#moon dads

[ivystoryweaver]

He's Okay

"My dad never defended me. Not once."

Summary: No one ever defended Marc. He doesn't want the same happen to his only son. Word Count: 1.3k

Content: overprotective!Marc, angst, discussions of Marc's past/abuse, mild violence, Marc trying his best, mention of food, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

From the time your son first scooted across the hardwood floor, Marc has existed on high alert during the day and stood constant vigil each night.

Eyes and ears ever aware of the video baby monitor, he would drop anything at a moment's notice if your child uttered so much as a restless sigh or grumpy gurgle.

The first time your baby fussed all night had Marc pacing the floor, one hand tearing through his curls while the other scrolled one baby website after another, attempting to decipher the cause. This came after an hour of holding and rocking the baby himself.

"I think it's just gas - he's okay," you attempted to soothe both your boys, taking your turn walking your little man.

It was. It passed, like every crisis before it.

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

When your son began to really crawl, Marc baby-proofed your home three times over. In fact, you had trouble opening the kitchen cabinets now.

The first time your toddler tripped and smacked his chin on the hard floor, Marc was ready to roll up to the emergency room.

"He's okay, just a bump," you tried to convince him.

Marc didn't put his little boy down for the rest of the night, rocking him, icing his chin, giving him snacks, playing "Pat-a-cake" and generally spoiling him rotten. He gave your sweet angel a bath and put him to bed with all his favorite stuffies and his blankie.

"Daddy loves you so much," he soothingly whispered. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Watching discreetly from the doorway, your heart melted.

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

When your kiddo started school, you both walked him the few blocks over, each of you holding one hand as his backpack (which practically swallowed his little body whole) flopped rhythmically on the back of his legs.

"Now, remember - you only have to stay until 1:30 - one-three-zero," Marc reminded him, tapping on his digital Spider-Man watch. "Then we'll walk you back and?"

"Go get ice cream sundaes!" Your five-year-old cheered.

Kneeling down, Marc took his son by the shoulders. "You don't have to be afraid. You're gonna be awesome."

"I'm not afraid, Daddy," he proudly beamed, blinking innocently while cocking his head curiously. "Are you afraid?"

Swallowing thickly, Marc locked eyes with you briefly. "I'm proud of you is what I am."

You thought Marc might climb the walls, waiting on your kiddo to get out of that first day of school. Yes, you both took the day off just to be available for this momentous occasion.

"He's okay," you promised, wrapping your arms around him. "He's been waiting for this day to come - you know he has."

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

When your son was twelve, he came home with a black eye and a split lip, attempting to duck into his room before his dad could see...

Ever vigilant, Marc's entire body went rigid before a shuddering tremble urged him forward.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice stern - eyes flashing with anger.

Seeing his son shrink away stopped him cold.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry," He stammered, kneeling down in front of him. "What happened to you? Who hurt you?"

Your son had gotten into a fight with another kid during lunch. So there was no one for Marc to unload his rage on.

That night, after your boy fell asleep, you saw Marc sink down on the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Carefully kneeling in front of him, you reached for his hands, caressing his fingers with your own before tenderly kissing each knuckle. Standing up on your knees, you wedged yourself between his thighs, but he turned his head away.

Marc wasn't going to hear you right now. So you gave him a little space, fixed him a drink and took a long shower before checking in again. You found him staring out the bedroom window, gazing up at the moon.

Easing behind him, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his back. He covered your hands with his own, releasing a heavy sigh.

"When I saw his black eye..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I know," you softly returned.

Drawing a trembling breath, he pushed his fingers through yours, resting there on his soft abdomen.

"I had so many..." Unable to finish his thought for several long moments, he simply soaked in your love and your touch, steadily drawing breaths in and out to remain calm. "Most of mine were...hidden, under my clothes, but..."

Chomping on your bottom lip, you held back the tears pricking your eyes.

"My dad never defended me. Not once," he whispered. "Not one time."

"Oh baby," you gasped, easing around to hug him for real.

Marc accepted your love - your healing, steady tenderness, folding you close.

"He could have, you know. But he didn't." His voice had faded to a broken whisper.

You understood the entire basis of Marc's parenting philosophy.

"I shouldn't have let him..." he carefully admitted, wincing as he waited on your response, but he couldn't help himself: angry red and brutal blue were colors too familiar. "I can't let him get hurt."

You didn't judge him. He should have known.

"That makes you a damn good father," you said with conviction, turning your gaze up to his.

“When I had Khonshu’s armor, it healed my body, so you can’t see…not anymore.” Sniffing, he shook his head sadly. “Do you think those little cuts on his face will scar?”

“They’re scrapes, they’ll be fine,” you assured him. “The doctor even said so.”

Marc was beginning to realize he couldn’t protect his only son from everything.

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

During your son's teenage years, Marc’s (over)protectiveness put some distance between the two of them. Your son was the last kid his age allowed to go online, or go on a date, or get a driver’s license.

But every time he would get angry, Marc would try to extend an olive branch. He would take all his friends to the movies, or simply order a pizza and watch baseball together.

And one day it dawned on him that not one adult ever asked him what he wanted. Or needed. So he asked.

“I just want to feel like you trust me,” your son admitted.

Marc took him to get his license the next week.

Then came the car accident. Because, of course Marc’s only child would be involved in an accident. Marc was expecting it - practically waiting for it.

Thankfully everyone was okay, but the car was totaled.

When you and Marc saw your boy at the scene, you fully expected fireworks, but he charged toward his son, arms open.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about your car, please don’t be mad.”

And then you witnessed the exact moment Marc far surpassed his own father (as if he hadn't spent you son's whole life doing so).

Taking the boy's face in his hands, he gently smiled. Marc Spector actually smiled in the middle of a life-threatening situation.

“It’s only a car. There are millions of cars.” He touched his forehead to your son's. “There’s only one you. And you’re okay. You’re okay.”

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

Sometimes there were failures or broken hearts. Things Marc couldn't punch or fix or threaten. In fact, a life free from Khonshu's service left him with no one who really needed defending.

Years later, your son dropped by for a visit. The three of you decided to take a walk through the old neighborhood, to his favorite ice cream shop from when he was little. Nostalgia mingled with sugar for a bittersweet concoction that opened your hearts for sharing.

As you ambled back toward home, Marc noticed his son walking beside you protectively, closer to the street. He had opened the door for you, he took your hand as you crossed a puddle and even shielded your body briefly as a stupid teenager breezed by too fast on a motorbike.

It was like looking at a younger version of himself, but he was…softer somehow. Stable. He was a man now. And he was okay.

☾ ⋆*･⋆*☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･☾ ⋆*･:⋆*･

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[soulreader05]

Sheba (Moon Knight’s Daughter): Are we in trouble?

Marc Spector: Take a guess.

Hiba(Moonknight’s Daughter): . . .No?

Steven Grant: Take another guess.

[heladodecerezq]

Last Seen

Dark-ish PLATONIC Moon Knight System (Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Marc Spector) x Reader

Minors, do not interact

Author’s Note: I'm so sorry for the delayyyyy I've had so many bad things happen all at once but I'm really trying I swear :,)

Description: While at the park with your mother, you find yourself whisked into newfound troubles. If only you had learned stranger danger sooner.

Type: New

Word Count: 1,266

Warnings: kidnapping, slight tension if you really stare

By clicking or tapping on “Keep Reading”, you consent to viewing/consuming this media. Minors do not interact. The cultivation of one’s internet experience is up to the individual, and any other personal preferences do not dictate the creations of others nor myself. The recreation, reformatting, re-posting or distribution of this content on other platforms is not welcome and I ask that any and all parties would keep from doing so, thank you.

Your little arms wouldn’t stop flailing as Steven carried you up and out of  the city park.  It had been relatively easy to haul you off of your feet and tuck you under his right arm; both feats could be contributed to your absolute lack of self preservation coupled with a youthful knack for trusting anyone exuding even an ounce of overly sweet kindness. 

But Steven Grant’s initial, sugary voice had faded fast, and you could tell as much while he insisted on keeping a brisk pace down the riverside bridge. Of course you were a child, and bound to be curious, bubbling with questions and finding it a monumental task to keep still for more than fifteen seconds. And Steven should have been grateful that you hadn’t started screaming the moment he whisked you out from under the distracted gaze of your mother, but his nerves were already high strung and you were proving to irritate those nerves even further. 

“Put me down! I can walk on my own! Where’s my mama?”

Those light-up sneakers your mother must have fitted you with that morning flashed hues of blue and green each time you kicked out your legs. The soft blows to his thighs and side continued to add pressure to his near fractured patience.

 Sensing Steven was only a minute away from fumbling the budding relationship, Jake took it upon himself to relieve him. You were a child, and children, while far from simple, could always be defined by their impressionable quality.

“You wanna know where your mama is?” Jake asked, now holding you with both of his hands out in front of him. 

Your head bobbed up and down as you took in his new change in candor and his very peculiar habit of biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Well, your mama is going on a real long vacation and she asked us to watch you while she’s out.”

“But mama didn’t say anything about a v–”

Jake clicked his tongue and tucked you back under his arm, continuing the journey to the train station at a near-lackadaisical pace. “She didn’t mention anything because your mama forgot to. And isn’t your mama very forgetful?”

Perhaps she was. On many occasions, your mother forgot to drop you off at school, left your packed lunch on the table, and even more frequently she managed to forget to arrange proper care for you on days when there were no classes to keep you occupied. So, it wasn’t entirely out of the question for your mother to forget something as out of the blue as a vacation. 

Jake could feel you let out a quick breath before your eyes flitted up to stare at him. 

“But where are we going?” You asked, trying to readjust his grip on your body.

Seeing as you had stopped thrashing in his arms so haphazardly, Jake took the risk of letting you walk on your own two feet, though, with his hand firmly grasping your own. 

You could feel how the little bones in your hand all compressed together in the man’s grip, and you wondered if he had ever held another person’s hand in his life. Perhaps he had, but you doubted anyone genuinely enjoyed it. 

“What’s your name?” 

His head swiveled and craned downwards as he seemed to take a little too long to answer such a simple question, even dragging out the first word for a beat. 

“My name is Jake…”

“Oh. Is it short for Jacob? Where are we going? Why do you keep looking around?”

“Stop that.”

Both ends of your mouth twisted with a sharp distaste at his curt insistence.  “Stop what?”

“Asking questions, talking in that voice, just stop.”

Jake had yet to raise his own voice with you, but he might as well have with the way you closed your mouth and kept your gaze fixed to the tops of your shoes. He could even feel the way your little hand curled up within his own hand, as if you were trying to avoid touching him as much as you could help it. 

It was a tone you were well acquainted with. Whether it be your mother or the other children at school who found your personality too ill fitting for their liking, the tilt from tolerance to annoyance was all too familiar and you were cognizant enough to keep your mouth firmly shut as soon as you could recognize such a change in tone. Part of you wanted to pull away from him entirely. At least with your schoolmates and your own mother, you could predict what their reactions would be when you inevitably got on their nerves. But with Jake, or whoever this was, you couldn’t quite use your intuition to predict anything at all.

As the two of you neared a more densely populated section of the city, you could feel him lightly tug on your hand. 

“Keep your head down, kid.” He ordered, ensuring the CCTV cameras located around the East Station wouldn’t pick up your facial features. 

Though…his voice sounded much more assured and without the rushed cadence you had grown used to in the brief time you had been together. His brow furrowed more, his grip on your hand became more lax, and that tension that had been coiling within you seemed to ease.

“Why do you do that?”

You ventured to ask, hoping that he wouldn’t find your questions to be a pain. And to your relief, he seemed much more forthcoming with his swift answer and without you even needing to elaborate. 

“Well…there’s three of us in here as you might have seen. I know you probably have a million questions, but I’ll make it simple for now, and maybe when we’re ready, we can tell you more. But I’m Marc. You’ve already met Jake and I know Steven is itching to say hi again.”

Eyes fixed to the concrete, you were very carefully taking in each word from Marc. 

“Jake is a little mean…”

“Mean? Well he was just nervous…” He explains half-heartedly before continuing. “But there’s three of us, and I don’t really know how to explain this…properly. But what’s important now is that we’re going to take care of you.”

With your mind working a mile a minute, your own gaze was somewhat glazed over and distant. His words make a bit of sense in the moment, but perhaps more importantly, he felt safe.

“Did you hear me?” Marc asked, jostling your little hand a bit. “I was calling your name a few times, kid.”

Coming out of your thoughtful stupor, you looked up. “Huh?”

An exasperated sigh trilled out of Marc’s throat and he scooped you up into his arms as he hastened his own pace. 

“I don’t trust that look on your face. Something tells me you like to wander….” He grumbled, his expression going rigid for a moment as his arms shifted around to hold you more firmly without causing discomfort. 

An exasperated, hurried father carrying along his child so they don’t miss the commuter train to the other side of the district. That was what any potential eyewitness would have seen when asked about any potential sightings. 

Completely ordinary, a snippet of authentic domestic life. Just a father and his child who appeared a little bleary eyed but in chipper spirits. 

A child that could in no way, reasonably be the little one that had been plucked from a public park under the drifting watch of their mother, and whisked away into a carefully structured sense of obscurity. 

[atlasscrumpit]

Platonic Yandere Marc Spector

(Marc finally gets you back in his life and he promises to never let you go again)

He softly ran his finger over the skin on your arm.

He admired you like you were a brand new doll. You were so pure and innocent, seeing the world through your eyes made him so happy.

Now, he finally had you back.

It wasn't his fault that he had to hurt so many people in the process, they knew he would be coming back to get what's his.

You were so precious and fragile, no one understood that but him.

Everyone treated you like you were an adult, but you were only 17! You were a child and no one had ever cared for you, he was the only one in the world that could care for you properly.

He watched as your face began to wake up, he knew you would be confused and afraid but you would understand soon.

"Easy, baby. Daddy's right here." He whispered as you opened your eyes and looked up at him.

"Marc? You whispered as he smiled softly.

"Hi, darling girl. I've missed you so much." He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You shouldn't be here, Marc. You know you're not allowed around me." You muttered tiredly as he ran his finger over your cheek.

"You don't need to worry about that okay, baby? I know your mother didn't want me to ever see you again but I'm your father, darling. I should be allowed to see you. And I know she doesn't treat you well, the court said she was the best person to care for you but she isn't, is she? Look at you baby. You're so skinny and pale daddy would make sure you're healthy and eat properly." He said as you stared at him.

You knew your father could be pretty possessive and because of his mental illness the court decided he wasn't good enough to care for you.

"I missed you." You whispered making him smile.

"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you too, so so much." He replied pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Do Steven and Jake miss me as well?" You asked making him chuckle softly.

"Of course they do, babygirl. We all love you so so much. Was your Mom treating you right, baby?" He asked, you looked at him and hesitated for a moment.

You didn't want him to get angry.

"She's just really busy with work that's all and when I have to talk to her on top of it or I need something it stresses her out. But, she works really hard and makes sure I have a roof over my head and food." You replied making Marc sigh.

"Babygirl, she should be caring for you so much better. You're so precious to this world and she treats you like you're just a roommate to help pay rent and clean." He said as you felt tears in your eyes.

You really had missed him, and he was right, your mother never really treated you like her daughter.

"I missed you, dad." You whispered as you began to cry.

Marc helped you sit up and he wrapped you up in a hug.

"Oh, baby. Come here, that's my good girl. You can stay with me, okay? Daddy will sort everything out, all you need to do is be good for me and relax and take some time off life." He said as you sniffled and nodded.

"What about school?" You asked as Marc held onto your tighter.

He hated the concept of school and never wanted you in one, he knew someone like you couldn't thrive in a place like that.

"You won't be going back, love. I know you've got friends there but that place isn't good for my angel it's too stressful." He said, to his surprise you nodded.

"Good, I don't want to go back. I don't have many friends and it's really difficult to go everyday." You cried out as Marc rocked you back and forth softly.

"Oh, my sweet girl. You don't need to cry, daddy won't ever let you go back there. You'll stay here, daddy will give you everything you need. Does that sound good, baby?" Marc asked as you nodded and nuzzled into him.

"It sounds perfect."

[wysteria-clad]

a/n:

Ya'll know that reader has two kids with moon boys in my headcanons. This is another goofy one based on that.

loosely based on a funny reel i saw on ig

for context, Theo is 7, Matthew is 5 here, and they can see Khonshu

-------

Y/n: Theo, do you love daddy or mommy?

Theo: Both!

Y/n: Okay, if there were zombies attacking everyone, who would you save?

Theo: You!

Steven: He didn't even hesitate.

Marc: ......

Jake: I'd chose my princesa too

-------

Marc: I'll ask him. Matthew, do you love daddy or mommy?

Matthew: Mommy!

Y/n: *chuckling* Would you trade daddy for Superman?

Matthew: Yeah

Y/n: *laughs*

Jake: I'm gonna fight that Superman

Steven: I mean, Superman is pretty cool

Matthew: Daddy, superman can fly!

Marc: Yeah? I can fly too. Does superman have an Egyptian God on call?

Khonshu: You work for me. I am not on your call!

Matthew: Khonshu is so cool! *hugs his legs*

Khonshu: *freezes* *stands still for few seconds before awkwardly patting Matthew* I..I must leave now.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know I loved "Small Surprises." I'm a single mom (boy mom tho) and its nice to read stuff with single mom's as the reader. Its very rare especially in a fandom such as this one. Its actually pretty accurate (to my experience with parenthood) and I loved Victoria she is precious. My favorite part was how they met Jake. That was so cute! I laughed very hard at the end with Khonshu! Excellent job!

Honestly the love that Small Surprises has gotten has absolutely floored me. I adore reading the comments and tags on what people thought of it! It makes my day when I get a blip and see what new things someone has to say about it 🥺

I had so much fun writing it and the dynamics they all began to work out with one another.

Especially Jake! I loved how Jake was with Diatrice in the comics and I just had to make sure Girl Dad Jake was there. He's the protector, the big brother, the guardian... And so much more! I love making sure to write that part of Jake in, as many people saw him in the show and just assumed he was some cold, calculating hitman on Khonshu's behalf. I wanted to show he is so, so much more than what little we saw of him.

Steven having a tiny friend to hyperfixate and stim with will be so good for him, and Victoria having someone who completely understands her will certainly help her come out of her shell with other people more, knowing that just because she's different, doesn't mean she's alone. Yes, Mama knows (and tries to understand) about her baby's tics and mannerisms, but she doesn't know about them, y'know? Steven sure does and he's more than happy to engage with her!

And of course there was Marc having all the reality fall down on him on what he/they started to mean to that sweet little girl when she called him Daddy. I imagine with everything he's been through, Marc is terrified of it all. He's worried that some part of his childhood could resurface in some way. That line of thinking will be addressed in the second fic, for sure!

And ah, of course! Khonshu. I had to squeeze him in there somehow. But don't worry! He won't be as bad as some people may be anticipating (like he is with the boys...)

[yurayuramiharin]

TDPtober 2022 Day 5: Reflection

"Each time Runaan leaves, it is with the weight of knowing that he may not come back" - Ethari in "Bloodmoon Huntress"

Sorry for the angsty take on this prompt...

[ivystoryweaver]

What a Mother Can Be

Pairing: Moon Dads! Steven Grant x mother!reader, Marc Spector x mother!reader. (Jake is mentioned). The story does not state that this reader has given birth to these children, nor the reader's gender, so anyone who could ever feel like a mother would be included here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: MOON DADS!! fluff, domestic fluff, kids, married life, it's Mother's Day, kissing, mentions of food and eating, there is a tinge of angst-ish, as Wendy Spector is mentioned, but this is not an angsty fic. This story is what I wish for the Moon Boys IF this is what they would want. They deserve to heal and they deserve a family if they want one - whatever that may look like. not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

He finds you in the kitchen early Sunday morning, standing over a hot griddle, pancakes sizzling.

Your babbling toddler wiggles in the high chair, pinching one Cheerio at a time in her chubby fingers and stuffing it into her mouth, making a kind of weird mush as she entertains herself.

You back is turned to him so you don’t realize he’s there until his arms wind around you from behind.

“You can’t cook today,” he breathes on your ear, stealthily removing the spatula from your hand.

You giggle and pretend to shrug him off. “Why not?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” he declares, with an adoring kiss to your cheek.

“So? We have two boys about to come barreling in here,” you remind him matter-of- factly. “My present to myself is not listening to them demanding to know what’s for breakfast.”

A sliver of shame shoots through Steven's heart. He intended to wake up before you and take care of all this: breakfast and the kids. But Jake was out late last night and he accidentally overslept.

“Dada!” Lockley calls from her high chair, playfully slapping her hands down on the tray.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Steven greets his daughter, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Did you know it’s Mummy’s day?

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” Lockley wiggles back and forth, chanting proudly.

As predicted, two energetic boys burst into the kitchen, their tousled curls an adorable mess.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” the twins shout in unison, holding up a handmade banner, constructed from about 60 post-it notes stuck together.

“Wowww,” you whistle in admiration. “Somebody’s been ransacking my office for supplies.” You wink, kneeling down to inspect their handiwork, and assuming they were unable to locate the construction paper to make this unique banner.

Then you take a closer look as Steven tends to the pancakes, finishing them up and removing them from the heat.

“Oh…” Your eyes mist over instantly when you realize the reasoning behind using such small paper to build a banner.

"There's messages on each one," Grant, the oldest twin by two minutes, shyly murmurs.

"Read 'em, read 'em, Mom!" Your energetic Jakob almost tears the feeble construct apart with his bouncing up and down.

Several of the notes boast simple messages such as, "Happy Mother's Day!" or "We love you!"

A few of them have small handprints - Mother's Day classics. There's even a tiny handprint, with LOCKLEY printed messily underneath.

"We had to write hers because she can't write," Jakob states the obvious. "But she tried to eat the Post-its."

"I'm sure she did," you chuckle, glancing over a few "coupons" where the boys have offered to load the dishwasher, fold laundry, give you a back rub and the like.

Then you notice a rather good drawing of your family under a banner reading, "The Spectors": You, holding baby Lockley. Grant and Jakob are flanking either side of you. And there are three dads pictured and labeled, Marc, Steven, Jake, underneath, "DAD" written in all caps. "MOM" is above your head.

"Grant, did you draw this, bud?" You ask your little artist, ruffling his curls.

"Yeah. It was hard to fit everyone on a Post-it, so I made it on two. So you have to keep them together...okay?" His dark eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

You nod, continuing to inspect each one.

Jake has written a few notes in Spanish and Steven left you a riddle...which led to a second riddle underneath the first one. And a third.

Jakob is giddy, dying to tell you what the riddle's answers are, but Grant silences him.

The bottom post it says, "Turn around."

Curious, you stand back up and turn to find Steven holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.

"One-two-three," you hear Grant coach. Then Jakob joins in. "Surprise!" Your husband and twin sons chorus.

"Happy Mother's Day, darling," Steven smiles at you, handing you your gifts. "These are from Marc and me."

"Thank you, I love them," you accept the flowers and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"And Jake says he's going to get Frenchie to babysit next weekend so he can take you out in the city and 'show you off.' His words."

You snort, clearly amused. "Frenchie wants to babysit these three?"

"Yay!" Jakob cheers. "Uncle Frenchie! Uncle Frenchie!"

"Fen-he!" Lockley attempts, bouncing in her chair.

"See, everyone loves the idea," Steven grins, nodding for you to open the wrapped gift. "You can wear this."

A moment later, as he places your flowers in some fresh water, you unwrap your gift.

"It's beautiful," you gasp, touching the golden necklace, bearing hieroglyphs.

"It represents motherhood," Steven gushes. "Here, I made sure to get the paper that explains it all."

"Thank you." Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly. "Will you put it on me?"

Steven obliges, and you turn back to your boys. "What do you guys think?"

"It's pretty, Mom," Grant sweetly replies.

But Jakob has already dropped his half of the banner and is reaching for a pancake when Steven clears his throat pointedly.

The five of you gather around the table for an all too sugary breakfast before heading out to the park to get some fresh air, let the kids play and spend some quality time together.

Lockley can't walk quite yet, so she's rolling and scooting on a blanket on the grass while Grant and Jakob play close by.

Steven has already apologized for oversleeping, but you confess that you heard Jake come home extremely late. Lockley had a fussy night, so you turned off the baby monitor not ten minutes after he fell asleep and spent most of the early morning rocking your sweet, fussy girl.

"The perfect mom, as always," Steven compliments, with a sparkle in his eye. "And the day's not over yet. There's more to come."

You tangle your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, you ask, "How's Marc?"

You normally don't ask one alter to deliver messages for another. Half the time, they don't know anyway. But this is Marc. On Mother's Day.

"Quiet," Steven answers. "I think he's okay."

You hum a response, handing Lockley the pacifier she spit out.

"And you, my love? How are you today?"

Because Steven lost his mom too. And not simply because she passed away, but because the mother he thought was his was not real. Parts of her were real, to Steven anyway. The parts from childhood when she wasn't drunk, wasn't violent.

Those were Steven's memories to hold.

But he lost who he thought she was, as well.

"I'm better this year. Better every year," he nods, eyes focused on his twins playing together. "Get to spend this day with the best mum there is."

He gazes over at you adoringly.

"Thank you," you whisper, sealing your mouth to his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Later that evening, after you and Steven have wrangled three kids into bed, you decide to take a quick shower.

When you emerge, Marc is waiting for you with a glass of wine.

"Happy Mother's Day," his dark eyes flicker down the curves of your body and he wets his lips.

"Marc," you breathe, taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside so you can throw your arms around him. "I didn't think I would see you today."

His strong forearms flex against your back, pulling you closer. "I'm here. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yeah they're on the dining room table. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Good." Easing back, he kisses your mouth, before taking your hand and retrieving your wine glass. "Come on."

The sound of the record player drifts faintly down the hall, welcoming you into the den, where Marc has built a fire.

"I know it's May, but I turned the air down low," he explains, answering your quizzical look. "I know how much you love a fire."

You beam at him as he leads you to sit down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. There's a tray with some adult-worthy snacks, like - the nice brand of cheese and fancy chocolates.

"No kids allowed," he winks, knowing you're always the one to give up the last pancake or slice of pizza for your children, or for him.

"Oooh, okay, this almost feels like an anniversary." You reach for a chocolate as the two of you get comfortable.

"Too much?" He questions, dark eyes focused intently on the way your lips wrap around the candy.

"Owh naw - its puwfect," you mumble, mouth stuffed full of a truffle.

Marc laughs, nodding mockingly, but playfully. "Sexy."

"I know," you humph, finishing your treat. "But today's my day. I don't have to be sexy."

"You couldn't help that if you tried," he smoothly counters, reaching up with his thumb to swipe chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

"You're really racking up the points here, babe, like, this is..." You glance all around you before taking a swig of your wine. "This is good. Really good."

"I thought you could use some kid-free time," he explains, "With your favorite things - without Jakob eating them all first."

You share a laugh, knowing it's true. Jakob is barely a middle child, but he certainly acts like one.

"If you want some alone time, just say the word," Marc adds, a bit reluctantly. "I just want you to be able to relax."

Setting down your wine glass, you pull him close by his t-shirt. "Don't you dare. You're mine."

You surge forward to meet his lips in a hungry kiss, the wine and the pampering treatment truly reminding you of more of a romantic anniversary setting than anything else.

Marc hums against your lips, cupping your face in his hand as you deepen the kiss, licking open the seam of his mouth to taste him. The wine and the chocolate and the essence of your husband soothes and thrills you equally as you melt into his arms.

"Thank you," you whisper, rubbing your nose against his as you part for air. "Thank you for making me a mother."

He touches his forehead to yours and earnestly returns, "Thank you for showing me what a mother can be."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist | Holiday Fics Masterlist | Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates