of David symbol on both sides.

Paper dreidels hung from the ceiling, and white lights illuminated the area. There were a few dreidels and a lot of golden chocolate coins on the desk.

The menorah Marc saw in the window display, however, was in the center. The one with the nine candles and the engraving at the bottom.

The whole set was in front of the window that overlooked the street. Where pedestrians walked by and admired the display from afar.

He gazed in awe before turning around to face Y/N. She wore a navy blue long-sleeve turtleneck with black jeans. She was carrying what appeared to be latkes. She smiled nervously and gripped the tray, not wanting to drop them and create an embarrassing memory.

“Surprise!”

Marc just stood there, still staring at her which caused her to almost shrink. He was maybe getting ready to yell at her.

"Yeah, I didn't know how you would react and I knew if I told you, you might have gotten angry or something. But I didn't want to keep you from the holiday stuff, you know?" She waited for a reaction.

"If your angry with me, I get it, just say the word and I'll take everything down and we don't have to talk about this ever again," she gulped. "Even if you don't ever want to talk to me again, I'll understand. You don't have to explain. Just say the word, and I'll-"

“He’s not angry”

Y/N paused and heard the bag he was holding fall to the floor. Her eyes trailed from the floor to Marc's face. Her eyes widened at his expression.

He had tears streaming down his face.

Layla was the last person who actually cared about Marc. She always seemed to bring the sun to him before and after they married. She would do small acts of affection for him, such as buying him something that reminded her of him or holding his hand when he was anxious. When they were together, he felt so loved and important every day. Nonetheless, he pushed her away at the end.

He pushed her away, believing that his existence would bring her harm and chaos. He argued that it was for the best and it was all for her happiness. After disappearing, he thought that no one else would ever show him the same affection. He even accepted it and contemplated his future in loneliness. That is until Y/N appeared.

The young adult was struggling to make sense of her life in London, but she still made time for him and Steven. Even after they saved the world from Harrow, she stayed by their side.

During lunch breaks, she would bring out two Tupperware containers filled with food. When looked closer, it turned out that she would make what the two liked. Steven was, of course, vegan, and he loved tomatoes, so she would prepare a vegan dish for him. Marc was vague but liked savory things like mushrooms or buffalo sauce, so she would end up making something he liked.

He'd always tell her she didn't have to, that sharing with Steven was fine with him. With that statement, he expected her to simply nod and continue serving Steven his customized food, saving her energy. But, no offense to Steven, she would say it wasn't fair to have him eat something he didn't like. She'd then have him eat his food while she ate hers.

She probably didn't think much of her words, and she probably thought it was normal to say. Nonetheless, it made Marc feel important.

Now she had taken time away from her day to incorporate his holiday into his life, even after his comment from a couple of days ago.

She most likely did her research and double-checked everything. She included a variety of foods, including sufganiyot, which he could tell was made by hand. Even some of the decorations he saw were made by hand. Aside from that, he realized she is very attentive to his eyes. Y/N got him the menorah that she somehow knew he loved. The reason why he was memorized by the menorah is that it was the same one he used as a child when his younger brother would help him in lighting it.

His brother always gave him the type of sibling love that made Marc miss. Because of his brother's death, he assumed that he would never receive that same affection again.

But here he was, in front of someone who made him realize he was enough. That he didn't have to be perfect and that he was fine the way he was. Even with all his flaws and fears.

More tears continued to pour and he tightened his hands into fists., sniffles coming from him. This made Y/N panic, thinking that she might have set off some horrible memory for him.

She hurried to place the tray on the small table Steven had, quickly apologizing.

"Don't worry, I'll put everything back!" She looked around for a place to begin.

Marc smiled and shook his head, giving one last sniff before pulling her into a hug. She stood frozen, perplexed by what just happened. His hug was tight like he was pouring all his gratitude and love from the past months.

"Don't," He pulls away and looks her in the eyes "Kid, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You aren't just some neighbor or coworker, you're my best friend and I want you to know that"

This time Y/N was tearing up which was followed by a few tears falling, "Man, you really got me crying,". She wiped her tears and sniffled, "I'm glad we're officially best friends, dude"

Marc softly laughs, ruffling her hair. She lets it happen, and that's when her eyes fall to the bag that fell, "What's that?"

"Oh, uh, I thought you were angry with what I said the other day" He picks the bag up.

"So you were going to ask for forgiveness by bribing me with stuff?" she raised her eyebrow.

"No...sort of. I got you-" he was stopped by Y/N raising her hands up to stop him from talking.

"Don't tell me! You can use the wrapping paper I have over there" She indicates a roll of white and blue paper with dreidel designs. "That's all I have left from wrapping your guys' presents."

“Presents?” Y/N motions to the stack next to Steven's desk. Marc follows her finger and discovers roughly 16 presents wrapped in the same paper as before. He approaches them and notices a few with his and Steven's names on them.

"Yeah, I saw that some families are trying to make gifts a tradition, so I figured why not make this," she said, motioning to the decorations. "A new tradition, if that's okay with you."

Marc smiles and nods, “Yeah that sounds great, I’d like that”

They spent the rest of the night spinning dreidels. Of course, Marc had to teach Y/N how to play first, explaining what each symbol meant. If the dreidel landed on the nun, she would get no gelt or chocolate coins. She'd get all of the gelt if it landed on the gimel. Hay means she gets half, whereas shin means she only gets one gelt.

For some reason, once she got the hang of it, she was getting more gelt than Marc. Each time she landed on a good symbol, she would hold a grin on her face. He asked her if she was using gum or something to make the dreidel land on hay or gimel, but she denied it.

"Hahahah! We are winning!"

That's when Steven entered the picture, and they were now almost tied. Marc was just baffled at how they were good at a simple game, it made him question his luck.

"No! Don't let him win!"

Finally, they decided to call it even and split the candy equally.

"We should just quit because if we continue, I know imma get all the gelt. I don't want to hurt your manly ego," she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Of course, I would have won the pot and you would have knocked everything off the table," Steven said as he sat cross-legged on the floor.

Marc and Steven tried the dishes made by Y/N after they finished playing. Her leg shook with excitement as she waited for them both to try the latkes and sufganiyot. Steven loved it, saying how she nailed it at getting the flavor. Marc, on the other hand, would mess with her and pretend to vomit.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed.

"Sorry, sorry, it's good…for the most part," he said quietly, prompting Y/N to kick him on the shin.

With all that done, they both moved to the menorah, ready to light the first candle. Y/N let Marc take the wheel since he knew the prayers more. He still hesitated but when he glanced at Y/N, he knew everything was alright. He started it off and soon Y/N joined in too, surprisingly pronouncing the words correctly.

Once done, with the shamash candle lit, Marc lit the first candle to the right. Marc placed the shamash candle in the center after it was lit and continued to recite the hanerot halalu.

When they finished, the two stared at the menorah as the small fire melted the wax. After about 30 minutes, they turned off the candles. Y/N remembered the gifts by he table and quickly grabbed two of them to give to Marc.

He blinked and carefully took the gift-wrapped box, as if it was so fragile it would break if he breathed on it.

Y/N bounced her feet and waited for him to open his present. He took off the lid of the box and paused to look at the inside. What he pulled out was a brown jacket with metal buttons down the middle.

"I remembered how your favorite jacket back at Mogart's got ripped up and how you were so devastated," she teased, "So I saw it back at the mall and I thought you'd like it"

"What the hell..." he said as he started putting it on to see how well it fit, and it was just like his old one, "It's just like my old one, but better! Look! It's even got more pockets! Thank you, I love it" he said as he hugged Y/N.

Steven then switched in and he looked at her, “I might sound like a child, but me next” he clasped his hands together.

She smiled and handed him his, and he didn't wait long before he began ripping it open. He was right, he was acting like a kid. What he pulled out was a deep brown leather messenger bag.

“Again, your bag was kinda destroyed by that jackal back when and you needed a new one. Plus you make it work” she gestured to the present.

"I love it!" he said, extending the bag away from his face with an open grin. "Oh, this leather will definitely keep water at bay. Thank you very much, Y/N."

She smiled proudly as Steven also went in to give her a hug.

Marc and Steven then wrapped one of her gifts and presented it to her. She pulled out a t-shirt from her current favorite show. She squealed and put it on right away to see if it fit.

“This is fucking cool!” She stretched the hem out to see the front image clearly.

“I’m glad you did, I helped Marc look around at that Hot Topic, you should have seen him. He was confused out of his mind” Steven laughed and so did Y/N.

“No I wasn’t, everything was just dark and gloomy”

For the whole week, Y/N would come to their apartment when the sun began to set. They would go and play a few rounds with the dreidel, eat a few latkes, and maybe have a conversation about the upcoming year. They would then follow the same routine of praying and lighting the candles. After Y/N would ask about what songs Marc would play and they would listen to a few while singing.

Later into the night, they would open the next present of the day. A leather watch for Marc and a gold bracelet for Steven were among the gifts they received.

On the last day, just when Marc was going to light the candle, he paused to think. That's when he turned to Y/N and handed her the shamash candle.

“Wait, you want me to light the candle? You sure? What if I burn the place down?”

He shook his head, “I doubt it, I believe in you”

Those words gave Y/N motivation and a sense of gratification.

Y/N took a deep breath and began slowly lighting all of the candles on the menorah, placing the shamash back in its place. She took a step back and gazed at the dancing flames that illuminated the small area of the flat.

They sat down to eat at the dining table after saying their prayers. Y/N ate her latke while talking. The conversation was about how she was excited about the new schedule for her next quarter of college, saying how there would be classes she actually liked.

Marc remained silent and listened as she continued to speak. He hadn't shared a holiday moment with anyone in years, let alone celebrated it.

When he thought of Hanukkah, the first thing that came to mind wasn't his mother yelling at him. The sense of loss and regret.

This time, it would be where Y/N rambled about her interest as she ate Jewish foods on Steven's wooden dining table. Where the feeling of comfort and love came.

They were just two people, with different lives, different backgrounds, and in different places in time.

Yet here they were sitting at some old apartment sharing a memory.

———————

Tbh, I had to make up some problem in order to lead to the lowkey angst at the middle. It probably doesn’t make sense, so I’m sorry.

Also let me know if I got anything wrong about Hanukkah. PLZZ

Anyways I hope yall are enjoying your winter break :)

Happy Holidays!!

PS: if you're coming from my series, the next chapter will be taking place after this holiday special. Meaning, see yall in January....? Idk, depends if I just want to write already.

Taglist: @itsjusspele @dustyinkpages @scoliobean @moonywritings

#marc spector x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector #moon knight #platonic #steven grant #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #holiday #moon knight x teen!reader #hanukkah fic

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