#jake lockley angst
Text
Magic
Moon Boys x reader<3
summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?
A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
@jake-g-lockley
Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.
But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.
Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.
He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.
It wasn't always so nice.
"You're married?!"
"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.
"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"
"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."
This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.
"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."
It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.
Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."
"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"
"Yup."
"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."
Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.
"I know, man."
Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.
Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.
When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.
Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"
Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"
"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.
"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.
"Hi." you kissed his nose.
"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.
Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"
"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"
The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.
Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.
Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.
After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.
It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.
So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.
But not Marc.
Because he didn't like you like that.
Of course not, you were his friend.
You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.
He didn't know when it became something more to him.
And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.
No, to him, you were just his best friend.
And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.
Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.
You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.
"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."
That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.
And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.
As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.
He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.
"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.
"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.
Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.
What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.
'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'
Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.
'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'
When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'
You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.
"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.
"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.
Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.
Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.
But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.
"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.
"Give me the body, hermano."
"All yours."
Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.
"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.
"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."
"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."
He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.
Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.
----
Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.
He should have known that you were a light sleeper.
"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.
He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.
After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."
Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"
"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."
To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?
He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.
You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.
"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.
He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.
"Sweetheart. Please."
When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.
"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.
"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.
"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.
Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.
And they'd never let you go.
#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight x reader#jake lockley angst#marc spector angst#moon knight angst#moon knight#marvel cinematic universe#oscar isaac x reader
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One Call: m.s , j.l , s.g
Summary: Marc, Jake and Steven, your ex’s, ran into trouble and, as a result, are thrown into jail. At a loss, they ( begrudgingly ) use their only call on you in hopes you will bail them out.
Pairings: ex!marc spector x reader , ex!jake lockley x reader , ex!steven grant x reader
Warnings: angst (!!!), they’re all readers ex’s, cussing, fluff, forced proximity, tension, jake being a bit of an asshole, *steven being sad* , kinda unhappy ending but there will be another part, this is part of the ex! moon boys x reader series but can be read stand alone, unrequited requited feelings, not being over your ex and vice versa.
Word Count: 5.8 k
the ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
You should’ve known it was them the moment your phone started ringing. You had awoken with a start, heart pounding out of your chest at the loud intrusion to your sleep. It took you a brief moment to register what the sound was, the thick layer of sleep still hovering in your mind. But then, the familiarity of the ringtone settled into your brain.
You hardly registered the time- 03:27am- before picking up your phone.
Unknown Number.
The words made you hesitate. But only briefly, for then you were answering. “Hello?” Your voice was croaky from just waking up, and you coughed slightly. There was a small silence. You tried again.
“Hi.” Your heart skipped a beat before dropping through your stomach completely. You recognised the voice immediately.
“M-Marc? Why…” You tried to find the right words to describe this moment; why are you calling me? Do you know what time it is? What the fuck is wrong with you? Instead, you settled with, “Are you okay?” A sigh followed from the other end of the call, and you could just imagine him, eyebrows creased, eyes shut in whatever it was that was silently bothering him.
“Look, ‘m fine, just- need’ya to do something for me.” A favour? You hadn’t seen him in at least two months, the last time being in a grocery store. It had taken you weeks to get the interaction out of your head. Annoyance entered your mind, but you quickly pushed it away.
“What is it?” There was another silence, prompting you to now sigh.
“We’re in trouble.” You flinched, swinging your legs out of bed, heart accelerating.
“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Have you-”
“We aren’t in danger, it’s fine, just…” He seemed to hesitate on his next words, and you were tempted to push him, to make him spit it out so you could settle the thoughts racing through your mind. “We’re in jail.” He grumbled, and you realised the hesitancy was embarrassment.
“Jail?! Why? I mean, how?”
“Don’t have time for questions, okay? Can you just come get us?” It seemed as though he had to be prompted before he added a quiet, “Please?”
You huffed, getting out of bed and slipping off your pyjama shorts. “Fine. Where are you?” He began listing all the information you needed, and you quickly scribbled it down on the back of one of your friend’s wedding invitations. “Okay,” you muttered, finishing putting on your clothes and slipping on some shoes, “ ‘m on my way.”
“Right.” He finished hastily, hanging up. You scoffed, almost expecting something else, at least a ‘thank you’. But you reminded yourself that this was just a favour. That you were the last and only option he had to call. You pushed away the feelings that he was using you. You cant be used if you aren’t wanted in the first place.
You hurried out to your car, ensuring you had all you needed before you began the drive to you ex’s.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up Marc Spector? He got here tonight.”
“And what is your relation to Mr Spector?” You hesitated, spluttering on your words slightly before settling on,
“A friend.” The woman at the desk raised an eyebrow, taking you in before sighing.
“Sign these forms and then take a seat. Your friend will be out shortly.” You smiled awkwardly, picking up the papers and muttering your thanks.
In the rush and the confusion, you had forgotten what picking up Marc entailed. You would be seeing him again. His hair, his face, his eyes. You would be reminded of his smell and his voice and his lips. It had been too long, too hard getting over them. It was your own personal purgatory.
You could hardly remember the lilt in Steven’s voice when he was excitedly telling you about the book he was reading. Or Jake’s stupid jokes, sat in the back of his cab in the early hours of the morning. Or Marc-
You jumped when you heard a small cough in an attempt to pull your attention. You noticed the boots first, and it only took you a moment to avert your gaze upwards. His eyes were so familiar yet so cold. You felt as though you had been pulled under water, had lost your breath for a moment and were fighting to surface.
You took in every detail of his face. Some were familiar; the crease between his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips, the small scar on the side of his face. Yet, some things were new. Particularly, the bruise covering his left eye, purpling angrily, and the freshly busted lip. You winced, resisting the urge to reach over and smooth your fingers over his injuries until they hurt less.
“You are free to go. You’re lucky your ‘friend’ bailed you out. Could’ve been a lot worse for you tonight, Mr Spector.” You noticed Marc grit his teeth, biting back the words he truly wanted to say. You were relived when he just nodded. He was out of the door before you could talk. You muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the receptionist before hastily following after him.
“Hey, Marc!” You called, and you couldn’t ignore how unfamiliar his name felt on your tongue. You pushed down the sourness rising in your throat as you could his name again. Marc stopped abruptly, and you noticed his body moving in a sigh. His head cocked to the side slightly as if he were hiding from you.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you want a ride home?”
“I’ll walk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll drop you off, I know the way.” The reminder of that fact pained you both, but neither of you showed it. Marc cleared his throat, turning to face you now, but he still averted his gaze.
“Don’t wanna bother you anymore than I already have.”
“We’re past the point of that. Look, it’s fine, I insist.” You could see the dialogue behind Marc’s eyes, the debating and reasoning, before he settled with a small nod and an, ‘Okay.’
The small space of your car left little space between the two of you. You tried to ignore how good he smelt, how nice he looked, even after whatever he had been through tonight. You subtly cracked the window down, just to feel as though you weren’t drowning in him.
Silence settled as you began to drive. It wasn’t exactly awkward, more… uncomfortable. As if you were both about to talk, or scream, or cry at the exact same moment. Marc was set on staring out the window, every now and then his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror, and you could just imagine Steven or Jake’s expression looking back.
You wanted to ask about them. Despite it being a long time since seeing Marc, it had been even longer since seeing the other two. Fuck, your heart ached thinking how close they were to you, yet so far. Marc, too. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to release everything in your mind overcame you. You couldn’t stay silent, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted to say.
“So…” you started, slowing down as you approached a red light, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Good start. You peeked over at him, but all you saw was his reflection in the window, blurred by the street lights and stars.
“Your face looks pretty bad. I mean, shit, not your whole face, just the bruise.” You didn’t miss the way his lip twitched up as if edging into his signature smirk, but quickly fell again, as if he was reminding himself of the situation.
“ ‘s fine.”
“That’s it?” You wondered aloud, moving as the light changed to green. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, I just, prison is a big deal, Marc. I’m…” You hesitated, hearing the implications of your next words, “worried about you.”
Marc tutted, and you worried you pushed him too far. He was stubborn, after all. “Don’t gotta worry about me anymore, okay? It’s fine, just ran into some trouble after a mission.”
You ignored the way your heart wept at his beginning statement, deciding to see how much you could find out. “After? What, someone sent some bodyguards on you or something?” You noticed his silence, the way his eyes averted down to his lap, and worry filled you once more. “Were you Moon Knight? Or was it you?” The thought of him fighting without his superhero alias inserted a sense of fear into you.
Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you noticed how pained he looked. “It was Steven.” Oh. Steven? Sweet Steven? You knew he could fight; you’d heard his stories of fighting Harrow and various other things. He was perfectly able. Yet, somehow, you couldn’t picture him fighting. Without the suit, without his alters.
You realised why Marc had been so closed off.
“What happened?” Your voice was quiet, strained.
“Just got back from a mission. It was…” He trailed off, and the sigh told you everything you needed to know. “Steven was fronting, and he was so frustrated. Neither of us could calm him down. We were nearly home but we heard shouting. Screaming. This woman was inside her house as her asshole of a husband was banging on the door. We told Steven not too do anything stupid, to just summon the suit or call the cops, cause he was in such a bad place, y’know?”
You did know, nodding, trying to focus on the empty roads and the story.
“But Steven wanted to help, like he always does. Couldn’t get control of the body as he stormed over. The guy hit him,” He motioned to the bruise, and you winced, “Twice. And then Steven was just… fuck, he was goin’ crazy. Probably would’ve killed the bastard if some drunk guy on the street didn’t pull him off.” Marc’s voice had gotten slightly strained, and you could only imagine the turmoil he would’ve been through, how helpless he would’ve felt. How helpless they all would’ve been.
“B-But… why did you get put in jail?” You hardly had to ask. You knew Marc would do anything, anything, to protect him. But you didn’t know what to else to say.
“Steven snapped out of it. Let me front. I couldn’t let it be under his name, ya know? He has his job; he has a life outside of this shit… It doesn’t matter for me.”
You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him he was a good person. You wanted to say he did have a life. You wanted to ask to talk to Steven. But then Marc was speaking again.
“The woman, she was grateful, you know, turns out her husband is an abusive piece of shit. But when we were put into the car, I caught sight of the window. There was a kid. Crying. Didn’t know if his dad was dead or what. Steven probably saved the kid’s life, but he doesn’t know that. Steven went after that, can’t feel him or speak to him up there, just… nothing.”
You were at a loss for words. You could feel the pain radiating off of Marc and it made you ache to hold him in your arms and whisper terms of endearments. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what you were apologising for, or who you were apologising too. There was so much you wanted to say, but so little ways you could say it.
“Don’t be. He’ll be back. Probably when this bruise is healed, bastard’ll probably avoid havin’ to feel it.” You forced a smile at Marc’s attempt at a joke. But it was all fake. You could read him like a book, even if you had finished the last chapter a while ago. But it didn’t take a genius to see how much he was harbouring.
“Marc… why did you call me?” You didn’t want him to think you were angry; you weren’t. In fact, you were relieved it was you and not anyone else. But you were curious. Out of everyone, why you?
“Your numbers the only one I- we know.” He muttered, and whilst it made sense, you felt a pang of sadness. There was nothing attached to their choice. Nothing present, anyway. It was a convenience.
“I see.”
“Look, I’m sorry I was such a prick earlier. I just didn’t wanna bother you like this, y’know? You don’t need this shit anymore.”
“I don’t mind, Marc. Honestly.”
“But I do. This shouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re too good for this.” He trailed off and your pulse rate quickened. You didn’t know what to say, so you decided silence was acceptable. This time, the silence felt more comfortable. As if you were now used to each other again. You mentally kicked yourself; you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to his presence.
You were driving down a particularly empty street, the prison taking you on the outskirts of the usual busy city life. That, and the fact it was incredibly early in the morning, so early, the sun was still hidden beneath the stars.
You had turned on the radio a while back, letting the music fill the car to disperse some of the tension. You hardly noticed, however, when it started crackling. It was only when the car started slowing down that you took notice of the dashboard. The flashing red light made you curse.
“What?” Marc said, but instantly realised why when the car spluttered to a stop, the radio dying with a whirl. You couldn’t resist the urge to flop onto the steering wheel, letting out a prolonged groan as you realised the situation- you had broken down on an empty road with your ex.
It truly couldn’t be worse.
“Shit.” He muttered, and you agreed, head still on the steering wheel. However, you looked up at the click on the passenger door.
“Where are you going?! Don’t leave me here!” You whined, and Marc rolled his eyes jokingly.
“Not leaving you, just gonna check the car. Just try ‘n call road services or somethin’, yeah? It’ll be okay.”
You nodded, reaching for your phone, nearly crying as you saw the ‘No Signal’.
“Fuck, Marc, I don’t have a signal!” You called out, holding it into the air to no avail. “Marc? I’m coming out.” You opened the door, eyes trained to the phone as you waved it into the air again, a string of curses leaving your lips as the same signal portrayed itself on the screen.
You could see the silhouette of him at the front of the car, figure hidden behind the bonnet. You were shocked he knew even remotely what he was doing. Car’s weren’t his thing.
Oh no.
It finally hit you as he fully came into view. His face was harder, eyebrows drawn together, lips in a tight scowl. You hadn’t seen Jake Lockley in a while. In fact, you hadn’t heard a thing from him. No accidental calls, no awkward run ins. The last time you had seen him, well, you’d been under him.
“Hi.” You started, instantly feeling awkward at your tone. There was no answer. You wondered if maybe, he hadn’t heard you, that maybe he was so wrapped up in the car that he was oblivious to anything else. So, you tried again, this time adding a small, “Jake?”
You heard him sigh, followed by a frustrated, “hm?”
Oh.
“How’s it looking?”
“Fine.” Confusion filled you at his tone. He was being short. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to you, and you couldn’t ignore the hurt it made you feel.
“Well, it clearly isn’t fine if it broke down.” You snapped; you couldn’t help it.
“ ‘k, then it isn’t fine. Lemme concentrate, bueno?” Okay. You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around your body.
“Is there anything I can do-”
“No.” Anger flared in your blood. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so nonchalant, so infuriating.
You suddenly missed Marc.
Without another word, you stormed back to the car, making a point of shutting the door so the bonnet rattled. You could practically hear the roll of his eyes, and it provided you with some solace.
He was out there for another 15 minutes. You wondered if it would even be him to front back at the car, and a big part of you hoped it wasn’t. You knew by the sharp tap on your window that it was, indeed, Jake.
You opened the door, trying to appear calm. “C’mere, have to test the engine.”
“I could do that.”
“I will, I know what ‘m doing.”
“And I don’t?”
“C’mon, relajarse. Relax. Let me.” Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way his eyes were suddenly looking into yours from above, but you complied, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jake muttered something in Spanish that you didn’t catch, but you thought that was probably for the best.
You watched begrudgingly as he tried the engine once, twice, before the familiar roar of your car rumbled through the night. You expected him to get out, let you back in the drivers side, but much to your annoyance, he didn’t.
Instead, he motioned for you to get in. You wanted to complain but decided if he wanted to put in the effort of driving, whatever. You were tired anyway.
There was a different atmosphere than when Marc was fronting, and it was evident from the second you sat down. The atmosphere was tense, and the small space of the car felt suffocating, even with the window cracked down.
There was something about Jake, something utterly intoxicating, that pulled you under every time you even thought about him, let alone being in his presence. The implications that came with merely seeing his face made your brain cloudy and heart jittery.
How could you ever truly move on?
You tried not to let the thought in as you trained your eyes out the window, watching the trees and bushes blur into one green smudge. But it was corrupting your thoughts, infiltrating your defence systems.
You snuck a peek over at Jake. You were surprised he had even stuck around this long. A part of you expected him to stop fronting, render control to Marc as soon as he had fixed the car. The question was leaving your lips before you could even process you were speaking’ “Why are you still here, Jake?”
His jaw ticked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “He wants me to stay.”
“Marc?” And he nodded. “You don’t…” You began but cut yourself off with a sad sigh. Jake didn’t want to be fronting with you and Marc didn’t want to swap back.
“I don’t…?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jake wanted to push but receded back into his silence. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel. You imagined Marc was pushing him to say something, but he didn’t.
He didn’t for a while.
You had adjusted to the silence, accepted that this would be how this night would end. The night sky had become lighter, the sun just beginning to peek out from beneath the horizon. You couldn’t quite believe it was nearly morning. You resisted the urge to yawn, covering your mouth slightly.
“Tired?” His voice shocked you slightly, but you hid it, raising an eyebrow in answer. “That was- of course, you’re tired, Soy un idiota. I’m an idiot.” You smiled slightly, shaking your head.
“You must be tired, too.” He shrugged.
“Who’s wedding?”
“Hm?” He took his eyes off his road for a split second to nod toward the crumpled invitation you had hastily scribbled the address down. “Oh, ‘s a friend’s. Next month.”
“Yeah? Do I know ‘em?” You shook your head.
“It’s a new friend.” He didn’t know everyone in your life anymore.
“I see.” You could tell he was pondering something by the way he was nodding slightly, tapping the steering wheel in succession to invisible music. “You got a plus one?” You couldn’t hide the shock on your face.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” he replied too fast, “Just wonderin’.” You kept your eyes on him for a moment, gaze hard, but you felt a playfulness fill you.
“I was thinking of inviting this guy from work,” His jaw clenched, “But I want to keep my options open, you know?” He hummed, lips twisting up in a smirk.
“That’s what I do.” You had started it, the playful toying, the ploy to make him jealous, but the insulation they had options made your stomach turn. You reminded yourself he wasn’t yours to be jealous about.
“It’s fun having options. It’s freeing.” It wasn’t. Since them, you had gone on a handful of dates and all of them ended with awkward conversation and blocked numbers. But it was worth saying to see his smirk falter.
“As long as you’re happy.” Happy was perhaps an overstatement. You shrugged. “You are happy, aren’t you?” You hesitated. It was easy to say yes. It was easy to end the conversation here, as the car was nearing their flat.
“I’m getting through.” That struck him. All he cared about, still, was your happiness…no, he couldn’t, not anymore. You recognised the road instantly, knew the flat was close. God, even the street felt like home. Like you were travelling back through the trails in your memory. If you shut your eyes, you could imagine you were back in their bed. You can feel the sun on your skin through the cracks in their curtains. You can hear the car horns from a traffic altercation. You can feel their heart beating underneath your head. Nothing bad has happened.
“Hogar dulce hogar; home sweet home.” But not for you.
He parked and turned the engine off. You listened as it died down to silence. This was it.
“So this was…” You tried to find a word to quite describe the night, but settled on, “strange.”
He chuckled and it was addictive. “You could say that.” He unclicked his seatbelt and settled back in the seat for a moment. Like he belonged in your car with you. “Listen, thank you for all this. Gracias.”
“Jake… why didn’t you want to front earlier?” He sighed deeply, and you were worried you had overstepped.
“ ‘s too much. Being around you again, fuck, just brings it all back, ‘s all, Carino.” The term of endearment slipped out, but it was too late, the damage was done. “I should go. Thank you again.” He muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers, making a move to leave.
“Brings what back?” He paused.
“Everything.” He felt it, too. You were surprised to see him already looking at you. Your eyes met but this time, you didn’t look away. It felt all too familiar to be looking into his eyes. And then, his eyes were rolling back. You didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening before he was there.
His eyes held a softness unlike any you had ever seen in your life. You could recognise it from anywhere, but only from him. His body instantly slouched, his eyes whipping away from yours.
Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven.
His hands began to tremble as he raised them in front of his face, looking at the swelling of his knuckles, at the bruises forming on his skin. “I-I-“ He began to stutter, turning to look at himself in the reflection of the glass before abruptly looking away. “I did something bad.”
“Steven-” He jumped as if he hadn’t quite comprehended it was you sat there. He hadn’t heard his name from your voice in too long and it made his heart quiver.
“I-It was like I just lost control, y’know? I don’t- I blacked out for a minute and then there was sirens and Marc-” He cut himself off with a gasp and you felt tears fill your eyes. “Oh goodness, what have I done? I’m terrible, aren’t I?”
“No, Steven, you’re not-” you began but he was already talking again.
“And now you had to come clean up my mess. ‘S not fair, how could I do this to you? After everything, fuck, you don’t need this. You don’t need me anymore.” You were at a loss for words. You did need him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. You needed him like you needed books to read. You needed him in a way you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, especially since you had lost him. Had lost all of them.
“Listen-”
“There was a kid, y’know? I saw him, in the window. He must’ve thought that I… that I…” And then, he was crying, body shaking in sobs. You broke then, the need to hold him too much, too strong. He melted into your arms, clutching at the back of your shirt as you held him in your arms. He buried his face in your shoulder, and you could feel his tears soaking your skin, but you didn’t mind, not one bit.
You ran your hands over his back, whispering whatever comfort you could string together. Your hands trailed the hairs climbing the back of his neck like you had a million times before, hoping it would provide something that would help, some solace that words couldn’t give. “You did the right thing, Steven.” You whispered as you felt his breathing begin to slow down. His hands became limp on your shirt, instead opting to hold you as tightly as you were holding him. “You always do the right thing.”
“What if ‘m a bad person?” He quivered, voice barely above a croaky whisper. You swallowed harshly, feeling tears sting your eyes at one of the people you cared about most thinking so lowly of himself.
“No, Steven, of course not. You’re… you’re one of the best people I’ve ever know? The best of the best, okay?” He sniffled, and you gently eased his face up, so he was looking at you. “You are a good person, Steven Grant.” You looked into each-others eyes for a while. There was no ounce of awkwardness, no trace of tension. The comfort it brought to see those eyes again was more than any drug, any romcom could ever provide.
You studied his features. Soft, teary eyes, bloodshot and scared, but swirling with adoration and care. The tension between his eyebrows was gone, replaced instead with a smooth, vulnerable expression. But most of all, you noticed the bruises. Unlike with Marc, you didn’t resist the urge to run featherlight touches around them, hoping it would help him heal faster. Somehow, even in this state, he looked angelic. In fact, you had never seen him look bad. Because Steven was good. “ ‘m sorry.” He suddenly broke the silence, instantly looking away from you as if talking to you was too much.
You looked at him confused, running a hand through his hair in encouragement as you whispered a small, “For what?”
“My fault you’re here right now. ‘m sure you have a trillion other things you’d rather be doin’ than sitting here with a sorry sod like me.” You smiled, shaking your head.
“If you think lying in my flat whilst my upstairs neighbours shag is something I’d rather be doing, you’re greatly mistaken.” You felt him smile against your neck and you resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Still, must be better than seeing us.” You shook your head, though he couldn’t see you.
I’ve missed you like crazy. I would do anything to see you, anything. Come back to me. Please.
You settled on, “I’ll always be here to help.” Neither of you said much after that. Not for a while. You were so comfortable, unnervingly so, with Steven holding you, your hands in his hair. It was so intimate, more intimate than anything you’ve had since the break-up. You quickly realised you craved it. That this was the missing piece in your life, that they were the missing pieces.
The sun was breaking through the dark now, a light pink casting a warm glow onto the dull streets. That was what he felt like, you thought. He was the sunrise. You felt yourself drifting off and caught yourself, realising the time in the car had to come to an end. You didn’t want too, but you shifted, and Steven lifted his head, rubbing his eyes slightly.
“Should probably get you to bed, you must be exhausted.” You muttered to him, forcing your hands to untangle from his curls. He nodded, sitting up and you instantly missed the weight and warmth of him on top of you.
“ ‘kay.” You stretched slightly, feeling tiredness settle in your bones but you pushed it away. Steven took in the beginning of the sunrise, and you noticed his lips twitch up in wonder. He was the type of person to get excited at every sunrise, every sunset, every odd-shaped cloud; no matter how many times he’d seen it. He found the beauty in everything. It was one of the things you loved about him. Loved.
“So, just lemme know if you need anything, you can message me. Do you still have my number? I can write it down, or not, whatever you want-”
“You aren’t coming in with me?”
“Oh, ‘m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d want me too.”
“Yes, please. If you want too.” You paused. Seeing their flat? Being in that space again? The thought made your heart flutter and stomach churn. But you nodded, deciding he needed your help more tha your heart needed peace. The steps up to their flat was so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed. You knew every bump, every turn, every creaky floorboard. You were at the door before you knew it, and Steven was jingling the keys in the lock.
“Sorry about the mess.” He said, and you smiled.
It was messy, yes, but messy in the way that felt exactly like home. It smelled the same. It looked the same, apart from the new curtains you were sure Steven had picked out. You felt like you were unlocking a piece of your heart with every step you took. You spotted his desk, piled with all sorts of Ancient History books, papers of various missions they’d been on, and Steven’s new name badge with the words, ‘Tour Guide’ formally placed underneath. You let your fingers trace it, a grin breaking out onto your face.
“Congratulations.” You said, holding it up so Steven could see what you were talking about. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”
“How’s it going?”
“It’s… wonderful. I love it. Donna quit, and the new manager, Kathy, she promoted me.”
“That’s amazing, Steven, truly. ‘m so proud of you, you deserve it.” You couldn’t stop the praise, and you watched his cheeks tint in a blush.
“You always said I could do it.” He said, and you nodded. “You always believed in me.” You always would.
“It’s cause I knew you could. It’s all down to you.” You stayed smiling at each other for a moment before Steven yawned. You shook your head, putting his name badge down and clasping your hands together.
“Let’s get you to sleep.” He chuckled, nodding and rubbing his eyes. Steven went to the bathroom as you set up his bed, plumping his pillows and straightening his duvet. You ignored the ache in your heart at the sight of your side of the bed, lingering your hands on the pillow as you remembered all the times you had been in their bed. You broke from it at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking.
He came out dressed in his pj bottoms and a jumper. He took note of his now tidy bed and smiled, wanting nothing more than to lay you down and hold you. He didn’t say much as he got into bed, tucking himself under the covers and sighing deeply. You didn’t know where to look, where to stand. You figured you could leave when he got into bed. You only shifted slightly when Steven grabbed your hand gently, tugging you toward him.
“Stay with me?” He whispered so quietly; you almost didn’t catch it. You felt a lump rise in your throat. You didn’t even have to ponder it as you nodded, slipping into the side of the bed, your side, next to him. He turned over, facing away from you as you swung an arm over waist. You felt his muscles untense as he grabbed your hands to the front of him, stroking the skin softly. You rested your cheek against his back, nuzzling the skin to provide as much comfort as you could.
“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.” He whispered tiredly, on the cusp of sleep. You tried to stop your eyes watering, a single tear slipping out which you quickly wiped away.
“Thank you for letting me.” His grip on your hands loosened and his breathing became heavy in a way you recognised instantly; he was asleep. You pulled your hands out from him, careful not to make too much movement. The bed creaked as you rolled out, but he didn’t even flinch. You straightened out the sheets, reshaped the pillow. You thought about him. And then about Marc, and Jake. What they meant to you, still, and what you feared they always would.
You couldn’t help but look at him one last time. He looked at peace, finally, like an angel. You couldn’t resist the urge anymore, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Steven.” You whispered, stroking his hair before making your way out of their flat.
The sun had risen completely now, gold cascading over the buildings. A new day. You turned one more time. You wished you could reverse time, go back to when you were happy and at peace with them. But, alas, that was impossible. So, with your heart yearning, and your stomach turning, you left.
You awoke in the late afternoon, thoughts plagued with the events from the night. As hard as it was, you hadn’t wanted it to end. You had never been happier than when you were with them. The thought haunted you. You turned, stretching deeply as your limbs refused to move too much. With a sigh, you reached over for your phone. You scrolled through your notifications, not paying too much mind, until you saw the familiar number beaming on the screen.
You sat up instantly, clicking on the message and reading it:
Thank you for everything.
You didn’t know which of your boys had sent it, and you didn’t care. You held the phone to your heart, trying to absorb the remnants you had left of them. And whilst it was just a message, you couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of hope. Perhaps this wasn’t it. Perhaps they felt it too.
You smiled, shutting your eyes, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Finally- a new day.
tags: @daddyjackfrost @rmoonstoner @midgardian-witch @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476 (please do let me know if you don’t want to be on this taglist, it is quite old now so feel free to message me and i’ll remove you!!!)
#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#steven grant angst#marc spector x reader#jake lockely x reader#steven grant x reader#angst#moon knight angst#moon knight x reader#moon knight#marc spector fanfic#jake lockley fanfiction#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector#Steven Grant#jake lockley
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Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Summary: It's been a month since you've broken up with the moon knight system, and you start to notice someone.. watching you
Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, kidnapping, yandere themes, angst, no beta we die like harrow
Notes: So after all the positive responses on this post I just had to create in headcanon form- for those who want to listen to the song that inspired this fic, here :)
Breaking up with the moon boys was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do, but it did need to be done.
With the near constant dissappearing to do Khonshu's bidding, sometimes for weeks on end, with only a note or a text to tell you where they were and then radio silence, it was just too much for you. Your heart couldn't take waiting for them, worrying that they would never return, even if Khonshu was protecting them.
And so, you had begun the process of moving out during the time they were away on a mission.
Marc had come home to find your clothes, trinkets, anything that would indicate your presence gone.
You were there though.
Normally you'd be so happy to see him again, running up to him and kissing him with all your might.
Today, instead, you sadly smiled at him.
"Baby, what's up?" Marc had asked, gently holding your forearms after you had rejected his hug. He could tell you were upset.
"Baby?" "I'm leaving, Marc. I'm sorry."
He had stared at you, dumbfounded. You swallowed down your tears- "I can't do this anymore." You didn't have to explain, you knew what he meant.
You waited anxiously for his response, instead spying his eyes roll back into his head, and now you were faced with Steven and oh god, his eyes, they were already tearing up.
Coward, you thought of Marc, which was admittedly a little harsh but breaking up with them would be so much harder facing Steven's sorrowful gaze.
Steven looked terrified, moving to cup your face in his hands and you had to physically move back to stop him.
"D-darlin', please, what'cha talkin' about?" "I'm sorry steven-" "Please don't leave us love, please, 'can't do it without you please-"
"Stop it." You'd said firmly, Steven sobbed. You couldn't help but take his hands in yours, ever wanting to comfort him.
"Steven.. I will always love you," "Then why'd you have to leave!?" "Because I can't do this anymore!!"
You were both crying now. "I-i can't take waiting for you to never come home to me anymore, Steven, I can't do it."
Steven's gazed was fixed on the ground, his tears dripping onto the floorboards. You gave his hands one final squeeze, before pulling away.
"I will always love you, all of you, but my heart cannot take it anymore.. goodbye."
The strength with which it took to pull yourself away from Steven should have won you a medal, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying even more as you left him.
That was a month ago- with the help of a few friends you'd found yourself a decently priced flat for rent on the other side of London. Far enough away, you hoped.
It wasn't far enough. Jake had found out where you lived within days of you leaving. He knew it was wrong, but the part of him that didn't care grew and grew into something monstrous. At this stage the other boys weren't saying anything to disapprove of his actions, and so he continued to watch you.
He'd drive circles around your block to relearn your new routine, and you hadn't yet realised it was his cab you kept seeing.
The one person you actually hadn't said goodbye to was Jake- he hadn't fronted when you'd left, and you would always wonder if he was there, just choosing not to show himself. But if he wasn't? He'd have woken up to the discovery that you weren't together anymore and you'd always feel guilty for that.
But... you tried to move on with your life, as best you could.
It felt wrong to start dating again, but your friends had urged you to, even if it was a one night thing.
The guy you'd matched with on bumble was nice enough, smart, good looking- he wasn't them though. While he was polite and friendly during your dinner date, he wasn't your boys.
He'd walked you home, and you'd set up a second date. All things considered it was successful- but you just felt.. wrong about the whole thing. Like you were cheating, even though you weren't.
You'd guessed it wasn't all that successful, as he'd ghosted you a day or so after your date.
It was a week or so later that you'd seen the news report of his body having turned up in the Thames. God how awful! He hadn't ghosted you- the poor guy had been murdered.
Jake had really earned a bollocking off of Steven and Marc for that one, but he knew they were relieved you wouldn't be seeing that man again.
You'd decided to halt the dating game after that, for a while at least.
You were lonely though, there was no denying. Having no one to cuddle up to in bed sucked.
And so.. the logical conclusion was a pet, no?
Eventually, you found a young, ginger tomcat named "Franklin" in a nearby animal shelter and you just fell in love, you brought him home the same day.
He was great, not exactly filling the whole in your heart left by three men but you certainly adored him, and who wouldn't say no to curling up in bed with a cat every evening? Certainly not you.
One day, you'd left work for your lunch break only for the horrifying realisation to hit you: You'd forgot to feed Franklin that morning! You rushed home as fast you could- only to discover that, you had fed him, even when you were sure you hadn't.
And yet there he was, munching on his bowl of kibble.
Something squeaked under your foot- you looked down- oh, it was one of Franklin's toys. You threw it across the room for him to play with but- hang on... you didn't remember buying him that toy.
You shook your head free of thoughts that you were going mad- everyone forgets things, even buying specific cat toys. Or maybe one of your friends had left it when they'd been over- it didn't matter.
You moved to leave your flat and return to work- only to find your door lock jammed.
The locksmith you'd hurriedly called in was able to fix it in a jiffy, though advised that the jam was probably due to a break in, and that you should change your locks.
A chill ran down your spine- you checked and double checked, nothing of value had been stolen, but someone had been in your home! Is that who had fed Franklin? Who'd left him the toy?
You changed the locks, and threw out the strange toy.
Jake couldn't stop watching you. It was becoming more and more of a problem.
He was ignoring Khonshu and actively pushing Marc and Steven out when they tried to front, knowing they'd put and end to his antics.
But none of them could deny that they wanted, needed you back. Jake just considered himself the only one with the balls to get you back.
There was no warmth in his life now that you weren't there. Steven's flat no longer felt like home without your t-shirts in the laundry, or the brand of coffee you love but Marc hates in the cupboards.
He knew he ought to leave his little girl alone, but the fact remained you were his little girl. Jake would stop at nothing to have his bebita back.
Now it was two months since you'd broken up with the system. Life wasn't perfect, but you were chugging along.
You turned the lights on in your flat, yawning. Work was tough today, but it was Friday, and you had some left over popcorn in the cupboard. Film night~!
"Franklin? Baby? Mummy's home~!" You cooed, knowing that he always came bounding up and purring whenever you came home.
But.. he didn't. Your flat was silent. No distant meowing or the jingle of the bell on his collar. Nothing.
"Franklin?" You stepped further into your flat, worry seeping through you.
"Franklin..?!" Your tone became more and more erratic with the realisation that Franklin wasn't home- and then someone had covered your eyes with their hand, and pressed a strange scented cloth to your mouth. You kicked and screamed and struggled but it was no use- the chloroform had knocked you out in seconds.
Jake held you tenderly to his chest as you faded into unconsciousness. Steven had earlier expressed his distaste at this plan, but neither him or Marc said anything now, so close to having you again.
You woke the next day, nauseous and tired. The distant meowing you heard gave you comfort- it had all been a bad dream.
But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the horrifying scene of Steven's flat, not your own. So familiar, in any other situation you would have been glad to be here.
You shifted to sit up, eyes working their way down to notice your ankle tied to the bed with the restraint normally reserved for Steven.
You choked back a sob- a hum ripping your gaze to the other end of the room.
There lay Franklin, enjoying some pets from the man who's lap he laid on.
Jake Lockley stared back at you, you could tell it was him, you could always tell between them.
"Buenos dias, hermosa." His voice was rich like coffee, normally so comforting but now? It sent a shudder down your spine.
"You and I have some things to discuss, sí?"
#jake lockley moonknight#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley#jake lockely x you#jake lockely imagine#jake lockley angst#jake lockley headcanon#moon knight x reader#moon knight#moon knight angst
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dlz ; jake lockley.
track ten of DEAR SCIENCE.
pairing ; jake lockley x gn!reader
synopsis ; jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.
words ; 3.5k
themes ; angst, mild fluff, married au
warnings / includes ; suggestive, implications of sex, jake is a rough kisser e_e, mentions of injury/blood, mild cursing, marc and steven both have appearances, jake is emotionally constipated, jake calls reader peach !! reader is a sweetheart <3
main masterlist.
Jake Lockley didn’t like your perfume—it was almost nauseatingly fresh and its smell permeated through his own clothes so that he’d often walk out smelling like he had doused himself in Febreze.
He didn’t like the way you’d hum to his favorite songs while doing the dishes. Nirvana, Elliott Smith, Radiohead—were you singing them on purpose just to annoy him? Nearly every night, he could hear your faint voice drift into the living room, where he was reading the same three sentences of the daily paper over and over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your endearingly inconsistent mutters to the music.
He especially hated when you’d walk out of the bedroom in nothing but Steven’s shirt loosely draped over your form, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your heavy-lidded eyes. There was just something about seeing you at your most vulnerable. You were comfortable around him, and that made Jake uneasy.
When Jake fronted, he slept in the guest room. Marc had convinced him not to blow more money staying at a hotel—and Steven was trying to persuade him to at least sleep in the same bed as you. After all, they were married to you.
But Jake wasn’t your husband. Steven and Marc were. Jake was just… he was just there. A ghost living in your house.
The very thought of sharing a bed with you made a chill dance down Jake’s spine. He could never. As appealing as the thought of having you slotted between his arms, sleepily recounting how your day went to him, sounded, he couldn’t ever have that. Jake Lockley wasn’t a domestic man.
His hands would always be dripping with blood that wasn’t his, no matter how hard he tried scrubbing it away.
There were times Jake felt a morsel of regret. He was nowhere near nice to you, and yet you still spared him that infuriatingly patient, sweet smile, always telling him to stay safe before he left to drive his cab around (or do Khonshu’s dirty work), and never failing to whisper good night before slipping into your bedroom.
Sometimes he had a queer, niggling feeling scratching at the pits of his stomach one would commonly refer to as jealousy. He knew that Marc and Steven got to hold you, kiss you, tell you they loved you as they pleased.
Jake couldn’t do that. Jake wasn’t even entirely sure he was capable of loving someone.
What made it even worse was that Jake learned about you through them—not because he ever actually tried to get closer to you.
He knew you loved apricots, but not as much as peaches. He knew you loved lighting scented candles whenever it rained. He knew you named each one of your house plants. He knew you were only slightly ticklish. He knew you had a tell; your nose would twitch and your eyebrows would quirk upwards whenever you lied. He knew from Steven to kiss just above your pulse point against the column of your throat to make you melt into him. He knew you had a birthmark between your thighs from when Marc—
Yeah, he’d rather not think about that one.
Jake knew you cried a lot—that one he learned on his own. He could hear you through the walls, but you probably weren’t aware of that fact.
One night, Jake sat in the living room, staring into nothing, heart twisting angrily at himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, storming out of the apartment after shoving his hat onto his head and grabbing his cab’s keys. Steven and Marc had yelled angrily at him the whole time, but he learned to block their voices out.
He wasn’t very good in the emotional department, that was abundantly clear.
When he came back home hours later, having driven around the city several times to clear his head, he tried to be as quiet as possible. At an hour as late as this, you were bound to be asleep, right?
But alas, there you were, curled into the corner of the couch, head uncomfortably lolled onto your shoulder. The house was entirely dark save for the dim glow of the television, casting a blue luminescence over your dozing form. Long shadows kissed the slopes of your features, softened with sleep. He noticed that there were tear tracks faintly outlined over the skin of your cheekbones.
Jake froze at the doorway for a moment. Were you waiting for him to come home?
He pushed down any and all intrusive thoughts, begrudgingly shrugging off his coat and hanging up his hat. A calloused palm carded through messy, coffee-hued curls.
Heart dipping heavy within his chest, Jake stalked forward to turn the TV off, setting the remote down on the coffee table. He stood over you for a moment. A frown twisted at the corner of his lips, drawing his brows together.
Jaw clenching, Jake stepped away from you, slipping into the hall. He leaned against the door to the guest room for a moment, huffing out a low groan. Gods, what in the hell was he doing?
After another minute of frustrated hesitation, Jake willed himself to make his way back into the living room. You were twitching in your sleep, eyelids fluttering with what he could guess were the beginnings of a harsh nightmare.
Gently—or, as gentle as a highly-skilled mercenary could be—Jake hooked an arm beneath the crook of your knee, the other looping over your shoulders and neck. When you stirred, Jake could only quietly make hushing noises, wincing at himself. Thankfully, you didn’t fully awaken, a soft noise falling from your lips as your nose turned to press against the fabric of his shirt obscuring his chest, just above where his heart scratched at the walls of his ribcage.
He kicked the door to your bedroom open none too silently, eager to set you down. Get as far away from you as possible. The sound of the doorknob thwacking against the wall behind it made your lids shoot open, and you groggily mumbled incoherent phrases under your breath before peering up at him with confused, watery eyes. He cursed internally.
“You’re back,” you said, voice hoarse with disuse. “You okay?”
There were lots of things Jake wanted to say to you at that moment.
No, I’m not okay. Were you waiting for me to get home? I’m sorry if I made you worry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. Am I an asshole? You shouldn’t ever wait for me again. What were you dreaming of? Was it a nightmare about me?
Instead of any of that, Jake merely set you down onto the mattress with a grunt, dusting his hands onto his pants. He glared down at you as if he was angry—and he was, but not necessarily at you.
But wasn’t he, though? He was angry that you were just so… so kind to him. He was angry that you were patient. He was angry that you were so easy to love.
“Go to sleep, peach,” he gruffed. A hot flush coursed over his face at the nickname that had unintentionally slipped out. To his relief, you didn’t seem to notice.
Your sleepy expression seemed to cave in on itself and you dazedly nodded, head falling back into the pillow.
If only he could slip in beside you, entangle his legs with yours as you kissed softly over his tense face, call you his.
Jake nearly slapped himself to get his head screwed on straight. He spared your already-sleeping form one last glance before trudging out of your room. Hurriedly, he threw himself into the guestroom, ripping off his shirt and pressing a palm flat against his chest to quell the racing thunder of his heart.
You were not good news for him.
You didn’t see Jake for weeks after that incident.
A part of you was glad—you were beginning to miss the sound of Steven’s sweet voice, his tender touches, his passionate kisses. You missed Marc’s back hugs, his strange fixation with your bare legs, his lopsided smiles.
The other part of you, however, wondered about Jake.
“Does Jake ever… say anything to the two of you?” you asked Steven one day, stirring sugar into your steaming tea as you leaned against the kitchen counter. Your husband looked up from the novel he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose while considering your question.
“Sometimes. Mostly stays to himself—quite the quiet bloke, innhe? Why, love?”
Your bottom lip trembled as you glared into your tea, as if it was the source of all your troubles. Steven was immediately out of his seat, tugging you close until your forehead rested upon his clavicle bone. You sniffled into him, crushing your eyes shut with shame.
“Does he hate me?” you asked, voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I did to make him—”
Steven immediately held you all the closer, crooning out, “No! No, of course not, silly. He’s just… he’s just having trouble with himself, that’s all. Doesn’t really talk to us much, either. It’s not you, love, I promise. In fact, I’m nearly certain he fancies you.”
“You’re not just saying that?” you said, scrutinizing him with wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t need him to love me like you and Marc do. I just… it’s hard when it feels like a man with the same face as your husband hates you.”
Steven’s expression crumbled, and he kissed over your left eyelid softly. “I know. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t imagine what that’s like.” Rubbing soothing circles over your back, he urged you to take a seat next to him, leaning over to move your mug of tea from the counter to the kitchen table. “Come on, I’ve got an amazing poem I want you to read.”
It was only two days later that you saw Jake again. You strode through the door, juggling grocery bags in one hand and a stack of books you borrowed from the library in the other. With a huff, you set the groceries down in the kitchen, turning around to see Jake quietly observing you, leaning against the fridge. You bit down a startled scream, flinching at his unexpected presence.
“Oh,” you said after a second of flustered silence. “Hi, Jake. Didn’t see you there.”
He was observing you with such a sharp gaze that it felt like his irises were cutting straight through your flesh. Finally, he pushed away from the fridge, slowly moving towards you until he stood just in front of you, about an arm’s length away.
“Jake, what are you—?”
“I don’t hate you, peach,” the man said, all gravelly and brusque.
It took you a moment to fully register what he was saying. “Oh,” was all you said, parroting yourself from five seconds ago in a rather poignant manner. “Well… I don’t hate you, either, Jake. Far from that.”
You could see the struggle in the dark depths of his irises. Turmoil raged behind those narrowed lids, and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to look away, not even if you tried.
Feeling bold, you shuffled forward to slowly raise your hands, cupping Jake’s face within your palms. His glare seemed to harden at first, always so angry at things for not going the way he expected it to go, muscles tensing beneath your touch—but when your fingers gently scraped over his stubble, he could feel himself letting go, practically liquefying into you.
“Why are you like this, Jake Lockley?” you murmured, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. The action made his eyelids flutter shut. He’d never let himself be this vulnerable in front of you before. He wasn’t prepared for his walls to come crashing down around him so quickly—so easily. “Did I do something to upset you?”
All previous inhibitions thrown out the window, Jake grumbled out a small, “Yeah. All the fuckin’ time, peach.”
You quirked a brow. “Go on, then.”
One of his eyes opened before sliding closed again. “Where do I start? You smell too good—I can never concentrate around you. You’re always singing my favorite songs and it’s buggin’ the hell outta me. You’re always so nice to me—even though you know I’m not like your precious Steven and Marc.”
Something akin to a guffaw fell from your lips. “Well, first of all, thank you? Somehow you managed to compliment me in the rudest way possible, and I commend you for that. Second, I know you’re not like Steven and Marc. But I still love you all the same.”
The kitchen grew so quiet, Jake could’ve sworn he’d be able to hear a pin drop.
His heart began tripping over its own gallop of a pace. You’d said it so easily, so swiftly, as if loving him came as naturally as breathing.
Jake found his eyes falling to your mouth, slightly puckered to the side in thought.
Noticing his sudden change in demeanor, you started saying, “Jake—?”
“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted, glowering at you with a newfound fire crackling behind his eyes.
You blinked once, then twice. Then you nodded.
A small sigh of content that made Jake far too excited for his own good escaped your lungs as he dove forward and melded his lips with yours, dipping you backward ever so slightly in the midst of his vigor.
He kissed differently than Steven or Marc did. Steven was languid, careful, and tender whilst Marc was feverish, calculated, and explorative.
Jake Lockley, however, kissed like a mad man. He was all tongue and teeth, desperately furious with his motions, kissing you as if it was the very last time he’d have the chance to do so. His nose slotted against yours, brushing against your cheek as you caved into him, arms winding over his neck to pull him ever so close.
His fingers immediately clutched at your waist, one moving upwards beneath your (Marc’s) shirt to lightly scratch over the skin of your ribcage and the other shifting lower to tug over the back of your thigh.
Gods, you just felt so right.
“Mmh, peach,” Jake growled into your skin as he traversed down your neck, biting at the spot just above your pulse point, which made a low, desperate noise scratch at the back of your throat. He’d do anything to hear that noise over and over again.
“Why do you call me that?” you panted out, fingers threading through his haphazard curls to haul him away from your neck and back onto your lips.
“You like peaches,” he breathed into you, a groan of agony rumbling from his chest when you nipped at his bottom lip with a hum of approval. “Don’t you?”
A choked sound was all you could let out when he shoved you none-too-gently against the counter, bending over to accommodate for his eager lips over yours.
“I love them,” you whispered once he parted away to catch his breath.
There it was again. The L word.
Fuck, he couldn’t do this.
Suddenly, as if snapped back into reality, Jake halted any and all ministrations, nose only a hair's breadth away from your neck. You smelled so damn good, so tantalizingly tempting, lips raw-bitten and skin flushed with heat.
But Jake couldn’t. You didn’t belong with a person like him. With Steven? Yeah, of course. With Marc? The idiot loved you too much to ever let you go, even if he tried to.
Jake would bring you nothing but pain and misery and the thinly-veiled threat of danger.
“This is a mistake,” he said, voice rough with tremendous restraint.
He thought that if he kissed you, all these stupid feelings would wash down the drain, as if you’d be able to suck it all out of him like a goddamn love vacuum. But, no, it was as if just having a taste wasn’t enough. He needed the rest of you. He needed all of you.
But he couldn’t.
“Jake…” Your voice was quiet, breaking off slightly when he let go of you, stepping back while glaring a hole into the ground.
With the maturity equivalent to that of a prepubescent teenager, Jake stormed out of the kitchen and into the hall, slamming the guest room door behind him so hard that the picture frames of you and Steven and Marc on the walls rattled.
A week passed by until you saw Jake again.
You were in bed with Marc, shivering as he ran his palms down your waist, swatting his hands away while gritting out, “That tickles, Marc!”
He hummed noncommittally, pressing kisses down your shoulder, nosing your cheek affectionately.
“Tell me about this one,” he whispered into you, taking your hand to trace a thin scar over the inside of your wrist.
“I was seven,” you whispered. “This boy pushed me off a swing in the playground. I threw my hands out and a rock got me bad—fractured my wrist, too. I don’t remember much, but I remember there was a lot of blood. I’m pretty sure the poor kid was the one that ran screaming for a teacher to come help.”
Marc regarded you with a look of pure adoration, thinly laced with amusement. “Did you really just call the bastard who pushed you a ‘poor kid’?”
You barked out a laugh and he pressed a lasting kiss over your faded scar.
“Alright, your turn. Tell me about this,” you playfully pressed your thumb between his brows. “You got a little divot here. Been furrowing your eyebrows too much, huh? And you wonder why I call you the grumpy eagle muppet.” When he rolled his eyes, you chuckled out, “What? Listen, it’s not my fault Khonshu got rid of all your scars! I gotta work with what I’m given, here!”
“That’s enough out of you,” Marc bit out, though you could tell he wasn’t really being serious with the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, turn around. Sleep time, baby. Love you.”
You hummed in mild contentment, turning around so your back molded perfectly against his chest. “Love you, too, Marc.”
The rise and fall of his chest was deep, rhythmic, so calming that you were just on the brink of sleep—
Until it stopped.
You could feel the body wrapped behind you stiffen. Immediately, you knew this was Jake.
With a lump lodged in your throat, you hesitantly turned around, only to be met with Jake staring back at you, wide-eyed. It was dark, so you could just barely make out the upset tautness of his features.
Jerkily, he started moving to clamber off the bed, all but shaking you off of him like you were a pesky insect.
No. No, you wouldn’t stand for this.
“Jake,” you said firmly, reaching out to wrap your hand around his wrist. “Stay. Please.”
Mute, the man shook his head, legs slipping out from beneath the blanket.
Desperate, you sat up, wrapping your arms around his midriff and pressing your cheek into his back as you said, “You deserve love, Jake. You deserve my love. Please, stay.”
For a moment, you wondered if he’d just push you off again. Disappear into that guestroom you were too scared to venture into when he left for work. Just when you were on the near precipice of relinquishing any and all hope, you could feel Jake’s shoulders sag. His head hung low as he sighed.
Wordless, he shifted around and you let go of him so he could slip back under the covers.
Tentative, you laid down next to him, shifting so your head could rest over his chest. His arm jostled around to rest comfortably beneath your neck.
Jake held you differently from Marc and Steven.
Jake held you as if he was afraid you’d break apart. Jake held you like he had to be ready to let you go at any moment. Jake held you like he was afraid to show you just how much he loved you.
You craned your neck upwards to press a light kiss to his stubbled jaw, then settled back down.
You heard Jake sigh, but this time, it was one of pure relief—utter bliss. It was quiet, but it was there.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally, nose tucked into your hair. “I’ll try to be better with you. I’ll try, peach.”
Nodding minutely, you intertwined your hand with his free one, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “I know.”
Just before your breaths evened with sleep, Jake could only barely hear you drowsily mumble out, “I love you, Lockley.”
He knew you were already asleep, which made the feat of saying it back somewhat easier for him.
“Love you, too, peach.”
#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#moon knight fanfiction#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley angst#jake lockley fluff#moon knight fanfic#moon knight angst#moon knight scenarios#moon knight drabbles#jake lockley drabbles#jake lockley scenarios#jake lockley smut#moon knight smut#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#moon knight fluff#steven grant fluff#marc spector fluff
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how would the moon boys react to reader flirting w another person to make them jealous? (they're friends w benefits)
okay so I made this a tad angsty just bc I feel it suits and bc I wanted it, but shush, that’s neither here nor there. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌
FWB MAKING THE MOONBOYS JEALOUS.
moonboys x gn reader (not as the moon system)
warnings. angst? bad writing/ thoughts and hcs
I feel like marc is a lot more insecure than he lets on or more than one may think. he's usually the type to shrug and gruff dismissively, not wanting to bring attention to it, or to the fact that he cares about something... you. because you're casually messing about, he tries not to expect anything else of you. to see you flirting may make him feel insecure and make him remember what a fuckup he is. it would make him feel stupid to think that you'd want something more with him. I don't think he would take it too lightly, and would most likely be wounded by your games. how you'd essentially toy with him when he put himself out there (he's probably had lots of casual sex before, but nothing quite like your situation) maybe he doesn't like to be on the opposite end of the stick - to be the one that is more invested in a 'relationship'. I feel like he'd brush you off, saying, "yeah, yeah im good. gonna uh— gonna head to bed now."
with steven I think he's always wary about situationships - it's not something he's usually down for. except maybe he really likes you, and this way being friends with benefits is as close as he can get to being with you, so he takes the opportunity. again, same with marc, it would make him feel insecure for you to flirt with someone else to make him jealous. it would make him feel inadequate to think he had a shot with you. he already felt like you were out of his league, and it would make him feel ridiculous for thinking otherwise. maybe he would laugh it off and pretend he was okay with you 'toying' with him, but really he'd just be upset and disappointed (in himself and dare I say... you... soz) I feel like he'd chuckle and say, "yeah, no— no, that was— yeah, you got me there." and he'd just walk off
for jake im on the fence a bit here. one hand I think he'd entertain it, maybe playing you and retaliating to make you jealous. he would find himself someone on their own at the bar, just in eye sight of you and would hit on them - making sure you can see. he thinks that becuase you're playing games, he gets to as well. BUT im also weighing with the fact of how volite and explossive he can be, and how he reacts before he can think. so perhaps if you're flirting with another man, he'd go up to you both and push him away, maybe holding your arm and walking you out the bar. mumbling to himself as he pushes past people. he'd be like, "what the hell was that? going around and flirting with people you meet at bars?" and then you say, "we're not dating. we aren't anything," and then he'd be like, "yeah, you're right," and then would let go of your arm and nod and walk away
#request#yonlyssguts#marc spector#marc spector angst#marc spector x reader#steven grant#steven grant angst#steven grant x reader#jake lockley#jake lockley angst#jake lockley x reader#gn reader#moon boys#moonknight x reader#moon knight
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Oscar Isaac Characters Finding You Dead
Minors DNI
Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Anselm Vogelweide, Llewyn Davis, Abel Morales x gn!reader
Sorry if anyone is ooc!
CW: death, murder, suicide, blood/gore, break-in, various wounds, torture, etc. + pet names, untranslated Spanish, so on.
Notice! Not all of these scenarios are romantically founded, the reader is just someone who knew the character/was close with them.
These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best.
Not proof read or heavily edited
Miguel O’Hara - Villain Attack
There was never a doubt in Miguel’s mind, he knew that one day he’d have to save you. But not like this…
A Green Goblin anomaly had appeared and started bombing Nueva York.
You’d think with all the Spider People so close by, there’d be no casualties. But being so focused on protecting other universes, he almost neglected his own.
The moment Miguel was aware of the anomaly, he and many other Spiders rushed in to help protect the city.
The damage was already extreme, with two buildings nearly demolished.
Spiders spread across the scene, saving and moving the bystanders as Miguel focused on the alternate Goblin.
After capturing the terrorizer, Miguel started barking orders to everyone, wanting everything cleared up asap.
He was heading back to base as the spiders cleared the rubble.
“Oh god- MIGUEL!” One of the Spiders cried out as they tried to lift a large blanket of concrete up. The urgency in their voice quickly set Miguel off.
Miguel rushed over, his heart dropping seeing your dust covered body.
How long had you been under there? Why didn’t anyone sense you sooner? Miguel’s mind raced with panic.
With his sheer strength, he threw the debris away from your body and checked your vitals, his eyes focused on your face the entire time.
Open your eyes… please… mi amor…
When didn’t feel a heartbeat, he went to start cpr, but realized your ribs were broken. The broken bones had stabbed your vital organs, he couldn’t save you, it would’ve only caused more damage.
Miguel didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw his tears hit your face, muddling the dust covering your skin.
It wasn’t often he cried, hell, it took a good few minutes for him to start crying over Gabriella’s death. But after another loss, he couldn’t hold in the pain he was already barely containing.
His arms cradled your broken body with the most care possible. It didn’t matter that you were gone, you were his, the person he swore to protect.
I failed again…
Sobs ruptured through the bombing site. The boss who everyone saw as intimidating and cold, was now hunched over, sobbing over your limp body.
I failed.
I failed.
I failed…
Moon Knight System - Steven / Marc / Jake - Break-in and Murder
Steven, once again, had a late night of work at the gift shop. He was exhausted when he came home, but was more than happy to be back home after stocking shelves for hours.
He was almost tempted to let Marc or Jake front instead, but Steven wanted to see you before Jake took off to do Konshu’s bidding later in the night.
“Love, I'm back!” He says, keeping up his cheerfulness. It had been a long day, he just wants to see you.
Looking around the house, Steven felt confused. You normally rushed to meet him, to welcome him back.
Where were you?
Walking into the bedroom, Steven saw your form under the blankets.
“Love? Are you not feeling well?” He asked quietly, worried he might wake you.
You looked at peace, your hair tousled as it lays on the pillow. Your skin was a bit pale, but Steven smiled softly, assuming you were just tired, he knew he sure was.
His hand fell on your covered stomach as he sat beside you. But a warmth quickly spread over where he had applied pressure to the blanket.
Looking over, Steven nearly had a heart attack. His hand was tacky from blood that now soaked the thick comforter that’s covering you.
With fear rushing through his veins, he ripped off the covers to reveal the stab wounds littered across your torso.
A scream ripped through his chest as he quickly tried to see if you were still alive. His heart dropped when he felt your cold skin and lack of a heart beat.
Despite Jake and Marc trying to desperately front, Steven wouldn’t let them or listen to their pleads.
Instead, he grabbed your body and sobbed. His hand clasped yours, wishing yours would squeeze his, that you’d wake up and kiss his worries away.
No, no, no— what happened— love… oh god…
It took a good while for Steven to let one of the others front, but Marc took over when he got the chance.
Both had been confined to the mirrors in the bedroom, wishing they could hold you like Steven had. Instead, for over an hour, they were stuck in the mirrors, cursed to grieve from a distance.
Steven faded back into the subconscious, too drained to watch Marc from the mirror.
Jake, on the other hand, took a step back into the subconscious because he had his own plans.
Marc didn’t sob as much as Steven did, but his pain was just as bad.
He had lost so much in life, he was almost confused on how to express his grief for you.
His fingers run along your face, tracing every detail he loves so much. Marc wished you would open your eyes, but your body was long since cold.
Marc wished he complimented you more. Sure, he praised you often, but did you know how much he loved you?
His heart ached with guilt. Marc wanted to make you blush once more from his compliments and soft kisses.
He didn’t know who did this. But he would. They’d find out who did this.
They all would get justice for you.
By Konshu’s word, he swore they would.
It was Marc who called the police and watched as you were dragged away to the hospital morgue.
It was Marc who watched the security footage that showed your killer breaking into the apartment and leaving an hour later.
It was Marc who found out the explicit details that came with your murder.
Marc was the one who told Steven and Jake the details.
This shouldn’t have ever happened… but now we know. What do we do next?
Jake was the protector, or so he’s supposed to be.
Standing over your body in the freezing morgue, Jake stared at your expressionless face.
He could remember the last time you two had a date night. The night was warm as he drove the two of you around town. He could remember the beautifully warm smile that broke across your face as the date came to a close.
Jake would do anything to see that smile again.
The others had already fronted to say their final goodbyes, Jake wanted to be the last one. He wanted to talk to you one last time.
“We found out who did this, amor.” He whispered, trying to contain his wavering voice.
“They won’t get away with this…” His lips brushed your forehead.
”I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” His tears finally fell down as he reluctantly pulled away.
As he left the hospital, Jake dawned the suit and slipped into the night, ready to enact revenge for you.
Your murderer will regret ever laying a finger on you…
Basil Stitt - Suicide
Basil hadn’t seen you in a while. Yes, part of it was because he had locked himself in his apartment, but he also just hadn’t seen you pass by his door.
He always had his eye to the peephole when you should be leaving or getting home from work.
Is that weird? Of course, but it made him feel less alone. He wanted to talk to you, but his scars contained him to his room.
Where were you? He wondered after spending an entire day looking out into the hallway.
Basil’s heart dropped when he saw movers taking garbage bags out of your apartment.
What are they doing to your things?
Despite his fear, Basil dawned his paper bag and poked his head out.
“What are you guys doing?” Basil questioned nervously.
“There was a suicide. The family wanted us to collect the person’s belongings.” The confused and hesitant workers answered.
Basil slammed his door and collapsed to the ground instantly. The paper bag tumbling to the floor as he clutched and pulled his hair.
His body trembled with grief and hatred as tears pooled on the floor.
He never was good at reacting to bad information, but this was worse.
Why did you leave him too? What did he do wrong?
First it was his face, then his job, then his family and girlfriend, but now you too?
His tears turned to screams and Basil went on a destructive rampage in his apartment, the agony overwhelming him.
He blamed himself for your death, despite barely knowing anything about it.
Maybe if he hadn’t gone into hiding, you would’ve lived. Maybe you two could’ve been lonely together.
But he was also angry.
How could you leave him after everything that happened to him? When he needed you the most?
You didn’t know though. How could you? Your neighbor, the only person you saw everyday, had disappeared for weeks without a word.
Basil knew that, but nothing could stop the emotions flooding and pouring out of him.
Why did you leave me? Why? Why?! Why?!?
Blue Jones - Murdered by a Client
Working for Blue always had its risks, and everyone knew that, including him.
But Blue didn’t expect this.
You had been bought out for the night by a rich newcomer. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.
Blue gave them permission to use you as you saw fit. As long as the merchandise didn’t get damaged, anything went.
Blue stood over your strangled body, his face neutral and flat.
Your glossed over eyes stared back at him, lips hung open loosely.
He didn’t expect his toy to be destroyed, let alone strangled to death.
Your costume was still on, but your makeup was out of place. Blue’s doll was a beautiful, broken mess.
Blue exhaled a puff of smoke as he turned to the killer, the man a sobbing mess.
“I didn’t mean to- they wouldn’t listen to me- please let me go, I’ll compensate you-“ He tried to ramble out, shutting up when the barrel of Blue’s gun pressed against his forehead.
The shot rang through the entire building. The girls and clients quickly rushed out of the other rooms to see what happened.
Screams and tears broke out from the girls as Blue pushed past everyone going to his office.
But it was once he was alone that Blue had the chance to process what happened.
Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw your dead ones. It hurt seeing something he owned in such a state.
Only one tear falls down his cheek as he reviews the footage of what happened. He always kept cameras in the rooms, it was a security measure, but he didn’t think he’d actually ever watch the footage for something like this.
Blue already knew the man was lying about why he killed you, but it hurt to watch you get choked and beg to be let go of.
The man was just angry, he only wanted to kill. You had done nothing wrong. Which made Blue mad.
He leaned back in his seat as the hot, silent tears fell down his cheeks, hidden by the cigar smoke flooding the front of his face.
Blue decided that, from the forward, he was going to be far more strict with who could touch his toys…
My poor bunny…
Poe Dameron - Spaceship Crash
You and Poe had agreed to stay safe, to meet one another after the fight concluded.
Together, you were going to celebrate the victory.
Poe knew you were an intelligent flier, that you were going to do great things for the universe.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that everything went well, until he joined the celebrations…
Everyone was celebrating over the successful stop to the First Order. But as Poe searched the crowds, he realized you were missing.
Fearing the worst, he darted to the medical tents, desperately looking for you. His fears were met when he saw your barely breathing body.
Poe fell to his knees besides the cot you rested on, analyzing the damage you had taken.
He called out your name, to no response.
“Their ship was shot and crashed. There were some malfunctions and the safety’s didn’t trigger. They don’t have much longer, there’s nothing we can do on such short notice.” A nurse sadly explained.
“So you're just leaving them to die out!?” Poe exclaimed in horror, his tears falling fast and hard.
Despite wanting to reprimand the nurse, he knew it would do nothing. Instead, he held your hand to his lips as he watched you until your final breath.
In your final moments, Poe had been whispering soft and loving words to you, hoping you could hear him.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, that any of this happened. You deserve the world, the galaxy. You helped save us. You’re a hero… you’re my galaxy…”
Poe couldn’t stop crying, and he could barely hear himself over the cheering outside.
He should’ve been celebrating with you, this shouldn’t have happened.
No one knew where Poe had gone, and hours later, Finn had to pull Poe away from your body.
Despite all reluctance, Poe eventually left your side for the night, but he didn’t stop mourning you.
That night, he spent his time in your room holding your belongings close, not wanting to lose the last bits of you he does have.
My galaxy, I’m so so sorry…
Nathan Bateman - Killed by a Prototype
You had been one of the few people Nathan trusted enough to come around the house.
Not that he ever let you go downstairs, no.
He didn’t need you to.
When first developing Ava and her predecessors, he had chosen to try and study a real person. Not through the cameras like he did later on, no.
He thought it’d be better to model the AI after someone he liked.
But he was wrong. One of the few times he had let his emotions make his decision, and it was the worst one.
While trying to work out the kinks of the AI, it had escaped. It had knocked him unconscious for long enough that it made its way upstairs.
The girl stared at you in horror as you stood in the kitchen, knife in hand from making dinner.
You looked just as shocked to see a nude woman coming up from the basement, wires hanging from her broken arm.
She even looked oddly similar to you.
Before you could even react, she tackled you, the knife going flying.
Nathan, having heard the crash, awoke and ran upstairs.
He came up from behind and broke the AI’s skull, the body falling on top of you.
“For fucks sake. That was awf…” he trailed off once he shoved the AI’s body to the side and saw you.
Nathan didn’t know how to react seeing your bleeding body, knife sticking out from where your heart is.
There was no hospital nearby, and with how glassy your eyes looked, he knew you were doomed.
Silently, Nathan sat back on his knees and feet, just staring down at your lifeless body.
He wasn’t an emotional person, but he didn’t like how he felt at that moment.
His eyes searched yours before shifting to the dead AI woman, his creation, your killer.
Nathan’s fists reacted quicker than his brain had, and before he knew it, his hands were bloody from breaking the AI down to nothing but shards.
His feet moved to the bar, and before he knew it, he had drunk a full bottle of vodka.
His knuckles, caked in dried blood, chucked the bottle at the wall. The shatters go flying, some even hitting you…
Nathan stood over your body, once again, staring down at you. His expression unclear.
After your death, Nathan was far more careful. Adding keycards to open doors, not just simple locks.
He even kept the prototypes locked up no matter what.
And who knows, maybe your death is what got him to start drinking so much…
How idiotic…
Duke Leto Atreides - Poisoning
Leto knew the dangers of loving you, yet he still did it.
He always made his love clear, practically worshiping you in private.
Leto would risk his life and title as Duke just to care for you for forever.
He wanted to propose eventually.
But your life was taken long before he had the chance.
The Duke looked down at your slumped body, your poisoned drink spilt from where your head had fallen.
In that moment, Leto regretted never marrying you.
He loved you, but in theory, it was better to stay unmarried, open to alliances with the other Great Houses.
But this wasn’t worth it.
Your life wasn’t worth it.
Leto had to keep his composure in front of his men, but in the comfort of his room, he cried. He weeped.
His sobs shook his body as remorse and grief overwhelmed his senses.
Seeing your body in such a way, it shook him to the core.
Sure, he had experienced death before, but this was different.
He loved you, and he saw where you died, he saw you dead.
Choked sobs escaped his lips as he recounted all the moments you two shared.
He wished he could’ve kept you safe, stopped you from drinking the poison.
You were in the House of Atreides, you should have been safe.
That’s what ate at him. That you died where he swore you were protected.
You died under his care.
Why you were killed, he wasn’t sure. But he swore to find out, to avenge you.
If nothing else, he’d make sure to get you justice.
He loved you, and he messed up never marrying you.
I wish I had made you mine, my dear…
Prince John - Assassination
John, the prideful idiot, should’ve never put a bounty on Robin Hood’s head.
It only made his reputation worse.
John should’ve lowered the taxes, but he didn’t.
And now all the citizens hate him, rightfully so.
But John always had you to go back to, you to love and receive love back.
You tried to reason with John, to show him he was being unreasonable and bleeding his kingdom dry.
Yet he never listened, and he now knows the danger of not listening to the advice he gets.
You had just been going about your business, crossing through the towns when you were attacked.
What was supposed to be a simple robbery, turned to an assassination. One of Robin’s troupe mates had gone rogue; they wanted to send Prince John a message.
The message was received.
John had gotten word of what happened.
He found out about how you begged for your life.
How you cried before your body was abandoned on a wooded path.
It made him angry. It made John furious.
You didn’t deserve this. You advocated for the citizens, yet you were the one killed.
John had destroyed everything in sight upon hearing of your murder.
His guards and mother had barely been able to calm him down. But once he had come down from the rage, John broke out into sobs.
He was barely consolable, all he wanted was to fall into your arms and be comforted by you.
Just one more time, John wanted to feel you caress his scalp as you reassured your love for him.
He couldn’t believe he lost you, the only person who loved him.
In spite and pure hatred, John raised the bounty on Robin Hood and his gaggle of followers.
John wanted them alive so he could execute them on your behalf, but he’d take their dead bodies as well.
As long as they were dead, he would be content.
Robin Hood… you’ll regret this… hurting my beloved…
Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Car Accident
Santi had been through so much in life, and it made him extremely overprotective of those he loved.
He always was worried and tried to protect you.
He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, especially in the dangerous world we live in.
So why did the world still take you from him?
Santi didn’t know how to react when he got the call from the hospital.
He initially had ignored the call, thinking it was a reminder to set up an appointment or something. But when they called again a few minutes after, the blood in his face drained.
“… died… car crash…” those were the only words his brain registered the operator saying.
His heart broke into a million pieces and he felt like he was hyperventilating.
You died..? How could you die in a crash? After everything tried to do to protect you?
The call had ended and Santi sat hunched over, crying into the palms of his hands. His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable.
If he had picked up the first time, maybe he could have made it to the hospital. Maybe he could’ve said goodbye. At least, that’s what he thought.
“I’m so sorry- oh god, no…” He murmured over and over, desperately wishing it wasn’t true.
He almost wished he was at the crash, that way he could’ve seen you one last time. But now, he’s stuck waiting for the morgue to call, waiting to confirm that it’s your body on the table.
Santi’s sobs only stopped when he passed out from exhaustion.
Why did this happen to you? Why you…
Anselm Vogelweide - Shot on Accident
Anselm was known for his erratic and random behavior. That included when he’d change his mind on a whim.
Despite his absurd actions, you cared for him, as he did you.
Anselm always kept you nearby, and everyone knew that. Even people just passing through his office knew that.
He treated you differently, he treated you better than most of his other employees.
Where he’d change his mind as he saw fit with his clients, he was very firm with his decisions regarding you.
And it didn’t go unnoticed.
So when Anselm decided to raise the price out of the blue on a client, the client was pissed.
It wasn’t unexpected that a gun was going to be pulled, but the gunshot that rang out- that was a surprise.
His men had already detained the perpetrator before Anselm realized that you’d been shot.
Your hands clutched at your bleeding heart, and your eyes quickly fell shut, your body following suit.
Disregarding his squeaking leg brace, Anselm dove to collect your body in his arms.
His eyes were wide with horror and disbelief at the sight of you dying in his arms.
The world was practically silent for him as he watched you breath your last breath.
Anselm sat there for a moment, pulling your body close to his chest in an attempt to preserve your warmth. He felt an ache in his chest when you gave no response, your body limp and spilling blood.
Anselm didn’t give himself the time to mourn or cry, instead he went cold, his heart stilling for a moment as his attention turned to the shooter.
Looking through the fogged glass lens, Anselm ordered to have your killer chained up in the basement as he carried your body to another room.
For months after your death, Anselm tortured the person who killed you.
The basement became a crime scene of horrific activities. Teeth and nail pulling, breaking bones, slicing skin, it was all incomparable to what Anselm felt the murderer deserved.
They killed his dear dove. This was the least he could do.
His disappointment was immeasurable when he found the murderer dead one morning, Anselm felt far from done torturing them.
The body was disposed of swiftly, and afterwards, Anselm visited the extravagant grave he made special for you.
It was only then, after everything, that he let himself cry over your passing.
My dove…
Llewyn Davis - Suicide
Llewyn was your friend, and the two of you always helped one another out.
He needed a couch to sleep on, you were open. You needed a drinking buddy, he was there.
You both couldn’t offer much monetarily, both just trudging through life and old habits.
But you always left the window unlocked, just for him.
Llewyn hadn’t heard from you in a while, and it had just so happened, he needed a place to stay and was in the area.
Throwing open the fire escape window, he hopped through, entering your apartment.
He called your name as he wandered around, confused where you could be so late in the day.
Yet, when he arrived at the bathroom door he paused, knocking before entering.
He instantly wished he never opened the door.
In the tub, surrounded by bloodied water, he saw you. Your face was towards the window, like you were watching the sky before you died.
The sight made him nearly hurl, but the tears made it out first.
What have you done…
Just when Llewyn thought his life couldn’t get worse, you decided to leave him just like Mike did…
Of course, he knew it wasn’t actually a choice to go against him, but it still felt like he was part of why you took your life.
And that broke his heart.
If he had just visited you or bummed at your place more often, would you still have gone through with it?
He called the police after a bit of a breakdown, and a few days later, he was alerted that your only goodbye was a note scrawled with “I’m sorry.”
Maybe the note was for him, but boy, he wished there was more.
A simple “fuck you Llewyn” would’ve been better than this…
You had always asked him to play a song, but he alway said no. He always said he was too tired, that music was his work, not something he wanted to do all the time.
You never pushed him to play for you, not like other people did. So, he never played for you.
But now, in front of your grave, Llewyn played his heart out to you. His tears bouncing off his guitar, onto the frozen ground where you’d been buried.
‘If I had wings, like Norah’s dove,
I’d fly up the river to the one I love…’
Abel Morales - Accidentally Killed During Work
Abel knew the dangers of letting his employees continue their oil deliveries and solo inspections.
So many of his employees had already been attacked, yet he still took the risk.
He just didn’t expect the attacks to get worse.
Sure, some had been threatened with a gun, hell, one was kidnapped and beaten.
But this was the first time someone actually died…
Upon hearing about your death, Abel stopped in his tracks and demanded to know what happened.
He felt like his life was falling apart the moment his wife explained what happened.
After so many troubles and hoops he’s had to go through for his company, he didn’t think he’d be losing one of his best employees as well.
You were doing a simple house call and sales pitch.
That’s all it was supposed to be.
If he had known your colleague wasn’t feeling well, he wouldn’t have sent you out to the call at all.
He never would’ve guessed you’d decide to go alone…
Abel felt guilty over your death. You died because the competition was trying to send a message, or at least that’s what he assumed.
Abel held his head high as he found out about the circumstances of your death.
Apparently, the murderers were only meant to rough you up a bit and dump you just outside city limits, in a particularly snowy area.
But as you tried to run away, one of the goons tried to shoot a warning shot to get you to stop.
The bullet hit you in the Achilles tendon.
You collapsed into the dense snow instantly, crying out in pain.
In fear of getting arrested, the shooters fled, leaving you to bleed in the snow.
You died of hypothermia. You could’ve been saved.
That’s what hurt Abel the worst.
If your killers had just tried, they could’ve brought you to the hospital. But instead, they’re now awaiting a trial and eventual imprisonment.
But because they confessed, and it was an accidental death, they would be able to have parole, they could walk free one day.
To Abel, they deserved to rot in prison forever. But he didn’t have the right to oppose the judge, not when your family had already accepted the punishment.
Abel paid for the funeral, and there he saw you for the last time.
I’m sorry this happened… I’ll take care of your family from now on. I promise…
—————————————————
Brb sobbing in the club rn…
For real though, thank you for reading!
Feel free to send over any requests/suggestions
#miguel o’hara angst#moon knight angst#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#basil stitt#blue jones#poe dameron angst#Nathan Bateman#duke leto atreides#Prince John#santiago pope garcia#Anselm Vogelweide#llewyn davis#abel morales#angst#miguel ohara#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#Poe dameron
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Silence
Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader, implied Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly
Word count: 5.1K. Buckle up, folks.
Warning(s): Insecurities and heavy angst. I cried while thinking of the concept, and I’m hoping this does my idea justice. Set after the finale, so there are spoilers!
A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing a fic and posting it, so please be gentle! This piece is purely based on research and the events of the series. I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. If any part of this piece offends anyone, please let me know. No offense is intended.
This is also not completely beta-read, so the mistakes are on me.
Summary: You should’ve stopped asking questions.
Taglist: @s-v-e-l-t-e, @caroldanvours
Everyone had warned you about the rose-tinted glasses. Your friends, your family, hell, and even your old college professors used to tell stories about how love could be either the best or worst thing that you could ever experience. It was a risk to put your heart entirely into the hands of a stranger, giving them the liberty to do whatever they wanted to it. Love it, cradle it, protect it, sure—but also poke it, stab it, and break it to the point of no return.
But with Steven Grant? It was a risk you were definitely willing to take.
You had been friends with him for five months and had been dating for at least eight before he disappeared without a trace. You were confused, to say the least. In the year or so that you have known him, you never would have expected him to disappear and cut all ties with you. But still, you waited. You waited with the hope that maybe he’d come back home to you.
However, when Steven did return, he was conflicted. He honestly believed that you wouldn’t wait for him, especially since there was no effort on his part to try and contact you after his sudden disappearance. Nonetheless, he felt that he at least owed you an explanation, and his heart squeezed in his chest when you didn’t leave when he told you about everything.
He explained it from the start, his sleeping disorder, how he tried staying up because he had hyper-realistic dreams that scared the hell out of him. You already knew of this early on in the relationship, but then he continued the story, telling you about Marc, about Khonshu, and everything that had happened to him from the day he got fired from the museum to the day he came back home to you. You've noticed that he seemed happier now, probably because he understood why he had been losing days of his life, and he’s come to accept and love his alter despite everything.
But there was also another reason, wasn’t there?
Maybe it was your fault. You shouldn’t have asked too many questions. You should’ve just taken what he told you, accepted the anecdotes, and moved forward. You should’ve just been happy that he was here and safe. But you just had to ask, right?
“Who’s Layla?” Your innocent question stopped him dead in the middle of his sentence as the grin he donned slowly faded into a tight-lipped smile. One he had hoped would be a little more reassuring than nervous, and maybe, if he hadn’t taken so long to reply, you wouldn’t have been suspicious.
“A friend of Marc’s.” His reply was short and simple. “I… She was the one who came over that day, remember? When you dropped off that book you borrowed from me? Before I… Before I disappeared?”
Oh. Of course, you remember Layla–well, her physical attributes, at least. To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. She was breathtaking, ethereal, and a goddess at the least. However, you hadn’t heard whatever they were talking about when you knocked on the apartment door that day because they stopped talking before Steven opened the door, enough for him to peek out at you.
Steven’s heart raced as he studied your reaction to his reply, trying to gauge whether or not you heard his and Layla’s conversation. Surely you hadn’t, right? You had no idea about the scarab before he told you about it when he had returned. So that would mean that you probably hadn’t heard the conversation, and you hadn’t seen the way he looked at her the way he once looked at you. You wouldn’t have waited this long for him if you had, right?
He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t help himself, could he? The second his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist when she drove a little faster towards his apartment, and he was hit with “I’m still your wife,” things changed. His mouth moved on its own accord that day as Layla handed him the divorce papers he–technically, Marc–had sent.
“I would never divorce you.”
Then everything came crashing down after that. Marc had warned him against showing Layla the scarab, but she got around to it anyway, so it was too late. Steven had begged for her help, trying to explain the whole situation, and the entire thing merely confused Layla even more.
“You really don't remember why we've been looking for this? Our adventures. Or our life together?”
“Oh, God, I wish I could.”
You had come knocking on the door only a few minutes later, a smile on your face as you held up his newer copy of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s book of poetry. “Steven! Hi! I finally got around to reading this, but I have to say that I don’t exactly ge-”
Your words were abruptly cut off when Steven dragged you into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. None of you were quite sure why he had done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe Marc had been the reason for it all.
You hadn’t had enough time to properly introduce yourself to Layla, and likewise, because the moment your eyes lay upon her, you froze. Who was she?
The following events flew by too quickly for you to properly grasp at the time. The police knocking on the door, Steven gently urging you to hide, the police making accusations against him, then just silence.
By the time you believed that the coast was clear, they were gone. The police were gone. The woman was gone. Steven was gone. You had tried going around the area, searching through the different police stations for him, and you had even gone back to the museum to ask if they had changed their mind and were pressing charges. Sadly, nothing. He wasn’t at any of the police stations, nor did the museum change their minds. So you did the only thing you could do at the time. You waited.
You texted him, called him, and left voicemails for him. Hell, you even resorted to emailing him a couple of times, just to see if your messages would reach him. All your efforts were unanswered, and you truly had no idea of his whereabouts until he came back home to you.
Sure, you’d seen the news about the happenings in Cairo, but never in a million years would you have thought that your boyfriend was the one donning the white suit.
“Oh!” A smile graced your lips, having merely associated the name with the pretty girl who once stood in the apartment. “I remember her! She helped you guys out? That’s amazing!”
You were completely unaware that Steven left out an important detail: that Layla was his alter’s wife. In the short period that he had been gone and away from you, he had kissed her and had fallen in love with her too.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Days passed, and you had been invited to the apartment numerous times throughout the week, but you weren’t complaining. You missed Steven, quite frankly, you also wanted to know more about Marc. You had encountered him a couple times when he had been fronting, but your interactions never lasted too long. Steven was usually requested for control whenever you were around, but you were aware of his alter since Steven had explained that they recently learned how to become co-conscious. That didn’t mean that they knew every waking life of the other, but at least the blackouts and memory gaps have lessened considerably.
On random occasions, Steven would continue to tell you stories about what had taken place in Cairo. Some stories were repeats of what he had told you in previous days, while others were memories he had just remembered and wanted to tell you. Sometimes, he’d tell you his thoughts about the event or other questions he had, only to piece the answer together halfway through asking you.
It was the simple moments like these that made you happy, really. To have Steven beside you on the bed, rambling about anything that came to his mind. You didn’t mind when he would tell you a story he had already told you, and you definitely didn’t mind when he would go into the technicalities of the event.
Though, there was one thing you noticed to have become a recurring topic: Layla. He would bring her up unconsciously, really, or at least, that’s what you would want to believe. But as the days passed, her name frequented his lips more often, and it felt different. It was almost as if he asked you about her daily, bringing her up as if she was the only waking thought he had. If it weren’t for the accent, you would have honestly thought Marc was fronting. She was his friend first, right?
“Do you think she’s okay? I-I mean, Marc and I were Khonshu‘s avatar, and he was just downright manipulative.” He turned his head to glance at you, “Taweret… Taweret, on the other hand… we met in that afterlife I told you about, yeah? She seemed nice. Helped us escape the Duat and all that, but… I just can't help but wonder, you know? Do you think Taweret is treating her right?” His question remained unanswered as he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment, his fingers intertwined and resting on the soft flesh of his stomach.
You were lying on your side as you looked at him, heart clenching in your chest as you studied the way his eyes shone under the moonlight. It took you a couple of seconds before you were able to bring yourself to nod slowly, swallowing the lump that you hadn’t noticed formed in your throat.
“I’m sure she’s doing alright, Steven. She does sound pretty badass, yeah? She’s saved you and Marc quite a lot, hasn’t she?” Your voice was small as you replied to him, a wave of insecurity wafting over you as things began clicking together in your brain.
“Yeah? Yeah. She did save us when she freed Khonshu! I swear, though, you should’ve seen her in her armor, love! She looked amazing. I don’t even think I was able to greet her properly, really. Could you believe that? Marc and I were conversing about it the other day, right? And…”
You toned out his words as you continued to observe the way his mouth moved, how his lips flicked up to a gentle smile as he talked about her, and how he continued to ramble on and on about her. Utterly oblivious to your thoughts, more so to your feelings. You’ve seen this kind of look before.
To be fair, you had been thinking about it for a while. You tried convincing yourself that she had just become a close friend that he began to care about. That he was just concerned about her well-being since she had agreed to become an avatar of an Egyptian goddess, and he nor Marc didn’t exactly have the best time as Khonshu’s avatar. However, the more you studied his words and actions, things became clearer and clearer. It wasn’t until a gentle call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your eyes to lock with Steven’s worried ones.
“You… Are you in love, Steven?” You dared to ask, causing silence to fill the room once again. A silence that lasted a couple moments as Steven furrowed his brows, and his hesitation in giving you an answer was already an answer itself.
The more he talked about her, the more you were able to analyze his reactions and facial expressions and damn yourself for having seen that look in the past. Damn yourself for recognizing it.
You’ve seen it in the way your father looked at your mother. You saw it in the way your best friend’s spouse looked at them on their wedding day. You recognized it because it was the same look he used to have when he would talk about you.
“What?” He asked, confusion filling his expressions as he shifted on the bed to bring all of his attention to you. “Of course, I’m in love, sweetheart. I’m in love with you.”
Normally, his expression of love would have you all shy and red in the cheeks, but that wasn’t the case this time. “It’s just…” you frowned, bringing your attention to the ceiling. Roles had been reversed at this point, with you on your back and Steven on his side, facing you. “I’ve seen this look of yours before, you know? It’s the look of a man who’s fallen in love…” your voice trailed off at the end, pursing your lips as you tried to get your emotions in check. The can of worms has been opened, right? There isn’t much of a way back from it now. “It’s the look you used to have for me.”
Steven frowned as well. “Used to have? Darling, I don’t know what you’re going on about?”
You chose to ignore his comment, another question leaving your lips before you could even process the thought.
“Who is she to you, Steven? Who is Layla to you?” There was a slight shake in your tone, “You.. You said she’s a friend of Marc, yeah? But who is she to you?”
His eyes softened at the question, pursing his lips in response. If he were to be honest with you, he didn’t know who she was to him at this point. Was he attracted to her? Had he actually fallen in love with her in that quick of a timeframe?
Steven had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t fall in love too quickly. Sure, he had casual crushes from the museum and friend crushes around the town, but this was different–Layla was different.
His brain often short-circuited when he was around her, and he just couldn’t help but admire everything about her. Maybe it was their shared interest in hieroglyphics and astronomy, or maybe it was something about her beauty in general, or maybe something about her intelligence and the way she was always there. She understood him, and she fought for him too. However, there was one thing he was sure of–she was Marc’s wife, not just a friend like he made it out to be.
But deep down inside him, he knew that he had fallen for her. He technically did confirm it back in one of those tents in Cairo, didn’t he? When Marc interrogated him about being in love with his wife? He hadn’t verbally answered the question, but his actions were enough for Marc to know that he had. The kiss he shared with Layla was also enough for him to know that he had.
Steven’s lack of response broke your heart, to say the least. The lack of a verbal response already served as the answer you hoped you wouldn’t have to receive from him.
The silence between you two didn’t last as long as you thought it would, having a sigh leave his lips as he brought his arm over his eyes.
“I-I don’t know.”
His words brought your attention to him once more, seeing his body tense up as he gulped. You should have played it off and moved on by this point, right? But you couldn’t. Not when his body language told you more than enough. You sensed the truth in his statement; you’d give him that. But at the same time, you also felt the conflict that was arising within him, and you knew that was because of you.
It definitely did not help your thoughts when he sniffled. Perhaps you were missing the bigger picture? Fuck. Maybe you overreacted? Had you offended him?
“Shit. Wait, lovie–I’m sorry. We can drop it, yeah?” You offered, sitting up abruptly and moving closer to him so you could lift his arm from his face, your heart breaking at the sight of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. “I just… You were gone for so long and since you came back, you’d always just bring her up and I was just curious.”
Steven sat up as well, and your hand moved to cup his cheek, causing him to lean in against your touch. “That’s all. But I believe you, okay, lovie? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry..”
The thing is, you and Steven barely got into misunderstandings, and on the rare occasion that you did, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with a kiss. So that’s exactly what you intended to do. You moved closer and leaned in to press your lips to his, only for him to pull his head back slightly in hesitation–another event you weren’t prepared for.
Swallowing back a sob, his eyes bore into your saddened ones. Guilt overcame his features almost immediately at the sight. You at least deserved the truth, right?
“I… She isn’t… She isn’t just Marc’s friend.” He whispered, bringing his hand to cup your own when he felt your touch falter slightly.
You felt as if you already knew where this conversation was headed, based solely on how he was basically tiptoeing around you, but you desperately wished you were wrong. “I… Is there something else you’d like me to know, Steven?”
“Layla… She’s Marc’s wife, darling.”
Nothing could have prepared you for that. You would have at least thought that she was Marc’s girlfriend or something along those lines, but you never would have thought that the alter of the man you were dating was married.
“She’s…” your voice trailed off as your hand slowly dropped from his cheek, causing him to move quickly to take your hands back in his. “He… You knew about this? When did she tell you? Or when did Marc tell you?”
“She told me the day that we met… Marc wanted to get a divorce because Khonshu wanted to have her as his next avatar, but Marc never signed the papers.” He quickly explained, tilting his head slightly so he could meet your eyes when you shifted your attention to your hands in his. “She tried giving me the papers that day but I couldn’t sign them–”
That sentence alone made your eyes shoot up, locking with his. “You couldn’t sign them?” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to grasp the information that was being handed to you. Shaking your head as your heart pounded against your chest, you continued, “You… You knew that she was Marc’s wife from the first day, yet you lied to me?”
He looked down at your hands, which he still held in his, as a response, his thumb moving in circles in an attempt to soothe you, as if it would do much.
You honestly did not have the energy to be mad at him. Technically speaking, he hadn’t done anything wrong either. Your relationship did not have a title, and while you were definitely past the ‘I love you’ stage, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Based on your knowledge, you don’t have high hopes that he will ever be either.
“You should have just told me. Hell, even just… not saying anything as a response would have sufficed as an answer.” Was all you could bring yourself to say after a couple moments of not saying anything to one another. Your words were leaving your mouth slowly as if articulating every single word you were about to say. “Lying… Lying isn’t better than silence, Steven. I-I would have understood… I mean, it was coming, wasn’t it?”
His head shot up at that, and his gaze met with yours once more. “Wha-”
It was your turn to cut him off. “Do you love her, Steven?” You asked once more, a small smile gracing your lips. If he hadn’t known you as well as he did, he would’ve been convinced that you were okay, but he knew better than that.
You were convinced that you would be met with another round of silence, but you were mistaken.
“I-I think I do…?” He mumbled softly, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. You weren’t quite sure what his head shake was in response to, but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to even process the action. “I don’t know, I can’t–You’re my first love, darling, I swear–”
His words turned into incoherent mumbles as he desperately tried to find the words to explain himself. To explain his feelings in a way that would hurt you in the least brutal way possible, but no matter how he chooses to explain it, his words are bound to hurt.
“I may be your first, but that’s all I’ll ever be, yeah?” Your voice was almost as soft as a whisper as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And it doesn’t matter though, does it, Steven? It doesn’t matter if I'm your first, I-I’ll never be your last. I’ll never be your only.” Maybe you were rambling at this point, but everything was crashing down around you. The man you had been waiting on, the relationship you were clinging on to, and everything you have come to love was slipping through your fingers so quickly. To make things worse, your acceptance of it all merely serves as the catalyst to the inevitable end.
“I’m never going to make you choose, lovie… You know that, right?” A tear found its way down your cheek as you brought his hand to your lips to give it a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Steven.”
He felt unworthy of you, to say the least. You deserved so much more than a man who leaves without a trace and whose loyalty did not fully reside with you. The memory of the kiss he shared with Layla plagues his mind, and the confession burns in his throat as he wonders if it's even worth it to tell you–to break your heart more than he already has.
“I’ve always considered myself lucky to have you, you know? It just… our whole relationship felt so good. Too good, actually.” You smiled sadly, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to look at the man you love. The one you allowed yourself to fall for so recklessly with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would love you back, even if just half as much as you did him. “She made–no, she makes you happy, doesn’t she? She kept you safe and fought for you. She saved you, and I just…”
Steven’s eyes shut tightly at your words, shaking his head rapidly as he desperately tried to think of the words to say to you. “It wasn’t on you, darling… Please don’t blame yourself for this.”
His response was typical, but you couldn’t blame him. “I don’t blame anyone for this, Steven, okay?” Your tone was free from any malice or bitterness, but the sadness that laced your words was still quite evident. “I could never hate anyone who makes you feel safe and happy, you know that. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Steven, and if she makes you happier than I ever could, then….”
“No.” The fact that you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that sentence broke him. His head continued to shake as if to convince himself that this isn’t happening to him, that you weren’t actually considering leaving him. He is well aware that you deserve better, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? After everything he’s been through? And after everyone he’s lost? “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”
Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek once more, your thumb gently grazing his skin as your eyes drink up the sight of him. Memorizing him. Every single bump and wrinkle. Every single self-acclaimed imperfection, in Steven's opinion. Every single thing that made him Steven and made you love him even more. “I love you, Steven Grant. I love every single bit of you, and I hope you never forget that.”
Your insecurities were getting the best of you. How could they not? The woman he had fallen for was here in the room with you that fateful day and had followed him somehow. Helped him. Protected him. She had everything you didn’t–bravery, strength, the brain, the beauty. And to top it all off? She had him, whether she was aware of that fact or not, she had won Steven’s heart, probably the same way she had won Marc’s. How could you ever compete with that?
You laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to realize that you stood up, collecting the things that you had brought over for the day. He’s brought back to his senses when he hears you sniffle, and he genuinely wishes he could just take you back in his arms and make you forget that he hurt you. But he doesn’t deserve that, does he?
Instead, he chooses to repeat his question as he gets off the bed and walks over to you. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He asks once more, dejection and defeat clouding his senses. His hands move to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but at the same time, he still doesn’t want to lose you.
You hadn’t made him choose between you and Layla because you made that choice for him, and you were letting him go. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose you, and at the same time, he didn’t want to lose Layla.
Your arms wrapped around him, holding him like a lifeline-your lifeline. A slow nod from you caused his grip on your figure to tighten as he felt your movement, a new wave of tears accompanying the gesture. “Could you do something for me, Steven?”
There were so many questions taking over your thoughts at the moment:
Why couldn’t you be good enough? How were you going to move on? Why were you stupid enough to think that this would last forever? When did he fall out of love with you?
Instead, you chose something else. A question that hurt him more than it hurt you. “Tell me more about her. Just so I know that I’m leaving you with someone who could love you as much as I could.”
His grip tightened even more at your request. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you more about her, even if he had talked about her too many times in the past couple of days. He couldn’t do it because he knew that this was your way of seeing how you could have been better for him, where you lacked in your relationship. But the thing is, you never lacked in any aspect–you were perfect, and he doesn’t deserve you.
A shake of his head was the only response he could give you, causing you to sigh as you gently pulled away from his grasp. It didn’t work though, since his arms were still firmly planted around your waist, but you were pulled apart enough for you to see his face.
Cupping his cheek once more, you leaned your forehead against his. “Kiss me? Just… Just one last time, Steven. Please.”
And he did. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that would be engraved in your memory forever. A kiss that captured feelings of love, regret, selfishness, and sorrow. A kiss that would be the last of the memories you would share with him in thirteen months you had known each other. A kiss that would ultimately be your last with the man you have grown to love despite the hardships and heartbreak that came with being with him. You never would’ve thought that you and Steven would have your last kiss like this.
“How lucky am I to have someone that makes saying goodbye so hard?” You forced out a laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against his once more. A sad smile graced your lips as your thumb gently wipes away the tears that have made it down his own cheeks. “I love you, and I'm just really grateful that I had you. Even if just for that couple of months that I did.”
Steven’s eyes drank you up the same way you had earlier, memorizing your features and everything about you. He just hates how the last memory he would have of you would be like this–with your heart broken because of him.
“Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?” He asked, his voice softer than it usually was when he was with you. And for fucks sake, you almost do, but you can’t.
“Oh, God, I wish I could.”
The line jogs his memory, causing his eyes to clench shut. His tears were freely streaming down his face at this point, and he knew he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care.
“You were good to me, Steven Grant. Thank you.” You couldn’t find the words to say as you pressed your lips against his nose once more. “Thank you, lovie. For letting me love you the way I did.”
“Please don’t say goodbye.” A broken sob wrecks his lips as tries to convince you to stay, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make that happen. “I-I can’t lose you. Please. You promised.” It was selfish for him to pull this card on you, but believe it or not, he does love you. “You promised…”
Nonetheless, you nod slowly. If he doesn’t want to hear the goodbye, he doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t mean that this wasn’t the last time you would see him. He knows this.
“I’ll see you later then, yeah? When we meet again?”
He was shaking uncontrollably now, but he had to let you go the same way you were letting him go. Had roles been reversed, he would’ve done the same for you.
All he could muster was a nod as he forced himself to release you from his hold. He honestly hated how things went south so quickly, but he was to blame for that, wasn’t he?
He has to let you go.
“Laters, gators.”
A gentle kiss on the back of his hand, and a squeeze of reassurance were the last things he remembered before the door of his apartment shut behind you.
Steven was left in the same way you were when he had disappeared that night.
In silence.
#moon knight#moon knight writings#moon knight imagine#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#jake lockley x you#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#layla el faouly#khonshu#steven grant imagine#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight angst#Oscar Isaac#Steven grant Drabble#Marc Spector Drabble#Jake lockley Drabble#moon knight fiction#marvel#moon knight series#Steven grant fic#Marc Spector fic
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hi! i see that requests are open and i love your writing! could you do an imagine with all three moon boys based on the prompt “running into reader’s ex” thank you! <3
Vengeance (Moon Knight x reader)
Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?
A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks for the ask, here’s the protective moon boys (I had to include the all powerful being too)
Warnings: Slight dark!moon knight, them being extra protective, swearing, mentions of bad mental health and unresolved trauma, Khonshu needs his own warning sometimes.
Word count: 1.3k
☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“You know, I really could have just driven us here.” Jake grumbled, one hand protectively clutching onto yours and his other arm slung around your shoulder.
You leaned into him as he guided you through the city’s bustling streets, your bag slung on his shoulder. You smiled at your fiance’s coddling, loving the attention that he brought with him whenever he fronted.
The new bookstore that you wanted to visit was located in a cultural hub and you had a list of books that you wanted to splurge on. Steven was happy to join you on your spending spree, Jake was happy to carry all of your books and Marc was just happy that you were happy. The second you walked in, you sprinted away from Jake’s protective grasp towards the novel section, making him chuckle at your enthusiasm.
“Don’t go too far princesa, we’re gonna lose you to books, like we always lose Steven.” he joked, shaking his head at you.
“Jake, we are quite literally attached to the same body, what are you on about?” Steven grumbled.
“I mean mentally, hermano.”
The second you were a bookshelf away from your boys, everything started going horribly. Your eyes landed on someone that made your hair stand on its end, goosebumps rose throughout your skin as you stood frozen, in shock. The person hadn’t seen you yet, instead talking to a customer. You back away slowly, turning the corner before you collide into a familiar chest.
“Aye, why you walkin’ backwards, sweetheart?” Marc questioned, the amusement in his tone fading instantly as he scanned your face.
He instinctively put his arm around your shoulders and you buried your face into his chest, breathing in his calming scent. You started to count from one to ten, backwards and forwards again and again until your breathing calmed. Marc knew you were scared about something but he didn’t ask instantly, choosing to look at his surroundings to find anything that could have triggered you. You fisted his jacket and pulled him close when he shifted slightly.
“Not going anywhere, baby, we’re still here with you.” he soothed, rubbing your hair and kissing your forehead.
You were safe, you had Marc, Steven and Jake, you were fine. You focused on Marc’s voice, holding on to it like he was your rock as the memories started to flood to you. Marc began to rub a spot on your back that made you begin to tear up.
“He couldn’t hurt you, not when your boys were around.” you thought to yourself.
You were pulled out of your swirling memories by the call of your name.
That voice.
“Huh, I thought I saw you here.” said the smug voice.
Marc, Steven and Jake were absolutely confused. Marc looked between the man in front of him and you, trying to piece together what was happening.
“Hiding in the arms of another man like the whore you are.”
You began to shake in Marc’s arms, fear creeping up your spine and dread flooding you. Marc was in shock. He couldn’t react to what this man had just called you, he just stood there, holding you tighter than ever. You wanted to tell them what was going on, or just pull Marc away from this mess, pretending that it never existed, but you couldn’t.
“Who the fuck are you?” Marc spat when he came to his senses.
A cruel laugh met your ears, your blood curdling at the sound, your heart racing as your brain began to shut down.
“I’m guessing the right slag didn’t tell you about me? I’m her ex.”
Marc froze. Your ex wasn’t a topic they got to discuss. You had your own troubles, it gave you nightmares and horrible anxiety that plagued you worse than any disease ever. It haunted you but the boys hadn’t figured out how to bring the topic up, choosing to deal with the aftershocks of whatever you had gone through. They were happy with you, they didn’t exactly need a full rundown of your life to know that you were good for them.
Marc was a little lost, trying to both focus on his own anger and pushing his alters to stay at bay. Khonshu had taken an interest in what was going on and had appeared behind the man that claimed to be your ex. No matter how much he despised the god he worked for, Marc felt relief rush over him, as if Khonshu had casted a safety blanket over them and flashed a reminder in Marc’s mind that he literally had the power of the gods. He swallowed his demons and took a deep breath.
“I suggest you apologize to my fiance and I before I make your life a living hell, Mr… Vic.” he said, eyeing the man’s name tag.
“Hmph, what can you do? Like I care about her to apologize. She should be the one facing the music.” the man lunged forward and grabbed your arm.
Fear coursed through you like a wave as you felt yourself being pulled away from Marc but all you saw was a flash of white before you. You dropped to your knees as your eyes fell on graying bandages. You knew you were not staring at any one of the boys’ suits. Slowly you looked up and there stood your fiance’s body but he looked different, more dangerous than any of the three could be.
“What the fuck is that!” your ex screamed and looked around but no one came to his aid.
Reassuring energy took over your fear and you now knew what was happening. Khonshu had taken over Marc’s body, his eyes shining bright and white like a full moon. Your ex was cowering now, his arms over his head as the possessed Marc stepped over your body, towards your ex.
“Don’t hurt me, please.” he begged and part of you wanted to smile at the fear that was etched on his face.
“You’re going to pay for this.” boomed Khonshu’s voice and all you saw was another flash of white before your whole vision went blank.
☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
You woke up in your fiance’s bed, Steven’s worried and tired face forming in your vision. You tried to smile at Steven but it came out as a grimace as you tried to sit up, your head pounding.
“Shh, stay down, love.” Steven cooed, pushing you back down onto the pillows.
“What happened?” you whispered.
“Well, our boss decided to show his full form, right in front of you and you passed out.” Steven said nervously, playing with the cuff of his sweater.
“What happened to, you know…” you asked, fear edging you around you again.
You were admittedly worried that the four of them had collectively done something irreversible and you stared at Steven with big scared eyes.
“Oh, let's just say that you’ll never have to deal with him again, my darling.” Steven said, his voice a tone lower. “And before you ask, no, he is not dead. Death would be mercy for him.”
Your mouth went dry but you didn’t question it. Instead your hands found the collar of Steven’s sweater and you pulled him down. His lips met yours gently and he pressed his forehead against yours reassuringly.
“I guess I owe the three of you an explanation.” you mumble.
“Only when you are ready, baby.” Marc’s voice slowed your heart and ebbed your anxiousness away.
“We’ll always wait for you, amor.” Jake promised and with a soft kiss to your cheek he laid down and pulled you over him as you began your story, never feeling more safe in your entire life.
☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
With the contact’s Marc had, wiping a person off the face of the Earth without killing them was probably the easiest thing in the world. All it took was a few calls, a little bit of money and Marc’s thoughts slowly started clearing. He didn’t care about the explanation you had for him, he knew your love was true and that fuelled him to do anything for you, no matter the consequence.
Reblogs are appreciated ~~~
Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie
#moon knight x reader#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#moon knight#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight fluff#jakeglockley asks#marvel moon knight#moon knight angst#steven grant angst#steven grant fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector fluff#jake lockley angst#jake lockley fluff#steven grant smut#marc spector smut#jake lockley smut#moon knight smut#steven grant fanfiction#marc spector fanfiction#jake lockley fanfiction#steven grant x fem!reader#marc spector x fem!reader#jake lockley x fem!reader#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac cheracters
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Broken Words
Moon System x Reader
How they apologize after fights
Steven Grant
You normally never had a argument or anything as bad as this, you guys had disagreements but you always talked it out but marc and jake have gotten on his nerves and he took it out on you, he grimaced as he thought back to the words he said to you and the look of hurt that was plastered on your face.
You were ignoring him and he hated it with a passion he'll try everything to get you to talk to him, he made you tea but all you said was 'thanks' you wouldn't come to bed you'd rather sleep in the couch and he couldn't fall asleep without you so he'd lay awake staring up at the ceiling.
"My love are you awake" he asked as he slowly raised himself off the bed 'mh" he heard you hum and slowly walked to the couch and took a seat on the ground beside you, you were angry with him but it didn't stop you from caring, "I'm sorry for the things I said.... I didn't mean any of it"
He breathing quickened as he tried to form words to help fix the mess he created, he flinched slightly as he felt your hand caress his cheek he leaned into it and took a deep breath before continuing "marc and jake have been at eachothers throats lately and they just won't shut up and I'm sorry that I took it out on you" he would grab your hand and hold it tightly and wait for you to speak "I accept your apology".
Marc Spector
He'd leave the flat to let himself cool off and give you space, his time away from the flat grew 30 minutes to an hour to 2, his guilt grew he would mutter to himself and didn't even look at the time intill it was 2 am he would curse at himself and slowly make his way home knowing that you would be asleep.
But you weren't, he opened the door to see you sitting on the couch staring at him with tears rolling down your face it made him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole, he'll take off his jacket and shoes while still maintaining eye contact with you and slowly make his way to sit beside you, he would nervously grab your hand and hold it between both of his while he two started to cry.
His body will shake with sadness as he stared into your eyes the flashes of the fight appearing in his mind, he clasped the couch cushion tightly as he tried to steady himself "forgive me" he would murmur quietly over and over he would get lost in his mind and was only brought back as you layed a gentle hand on his.
"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, I make you worry everyday day and I see that, I don't deserve you I don't deserve anything you give to me" he tears became more frequent as he spoke "I am trying to become the man you deserve, I am trying so fucking hard and it's scary I-I I'm trying ok and I'm sorry for all the shit I've done" you'd carefully pulled him to you letting him cry it out into your chest as you rub his back in comfort "I forgive you".
Jake Lockley
He would completely shut down and let one of the others front and let them console you, he wouldn't come out for weeks, marc and steven would try to get him to front and when they did he would just leave not saying a thing to you, when he came back you would be sleeping on the couch facing away from the door.
He would walk over to you, gently pick you up making sure he wouldn't wake you and carry you to the bed covering you with the duvet and blankets, he would lean down and lay a gentle kiss on your forehead before going to sleep on the couch himself.
He would wake up to you handing him a cup of coffee and he would try to get steven or marc to come out but they wouldn't saying that he need to fix this "trying to run away" you would smile trying to lighten the mood he would give a light hum and take the coffee out of your hand placing it on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry mi amor" he whispered and softly patted the space beside him which you hesitantly took "I've just been under a lot of stress" he would be to nervous to meet your gaze the guilt was eating him alive "I already had to protect marc and steven I think the thought of not being able to protect you as was getting to me" you grabbed his face between your hands and gently caressed his cheeks "it's ok I forgive you".
#marvel x reader#marvel headcanons#moon knight#moon knight headcanons#moon knight x reader#moon system x reader#moon system headcanons#moon knight headcanon#marc spector x reader#marc spector#marc spector headcanon#steven grant#steven grant headcanons#steven grant x reader#jake lockley#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley headcanon#jake lockley angst#jake lockley x reader angst#steven grant angst#steven grant x reader angst#marc spector angst#marc spector x reader angst
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Based on a reblog of this post
@marisferasiop, you're amazing!
But doesn't because he secretly loves that bear too and it gives him comfort!
They both use it to ground themselves, and talk to it when they're feeling like they're about to burst into tears.
Marc of course has difficulties, falling asleep in his apartment storage place were he doesn't have anything else to hug -not even Layla. So he just takes the bear of the keys and hugs it tight to fall asleep, talking to it about his day like he used to do with her.
And for a moment he feels safe, safe enough to fall asleep anyway... Remembering what love feels like.
After that Steven subconsciously names it "Laylo" and reads French poetry to him, like Layla used to do with Marc.
He once put Laylo on Gus's tunk but Gus got scared. So he decided their friendship wasn't meant to be.
...But when he woke up "next morning" he saw a tiny chair next to the tank and Laylo was sitting on it! It felt like Steven's friends where getting along quite well. But how? He started to question wether or not Toy Story is a work of fiction, after that day.
Well the truth was... Jake was getting attached to Laylo too!!
Comment if you want to be tagged in part 2 ✨
@marisferasiop
#moon knight#moonknight#moon knight headcanons#moon knight headcanon#moon knight drabble#moon knight fluff#moon knight angst#marc spector fluff#jake lockley fluff#steven grant fluff#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#moon knight system#marc spector#Steven Grant#Jake Lockley#moon knight show#moon boys#moon knight disney+#moon knight series#moon knight tv#moon knight mcu#mcu moon knight#oscar isaac drabble#oscar isaac characters#oscar isaac#moon knight theory#moon knight thoughts#moon knight analysis
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the break-up:
summary: in which y/n is going through a break-up with the moon boys and happens to be serving when one of them is on a date. reader x steven, reader x marc, reader x jake (3rd person, she/her pronouns)
warnings: ANGST (there is fluff, don’t worry) , break-up, language, fem! reader
word count: 4109
thank you for all the love on this fic!! every interaction has made me smile and is very much appreciated. hope you enjoy :)
Working in at the small Steakhouse restaurant was certainly not what Y/N had envisioned for her career. It was, to put it plainly, becoming rather tedious to deliver the same orders every night to similar faces of people, mostly the ones in love.
Love.
The thought of it made her feel sick. It was not long ago she was that person sat in a small restaurant, gazing longingly into the eyes of one of the three men she had fallen deeply for. She saw herself in those people, full of hope and desire. But now, she saw herself in ones sitting alone, eyes clouded with tears and doubt.
Break-ups were hard.
Especially when it was with 3 separate personalities, people. With each one, she was losing something else- Steven’s unadulterated sweetness, Marc’s vulnerability, Jake’s passion. But all three, together, they completed her, filled her heart with a feeling she had only ever heard of from Shakespeare and Byron- love. Absolute love. And when she lost that, not once but 3 times… she felt loss. Painful, heart-wrenching, unreal loss, that left her reeling in pain every night, and fighting the overwhelming sense of loneliness during the day.
She didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand how it was over. She finally understood how words could carry such pain- we can’t do this anymore. It had hurt more than any punch ever could, felt like a literal dagger in her heart.
“What? What do you mean? Marc?” It was Marc who was nominated by the others to do the deed. Y/N had instantly noticed something was wrong, rushing to his side and comforting him before seeing an unfamiliar look in his eyes, something dark and heavy that made her heart race. He felt a lump form in his throat. No. He was meant to be able to do this.
“I’m sorry. But we… we need to break-up.” The silence that followed was almost unbearable as Y/N studied his features. He almost couldn’t read her expression, almost shocked when she let out a breathy laugh.
“Is this some kind of a joke? Your kidding, right?” Denial. Marc shook his head, having to turn away from her before he broke completely.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated, scared that if he attempted to say anything more, his cover would break completely. Y/N was still for a second.
“No. I don’t believe you.” He sighed in a mixture of frustration and sadness, shaking his head. He needed to get it together. “Whatever’s going on, I’m here for you. all of you. you know that Marc, whatever this is, we can work through it, right?” She sounded so sweet, voice collected and comforting.
“I-” The words were escaping his mind as all he could think of was pulling her into his chest and kissing her until neither could breathe. And it was then Jake took control. Y/N could sense his presence immediately; the way his shoulders tensed, his head dipping slightly.
“Jake. What’s going on?” she tried the question again, feeling nausea creep in her stomach.
“Marc said already.” He was being short with her, voice sounding angry, stern. Oh. He was still turned away from her, and she let out a groan in exasperation, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. He was avoiding eye contact, looking to the floor, expression cold and distant.
“For fuck sake, Jake, why?! Can you just, just be straight with me. Because I’m confused.”
“We need to end this. It’s over.” She felt tears prick her eyes, anger replacing the nerves.
“But why?! WHY, Jake, this is ridiculous!” She took his cheeks in her hand and forced his eyes to look into hers. She wanted to break his exterior, wanted him to tell her the truth, or admit it was all a joke. But he held her eyes this time, not looking away when he said:
“It has to be like this. I’m sorry.” Y/N scoffed.
“No…” and she felt the anger coming out. “No! This is pathetic.” And she began hitting his chest, not hard enough to hurt, not even slightly, but he felt each blow, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Lo siento…”
“You- fuck- can’t do this to me. You can’t!” She carried on hitting his chest until she felt weak, and suddenly, someone was gently grabbing her wrists.
“Y/N/N…” She felt a sob wrack her body and stopped, falling into Steven’s chest. He almost reluctantly comforted her, a hand stroking her back as she cried.
“What’s happening, Steven?” The hurt in her voice was unbearable. He felt tears fill his eyes as he lightly took her shoulders and urged her away, so she was facing him. “Please.” The word came out as a broken whisper and Steven swore it was the worst sound he’d ever had to endure.
“Listen, love, I mean, Y/N…” her name felt weird coming from his lips, ones which usually graced her with pet names and terms of endearment. “I know this is hard to hear, trust me, but we, us, well, we decided we need to-”
“Not you, too. Please, Steven, you cant possibly want this.” He didn’t. None of them did. But alas, it had to be done.
“I-”
“Give me one good reason. I swear, Steven, this isn’t fair and if there isn’t a reason then I’m not leaving.”
“T-there is.”
“Tell me.”
He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say what he knew needed to be said. Which they all agreed needed to be said for her to leave. She needed to leave. It was the only way they could keep her safe.
“It’s just, things happen, don’t they? Just life, innit?”
“That isn’t good enough, for fuck sake! You know that! Give me a reason-”
“I want too-”
“Cause this isn’t right-”
“Bloody hell-”
“Just fucking explain why your all-”
“Because we don’t love you anymore!”
And it was then the world shattered. Everything seemed to explode, fall out of place, everything but those words. Steven was breathing heavily, face red. She looked at him, a heaviness behind her eyes as she realised he must be serious. And then she was leaving, not even grabbing a jacket, just going out in the cold, London air, but she didn’t even feel it. She hardly felt a thing.
She once enjoyed the comfort of the Steakhouse. It was where she first met Steven, actually. He was smartly dressed, eagerly awaiting his date. But after a few times returning to take his order, it was clear that his date wasn’t going to arrive. She felt sad for the man, and when he did order, she offered to sit with him.
From there, Steven Grant fell madly in love for the girl who sat with him when he was sad.
And it wasn’t long before Marc and Jake fell too.
Sad, now, that the place full of memories, and where she worked every day, was tinted with sorrow and heartbreak.
“Alright, Y/N, your on-table service, Maya, you’re on till.” Y/N looked over to her co-worker who cocked an eyebrow before the drilling shift began. The first couple hours went by smoothly, normally, as Y/N took many orders of many couples, families, friends. She had the same smile plastered on her face- even to the particularly rude regulars who she always vented about after her shift, normally to her boyfriends… no, don’t think about them.
It was towards the end of the night when the restaurant got gradually less busy. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as she noted it was nearly closing time. She couldn’t wait to get back to… her friend’s flat, where she was currently residing until she found something more permanent. It didn’t feel like home, far from it, and it made nowhere in her life feel safe.
“Table 4 is ready. Warning, Y/N/N, it’s a couple. Looks like a first date.”
“Ugh, great. Just what I need.” She replied sarcastically, and Maya gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Want me to do it?” Y/N sighed and shook her head, offering a smile in return.
“I’ll be fine. You, go, before John kills us both.” The pair laughed before Y/N adjusted the apron on her waist and got her notebook for orders. The table was outside, candlelight reflecting the stars in the nightfall. It was perfect for a date, a romantic nostalgia settling comfortingly around the area. Each table was like a small circle of the world, just for whoever was sat there.
She remembered when she was there, in her own corner of the world with the ones she loved most.
She had to shake her head of the thoughts, reminding herself that it was, in fact, over.
The London air was chilly, and she stayed in the doorway for a brief moment before going outside. She saw the table she was to tend to, and prepared her brief interaction as she always did, making her way to the table.
The first person she noted was a woman, hair long, fingers tapping against the surface of the table. Her voice couldn’t be heard from this distance, the buzz of the city drowning out any words that weren’t in direct distance for. The next person was facing away from the door, face out of view. They were sporting a head of dark, curly hair, but it was morphing with the dark, and Y/N couldn’t observe much else.
She reached the table, eyes still down on her notepad, preparing for her normal line: “Good evening, what can I get for you both tod-” But when she looked up, her world stopped. The buzz of London was a mere silence now as her eyes were locked with ones she knew so well for so long. That had left her not so long ago now.
Steven.
She knew it was him. she could tell by the slight widening of his eyes, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She could tell by the way his mouth was slightly agape, searching for words he wouldn’t be able to find in the vast swirl of his mind, and 2 others, no doubt.
Y/N almost forgot where she was until a small cough brought her crashing down to reality. “Excuse me, miss? You sort of trailed off there.” A posh British accent broke the air, and Y/N turned her attention to the woman Steven was with.
“Oh!” Too enthusiastic. Y/N flinched at herself, starting again. “My apologies. I must have lost my train of thought. Um, oh right! What can I get you today, both of you?”
“Let’s start with a bottle of red, then I’ll have rare with a side of mash.” Y/N nodded, trying to ignore the fact they were there. When she had scribbled it down, she attempted to act normal when turning to Steven.
“And you�� sir?” He tore his eyes away from the depths of the table to look into her eyes. He tried to form a coherent sentence but instead settled on the words:
“Yeah, I’ll, um, have the same.” Y/N just nodded, muttering her usual ending line of ‘be with your shortly’ before practically running from the table. Her heart felt heavy, and tears filled her eyes as she quickly slipped into the staff area to catch her breath.
Seeing Steven with someone else? That hurt. They had moved on. Truly. And she was stuck in limbo. Her heart still belonged to them. She stayed a moment longer before realising she had to pass the order on, wiping her eyes and shaking her head, before exiting to the kitchen. After passing the order on, hardly looking at the pad, she tried to forget what was happening.
But he was out there. Steven, with his adorable smile. Steven, with his sarcasm and jokes that had her crying. Steven, with the loving, doe eyes in pretty much every situation. And beyond him, there was Jake, stern but sweet, passionate but quiet. And there was Marc, the perfect mix of all. They were out there, forgetting about her, relishing in another’s company. And whilst she so desperately wanted to be happy for them, move on and forget, she couldn’t.
There was a time they were her future, and she couldn’t bring herself to make them her past.
The order for ‘table 4’ was shouted twice by the chef, who was unimpressed both times. Y/N apologised, taking the dishes, hearing words like ‘incompetent’ and ‘slow’ as she left- she resisted the urge to throw the dishes at him.
This time, she was ready for the sight at the table, but no more prepared. Now, she felt dread as she saw the familiar curly hair. But, putting it aside, she returned, wondering if Steven had explained the situation to his unsuspecting date.
“I’ve got one steak, rare with mashed potatoes,” she started, putting the dish down in front of the woman, “And one vegan steak with green beans.” She hardly looked as she placed the meal in front of him.
“Vegan? He didn’t say vegan.” Oh. Y/N realised she had ordered Steven’s usual, not what he ordered. Her eyes widened in embarrassment as Steven looked at his meal then back at her.
“Oh, I’m… I’m so sorry, let me get that for-” In her haste, she accidently knocked the wine bottle off the side, and it fell to the floor with a SMASH. “Shit!” Everyone outside instantly turned to the scene, Y/N instantly on the floor trying to pick up the glass as Steven’s date stood up in anger.
“What kind of a place is this?! Wrong order then smashes the wine…” the voice was clouding out as Y/N felt overwhelmed with emotions. She heard the manager step out, trying to calm down the angry customer, who only stopped when he assured her the meal was on the house with a free dessert. She heard her manager’s angry grumble for her to be inside as soon as she finished cleaning up her mess. In the heat of it, she didn’t notice her hand bleeding from a particularly sharp bit of glass. She must’ve looked awful, because hands were suddenly helping her off the ground and escorting her back inside.
“C’mon, love, it’s alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” She hardly responded as she was lead into one of the bathrooms and sat on the closed toilet seat. “Let’s hope this doesn’t get infected, eh?” Gentle touches cleaned the wound and it felt so familiar, so safe, that she forgot it was him. Sniffles left her every so often as Steven muttered something every now and then. But apart from that, it was silent.
And then, the touches stopped. And it was done. She looked up to see Steven already staring at her, seemingly analysing every detail of her face. The tiredness in her eyes, the gentle frown on her lips, which he would do anything to kiss. “Why did you come here?” She whispered softly, breaking the silence in the space.
He knew she worked here; they all did. Was it a technique to make her jealous? Was it to flaunt their new love? Was it to cause her pain?
Steven was quiet and he seemed to be battling the others in his head. She noted him looking at his reflection in the mirror longer than he had to before he turned back to her. She was almost surprised to see the overwhelming sadness behind his eyes.
“I needed to see you.” What? She shook her head, getting off the toilet, a moment to fast, wincing as she felt dizziness cloud her for a moment. Steven rushed forward to help her, but she stepped back.
“You were with another woman.”
“I know.” He muttered guiltily.
“You came to our first date spot.”
“Please…”
“You broke up with me, remember? You don’t… didn’t love me anymore.” Steven suddenly shook his head desperately, tears falling freely from his eyes.
“No. Y/N… my darling… no. I c-can’t do this. Take the body, someone.” And then it wasn’t Steven, it was Marc. And the look of sadness morphed into one of regret and a familiar softness that was only reserved for her.
She pushed down the urge to fall into his warmth, deciding instead to further distance herself. “Is your hand okay?” And she groaned in exasperation, throwing her hands in the air.
“It’s fine! But what’s not fine is this. You. Coming here. I’m glad that your moving on but I’m not there yet, okay? I’m trying to be happy for you, all of you, but seeing you is a reminder of what we had, what we lost, and I just…” she tried to stop the flood of emotions, but it was getting harder to contain. “Please, just… go.”
“Marc, we can’t make her go. Not without an explanation.”
“You heard the bird. She isn’t safe with us. She could fucking die Steven, because of us. We have to do this. Jake agrees, don’t you, Lockley?”
Silence followed by a “Si.” Steven was struggling with the idea. Breaking up with you to protect you. Because of what Konshu had said. He couldn’t lose you. but this was losing you and hurting you in the process. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you.
“We all need to be on board. We all need to do it. Cause she won’t accept it; our girl is stubborn.” Marc tried to laugh but it came out as a cough, as if he was choking on fear. Because they all feared it, losing her. But they knew it had to be done.
They all knew the pain of losing her in life was more bearable than the fear of losing her in death.
“I just… I can’t. I love her. Gods, I love her more than bloody anything in this life, and every life.”
“I do, too.”
“And that’s why we have to let her go.” Jake said, sternly and authoritatively. They all knew the risk. And they knew what had to be said.
Steven hardly fronted after it happened, to consumed with sadness and despair. Marc did the daily tasks whilst Jake focused on the rest. Steven had only agreed to go on a date when Marc and Jake deduced to get over someone, you had to get under someone.
It wasn’t working for any of them.
And whilst each handled the break-up in different ways, it all lead on the same destructive path; her. Thoughts of her corrupted every action of every day. Memories of the past. Good ones. But worst were the flashes of her after, the distraught look of desperation and bewilderment on her face when Steven had to say the words ‘we don’t love you anymore.’
It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
With every fibre of their beings, they loved her.
But Steven couldn’t resist when he saw the Steakhouse where he had met her, saw the place his love originated. He needed to see her. Needed to see that she was okay, better without them. What he didn’t expect was her getting hurt. He felt like it was an omen, a sign that danger follows him and that they were right to end it. But seeing the pain still etched on her beautiful face, and oh the way she got him his usual order by muscle memory alone... he needed her in his life. Without her, he wasn’t living; simply surviving. Hardly, at that.
So, Marc took control. Saw the way she stood away. Saw the way her eyes avoided his. He didn’t want to leave her, not again. It was hard enough the last time. For all of them. But alas, they were the ones that needed it. So they had to respect her wishes to leave.
“Please.” He just nodded, turning to go to the door, unlocking it. But before he left, he turned around.
“I'm sorry. The last thing I, we, wanted was for you to go.” Y/N suddenly noted something Steven had said.
“Wait... Steven said he didn’t want this. Didn’t want what? What’s this Marc?” Fuck, his name sounded so right coming from her lips. But Marc had to remain strong, so he shrugged. “Your lying. Just tell me the truth. What didn’t he want?”
Marc sighed. Always so stubborn. “Any of it.” Y/N looked around in confusion and was about to respond when Marc said, “I’m sorry again. I’ll go.” And he was leaving. She felt like she had been through a washing machine, head spinning and mouth dry.
Any of it.
What did that even mean?
When she left the bathroom, her manager was waiting for her, followed by a concerned looking Maya. Fuck. In the rush of it all, she forgot about the actual matter at hand. She was only half present as her manager shouted, hearing words like ‘embarrassing’ and ‘unprofessional’ thrown at her. But she was more fixated on other things.
When she was finally dismissed, thanking Maya who offered to do close up, and of course a chat, she made her way home. Home. What even was that? It certainly wasn’t her friends sofa. Nor was it her parents place. There was one place in the world where she felt safest, no matter the circumstances.
And she was stood outside the door now.
She didn’t know what she was going to say as she lifted her (uncut) fist up to the door, ready to knock when the door swung open. It felt like a cliché, the moment in a romance where there’s rain and tears and kissing. But there was none of that. Just a heavy energy between her and the third alter, the other who owned a piece of her broken heart.
Jake.
“Oh.” The sound of disgust left his mouth and Y/N swallowed harshly.
“I need to talk.” Jake didn’t have time to react as she barged past him into the flat. The smell was comforting, hugging her senses, as she took in the stacks of books, the sand, the dirty dishes slowly piling up. It all felt like home. That feeling of utter warmth and safety.
“Mierda." She heard him whisper but she was determined to get answers. “You shouldn’t be here.” She could tell by his tone that he wanted to sound serious, but there was an edge to his voice, one which made her think he didn’t mean what he was saying.
“Well, I am. And I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth.” Jake took off the cap on his head, throwing it to the side, already knowing she was being serious. “Can you give me that?” Jake heard Marc telling him it was a bad idea, that she would break them. Jake was their strongest, the last to fall for her charm- or at least the last to admit it.
“Sí. Fine.”
“So… did you come to my place of work just to see me?”
“No. Well, I didn’t. Steven did. Warned him against it, both of us. But he did anyway. Look where that took us.” Y/N felt her heart drop slightly at that. Maybe he did want her to go, leave forever. But something inside her, something stubborn and persistent, argued that wasn’t the case.
“Okay. Do you all miss me? Or is it just Steven?” Of course, we all miss you, are you insane? We can’t live without you, amor. Fuck.
Jake bit his tongue at the words pouring in his mind, instead opting on a shrug.
“That’s it?” Y/N scoffed. “So, you didn’t, then? You just moved on, like that?” she punctuated her words with a click of her fingers and Jake refrained the urge to groan.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Fuck, Jake! I just… I want closure. I want to know selfishly that I’m not the only one who feels like their fucking dying!” No. he knew he couldn’t hold on much longer if she cried. He couldn’t see that pain again. But there it was, in her trembling lip, her glassy eyes, her furrowed brows. He had to look away.
“Look, maybe you should-”
“No. I still have one more question.” She sniffled, trying to stop the tears from falling, trying to remain strong in front of the men she loved. “When did you stop loving me?” Jake finally turned to look at her, heart dropping when he noted her watery eyes were already on his. He could hear Marc telling him what to say, what to do that would solidify it, keep her safe forever, but even those words were cracked, blurry.
“We…” he was trying to find the words. Trying to find it in himself to lie again. But her eyes… those loving eyes, that were filled with so much ache, a longing he’d never seen before.
I can’t do it.
What?
Fuck… I can’t do this.
Give me the body, then.
But Jake didn’t want to. Didn’t want to send her away, no matter how much he knew he should. “Well? When did you fall out of love? Was it me? Did I do something?”
“Stop.”
“That’s all I need to know. Then, I’ll leave. Forever, this time. If that’s what you want. Is it?” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to remain calm, to stop the compulsion, the absolute need for her taking over. “Why don’t you love me?” Perhaps it was the way her voice broke as she said this, or the way the alters stopped talking for a moment, but suddenly, Jake couldn’t hold back anymore.
He strode forward in a fast motion, and Y/N was about to say something else when his lips were on hers. She hardly needed to adjust as he kissed her with so much built-up passion, she felt dizzy. She hummed in surprise and content, hands fitting on his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as he cupped her face in his hands, feeling every detail he missed so dearly.
“Fuck, I missed you. Missed you every day.” His words were followed by his hands. Which were travelling the crevices of her body, making her gasp.
“But you left me… all of you.” It was a sobering reality which made her step away, him following suite. And then Marc was there, eyes instantly shutting in regret. “Why?” and this time, when she asked the question, Marc knew he had to give her an answer.
“Konshu… we made some pretty bad enemies, sweetheart.” She ignored how the name made her heart quite literally swell, “He reminded us of the risk. That they could use you to hurt us. So… we decided that keeping you safe meant you not being with us at all. That way, we can’t get you hurt.” Y/N was in disbelief.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Marc’s head snapped up to look at Y/N, who’s arms were crossed over her chest. “You listened to the bird? And didn’t speak to me first?”
“There was no negotiation. Your safety is first every time.”
“You don’t get to decide that. I could die at any point in any day.” She was walking towards him now which each word, “Yes, there’s a risk being with you. But it’s a risk I would take. Every single time, every single life. I choose you. All of you. I love you all and that’s enough to keep me safe and happy forever.”
“Oh, baby.” Marc was filling the distance now, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just, we couldn’t risk losing you. Love you too much.” And there it was, the words she so desperately craved to hear since the moment Steven retracted them. Y/N looked up at his face, tracing his features with her fingertips; over the bridge of his nose, along the bush of his eyebrows, following the valley of his eyelids, until she cupped his jaw and brought him down for a loving kiss.
Marc’s exterior broke fully as he indulged in the love he had so painfully missed. The love he had to fight to keep away, for the sake of the person who owned his heart. “Can we…” Y/N started, hating that she was pulling away but tired of standing, “lie down for a bit?” Marc smiled, nodding and interlocking their hands.”
"That’s all I want.” But as she pulled him to the bed, he suddenly tugged away. She was surprised, turning to face him, noting how he was faced away from her. His shoulders were hunched slightly, hands in front of his body, fiddling with his fingers anxiously; Steven.
“Hey,” she started, smiling as she saw him there. But something was off. He began shaking his head.
“I can’t.” He whispered. Her heart dropped as she rushed forward, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, but it startled him slightly.
“You… what’s wrong? Steven?”
“Can’t look at you knowing what I did.” Y/N swallowed the growing emotion down in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut briefly.
“It’s okay-”
“No! It isn’t! I-I brought a date to our place. You cut your hand ‘cause of me! Blimey, I told you that we didn’t… love you. Caused you pain, I did, and I cant forgive myself. I won’t! “
“You did what you thought was right. What you all thought was right. And I’m not mad, okay? I just, I missed you. Fuck, I missed you so much. Please, Steven, let me see your face.” She felt her heart squeeze as a shuddering sob left his body, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his back and finding his hands with her own. “ ‘s okay, Steven, I’m here. I’m safe, we both are, hm?”
And finally, he turned around, practically collapsing into her arms, bringing them both down onto the floor. They were a tangle of limbs, desperate to find the comfort in each other that they had been deprived of. She realised she was crying too, face wet with his tears and her own. “I didn’t mean it, any word of it. My love… Y/N/N. I’m sorry, so sorry. I h-hated myself for what I did. Felt like a git, still do. But I mean this from the deepest bits in my heart: I love you. and I never want to lose you again, alright?”
She just nodded, whispering terms of endearments to him. And they faced each other, Steven analysing every detail of her face so he she would be forever etched in his mind, and Y/N, staring at her future.
And it was as if all the 3 broken pieces of her heart returned in an instant, making her blossom with love and hope. And in that moment, intertwined on the floor with the men she loved most, she had never felt safer.
#moon knight imagine#Moon Knight#moon knight angst#angst#Steven Grant#steven grant x reader#marc spector#marc spector x reader#jake lockely#jake lockely x reader#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#jake lockley angst#fem!reader#ff#fanfic#moon knight fanfic
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It's not warm when she's away
Summary: A part 2 continuation to this fic, what is life like with your three kidnapper exes?
Warnings: Angst, yandere dynamics, unhealthy relationship, threat of physical harm, threat of harm to animals (no actual harm tho), yeah this one is heavy, Steven dislocates readers shoulder, forced imprisonment, let me know if I missed anything!
Notes: Suggested by @ominoose ty bb (she made me do this she is keeping me in her basement tied up as I write this sos)
Marc Spector
Arguably the best of the bunch here
And by best I mean most sympathetic to your circumstance, but that still doesn't mean Marc is going to let you go free
No, he lost you once. They all did. He won't be making that mistake again.
He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, knowing that Steven and Jake can be.. pushy, with you.
Watches movies with you, cuddles you in bed, kisses you and whispers sweet nothings into your hair like this was a normal situation.
Does his best to make you as comfort as possible, to make it seem like you never even left them in the first place.
Marc is the one that gives you thr most freedom- he lets you walk around the flat for a start.
You're still trapped, though. Still a prisoner. And as much as you beg and plead, and as much as he wants to make you happy.. you aren't leaving anytime soon.
Jake Lockley
Ah the kidnapper himself.
At first he was the one part of the system you were most afraid of, having been the one to kidnap you, after all.
But now.. he's only second worst. We'll get back to that later, don't worry ;)
Jake has never acted angry with you, ever. Even now.
When he scolds you for running away like you did, his voice is quiet, his tone is of harsh disappointment, and cuts you deeper than anything raising his voice could do.
On the face of it he's the most restrictive
He'd have you hogtied, blindfolded, and gagged 24/7 if not for Marc's protest
He's not happy about it but he settles for having you tied to the bed with Steven's ankle restraint.
Funnily enough he's also the one you see the least of. You would have thought Jake would force himself to front incase the other two let you free. You hadn't realised they were all in on it.
Jake is the type of person to apologise with actions, not words.
He does sympathise with your situation. He loves you, they all do, and he isn't as upset as you would have thought to find you aren't too happy with your predicament
He buys you things- new clothes, toys for Franklin, he makes you tasty food, anything you could ask for.
Another of the reasons he's sympathetic is that he knows he isn't the worst you have to deal with.
Steven Grant
Oh boy
Oh boy oh boy oh boy
Steven is such a two faced bitch
In the beginning he cared the most, was the one fronting more often, getting you anything you could've asked for, and showering you in affection.
But then you managed to break free from the ankle restraint one night.
You had only made it a few feet across the room before you were bodyslammed into the floor, arms twisted roughly behind your back.
Steven had taken this so personally, like a catty, high-school mean girl.
His words were vitriolic, and he shouted them at you with an anger you thought poor Steven simply incapable of.
He even threatened to hurt Franklin if you tried anything like that again, describing it as "only fair", as the way you "hurt" him would be nothing compared to what he'd do to your poor innocent cat.
Remember how I mentioned Marc was the only one who opposed you being hogtied 24/7? Yeah no Steven agreed with Jake.
He isn't above restraining you like that.
Oh and he's so manipulative
It was like a switch had been turned on in his head. He would never had used his tears to hurt you before you left.
But now he knew how to use his big, round eyes glittering with tears to have you yield to the system's whims
Steven scares you now.
Each time he comes home from work, smiling and so happy to see you and Franklin, sends a cold chill down your spin, as you'll never know when he might snap.
Jake and Marc had been the ones to understand that you don't really want to share the same bed as them anymore, and had taken to sleeping on the sofa
Not Steven. He smothers you in affection whether you want it or not, and even has the gall to ask why you're so rigid when he forces you into the once safe haven of his arms
He wasn't stupid, he understood full well why you were scared of him. The body all three men shared was strong, it had dislocated your arm when you'd tried to run away the first time.
The threat of physical harm was not something Steven was above using.
He'd changed so much, was he always like this? Was he always capable of doing this to you?
You'd never know. But at least, if you kept your head down.. things were.. somewhat stable.
#jake lockley#jake lockley moonknight#moon knight#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley angst#moon knight angst#moon knight x reader#steven grant moon knight#steven grant x reader#steven grant angst#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector angst
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Brief-ish, unsolicited thoughts about the Moon Boys
Not proofread, written on my phone on the fly, posted on the app so if it looks wonky that’s why
Let’s start with our sweet sweet Steven.
He’s such a sweet and doting boyfriend.
Kisses morning, noon, and night.
Steven loves to cook for you. Every dish is exquisite and full of flavor, and packed with love.
At least once a week, you visit him at the museum for lunch. On nice days, you eat lunch on the museum steps. When there’s gloomy London weather, he’ll sneak you into a closed exhibit or the storage room to enjoy some private time.
One thing he loves the most is when you’re at home and you both sit on the couch and read. His hand is always laced with yours, kissing your knuckles and cuddling in close.
In terms of sexy time, I think Steven’s favorite position might be doggy style. Don’t get me wrong, he does enjoy missionary. But doggy style allows him to have a certain kind of control that he lacks at work—and that he sometimes feels that he lacks within the system. He always feels like he has a say in his relationship with you, but doggy style . . . doggy style is control for him. You’re at his mercy on all fours, and how fast you get your pleasure is solely due to his actions.
Sometimes, he’ll mix it up by holding your arms behind your back while he keeps you upright, and other times he’ll push you down so your face is in the pillows and your ass is in the air, acting as his only real focal point.
He’s also been known for a swift spank here and there, but he can’t help it. He really loves your butt.
After, there’s a lot of snuggles. Either big spoon/little spoon where you’re the little spoon and he’s pressing kisses all over your shoulder and neck and wherever else he can reach without moving too much, or if it’s face to face with foreheads resting together, limbs tangled, and the whispering of sweet nothings mixed with kisses, he’s a gentleman through and through when it comes to taking care of you.
And now Marc. This poor man needs all the snuggles.
He didn’t want to date you. Like at all. He would try his best to keep you away, but he always found himself drawn to you.
One day, he bit the bullet and asked you out for some coffee. It’s coffee—what’s the worst that could happen. Famous last words.
By the time you drank half of your drink, he was smitten, and by the end of your respective cups, he knew he was in love.
He waited nearly a week after that date until he texted you.
“She’s not gonna respond, Spector,” he grumbles ten seconds after clicking send, rubbing his hands down his face.
You respond an hour later, and Marc is mortified to look at his phone, but feels like he can breathe again when he reads your message.
“Sorry, I was giving a presentation at work! Dinner sounds great. How about Thursday?”
He’s truly flabbergasted. You said yes.
The night of the date, he gets to the restaurant early, twiddling his thumbs and wringing his hands as he stands across the street, watching if you actually come. Panic washes over him when he sees you get to the restaurant, getting a table for two in the patio area. He knows the second that he crosses the street and sits across from you, he’s done. He’d be yours forever.
Time moves fast while he works up the nerve to cross the street, and he jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate.
“Hey,” he breathes shakily.
“Hey,” you mimic. “You know, I can see you standing across the street. I have this whole time. Marc, if you didn’t want to—.”
“That’s not it,” he interrupts. He can’t let you think like that. “I’m just . . . It sounds ridiculous.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” you reassure him softly as you turn and look at him in the eyes from across the street. “But I can tell you from many years of experience of being nervous and anxious—the best way to stop being nervous is to just do the thing freaking you out. It has to happen eventually, and if you keep building it up in your head, it’ll only get worse.”
He lets out a shallow breath, hanging up and jogging across the street to you.
When it comes to sex, I feel Marc has two positions he really prefers—missionary, and lotus.
Marc is a man that like control, but he also takes great comfort in predictability, which is what these positions offer for him: they both allow him to be as close as possible to you, he can change little motions in his hips to make it rougher or gentler for you, he can go deep, and most importantly, he can see your face. He can see every last iota of pleasure on your features, he can kiss you over and over, and you ground him, reminding him you’re here with him and that everything is okay.
He always marks up your neck one way or another. Sometimes it’s lingering wet kisses, other times it’s red marks that fade, and more often than not, little purple hickies on the column of your neck that remain for long after the sex has stopped.
You’ve come to find that Marc likes a little pain while you’re being intimate. Not much, but a scratch of your nails through his hair, on his back, or on his arms turns him into putty in your hands.
Cuddles are mandatory aftercare for Marc. You keep him present and remind him that even if he’s feeling low, you’re there for him.
More often than not, it’s face to face cuddles, his head resting on your chest so he can listen to your heart while you play with his curls.
And just like with aftercare cuddles, Marc will always wake up early the next day to make you breakfast in bed. It’s nothing grand—truly, sometimes it’s toaster waffles and a cup of coffee—but you absolutely love it.
Now to Jake.
He’s attracted to you as soon as he meets you, but he chose to stay deep within the headspace until he knew you weren’t gonna leave or hurt Marc or Steven.
He doesn’t stick around for more than fifteen minutes when he does eventually come out, but you’re warm and kind to him.
“You must be Jake,” you hum with a soft smile. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”
Jake just nods, leaning back and drinking his spiked coffee and watching you go about your morning as you read the paper.
One day, Jake is fronting when he comes home after a rough mission. He sees you on the couch, looking lonely and less vibrant and, well, looking less you than you usually do.
He takes off his jacket and hat, putting it on the stand by the door. Jake moves over to where you are on the couch, sitting down next to you, and carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to rest on him.
You both don’t know what to do at first, both stiff and nervous, but when you shimmy down on the couch to get comfortable on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. Jake tilts his head and rests his cheek on the top of your head.
The romance between you two is slow, but it’s strong. And once the fuse is lit, there’s no stopping it.
The first time Jake kisses you, he’s nervous, but as soon as his lips meet yours, he knows with every ounce of his body that you’re the only person outside of the system that he could ever love.
The kiss turns into a make out session, and that make out session results in both of your clothes being shed all over the apartment and you trapped between his body and the mattress.
You two spin around in a litany of positions, but Jake loves it when you’re on top, hands on his chest, riding him like an award-winning equestrian front and back.
His hands grip your hips not to guide you or control you, but as a firm, silent encouragement for your actions.
Jake praises you in Spanish all through your lovemaking, calling you every pet name in the book: “corazón”, “hermosa”, “amore”, and so many others. His fluency and the lit of his pitch goes right to your core, only making the sex more incredible.
After both of you are spent, Jake kisses your cheek and neck, moving to the bathroom to get a cool damp cloth to cool down your burning skin and cleaning you up between your legs.
Jake tosses the towel into the nearby bathroom, somehow getting it to rest and hang over the side of the tub.
He rests on his side as he watches you lie on your back, looking up at him and lacing your fingers together and talking about anything that comes to mind before you fall asleep in his arms.
#moonknight#moon knight#Marc Spector#Jake lockley#Steven grant#Marc Spector x reader#Jake lockley x reader#Steven grant x reader#marc spector x fem!reader#jake lockley x fem!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#Marc Spector smut#jake lockley smut#steven grant smut#Marc Spector fluff#marc spector angst#steven grant fluff#steven grant angst#jake lockley fluff#jake lockley angst#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#steven grant fanfic#steven grant fanfiction#jake lockley fanfic#jake lockley fanfiction#Marc Spector fanfic#Marc Spector fanfiction#moonknight x fem!reader
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am i not what you wanted
marc spector x reader, jake lockley x reader, steven grant x reader
synopsis: even with three different alters, they all want the same woman and it isn’t you
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
with marc
“so that’s it?” your voice sounded unnecessarily loud, but to marc, it was barely above a whisper. you had barely moved, your body a still picture of what it was, when he told you that he had met another girl. he had accidentally been involved with the murder of her father, and he tried to apologize but ended up falling in love with her.
marc was your best friend before he was anything more. you would remain loyal, at his side, even when he kicked you down and kept kicking with every word he spoke.
“i think i love her.” marc echoed quietly. you stared at him and you seemed to laugh, comparable to a crow, your laughed squawked as you stared at marc incredulously, “you think you love her?”
marc pursed his lips, he was getting angry, but he tried to remain composed. “yeah, i think i do.”
you nodded, rapping your knuckles against the wooden table you stared at him, “are you sure it isn’t the guilt of having witnessed her father die? are you sure it’s not the emotions towards the grief that you felt bad for her?” marc shook his head, “this isn’t fair, i told you-“
“told me what, marc? told me how you were going to emotionally cheat on me with some girl and now you’re telling me that you’re leaving me so you can go consummate the relationship you had pulled completely out of your ass?” you stalked towards him, marc stood his ground but you were irrationally angry, “does she even know who you are? what,” the words were venomous, filled with poison as if they dropped off a knife, you tongue flayed him open like a dagger, “you are?”
marc kept his voice even, “you don’t think i didn’t think about that?” he asked and you shrugged, “truly didn’t think you had enough brain capacity to even take that into account. just how you took into account my feelings.”
marc scoffed, “i thought that i was unlovable. until i met you and you loved me-“
you held up a hand, “so because i fixed you, you think that gives her the right to take you away from me? that my hard work, that the years i endured your insufferable antics, and she could just take that away like a kid with candy?”
marc didn’t say anything, he just let his head sink low and you found that as answer enough.
“fuck you.”
with steven
you still got his voicemails from time to time. it was odd, after having separated yourself from the life marc had built, from the alters you had once called home, and from the familiarity that london was, you had abandoned marc spector and co. and left to mexico, a place where marc hadn’t bore his venomous touch to.
“hi darling. just finished up at the museum and headed home now. just wanted to check up on how you were. i miss you. i bought a stuffed taweret because i know that was your favorite goddess. please call me, or at least respond to the pictures of gus, he misses his mother.” stevens voice was soft, playful on the other end. you shut your phone off and deleted the voice message. you could barely stand to listen to it, let alone have it live in your phone constantly.
the messages stopped coming after a few months. it was confusing because you had started to look forward to the monthly debriefing that steven provided, a small insight to marc’s life after you. but you suspiciously gazed at your phone before shutting it off, shrugging off the ache that you felt in your belly.
“y/n! marc has met this amazing lady, her name is layla and she’s been helping us a lot recently with a few problems with khonshu and ammit. it’s a long story and i apologize for not filling you in, i know how busy life can be now when you’ve actually got one!” he chuckled on the other end, “anyway. layla is amazing, she’s marc’s wife which would technically make her mine, and i hope you don’t mind since you’re my girlfriend and bur she’s not technically married to steven with a v, so don’t get mad-“ he kept rambling but after hearing wife, your heartbeat seemed to roar in your ears, and all you could hear was the blood pulsing in your head as you sat in silence.
you blocked the phone number and decided to call it over. marc spector and steven grant were done in your life, you had nothing else to lose.
with jake
you could lie and say that you stayed clear of marc spector and co. but jake lockley always had his favorite things in life, and his pretty girl was one of his favorites. and you couldn’t help but miss him, miss his scent and smile.
he couldn’t stay away. day and night, he would stay up to drive around london, looking for you, hoping you’d come back. little did any of them know was that you were sun bathing in mexico, and not rushing through the stormy weather that was london, but jake still had hope. he masturbated to the thought of your hips, the way your body felt on his, but slowly those memories faded and he could no longer remember what your skin felt like under his touch. he couldn’t remember if you electrified with his touch, or if you danced with the moon.
he couldn’t remember. that’s what infuriated him above all. that anger fueled him, fueled his need to kill, murder and hurt those he believed were responsible for your disappearance. the other two nerds refused to say anything, and jake felt disgusted that they stopped pursuing you, and that they instead decided to occupy their time with her.
jake declared you’d never be her, and when she left running in tears, he was viciously proud of himself.
jake chastised the others in the mirror, curses and a string of insults later, jake would be so exhausted sometimes he’d op out of searching for you, even when he knew the entire thing was fruitless, he couldnt forget you.
but when you showed up on his doorstep, jake saw your face blur with her’s, and he internally cursed himself for forgetting your face, forgetting his pretty girl.
#marvel imagine#avengers x fem!reader#marvel x reader#avengers imagine#avengers x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x reader#moon knight angst#marc spector angst#steven grant angst#jake lockley angst#marc x layla#marvel angst#marc spector fluff#marc spector smut#steven grant imagine#steven grant fluff#steven grant smut#jake lockley smut#moon knight oneshot#avengers smut
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Last Night -- Chapter 1 (MIA)
chapter 2 chapter 3
cross-posted to ao3
Jake Lockley x fem!Reader
tags: baby's first angst, potential misuse of alcohol, protective Jake, brief allusion to Marc/Steven
wc: 1,045
fic summary: You're usually tight-lipped about your frustrations, especially when it comes to Jake. But a drink too many leaves you spilling your thoughts one by one.
__________
You aren't usually this late.
Jake sighs as he drums his fingers on the countertop, checking his phone for the tenth time in a minute.
He sighs again. You'd said 8 o'clock, right? The stovetop clock glows mercilessly up at him. An hour since you said you'd be home for dinner. And no text from you. The phone's in his hands again, thumb hovering over your number.
He said he'd stop calling so often. He'd promised.
As your relationship has progressed, Jake has tried to dial back his instinct to protect you. He'd assumed the role of your bodyguard almost immediately: his hand gripping yours a little too tight, sizing up every passerby when you're out together.
"Jake, relax," you always tell him. "You look like you're going to kill someone." The gentle touch of your hand always brings him back down, making him bite his tongue before he admits that he would, he'd do anything to keep you from a modicum of what he knows people are capable of. If it meant roughing up the occasional barista or store clerk when they look at you the wrong way, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Do it for you.
But you don't want him to, at least you haven't told him otherwise. What you did tell him is that you don't enjoy being hounded for updates like you have a curfew.
So there Jake stands: phone in hand, mind racing through every possible reason why you haven't called him back.
Before he locks his phone and puts it away, it starts buzzing, your name lighting up the screen.
He answers quickly. "Dios, cariño, I was worried–"
"Hey Jake," a tense voice cuts him off from the other line. Not your voice.
His jaw clenches. "What's going on, where's–"
"She's safe, we went out for drinks, but, um." The stranger hesitates, the bustle of whatever bar you're in filling the silence. It doesn't sound like your scene, it's too busy. "She's had too much to drink, and she's– someone suggested we call you to pick her up. Can you?"
Jake's rushing out the door, coat and keys in hand before your friend finishes speaking. "Text me the address."
__________
He's sure he broke a couple of laws getting to your location, speeding downtown in record time.
His instinct was right: the dimly lit, bass-bumping establishment really isn't your usual scene. Adjusting his cap, he steps inside. It's impossibly dark, and he has no idea which friends you're with. He scans the main area once, twice, his heart rate skyrocketing. Every second without you in his line of sight means anything could have happened to you.
"Jake?" That voice. He turns to see one of your work friends rounding the corner, your phone in hand. She's timid as she approaches. Jake shakes himself, forcing a more neutral expression. You've told him you're not one to flaunt your "scary dog privilege" by his side, and he took that as your way of saying he makes your friends nervous.
"Thanks for calling me." He tries to sound sincere, but his urgency forces the words out more harshly than he'd prefer. "Where is she?"
Your friend nods and leads him to the rest of the group.
A couple of other girls from your workplace sit on either side of you on a plush couch, tucked in the corner of the bar. You cradle your head in your hands, shaking it as you seem to ramble on and on about something Jake can't quite hear. He notices the copious shot glasses on the table– the majority of which are piled in front of you.
His jaw clenches. You told him you didn't drink. "I hate the person I become if I have even a drop," you'd insisted when he'd once offered to buy you something.
The friend who'd called him appears by his side. "She had a hard week, so we figured we'd go out tonight. We didn't– we didn't know she was such a lightweight." She doesn't speak with condescension; her eyes never leave you, and they're filled with pity. "But she insisted."
Jake runs a hand over his face, processing the situation. You never mentioned you were having a hard week. If he'd known, he could have fixed it. He could have prevented the scene you were so close to causing, your overindulgence clearly taking its toll. He could have– should have– been here.
Jake turns back to your friend and takes your phone when she offers it. "I've got her from here... thank you." They exchange a knowing look before he's swiftly by your side.
"Hey, cariño," he offers warmly, kneeling next to you. He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles on your palm the way he usually does.
You look a mess, even in the dim room: your eyes glistening with tears that make mascara run down your flushed cheeks, your mouth fixed in a frown as you carry on, not registering Jake's presence.
"...And I swear, it wasn't even my fault the deadline got pushed up, but Evan had to keep being a jerk about it–" You stop your slurred speech when you feel his hand squeeze yours. Eyes squinted, you lean in, scanning over his features. Your free hand lazily pats his head.
"Jake." You almost sneer in recognition. Your tone makes him flinch, but he grasps your hand all the same.
"Querida," he begins again, urging you to look at him. "I think we should go home."
He stands to bring you to your feet, but you protest. "N-no, we were just talking– Jake, come on." Your friends scoot over as you’re guided up, Jake’s hands firmly on your waist when you waver. "Don't baby me," you warn, your voice unusually low. Jake's hold on you loosens, but he doesn't budge.
He murmurs back, "Then work with me. Please." The look in your eyes– glassy, but with an unfamiliar intensity behind them– sends a chill down his spine.
You straighten yourself, pushing his hands away. "Let's just go," you huff. You make your way to the door, careful not to stumble as you walk. Jake turns to the group, already distracting themselves with their own drinks, and follows you outside.
You need to talk.
__________
A/N: I can't believe this story came together so quickly; I'm excited to finish the next 2 parts. This was loosely based on Morgan Wallen's "Last Night" (which is v out of left field for me genre-wise).
Thank you for reading!
#!!!!!! she did it gang she wrote something#looking forward to getting further into this ahhh#moon knight#moon knight fanfic#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley/reader#jake lockley angst#jake lockley x fem!reader#jake lockley/fem!reader#jake lockley fanfic#jake lockley fanfiction#(gotta love tags)#my works
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Battle Of The Knights pt. 1: May The Best Knight Win
Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: I mean none really there's a gun at some point but no one gets hurt
Genre: kinda fluff
Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.
What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?
***
You met Marc first. He was charming and quick on his feet. It made you fast friends. Though he was guarded and you knew there were things he would probably never tell you. It didn't stop you from embracing a friendship with him. One filled with movie nights and playful insults. It was Steven you met next. You'd seen him getting off a bus and excitedly ran over to who you thought was your friend only to have a confused Brit staring back at you. You probably should've realized it wasn't Marc when he didn't respond to you calling him but it didn't occur to you until after you grabbed his arm.
"Dude, did you not hear me calling you?" You had said once you caught up to him but he backed away from you as if you'd grown another head.
"I- I'm sorry, have we met?" He asked.
"Marc come on, this has got to be your lamest joke yet." You'd rolled your eyes. "The accent too?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Drop it Spector, you're no good at this."
"I believe you've got me confused with someone else, I'm Steven. Steven Grant." He'd shook his head adamantly and for a moment you really thought it was someone else.
"Wow you're- really sticking to this."
"Yes because it's true? And if you'll excuse me, I'm late for work so, bye." Steven scurried away and you hadn't known what to make of that interaction.
The next time you saw Marc you weren't sure if he'd recognize you or not which had him demanding an explanation when you walked passed him without a word. Of course, when you told him you saw him days ago and he literally didn't recognize you, he reluctantly explained to you that he has an identity disorder. Trauma he wouldn't get into, causing a fracturing of his mind that resulted in three, not two, separate consciousnesses sharing one body. You didn't know much about Dissociative Identity Disorder but you cared about Marc and so you did your research, and asked questions when you had them, trying to be a good friend to him and eventually Steven as well.
Between the two of them, you learned pretty quickly they didn't like talking about the third consciousness, alters you learned they were called, and as a result, you knew next to nothing about him. You didn't know his name or what he was like, he was a mystery, but you knew he was there. It was a door you let stay closed, in fact, you don't even think he wanted to meet you that day you finally encountered the third member of your friend's fractured mind.
It had been Steven's birthday and you wanted to surprise him with a cake. So, using the key they gave you, you'd gone to their apartment while you knew they'd be out to set up the cake. Unfortunately for you, it wasn't Steven who came strolling into their flat that afternoon and you didn't realize it until too late. The whistling should've clued you in honestly, Steven doesn't whistle, but you were excited and so when the door creaked open you didn't hesitate before speaking.
"Happy birthda- oh my god you have a gun!" Your hands shot up when the man pulled out a firearm quicker than you could finish saying birthday.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" You're so frazzled by the weapon pointed at you that you don't immediately notice the accent in his words but then it dawns on you.
"Oh. That makes three." You say quietly.
"I asked you a question."
"My name is y/n. I'm a friend of Steven's and Marc's. It's Steven's birthday so I brought him a cake." You tell him.
"You're a friend of Steven's?"
"And Marc's. Can you please put the gun down?"
"They told you about us?"
"Technically only because they had to. I was Marc's friend first but then I saw Steven one day and when he didn't recognize me Marc had to explain why. He told me there were three of you but they don't really answer any questions about you." You explain quickly. There's a moment of silence and you almost miss the switch between one alter and another. The gun is tossed to the ground with faint disgust and you're certain Steven has taken over.
"Y/n, Gods, I'm sorry about Jake. He's protective. It's, kind of his job." Steven says.
"Happy birthday." You breathe out quietly, relieved you're no longer at the business end of a revolver.
"He didn't hurt you did he?" He walks over to you carefully.
"No. No, I'm not hurt, a little spooked but I'm fine. I just- I wanted to surprise you for your birthday."
"Yeah sorry about that. Surprises are tricky."
"Oh trust me I will not be doing that again any time soon." You say with a chuckle.
"You baked me a cake."
"I did, I didn't get around to lighting the candles before Jake came in but it's vegan. I know it can be hard to find good vegan stuff."
"Thank you! Seriously, I- I really appreciate it."
"Of course Steven." You say. "I can't believe you guys have a gun." You shake your head as you cut Steven a slice of his cake.
"I didn't even know we had one and I'm- really sorry about Jake, he's- not the friendliest guy."
"Don't be sorry and he doesn't have to be friendly. I'm very aware that you're all different personalities. Sure you've all got the same face but I think that's where about 80% of your similarities begin and end, I mean I'm sure there are others but, the point is, you deciding to be my friend after we met does not mean I'd expect the same from Jake. He doesn't have to be my friend, he doesn't even have to talk to me if he doesn't want to. The only thing is if I do run into him again I'd appreciate him not pointing a weapon at me." You shrug.
"You are- so wonderfully understanding." He breathes.
"I mean from what I've read I imagine DID can be pretty disruptive I don't want to make it any more complicated for you. I'm not doing much just, being supportive, trying to help however I can. Like an external carer for your system." You say with a smile. There's a very sudden, very quick, change in Steven's demeanor, shoulders squared as his eyes narrow into a glare.
"They don't need you. I take care of this system." He grits out and you know immediately the new stranger has returned.
"Jake, I'm assuming. Hi again. I didn't say they needed me. I'm sure they're very capable, I'm sure you are very capable, but I'm their friend, so I'm here as support. That's what friends are for. Even for you if you ever decide you want it. Just, try not to point any more weapons at me."
"There is not a thing that you could do for me."
"Never say never, Jake. Look can you bring Steven back so he can actually eat the cake I made for him? I'd offer you a slice but it's vegan and something tells me the guy who carries a handgun to run errands doesn't give a rat's ass about that sort of thing."
"You don't know me. Don't pretend that you do."
"It was an educated guess. I don't have to know you to make a guess based on what I've already observed. Steven's vegan but Marc isn't. I can't see a reason you would be but don't get me mixed up I'm not pretending to know you. I know exactly 2 things about you, your name is Jake, and you carry a gun, I'd guess regularly. Oh, and I think you speak Spanish, based on the way you speak English but that's another guess."
"What are you doing?"
"At this point just pissing you off I'm sure. I know you have no interest in being friends with me Jake and that's fine, I just want Steven back so we can keep doing this back and forth where you get progressively more annoyed with me or you can let him front again." You say with a calm look on your face. You can see the muscles in Jake's jaw work as he glares at you as if he'll be able to set you on fire if he only thinks about it hard enough, then, there's a switch. Wide eyes look at you with confusion.
"What did you do?" Steven asks.
"Nothing." You shake your head blinking innocently at him.
"He's muttering angrily in Spanish."
"All I did was say I don't think he's vegan." You shrug and Steven laughs so hard he has to sit down.
"All you did was say you didn't think he wasn't vegan? He's not!" Steven chuckles.
"Well- I also may have implied that he's not as complex as he thinks he is and while I didn't mean it as a negative I can see how someone like him might take it the wrong way."
"Someone like him?"
"Jake seems like the type who makes a point to maintain a level of emotional distance between himself and anyone he comes in contact with. Perhaps it's his way of ensuring he's an effective protector, I don't know I'd have to talk to him more to find out but I think he values that ability to keep people at arm's length and I think he doesn't like that I can read him in any capacity even though it's mostly surface level information I've gathered. The implication that I can figure anything out without him telling me the thing- I don't think he took that well."
"Then- he's going to hate when Marc tells you pretty much everything about him."
"He doesn't have to. Marc I mean. I don't need him to tell me about Jake." You shake your head.
"I know, so does he. He still will. Because you've met him. And he likes having someone other than us to talk to about our situation. I- like it too."
"Oh- well in that case either of you can talk to me about anything. Always." You said to them and you meant it. You still do. You care about them so much, and it took a while but Jake did eventually open up to you. He still tries to maintain his mystery but his tricks don't really work on you the way he thinks they do.
You like to think that at this point you know them all pretty well, which is why this conversation feels very out of character from basically the start.
"Y/n, we have a confession to make." Steven says, avoiding looking at you.
"I hate when you guys do that because it's never something serious. You don't keep serious secrets from me." You say walking into your kitchen to grab water.
"Never say never princessa." Jake's wry smile when you look at him makes your brow furrow.
"Wait did Steven bow out of this so called confession?" You ask.
"Sí, although I think Marc should be the one to tell you this in the first place."
"Well have Marc come out here then, someone start talking before I start getting anxious." You say. Jake nods and blinks.
"We- you are really important to us. Basically the most important person to us besides, you know each other." Marc says.
"I know. That's not exactly a confession though, I've known that for ages." You frown.
"I know, I know, it's just- we've developed romantic feelings for you and we're unsure how to proceed at this point."
"We? As in all of you? Independently of each other, you all have romantic feelings for me?" You ask.
"Yes." He nods.
"And I take it you're telling me because you've known me the longest."
"Also yes." He nods again.
"Okay." You cross your arms.
"Jake suggested we each take you on a date, you know without the others involved- that way you can make an informed decision on being with one of us. The others, of course, will respect whatever choice you make after."
"Each of you- wait a second, what?" You blink at him.
"Well usually when you're with us, we're all so used to you that it's easy for us to just switch in and out as wanted I mean even just now you spoke to all three of us in like ten minutes but we figure if you should experience each of us without the others looming." Marc explains.
"I'm sorry are you trying to Bachelorette me?"
"It seemed like the most efficient way to solve the problem." He nods.
"What problem?"
"We all have feelings for you. It's not like we can decide for you who to be with so we thought this would help you decide. You can set any rules or limits that you feel would make this easier for you of course. The only one we have is that the others are not allowed to butt in under any circumstances." Marc explains.
"So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.
"Yes exactly." He nods.
"Good god." You breathe out.
"So- are you on board?"
"You're all insane, you know that?"
"Are you with it or not?" Marc asks.
"I think this is ridiculous, but I know how you get. So if this is what you've decided you need, fine." You say. "Steven goes first. Then Jake. Then you. I'll give each of you one week, during which you can pick any day for your date. I won't be sleeping with any of you. I also won't discuss my date with one with the others. And don't discuss them with each other. I know you guys are competitive and the only way I'm going to allow this madness is if it stays friendly. The moment you start fighting it ends because you're family and I'm not dealing with that." You say.
"What are our weeks?" Marc asks.
"I'll text you."
"What?"
"Two days before, I'll text you to let you know your week is going to start. To clarify, on a Friday I'll text you and you'll have that Sunday to the following Sunday." You say.
"That's- short notice."
"Well if I assign you your weeks now, Steven gets less time than Jake who gets less time than you- it's fairer to do it this way." You shrug.
"Okay. Your rules." He nods. There's a moment of silence before Marc speaks again, from the look on his face you'd guess there's discussion in his head. "We're gonna quit while we're ahead. We'll be waiting for your text messages. Goodnight." Marc says sharply and exits your apartment. You chuckle just a little at his abrupt exit but he's definitely right to leave. Back at their own apartment, the trio is in discussion as soon as the door shuts.
"I can't believe she's on board." Marc says.
I can't believe we even presented that to her. Marc sees Steven frowning from the reflection in the fish tank.
"You had no problem with the idea when Jake originally suggested it."
Well the other suggestions were way worse, lesser of evils and all that. Did you see the look on her face? I think we may have actually convinced her that we are completely off our collective rocker.
Honestly, hermano what would you have suggested in place of this? Jake's voice rings in Marc's head, tired and mildly annoyed as is his standard disposition.
I have no idea I'm just saying she thinks we're insane. Also, what is our course of action for when she doesn't pick any of us?
"When? That's pessimistic." Marc frowns.
Did you hear what she said? 'You're family I won't deal with fighting' Do you honestly think there's anything we could say that would convince her that choosing one of us over the other two wouldn't result in chaos among us? She's always made a point to not make any of us feel more favored than the other. She's not going to change that.
"We told her we'd respect her decision-"
Sure we did but anyone can say they'd react favorably to a situation they haven't been in. We don't know for sure that we will be okay if things change. I know that I would put her happiness above mine but you and Jake? I mean Jake would kill for her and even if she doesn't know that it goes that far, she's likely not going to take the chance.
"You don't know that. It's in her hands now. Stop trying to figure out what she's gonna do and worry about your part in this. Or don't. Your choice." Marc walks away from the fish tank, effectively ending the conversation between him and his alters. Maybe this is a crazy plan, but nobody said romance made sense.
***
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