#jake lockley speaking spanish
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Ballroom Blitz, Part 1
Summary: *Stefon from SNL voice* This fic has everything: parties, Khonshu possessing his avatar, ballroom dancing, a cameo by the British royal family, LAYLA EL-FAOULY, the moon boys looking like this ⬇️ , and so much more!
Basically, Sigyn brings the Moon Knight to a classy function at Buckingham Palace, and all hell breaks loose. A continuation of my fic SCARED TO BE LONELY
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Marc x Fem!OC, Steven x Fem!OC, Jake x Fem!OC, past Loki x Fem!OC, past Marc x Layla
Word Count: 5.3k
A/N: Here have some Moon Boys and Sigyn while I write Marc and Jake screwing their breastfeeding wife in Shape of You land. Also, what can I say? I love dressing Marc and Sigyn up and making them dance in public together. Also I made Shuri queer and gave Khonshu they/them pronouns byeeeee
I could kill him, Sigyn thought to herself as she paced up and down the hallway of Buckingham Palace, the rather unimaginative locale for where the British royalty was hosting the ball. The sound of her stilettos meeting the polished marble reverberated down the length of the high-ceilinged corridor.
The Brits were hosting the event to foster camaraderie and diplomacy between the nations that were ruled by warrior-superheroes. The Wakandans were in attendance with all of their slowly dissipating mystique and perennial grace, and naturally the Asgardians - New Asgardians, technically - were invited as well.
While at first Thor and King Valkyrie had believed that going was a waste of precious time, time they needed to use hunting down Gorr and Loki, Sigyn convinced them otherwise. They had to go, she’d implored, because if they didn’t it would raise suspicion and worry. It wasn’t time for the general public to panic just yet. Furthermore, she’d pointed out, this would give them cover to debrief the Wakandans, since Gorr’s vendetta affected them too.
There was one more reason Sigyn knew that their attendance was the right move, and it was because of her escort. It was expected for Thor and Valkyrie to arrive as a unit, the former crown prince of Asgard and his successor on Midgard, which left Sigyn’s arm bare. She refused to attend alone, therefore she’d asked Marc to accompany her. He’d accepted.
Sigyn publicly on the arm of another man would infuriate her estranged husband. This was different than she and Khonshu’s avatars having sex in the privacy of her Claridge’s suite, or the dark corners and hidden alleys they’d fuck in each time they failed to find Loki as they chased him halfway across the galaxy. Attending the ball with Marc was an overt abandonment of Sigyn’s vows to her spouse, no matter that he’d forsaken them first. She was hoping that it would make the adopted Asgardian so livid it would deliver Loki to them, ending their weeks-long fruitless pursuit.
Yet, Marc wasn’t here. Nor was Steven or Jake. They all knew about tonight’s event, she’d told them each separately, and how much it meant to Sigyn. It was a chance for the princess to recapture a portion of her old life, her life in her home universe, where she was a shrewd diplomat and gracious guest. Not only was the system late, they weren’t answering any of their phones.
“Seeg,” Thor jogged over to her, looking dapper in his tux. “They’re going to start introductions soon. I’ve already asked the Wakandans to go before us, but is there any sign of him?”
I am going to kill him, Sigyn amended her previous thought. All traces of doubt were gone. She detested exceptions like this being made on her behalf, especially when she was conducting official business. How could they do this to her? As if she didn’t already have enough abandonment issues.
His sister’s dejected expression answered Thor’s question. He put his massive palms on her shoulders. “Hey, I’ll send Val in by herself. We’ll go in together, though we may be so blond and dazzling as a pair it could drive the Midgardians mad.”
The god took the small smile his words etched across his sister’s lips as a victory. “I’ll enter on my own Thor, you and the King need to present a united front. Besides, I’m not even being introduced as a royal anyway.”
Tonight, for the first time in nearly a millennium, Sigyn wouldn’t be introduced as princess of Asgard. Instead she would be Lady Sigyn Frodisdottir, her name when she was maiden. It made sense. She was royal on a different Asgard, and it would confuse everyone if a princess appeared out of nowhere in New Asgard. They’d all think she was married to Thor or Valkyrie. Nevertheless, it was more salt to the wound Loki carved into her heart, a wound Marc, Steven, or Jake’s presence would’ve served as a balm for.
“No!” Thor protested, “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
Sigyn opened her mouth to insist once again, but a member of the palace staff approached her. “My lady, I apologize, but I believe your escort just arrived at one of the service entrances.”
Sigyn’s heart soared and burned all at once. He didn’t abandon her after all, but of course Marc hadn’t listened and arrived in a car like she’d told him to. “Is your team bringing him here?”
“We are my lady,” the staff member confirmed, “But for security purposes, could you come with me to make sure it’s him?”
“Of course,” Sigyn answered without hesitation. She turned to Thor and begged, “Buy us a little more time, would you? I’ll collect him as quickly as possible.”
Her brother nodded, mission accepted, as Sigyn and the staff member dashed from where the nobility waited outside the grand ballroom. The princess was surprisingly speedy in her heels.
“My lady, are you comfortable with passing through some of the staff corridors?” they inquired. “I loathe to suggest it, particularly to an esteemed guest such as yourself, but it may be wise in the interest of time.”
“Certainly,” Sigyn consented, “I don’t mind at all.”
Sigyn met Marc in a staff hallway just outside the kitchens. He was impeccably dressed in a classic tuxedo that Sigyn had procured for him through Claridge’s personal shopper. Steven had been fronting when they’d had a fitting. He nearly lost his mind over wearing a suit that was being altered for him by a tailor from Savile Row.
But this was undoubtedly Marc charging toward her. The storminess in his eyes and athleticism in his gait was unmistakable to the Asgardian. He was clean-shaven, his hair neatly pushed from his brow with a hint of product. His appearance would’ve made Sigyn’s heart skip a beat if she wasn’t in such a rush.
He began his apology, words pouring out of him, as soon as Marc glimpsed her. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry. I rushed here, literally flew as fast as I can, Khonshu demanded that I–”
Sigyn stopped him “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now, we’re delaying the introductions.”
The princess took Marc’s hand and tugged him to follow her, but now he’d been able to get a proper look at her, and Marc nearly choked on his own breath. Sigyn was a vision. She wore a simple yet timelessly elegant navy blue satin gown. It had a modest, delicate boatneck neckline, and fit the length of Sigyn’s body like a glove, the hem stopping just above the floor.
The Asgardian’s long locks were swept off her shoulders in a neat French twist. Marc had seen Sigyn without makeup plenty of times now, she was gorgeous and frankly didn’t need it he’d always thought, but there was something about the touch of smoky shadow around her eyes and an almost nude pink painted onto her lips that enhanced her divine features further.
A sparkling diamond bracelet encircled the wrist that held Marc’s hand, and two small teardrop diamond earrings fell from her lobes. Around Sigyn’s neck, a thin diamond choker. The princess looked like an old movie star, understated but still incredibly alluring.
That was until Sigyn turned around to tow Marc in the direction of the ballroom. If he was a cartoon, his eyes would have bulged out of his head and left his skull altogether. Where the front of the Asgardian’s dress rested just above her clavicles, the back was open, plunging down an expanse of bare skin to right above where Sigyn’s spine began to widen into the plump curves of her ass. And it turned out that her necklace wasn’t a choker at all, it was only a portion of a long diamond strand on which a sapphire, exactly the color of the princess’s eyes, hung at the root of her back.
Jake was so captivated by this development that he pushed to the front, forcing a switch with no regard that they weren’t alone. The palace staff hurried along beside them, but that didn’t stop Jake from grabbing Sigyn’s hips and pulling her back to him.
“Ay princesa, tu culo en este vestido”, he murmured. “Me estás dando una erección en medio del Palacio de Buckingham.”
Thank heavens the palace staff were bastions of discretion.
“You’ll never get this ass again if you make us any more late,” she warned him in Spanish.
Jake promptly released her and they resumed their race back to the ballroom, yet Sigyn only made it a few paces before her hand was captured and she was pulled into an equally hungry and earnest kiss.
“You look absolutely radiant tonight, love,” Steven professed when they broke apart.
“Thank you darling,” she melted. “But we must make haste, we’ll have time for the two of us soon.”
Which reminded Sigyn, “Whose name shall I give to the announcer?”
“Mine.” American accent. Marc. He’d switched back.
“One of these days I wish to speak with Khonshu,” Sigyn fumed. “This is outright obnoxious.”
“He thinks I’m serving you more than him lately,” Mark divulged.
That stopped Sigyn dead in her tracks. “You’re not serving me. I am your partner Marc, I could be queen of the multiverse but we’d still be partners in this venture. You know that, right?”
Marc nodded.
“That infernal ancient bird,” Sigyn swore.
Marc remained silent. He’d done his best to lose the Egyptian deity as he flew across London, but Khonshu was always watching. Marc knew that the god wasn’t exactly fond of Sigyn either and getting in between them would be nothing short of a shitshow.
They arrived back to the ballroom entrance just as the Wakandan delegation were finishing their introductions, Shuri and T’Challa the last to cross the threshold.
“You made it!” Thor crowed in delight, Valkyrie at his side. “We’ll go first, give you two a moment.”
“That violates protocol,” Sigyn protested.
“Who cares?!” Valkyrie exclaimed with playful irreverence. “On New Asgard, the protocol is whoever’s ready goes first.”
The King sent Marc a reassuring wink and soon they disappeared into the ballroom with the announcement “Her Majesty King Valkyrie of New Asgard and Thor, the strongest Avenger.”
“I can’t believe he made them say that,” Marc muttered as Sigyn adjusted his lapel.
“Do not get me started,” the Asgardian concurred through gritted teeth. She lay her hands on his broad chest. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
“This is the furthest a kid from working class Chicago can get,” Marc told her.
“Just take one step at a time and keep your gaze straight ahead,” she advised.
It was their turn. Sigyn whispered to the uniformed attendant waiting to announce them, then returned to Marc, who offered her his arm. This was it.
“Lady Sigyn Frodisdottir of New Asgard and Mister Marc Spector!”
A swell of strings from an orchestra greeted them as the pair entered the ballroom. Every eye in the massive space was on Marc and Sigyn as they descended the staircase into the room, Marc making sure to go slow so Sigyn would retain her balance.
Yet, the princess didn’t need his aid. She seemed to glide down the stairs, clearly the Asgardian noble was back in her element. Nevertheless, she covertly squeezed her escort’s arm, hoping he got the message “I’m happy you’re here with me” she meant to convey with the gesture.
He took her advice, setting his gaze directly in front of him instead of looking at his feet, channeling the confidence from knowing he was here with the most beautiful woman in the room.
Thor, Valkyrie, T’Challa, his consort Nakia, Shuri, her striking consort - a member of the Dora Milaje, plus the British crown prince and his wife were all waiting for Marc and Sigyn at the base of the staircase. The orchestra continued playing, so once they were level with the other couples, Marc led Sigyn out to the dance floor with the rest of the royals and began the waltz.
She’d given him advance notice about this part, which gave Marc time to teach himself the mercifully simple box step the dance consisted of as well as time to practice with her.
Sigyn beamed at her partner while they waltzed. When Loki first left, Sigyn couldn’t have dreamed that she’d be in the arms of another powerful, kinder, dashing man, dancing at an opulent Migardian palace in another universe. Though now Sigyn was here, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she told him.
“You’re throwing off my counting,” he chided.
“Please, you can do this in your sleep and you know it,” she dismissed him fondly.
“I’ll be glad when this song is over” he groused, then softened. “This is a little different from the first time we danced.”
“Only slightly,” she joked. Sigyn wanted to kiss Marc, yet they’d mutually agreed that there were to be no public displays of affection this evening. Luring Loki was one thing, but they didn’t need any Midgardian attention. It was proving more difficult in practice, what with Marc dressed to the nines, holding her near enough for the princess to smell his crisp cologne, his chiseled face so close to hers.
“I know Steven and Jake already said it, but you do look really beautiful tonight,” he offered as they sailed across the floor.
“Thank you, Marc,” she grinned again, Marc was the stingiest with compliments. It wasn’t that he didn’t genuinely mean them, but sharing them necessitated a vulnerability the Midgardian was still unaccustomed to. “You look quite dashing yourself. Now what troublesome task did Khonshu insist you complete before you arrived?”
Marc opened his mouth to answer, but instead of vocalizing, his eyes glowed a pearlescent white, his posture stiffened, and his head tilted back slightly. Miraculously, he didn’t miss a step as they danced which could only mean one thing…
“Why don’t I tell you myself, hm? Since you are so eager to speak with me.”
Khonshu.
“Your timing is impeccable,” she commented, her tone dripping in sarcasm.
They twirled her, Khonshu’s agility taking Sigyn off guard. Marc had mastered the box step but not much else.
“It would behoove you not to wear your emotions so plainly on your face, little princess,” the god admonished her. Khonshu’s voice was unmistakably deeper than Marc’s and more sonorous.
They no longer shouted like they had the first time they’d puppeted Marc’s body with the Ennead. Now that Marc had experienced it before, Khonshu had a better grip on modulating his avatar’s volume.
“Typical man, telling a woman how and how much to feel,” Sigyn scoffed.
“I am a god.”
“That may be true, but you’re still a man,” she quipped.
“It has been a while since I was corporeal,” they rumbled, pressing Marc’s groin into her hip.
Sigyn recoiled so quickly, the normally balletic Asgardian tripped over her shoes. Khonshu steadied her, disguising her stumble as a dip on the dance floor.
It wasn’t fair that the mangy falcon was wearing Marc’s skin. The face she gazed upon, the arms that held her, did things to Sigyn. Involuntary things. Primal things. She tried to superimpose the beaked image of Khonshu Steven had shown her over Marc’s features and tamp down on the defiant arousal stirring within her.
“What are you doing here?” her glare full of flames, “Why now?”
The deity straightened, bringing Sigyn with them. “Because you’ve fallen in love with my avatar and he’s falling for you. Every damn one of him.”
“I don’t–-I’m not in love with Marc,” she instantly denied as they resumed the waltz. What if he could hear her? She went on, “I do care about him however. His safety and wellbeing is a matter of importance to me, which is more than you can say.”
Khonshu snarled in a harsh whisper “How dare you insult me.”
“I do not fear you,” Sigyn looked them straight in Marc’s eyes. “In fact, you ought to be thanking me, putting yourself in my debt. I’m trying to save you.”
“And yourself,” the god pointed out, “I will not allow you to pretend as if you're performing some great act of charity on my behalf. I enable your intergalactic travel, lest you forget. You are serving yourself just as much as you’re entreating my avatar to serve you.”
“All the stars above, they are not–”
A slackening in the body’s posture stopped the princess mid-sentence.
“Sigyn?” Her name was spoken in a British accent instead of Khonshu’s dark timbre.
“Steven?!”
Steven heaved as if he was holding the god back with all of his physical might. “So sorry love…we’re trying to get him out of here, but he’s too power–”
His eyes glowed once more and his shoulders went rigid. Khonshu had returned.
Sigyn exhaled an exasperated sigh at their reemergence. “Do they give you consent to use their body like this?”
“I own this body,” Khonshu replied simply.
“Well, that response clarifies perfectly who is in service to who.”
“And yet they do whatever you tell them to, then lick your quim afterwards,” the deity fired back.
“You are wildly fortunate that I enjoy your avatar’s face,” her voice lower and more menacing than any of them - Jake, Marc, Steven and Khonshu - had ever heard it, “because otherwise I would punch that smirk clean off of it.”
“Little princess–”
“No more,” Sigyn demanded. “I want my escort back. Now.”
“And why should I listen to you?”
“I won’t ask again.”
When Khonshu refused, still swaying with Sigyn, she began in the same ominous tone, “You know tonight is important to me, which is precisely why you decided to make your entrance now. I must hand it to you, Khonshu, it’s your most breathtaking act of sabotage towards me yet.”
She was right. The Egyptian deity knew Sigyn wouldn’t make a scene in front of so many fellow royals and prying eyes.
“However, Marc, Steven, Jake and I, along with Thor, King Valkyrie, and the buffoons at S.W.O.R.D., we may fail. Gorr may kill us all,” Sigyn continued, “Or if Loki rises to power, he’ll likely spare me. We’re still married according to most cosmic law, and he’ll want heirs. Legitimate ones. Norns, he’s wanted children for the past two centuries now.”
Sigyn leaned in close to Marc’s ear and murmured to Khonshu, “What do you think he’ll do to you if that comes to pass? Better yet, what do you think I will do after your insolence tonight?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Perhaps I am,” Sigyn conceded, “Or perhaps I’m not. Are you going to risk discovering which it is?”
Khonshu pulled away so they could see Sigyn’s face. She sneered at him, “You will continue to permit your avatar to partner with me to stop Loki, and provide transport for us whenever we require it. Now return my escort to me.”
In lieu of a verbal reply, Khonshu merely cooperated, the body nearly collapsing on top of Sigyn when it was returned to Marc.
“Marc, darling, are you alright?” She held him close to her.
“Yeah…” he was panting as if he’d run a marathon, “yeah I’m fine. Can we sit down?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” she cooed. The Asgardian and Marc rarely used pet names with each other, but in this moment after witnessing Khonshu’s cruelty, Sigyn couldn’t help herself.
They left the dance floor. Marc sank down onto one of the plush red velvet couches that were dotted around the edges of the spacious room.
Sigyn sat with him, rubbing his back. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah, I will be,” he assured her. “Just need a moment.”
Sigyn removed her hand to allow Marc his space. She kept quiet and flagged one of the servers, requesting a glass of water for her partner.
“Thank you,” Marc said when the server returned with the glass.
She surveyed Marc expectantly. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Not really,” Marc answered honestly. “He’s done it before, but only when the Ennead convenes. It’s something I can’t get used to though.”
“I’m sure.”
Marc sent the princess a wry grin. “You were pretty fucking formidable back there.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she teased. “How do you think I was able to keep Loki in line for as long as I did?”
Her quip prompted a question from Marc. He tried to make it sound nonchalant. “So you two are still married?”
“Only legally. It’s similar to that term you told me, for when spouses have decided to no longer stay together but yet to properly divorce.”
“Separated,” he supplied for her.
“Yes, we’re separated.”
“Would you take him back if he won? If he became the sole god in the multiverse?”
“If it meant protecting those I care about, yes. I would.”
Marc respected her honesty. “You know I always wondered why you two—you…you didn’t have kids.”
“No child of mine will ever be used as a pawn, and that’s exactly what they’d be if we’d had one,” Sigyn explained. “In my universe Thor, much like the one here, is still unwed and childless. So I knew, no matter how much he’d deny it, that if I gave birth before Thor married and had an heir of his own, Loki would use our child as a bargaining chip to ascend the throne before his brother.”
“I can see why you wouldn't want to bring a kind into that,” Marc sympathized.
“I appreciate that,” she managed.
The two watched the other couples dancing in silence. Marc was surprised at how light the hulking god of thunder was on his feet.
Marc leaned over to Sigyn, “For the record, I don’t think I serve you.”
The Asgardian was diffident. “I’m glad.”
“And I really want to kiss you right now,” he confessed.
“We promised we wouldn’t.”
“That was before I saw you in this dress.”
“You think it’s been any easier for me with you looking like that?”
“Sigyn,” he rasped, crowding her space further.
The princess was on the verge of succumbing to Marc, breaking their mutual promise, when Thor strode up to them and interrupted, “Thankfully that’s over!”
Marc and Sigyn sprang apart. The Avenger pretended to be oblivious and continued, “Did anyone else feel the weird energy out there just now? Marc, my man, you’ve been holding back your dance moves!”
“What is it, brother?” Sigyn unsuccessfully masked the irritation in her voice, refusing to take her eyes off her escort.
“Valkyrie’s rounding up the Wakandans, it’s time.”
Ah. That. Sigyn turned to Thor. “Marc should come.”
“Marc should stay and be eyes on the ballroom while we’re away, like we discussed,” Thor was doing the thing where he sounded overly upbeat to mask his frustration.
Marc could sense it. He pecked Sigyn’s lips, effectively kissing the pout off of her face. “We should stick to the plan. I’m fine here.”
At last she agreed and rose from the red cushions. “We won’t be gone long, and you’ll pay for that, Spector.”
Marc winked. “I sure hope so.”
As Sigyn and Thor departed, the god whispered, “You said it was casual.”
“It is,” she countered, looking anywhere but Thor’s face.
“You two are acting like you’re square in the sexily-denying-their-feeling-for-each-other phase of any good rom-com,” Thor shot back.
Sigyn glared at him. “You need to lay off the Midgardian entertainment, I think.”
***
Marc set about sweeping the room in his date’s absence. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a server, not to drink, but as a prop for a very fake casual stroll around the room. Sigyn had warned him that Loki was a shapeshifter, so he did a lap to see if anyone, even the most innocuous attendees, perhaps the Queen herself, was tailing or watching him.
Who Marc found instead knocked the wind out of him. He blinked in disbelief, sure that the vision in front of him was in fact a hallucination. It wasn’t though, because once they locked eyes, she made her way over to him instead of disintegrating before him.
It was his ex-wife.
Where Sigyn had opted for a timeless subtle elegance with her gown, she had eschewed tradition and wore a much more modern ensemble. A cap-sleeved orange crop top showcased her broad shoulders, then stopped at the center of her rib cage, revealing a delectable strip of tawny skin at her midsection. A voluminous matching orange skirt bloomed from her waist, everything accented by the dainty gold jewelry she wore.
She looked gorgeous. He was going to need that champagne after all.
“Layla?!”
“Hi Marc.”
He tried not to betray just how much he was reeling at her presence. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I could say the same about you. Of all the colonizer palaces in all the cities in the world…”
A nervous laugh escaped Marc at her Casablanca reference. He took a pull from his champagne flute to ease him. “Sorry, I sound like a dick for asking, but why are you here?”
“I've been consulting for the Wakandans on recovering stolen artifacts,” she informed him. Layla kept her voice carefully guarded and aloof. It stung to realize Marc was no longer privy to Layla’s adventures.
He attempted to wheedle them out of her anyway. “What, you going to use the party as cover to make a play tonight?
Layla ignored her ex-husband’s question and sipped her respective champagne instead. “The reason you’re here made it pretty clear when she paraded you in earlier.”
Marc’s cheeks burned. Layla knew how much he hated pomp. “It’s…it’s not like that. We’re working together.”
Layla shot him her signature “don’t bullshit me” look but Marc doubled down.
“Seriously, there’s a threat involving an alien and a Norse god and I’m helping the Asgardians track them down before they can do too much damage.”
Her laser gaze intensified. Layla knew him too well, and knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. She cursed the dark, masochistic part of her that wanted to hear Marc say that they were sleeping together.
Marc didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he swore, “It’s casual. I don’t think either of us know what we are, or care to. No labels, no commitments.”
“You committed to learning the waltz.”
“You look great,” Marc changed the subject, one in which he could actually tell the truth.
“Marc—“
“Are you still working with Tawaret?” Marc pressed.
“Do you miss me?”
Yes, said his gut. He hated himself for it. The divorce was final, Marc still considered Layla as his wife. Deep down he knew he could fuck Sigyn six ways to Sunday and still a little part of him would miss Layla. It wasn't fair to his Asgardian lover, and it was bloody painful for Marc.
Marc searched for an adequate answer. He did miss her, and after everything they went through in Cairo, they thought they could give their marriage another chance. But Marc couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d condemned the person he loved most to the same servitude he entrapped himself in.
Though Tawaret was much kinder to her avatar than Khonshu to him, it also wasn’t lost on Marc how she blossomed in her new role as Cairo’s resident superhero. Not to mention the discovery of Jake threw him for a loop. Ultimately, he filed the divorce papers again because Marc believed he needed to allow Layla to enter this new chapter of her life unencumbered with his baggage, his DID, his love for others to exploit to get to her.
While Marc’s thoughts raced, Sigyn rushed to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder and melding herself into his side with a blind fluidity.
“Darling, Thor’s insisting that you sit for the Asgardian delegation photograph, and he won’t listen to me when I insisted we’ve put you through enough this evening. It’s his attempt at a fraternal gesture, I suppose, but we must—“
“Sigyn, this is Layla El-Faouly.”
The princess faltered, taking in the sight of the caramel skinned, raven haired beauty before her. Her mane of dark curls were reminiscent of a regal lioness, her eyes inquisitive as a hawk’s.
Sigyn felt her heart fracture and jealousy bloom in its cracks. Khonshu had been more right about her feelings for Marc than she’d cared to admit. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours, my lady,” Layla responded without missing a beat.
“Call me Sigyn, please.” The princess searched for something more to say, something safe. “Are you enjoying tonight’s festivities?”
“Very much so.”
“Yes, the British certainly know how to entertain their guests.”
“As well as subjugate and steal from other cultures,” added Layla.
Sigyn’s eyebrows shot up. “I ought to have done more research on our hosts it seems.”
“Didn’t you say you two needed to be going?” Layla asked in a deceptively airy tone, zeroing in on her ex-husband.
Sigyn also looked to Marc for help. He felt like a deer caught in not one, but two, deadly hunters' crosshairs.
The Asgardian broke the silence. “Right…well, I could always tell Thor that I couldn’t find you Marc, if you two have more to discuss.”
“No, let’s go,” he answered at last. The decision to leave with Sigyn hurt Layla more than if Marc had stabbed her in the heart.
Sigyn turned to the exquisite Egyptian. “It was lovely meeting you.”
“And you, Sigyn.”
The princess waited until they were far enough away to remark coolly, “She’s stunning.”
Marc tensed. “Sigyn...”
“Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she mused, drinking in the figure Marc cut in his tux. “You two make a beautiful couple.”
“Stop.”
Sigyn glowered at him. Marc moved in closer, put his hand on the bare skin of her back, just under where the sapphire dangled. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know, Marc, are you?” she shot back, angling away from his touch. “You said all of nothing back there.”
“I don’t want to do this right now,” Marc huffed.
“How fortunate, neither do I,” Sigyn parried, her mounting anger causing her to walk faster, “So if there’s one of you in there who hasn’t been with her I would much rather speak to them.”
That was despicable, she thought as soon as the words had left her mouth. Sigyn had no right to speak to Marc like that, to treat him as interchangeable, to demand a more convenient alter at any given moment. Yet before the Asgaridan could apologize, a pair of arms pulled her back against a solid torso just as they had earlier that evening, causing the blue gem she wore to dig into her spine.
“Estoy aqui, nena” Jake murmured into her ear.
“You were never with her?”
Jake laughed, his trademark humorless bark. “She doesn’t know I exist.”
“He’s furious at me, isn’t he?” She inquired about Marc. “He should be.”
He shushed her in a soothing tone. “Don’t think about that right now. Be here with me. I’m more fun at a party than the two of them combined.”
Sigyn walked out of his hold, though she kept her hand clasped in his. “They’re still waiting on us. Can you pretend to be Marc for the next five minutes?”
“Claro que si,” Jake assured her, following her. “Then we leave.”
“Not that soon,” Sigyn countered. “But soon enough.”
Jake growled in her ear with excitement. “Por favor princesa, let’s leave now. I’ll take you to a club where we can really dance.”
But they were already entering the opulent meeting room where the photographs were being taken, Thor booming “There you two are!” at their arrival.
READ PART TWO
A/N: I need everyone to know that I adore Layla and May Calamawy sooo much so that every OC I write must be intimidated and jealous of her because she is truly a goddess among us. That being said, I harscore ship Layla and the Moon Boys in canon, wanted to make sure NO ONE thinks I’m a hater!
Taglist: @starfirette @twwcs
Translations:
Ay princesa, tu culo en este vestido - Ay princess, your ass in this dress
Me estás dando una erección en medio del Palacio de Buckingham - You’re giving me an erection in the middle of Buckingham Palace
Estoy aqui, nena - I’m here baby
Claro que si - Of course
Por favor princesa - Please princess
#moon knight#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#sigyn#thor#thor love and thunder au#marc spector#marc spector x female reader#marc spector x female!oc#steven grant#steven grant x female reader#steven grant x female!oc#jake lockley#jake lockley x female!oc#jake lockley x female!reader#layla el faouly#layla el faouly x marc spector#past loki x oc#khonshu#jake lockley speaking spanish#wakandans
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#surprise bitch, i bet you thought you’d seen the last of me
#jake is the punisher of mcu#marvel#marveledit#mcu#moon knight#oscar isaac#jake lockley#khonshu#userdiana#tvedit#nikolatexla#imagine steven and marc meet jake at last but they don't understand a shit because he speaks spanish lmao
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Damn, Duolingo making the smutty sentences for me now
Hmmm...
No esconde
Quiero ver tu cara bella
Mmm
Eso es, cariño
Eres tan sexy
🇬🇧
Don't hide
I wanna see your pretty face
Mmm
That's it, honey
You're so sexy
#hi 216 days ago I couldn't speak Spanish would you believe#Oscar Isaac inspired me#spanish#Jake Lockley#Santiago Garcia
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“It hasn’t even been a week since we had Marc Spector in the asylum. And I, Dr. Arthur Harrow, have already been splashed by water (from Steven Grant) and threatened by a glass pyramid (from Jake Lockley). Needless to say, Spector’s two alters will do everything to protect him.”
[ Asylum AU: Part 1 | Part 2 ]
Dialogues of the gifs below (can be seen on desktop if you click the gif)
Dr. Harrow: Does Steven Grant know... that Wendy wasn't kind to you?
Steven: Mum was nothing like that. Why are you telling lies? You’re trying to hurt Marc.
Dr. Harrow: And Jake Lockley, does he know about what really happened in the cave with Randall?
Jake: Te meteré este vidrio en la garganta para que dejes de inventar cuentos!!! (I'll shove this glass down your throat so you stop making up stories!!!)
#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#moon knight#marcstevenjake#marvel#honestly had a hard time imagining what jake's dialogue would be#but then again I don't speak spanish and I wouldn't be able to understand his yelling#sorry for the google translate too#moon knight gifs
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I need some brotherly scenes with these three or I’m gonna explode
#moon knight fanart#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#my doodles#Jake speaking Spanish 24/7 headcanon I love you
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Marc is fluent in Spanish but like how most third culture kids who just speak Spanish at home are fluent (grammar isn’t perfect, they use a lot of English/american-Spanish words and slang). Jake has always been more immersed in Latino culture and history so his Spanish is a much higher level. He likes to correct Marc’s Spanish to piss him off
#Steven understand Spanish but can’t really speak it#Marc is from Chicago so he’s not a no sane kid#but Jake fronted during all the Spanish classes growing up#moon knight#Marc Spector#jake lockley#steven grant#usaigi speaks
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I forgot to share this with you. A small comic kinda inspired by my Despacito fic where Jake Lockley only speaks spanish because of reasons.
translation of what he's saying: Move over, little Marc, let Jake take care of this.
#Moon Knight fanart#Moon knight#Marc Spector#Layla El-Faouly#Jake Lockley#Fanart#Jake Lockley speaks spanish#Jake Lockley is a cupcake#Despacito fic outtakes
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i'm back and better than ever. / for jake!
Eyes narrow as Jake glowers at him, jaw tight, teeth grinding together. Part of him is relieved to see Constantine up and about (to see him alive in general), but most of him is absolutely furious. They’d all thought he was dead. Thought he’d finally taken on more than he could chew and bit it. That one of the things that went bump in the night had torn him apart. Jake had imagined the screaming, couldn’t get the thought of John in Hell for the rest of eternity out of his head. The fact that he’s actually alive?
Well, Jake might just kill him himself.
Steven would say they’d mourned, that they’d all felt the loss, even if Marc and Jake would never admit to that. Because Jake hadn’t. He hadn’t poured out a drink or two to a lost friend. Hadn’t taken out some pent-up feelings on the matter on bad guys the nights following Constantine’s “death”. He certainly hadn’t wallowed.
He snarls, moving into Constantine’s space. “Maldito imbécil. ¿Por qué diablos fuiste y hiciste eso? ¡Estúpido! Si vuelves a hacer algo así de mierda, te arrancaré los riñones por la garganta, ¿entendido?” The rapid fire Spanish is paired with a smack to Constantine’s chest, followed by a punch to his shoulder. Hard. No holding back. The man’s just lucky Jake’s not wearing the suit, because with the added strength, he would’ve probably shattered bone. “That’s for worrying Steven. Dickhead.”
@talentforlying (x)
#talentforlying#✦ ic: jake lockley#✦ verse: midnight mission (jake lockley)#✦ meme reply: jake lockley#oooohhhh he maaaaad#i linked the google translate to what he's saying#bc i know if you just copy-paste it you might not get exactly what i mean#and i don't speak spanish so that's the best i've got
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I am personally invested and highly looking forward to canon marvel moon knight character Jake Lockley being vastly different to how the fandom at large has chosen to collectively characterise him. Oscar Isaac, do your worst, bestie 😘
#thats ‘do your worst’ /pos#marvel#moon knight#Jake Lockley#nothing against those characterisations#I love them and have written Jake fics that are like that#but this is Oscar Isaac we are talking about#the same guy who contributed heavily to the idea of Steven being British and Jake speaking Spanish#he’s gonna bring something to the table that none of us have factored in to our New York gangster fanfictions
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When thinking about how I would write after what happened after season 1 of Moon Knight and how they would meet Jake I sorta headcanon that he would called Khonshu father and like here’s an example:
Jake: Well you know father, he has flare for dramatics Marc…
Marc: You mean Khonshu? Well anyways, It’s doesn’t matter! You still let him have us, why?
(Like for me, I think Jake kinda hates their real dad for not stopping their mom. When they almost died, Khonshu “saved” them, Jake nows think him a fatherly figure and Khonshu would played along, you know to manipulate him)
#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#calls him father dear me#son? Stupid bird#moon knight headcanon#moon knight is great#yes he does speak Spanish#but to make easier for me#it’s English okay sorry#khonshu
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I swear the only thing that makes me click away from a fic faster than evil jake lockley is when the author decides to let us know he speaks Spanish by throwing in one (1) word in Spanish in the middle of an English sentence, and not because he forgot the word in English but just because how else would we POSSIBLY be able to know he was a Spanish speaker, and its the most awkward and forced thing ever
#i dont even mind the mistranslatons either because im not fully fluent in spanish and like i get it youre just writing a fic lol#but it just catches me so off guard because bilingual people dont speak like that?#and if you wanna tell us the character speaks multiple languages there are a million better more creative and more natural ways of doing it#its literally that one voltron post where that one bilingual character is like#'¿que pasa? oh sorry its hard to switch back sometimes. whats up?' LIKE THAT ISNT HOW IT WORKS?#any way genuinely no hate to anyone who does this because what the fuck do i know lol#i would love to see more people talking about this though#moon knight#marvel#moon knight show#jake lockley
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as much as I adore jake lockley calling me 'princesa,' I think I would absolutely melt if he called me 'mariposa.' it's probably one of my favorite words in spanish and if he called me that, I think my heart would explode🥰
#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley#moon boys#jake lockely my beloved#we got like 10 seconds of jake and i adore him with my whole heart#honestly he could say whatever the hell he wanted to to me as long as it was in spanish and id follow him anywhere#spanish speaking cab drivers have my heart#anyways this is my love letter to jake lockley
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Jake:[intimidatingly]pendejo
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[ @fistofkhcnshu from here.]
Initially, Jake thinks he’s going to be able to murmur his thanks and keep on with his day— his car is gorgeous and he washes it almost every day to keep it pristine—but then he sees the compliment was backhanded all along.
“¿Alguna posibilidad de que puedas superarlo? No tardaré mucho.”
Jake settles his cap tighter over his head and starts to make his way around the building to retrieve his client.
Fortunately for him, Thera speaks Spanish. Unfortunately for them both, she can live without the attitude. Breath puffs over her teeth - not audible, though she figures the driver wouldn’t care much if it were. At least she tried asking nicely?
The limo is beautiful, and if he just moved it up a foot or so it’d be fine. But that’s not happening, and it’s not worth her time to argue about it.
“Si me dices por quién estás aquí, ¿quizás pueda ayudarte?”
#FistofKhcnshu#;Jake Lockley#MCU Threedux#v; tbd#//She speaks Spanish but I don't - forgive me my Google Translate :p
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The invisible barrier.
(Jake Lockley x F!Reader)
Tags - Warnings: Jake doesn’t know about Marc or Steven. Angst, smut, fluff, everything.
Most of Jake’s dialogues are in Spanish, most of reader’s are in English except in November - December.
Word count: 4,9 k. (Lol, sorry)
Summary: A whole year trying to understand Jake Lockley. (Literally)
January.
"¡Hola!" (Hello.) The sudden voice next to you made you jump as you made the most important and complicated decision of the week.
Would you choose pretzels with dark or white chocolate?
Reluctantly, you turned to your side to see a man standing just a few inches away from you. On another occasion, you would have probably jumped back or fled to another aisle in the supermarket, but the apologetic smile on his lips and the puppy-like look in his eyes told you that he didn't want to be in this situation either.
"Perdón, ¿Podrías decirme qué dice aquí?” (Sorry. Could you tell me what it says here?) The words came out quickly from his mouth and you furrowed your brow in confusion. Your fleeting and ridiculous Spanish classes had never been of much use, even less now that you had the opportunity to help an attractive man.
"I don't... Huh." You cleared your throat, searching for a way to say, 'Maybe I can't help you, but I'll move heaven and earth to try.' Dramatic? Yes, of course, but what more could be expected from a hopeless romantic? Many love stories began like this in your mind; this was a scenario you had imagined at least twice before falling asleep. "No hablo español." (I don’t speak Spanish.)
The man blinked a couple of times, as if realizing that he had gathered courage for about 15 minutes only to lose his dignity like this.
"Oh." He cleared his throat, nodding afterward. "Thanks," he said shyly, as if trying to hide his accent.
"No, no, let me help you. What do you need?" You turned the bag of Cheetos he was holding in his hands so you could see the list of ingredients on the back as he was asking. Both of you were guessing what you were saying.
Your gaze scanned the list, nodding your head when you detected the problem. Everything was written in English.
Sure, your aisle companion had an extra problem on top of that. The letters were too small for his poor eyesight, and he would rather ask for help from strangers than give up on the idea of using glasses.
"Give me a second." Your fingers quickly handled your phone as you took the bag from his hands.
You took a photo and the app took care of the work for you, translating every word on the red packaging you held. You didn't hesitate to take a step forward and extend your hand far enough for your phone to be at the stranger's ear level, who didn't question your methods for a moment.
He just stood still, listening.
"¿Colorante rojo número 6?” (Red dye number 6?) He questioned when the voice function finished. And you quickly scanned the phone screen, trying to find the part on the list that seemed closest to what he had just said.
Well, seis = 6, that one was easy.
"Yes, 6." You saw him smile and take the bag back from your hands to shake it in a celebratory manner. "Why?"
"Huh?"
"Why 6?" He guessed based on how you tilted your head to one side what you were asking.
"Soy alérgico al número 4, o al menos eso creo.” (I'm allergic to the number 4. Or at least, I think I am.) He pointed to his throat. "Siento comezón en la garganta cuando como cosas que lo tienen.” (My throat itches when I eat things that have it.")
Did you understand anything he said? No, nothing beyond the number 4. So, you smiled and nodded, eliciting a warm laugh from him.
He was cute.
"Gracias." (Thank you.) It seemed like he understood the basics, just like you. It was better to use his words than to deal with the pronunciation of the "t" and "h" together.
"It's okay." You shrugged while continuing to smile in a friendly manner. It wasn't because the stranger was incredibly attractive; you always behaved this way with people, or at least you tried to. "Enjoy your Cheetos."
Another giggle. "Cheetos," he repeated, imitating the way you pronounced the brand's name.
You rolled your eyes playfully and went back to the pretzels without saying anything else.
Well, there went the potential love of your life. Both of you were too shy to engage in casual conversation. You were aware that pretending to have the confidence to do so would be a lie.
Silently, you paid for your pretzels covered in white chocolate, looking around in case the guy was still nearby. After a few seconds, you gave up. Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary, even with one more chance, you wouldn't have approached him.
More than 20 dollars for a bag of chocolate covered pretzels? That must be a crime, the first time you bought one . . .
"Hola de nuevo.” (Hi again.) The leather of his jacket brushed against your skin as you bumped into him. He was in the exact same position as you, one hand holding his Cheetos, the other clutching the receipt he was trying to read with squinted eyes.
You almost had a heart attack.
"Hi." You smiled, your cheeks betraying you as they turned rosy just from being around him like this. You had to take a step back after the clumsy little push you gave him.
"¿Tienes cómo regresar a tu casa?” (Do you have a way to get home?) You frowned at the question. This only confirmed that your crazy fantasy wasn't going to work out; there was a huge barrier between you.
He could see the confusion on your face so he pointed outside. It was raining heavily.
"Oh." You had been so engrossed in your pursuit of him that you hadn't thought about that. It wasn't a terrible problem, though; you could just wait until it calmed down.
You could spend another $20 on an umbrella in the worst case. Or call a car to take you the 10-minute walk to your house.
"I'll just wait." You had to remind yourself not to get too deep into your words.
"Yo te llevo.” (I'll give you a ride.) He quickly said. "A ride." The way the 'r' rolled off his mouth was enough to make you dizzy.
"Are you sure?" This couldn't be happening. This genuinely couldn't be happening.
"Of course, I'm sure," he repeated, smiling. This couldn't be happening.
It couldn't.
That night, you ran together to his car in the rain, laughing. He opened the door for you, even though it meant a few extra minutes of water poured on him.
You gave him directions through your phone, and you learned how to say "cuadras" (blocks) to guide someone next time, and he kept telling you something you didn't understand, but he noticed you were just nodding for him to keep talking.
He said goodbye with a kiss on your cheek. He used a word similar to "custom" to justify it, ‘costumbre’ maybe.
Oh, and you exchanged numbers. It turned out the stranger, Jake Lockley, worked as a taxi driver most nights. You understood that because the words "taxi" and "noche" were in your mental dictionary.
February.
Your first date was a disaster.
You never considered that to spend the day together, you had to exchange more than 5 words, and Jake stained your beautiful pink sundress with an ice cream that didn't even taste that good.
Oh, at some point, you tripped too. You were so focused on trying to understand one of the anecdotes he was telling you that you ended up on the ground with a scraped knee.
That wasn't so bad, though. I mean, you had Jake on one knee, checking yours. He even had you step on his thigh so he could clean you up with his ice cream-covered napkin.
When the day came to an end, he took you home. You noticed he had memorized your address, making it easier for both of you. You hummed a song together to cover the silence of two people who had to resort to other means of communication than talking.
"I had fun." Lie, this hadn't been anything like you imagined a first date, not after reading books or watching movies.
He nodded silently as he got out of the car to open the door for you.
And even though the date was a complete disaster, Jake kissed you.
He kissed you against the closed door of your apartment, holding you by the waist as if you intended to escape from his arms, begging you silently not to separate from him.
"¿Repetimos la próxima semana?” (Second date next week?)
March.
Text messages flowed throughout the weeks. Depending on the day, one or the other used the translator to send messages that the other could understand.
Sometimes they were just silly pictures, mostly of cats. You found a silly liking for sending him videos and photos of different animals in romantic situations, hugging each other and such, with only the description 'us.'
Jake responded ‘nosotros’ with different emojis depending on the day. He liked the white heart.
His car became familiar to you, as well as the late-night drives with music. You wondered if Jake had started neglecting his work to spend more time with you, and although it sounded selfish, you didn't care much.
You enjoyed his company.
April.
Your fingers played with his curls while both of you rested comfortably on your bed, you on the pillows, Jake on your abdomen.
He was surprisingly interested in one of the old books you hadn't touched in a long time.
"Jake?" He immediately put the book down to look at you. "Can you help me with a word?"
"¿Ahora?" (Now?) he asked.
"Right now."
"¿Cuál palabra?" (Which word?) He closed his eyes as your fingers continued to enjoy playing with his hair. It was so soft that the gentle caresses you gave were enough to mess it up.
"Boyfriend."
"Novio." You stretched your free hand with difficulty. He opened his eyes again, looking at you with interest as you struggled in the least attractive way to open one of your drawers with one hand. Something cracked in it.
You put the bag of Cheetos on his chest, clearing your throat afterwards.
"¿Quieres ser mi novio?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend?)
May.
"Jake?"
The car hadn't started yet when he turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong. You stretched enough to touch his knuckles, which were marked with a purple tone and scraped.
Your gaze went to him. It was as if both of you knew how to communicate through looks.
"No sé qué me pasó. Mi teoría es que golpee algo mientras dormía.” (I don't know what happened. My theory is that I hit something while asleep.) He frowned as he extended his fingers to get a better view of them. It looked like he had beaten up someone, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, especially when he gripped the steering wheel of the car.
"Are you still having those strange dreams?"
"Weird dreams," Jake whispered to himself as a way to remember your words. "Sí, sueños raros.” (Yes, weird dreams.)
You pursed your lips without saying more as you brushed his knuckles with your thumb, as gently as you could.
"Let's go." You finally gave in, returning to your seat with an unconvincing gesture.
June.
"I don't understand football." You said as you walked hand in hand, leaning some of your weight against his body.
Technically, neither of you were drunk; you were just flushed from the heat of the alcohol, giggly and a little tipsy. Jake had mentioned how funny it would be to go to one of those bars where they show football games for fans, even though neither of you were fans. Choosing a team randomly to support, drinking things with strange names, and maybe sharing spicy wings sounded like a good plan.
That was your Friday night.
"Tampoco yo.” (Neither do I.) Jake was doing his best not to laugh. He failed miserably.
When you reached his car, you leaned your body against it, and your hands ended up on your boyfriend's shirt. He immediately knew what you wanted, bringing both hands to your waist and leaning forward, closer.
"Is it hot here, or was it the 4 margaritas we drank?" You whispered while trying to contain your smile.
"Debe ser ese vestido.” (It must be that dress.) His lips brushed against yours. The sudden change in his voice made you shiver, so husky. “O por lo menos es lo que me está poniendo caliente a mi.” (At least I know that's what's making me hot.) It was the last thing he said before kissing you as if his life depended on it.
You moaned into his mouth, pressed between his body and the car. The kiss was wet as his mischievous hands slid under your dress, squeezing your ass firmly enough for it to hurt. Not in a bad way.
"Jake." You complained as you looked around to make sure no one was walking by to see you.
"Date la vuelta.” (Turn around.) Apparently, your Spanish only worked in moments of convenience because you obeyed immediately. You turned your body with difficulty, mainly because he refused to let go of you.
You felt his erection against you as soon as your cheek collided with the cold metal of the car. He was rubbing against your ass while biting your neck to his liking, sucking and licking your skin until he marked it.
"Fuck, Jake." You whispered with your eyes closed. You could have cum right there with just his kisses and soft touches. Fortunately, he was more considerate because one of the hands that rested on your waist little by little went between your legs, your dress was already raised enough to only have to worry about your panties, he brushed his fingers over your abdomen before sliding his middle finger between your lips.
First he wetted it well before moving up to your clit. His touch made you tremble and hiss.
"¿Un par de besos te tienen así, corazón?” (A couple of kisses have you like this, sweetheart?) You could hear the smirk on his lips as his finger traced circles against your most sensitive area. "Imagínate como será cuando esté dentro de ti.” (Imagine how it will be like when I'm inside you.)
A shameless moan escaped from you.
"Eso quieres, ¿No?” (You want that, don't you?) He kept talking in your ear while he distributed one or two kisses between your neck and your shoulder. “Sentirme duro. Profundo.” (To feel me hard. Deep.) He simulated thrusts between each word, his hip pushing yours harder against the car and against his hand that kept playing with your pussy to make you whimper.
You nodded without opening your eyes.
"Con palabras." (Use your words.) He said clicking his tongue.
"Yes please." You begged desperately while trying to get air through your mouth.
"Buena niña.” (Good girl.) You swallowed the complaint of feeling him take his hand out of your panties, just because you immediately heard how he started to unbutton his jeans. "Escupe.” (Spit.) You could feel his girth between your legs, letting you know that there were no more clothes involved.
You took a few seconds to be able to clean the fingers that were inside you before with your tongue, making Jake groan just by imagining what you would do with your mouth in another situation. When you were satisfied you spat into the palm of his hand as requested. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and covered it with your saliva.
He used the same hand to accommodate it between your lips. A sigh of relief left your mouth when you finally felt it inside you.
A muffled whimper accompanied the way your muscles suddenly relaxed, as if that was what you needed.
"Mierda, amor." (Shit, love.) As Jake's forehead rested against your shoulder, he muttered under his breath. "Voy a terminar rápido si sigues apretándome así.” (I'm going to finish fast if you keep squeezing me like this.) His voice made you dizzy, you mentally thanked all those days you spent understanding each other because his words could have been enough to push you to the limit.
It didn't take long for both of you to pick up a delicious rhythm. When he pushed his hip forward, you pushed back to make him go deeper. When he was pulling back, you were pulling forward almost taking his member all the way out to prepare for his next thrust.
You were so close you had to bite the hand he put to your mouth to keep from screaming.
"¿Vas a terminar para mi, mi vida?” (Are you going to finish for me, my life?) He whimpered. Oh god, he fucking whimpered. He had a desperate tone to his voice, almost like he was comforting you. "Déjame sentirlo, por favor, por favor.” (Let me feel it, please, please.) This time it was he who was begging.
Your saliva had started running against Jake's hand.
You were seeing stars from squeezing your eyes shut, and how close you were wasn't helping at all. The spasms had started around him, and without warning, the inevitable happened. He finished inside of you.
His cum being pushed deeper inside you with each thrust he took to finish his orgasm was enough for you to reach yours.
"Amor, carajo.” (Love, damn it.) His voice cracked at the sensitivity combining with your walls squeezing him every few seconds. You were milking him. "Te amo.” (I love you.) He whispered as his breath interrupted each of his words.
That was the first time he said it.
July.
The only thing that relaxed you was that this 360° turn apparently had nothing to do with you.
Jake was someone else.
His flirty and playful personality was just a memory to you. Under his eyes, there were huge dark circles since his dreams had become crazier and more frequent.
There were unexplained wounds on his body, according to him. Or sometimes there were none, but he felt the pain throughout his body, as if a truck had run over him, he said.
He became silent, as if he felt he was talking too much when he started to let out words about what was happening. He still hugged and kissed you, still spent afternoons with you and continued to respond “nosotros" to your silly animal photos.
But something wasn't right. There was something so... strange.
You did what you could to work on it, to let it pass.
Even if it cost you the trust in your relationship.
August.
Your hands trembled as you dialed his number for the tenth time that night. Maybe you were being dramatic, but Jake always made sure to let you know when he had returned home.
The sudden change that had occurred in him over the past 3 months didn't help at all. You wouldn't last a lifetime without wondering why his body kept producing wounds he claimed not to remember, or about those days of complete dissociation on his part, when he swore you were playing with him when you told him it was Saturday and not Wednesday.
"I just want to know you're okay." You whispered with a broken voice to the voicemail. "Please, just tell me you're okay."
There was no response that night. You couldn't sleep either.
The next day, when he showed up at your doorstep with the dark circles you had learned to get used to over the days, your body's first reaction was to push him with all your strength. It was only enough to make him stagger.
"You're an idiot." You spat the words, your eyes flooded with tears.
"Me quedé dormido anoche, perdón.” (I fell asleep, I'm sorry.) He didn't even seem to believe the words coming out of his mouth, but how could he explain to you what was happening in his life if he didn't even know what the hell was going on?
"How much longer do you plan on lying to me?" You didn't care that people passing by on the street saw you both as crazy. You in your pajamas, him leaning against the car as a method of protection.
"No te estoy mintiendo." (I’m not lying to you.) He raised his voice a little, letting out a lot of the feelings he had been suppressing for a while.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" The worst part was that you also had things bottled up inside you, the worry for him being the thing that choked you every day, squeezing tighter and tighter.
"Creo que no quieres entenderme.” (I think you don't want to understand me.) He was angry. You had never heard him like this, especially not directed at you. "Creo que ni siquiera estás intentando.” (I think you're not even trying.)
Damn the day you started to understand his words.
"I'm not understanding you, Jake?" You had already broken into tears. Your finger collided against his chest in an accusatory manner while he seemed unaffected, even though inside he was falling apart.
It was too much for him. Everything was too much.
"I've been trying for months to ignore what you're hiding from me." It was so difficult to argue in this way that frustration was suffocating you.
"¡No te estoy ocultando una mierda!” (I'm not hiding shit from you!) You snapped.
With fear.
Mid-sentence, Jake had reached out a hand to push you. Not with much force, just enough to separate you from his chest.
In seconds, he became aware of what he had done. If the car wasn't behind him, he would have moved even further away from you. He was overwhelmed by fear too.
He was losing himself as he had suspected.
"Me tengo que ir.” (I have to go.)
"Jake Lockley, if you leave, I don't want you to come back." Tired of seeing him run away from the problems, you resorted to the last card you would have liked to play.
You were foolish to think he would risk hurting you again. The last thing you heard was the sound of the engine accelerating to get away from you as fast as possible.
September.
The first part of September is blurry. You did your best to survive without him, but the days passed so quickly that you began to question if you were alive or just living in a bad dream that had lasted longer than necessary.
It was as if Jake was dead to you, without any sign, without any notice, nothing.
He simply disappeared.
The clear countdown of the days begins on the 13th, when your phone lit up to notify you that he wasn't doing much better than you.
✉: ¿Podemos hablar? (Can we talk?)
✉: Estoy perdido. (I'm lost.)
It hurt not having him, but it hurt more to see Jake's well-being. Not knowing how he was, where he was, what he was doing after that tragic day tormented you.
You replied, and the most important relationship in your life turned into a series of midnight calls where you tried to understand what your ex-boyfriend was mumbling from the solitude of his car.
You had friendships that had started in stranger ways than this, you could endure this.
Make it work.
October.
"Trick or treat." Mentally, he slapped himself for how ridiculous his way of reappearing was.
A half-smile appeared on your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with an embarrassed Jake, wearing your favorite leather jacket and both hands in his pockets as if he was waiting to be scolded by you.
"I doubt any of these things don't have artificial coloring number 4." That was your only response as you leaned your body against the door frame. With one hand, you held the huge container of candies that came out of hiding every Halloween.
"Estaba por aquí.” (I was around here.) Jake pointed back, the path that led to the supermarket, or at least that's what you assumed. He had a very lame excuse to see you, but that worked for you. The interest was enough. "Y pensé en venir a saludar.” (And I thought of coming. To say hi.)
"I'm watching Friday The 13th." You looked behind him. Children approached with shyness, seeking candy. "Come in, let me finish with the candies."
Your smile was so genuine that Jake's heart skipped a beat. How had he lasted so long without you? Those lost 3 months would always be present in the multiple mistakes he made.
That night, you kissed until it hurt. Until your lips hurt from bites, until the skin of his neck burned from love bites, until his fingers became imprinted on your waist.
"I love you." You said between moans as the movie gave you an almost unreal vision of who the love of your life was. Flashes in white, in red, even in black showing you how beautiful he was from any angle or lighting.
He made your sofa creak as he raised his hip toward you, thrusting into you even deeper if that was possible.
"I love you, Jake." You repeated with a broken voice while your little jumps gained more strength. Your body was already exhausted, your legs were shaking and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck from sweat but emotionally you refused to get away from him.
"Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.” (I love you. I love you. I love you.) His whispers mixed with his panting. You both seemed to be on the verge of tears.
"Don't go away again." Your fingers tightened on his chest, scratching at his skin as you had done many times before. "Don't ever leave me again, Jake."
The way you said his name burned in his heart. He brought a hand to one of yours to squeeze them on his chest, making you feel his agitated heartbeat.
There was no need to say more, not while your kisses, movements and moans spoke for themselves. That night, as you rested on his chest after an orgasm that made you both shake from head to toe, he promised you never to leave.
"Mi vida.” (My life.) He repeated as his fingers untangled your hair and your weight on him increased as you drifted off to sleep. "Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” (My darling. My heart.) He whispered in your ear. "Mi todo." (My everything.)
November.
Everything with Jake was stupidly easy.
Laughing, singing, existing.
As easy as in the romantic comedies you used to love watching before you met him. And it's not that you had forgotten about those because of him, but now you enjoyed watching action movies, those that allow you to get distracted without losing track of the plot.
You didn't press him to talk about what happened in those months, knowing that there were still a thousand secrets between you because you still saw strange bruises on his body, marks on his knuckles, or felt him getting up in the early hours of the morning when he stayed over with you.
"Leave me alone!" You ran down the hallway, laughing with him trailing behind. Probably restraining himself because it would be impossible for him not to catch you with his eyes closed.
He wrapped an arm around you to press you against his chest and used the other to prevent both of you from crashing into the wall. He was laughing too.
"Do you give up?" He squeezed you tighter with his arm.
"Never! Let me go!"
The laughter almost made it difficult for you to speak.
"Come back to me, and I'll let you go."
The seconds of silence churned his stomach.
"What?"
"I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Officially. Would you be my girlfriend? Please?"
It almost seemed like he was begging you.
You reassured his fears with a kiss.
December.
"I don't understand how you can eat these things." You took a deep breath through your mouth, sticking out your tongue, already reddened by the red dye number 6, to seek some relief from the burning sensation.
Jake was setting down a fifth box from his arms. He sighed, tired.
"No puedo creer que no me estés ayudando.” (I can't believe you're not helping me.) He approached you to steal one of the Cheetos from your bag while you licked your fingers. "Te dije que uses palillos chinos, así evitas el polvo.” (I told you to use chopsticks, that way you avoid getting your fingers dusty.)
"The dust is the best part." You popped your thumb out of your mouth.
"Disgusting." He feigned a look of disgust as he settled between your legs, resting a hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.
"You didn't say that when..."
"¡Dios mío!" (My God!) He gasped, biting his lower lip to suppress his laughter. He leaned forward, stealing a chaste kiss from you. "Compórtate.” (Behave.)
"Are there many more boxes left? I didn't think you had so much stuff in your apartment." You pushed the box aside as you leaned forward to prolong your kisses.
"This is my apartment." He whispered with a smile against your lips.
"Touché." Your fingers slowly roamed his shirt collar before pulling him closer with a tug on the fabric. "What if you take a break?"
Jake's hands were already on his pants, figuring out how to unbutton his jeans without separating from your body.
"I'm never going to stop unpacking." He complained as his lips began to descend towards your neck.
Ok now that I have written happy endings for the three of them I’m sick of them, lol, I’ll try to get angst-ier with these thingies
#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x you#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector#Steven Grant#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#Moon Knight#moon knight x you#marvel#Oscar Isaac#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac x you
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Hospital Bed Confessions
relationships: jake lockley x fem!reader, established marc spector x fem!reader, steven grant x fem!reader
word count: 2k
summary: As long as Jake can remember he's only had Marc and Steven to protect - then you came into the picture. Jake is scared to admit just how much you mean to him until you're injured, then he can no longer hide his feelings.
warnings: car accident/hospitalization/injuries, protective (but soft) jake, referenced childhood abuse, non sexual showering together, little bit of jealous!jake, jake has never been in a healthy/loving relationship and it shows.
translations: cariño- dear, princesa- princess, mi vida- my life, muñeca- doll
‘Has Y/N sent her home text yet?’ Steven asks from his reflection in Gus’ II’s and Gil’s fish tank. Jake looks away from the TV, “her what?” His alter looks annoyed, ‘you know what I’m talking about. The text She sends everynight to tell us she got home safe.’
Jake sighs dramatically picking up their shared phone. When he sees the late time illuminated on the screen something twists in his gut. Ever since you started dating Steven, and later Marc, you would send daily texts to whoever was fronting. The amount would vary depending on your workload but there were always three constants: good morning, I’m home, good night.
Jake clenches his jaw. He tells himself he’s being irrational, clingy even. He tries to keep his voice even when he responds. “No, but she said she was working late.”
This time it’s Marc that speaks up. ‘She should definitely be home by now. Call her.’
“You two are so dramatic,” he grumbles, although he was about to do that anyway. You don’t answer. Jake tries to ignore the worry churning in his gut. You’re an adult, you don’t need him hovering, but something feels off. Marc and Steven are pestering him to go to your flat but he barks at them in Spanish, trying to gather his own thoughts. A notification has them all freezing.
Jake takes only a moment to read the message before an unreadable expression flickers across his face. He bolts out of the flat, leaving his altars in the dark. If you heard the way he was yelling at the cabbie to hurry up you would be pissed but manners are the last thing on his mind. Once the car comes to a stop he throws some money (including a tip because he’s not a monster) at the poor driver before jumping out.
He’s practically running through the hallways, ignoring the poor doctors and nurses dodging his path. Finally he finds the room. He bursts through the door but the sight before him makes him freeze. He’s seen, and done, many violent things but seeing you hurt is something he’ll never forget.
You peer at him for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar stance and the way he holds his jaw, before a tired smile spreads across your cut lips, “Jake.” He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and approaches your bed. His hands clench by his sides. He wants to touch you, reassure himself that you’re here, but he’s afraid of hurting you worse. “You should see the other guy,” you joke. He doesn’t laugh, eyes becoming impossibly darker.
“What happened?”
You blink slowly at him. You know Jake is incredibly protective but you had never witnessed it towards you. Jake has always kept you at arms length so to speak. You would text some whenever he was fronting but he woukd mostly just tell you about Marc and Steven. He didn’t seem to realize that you cared about him just as much, and wanted to get to know him too.
“I don’t know, it happened so fast. I was driving home, I saw headlights then just… pain.” You wince at the memory.
His gaze is much softer now. “Are you in pain now, cariño?”
The pet name has you grinning, despite how sore your face is. “Some, but not too bad. They have me on a lot of drugs.” His eyes travel your scratched and bruised form. He wonders how many more injuries he can’t see and clenches his jaw. “Where are you hurt?”
You hesitate for a moment, knowing he won’t like the answers. “Umm my back is sprained, broken ribs, whiplash, and a concussion… plus I have some cuts but it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Your attempts to soften the blow do nothing as he curses in Spanish (which is actually really sexy but now is not in the time.) His brows are furrowed in concentration and you can only assume Steven and Marc are griping in his head.
You brush your fingers against his in an attempt to calm him down. He looks down to see you weakly grabbing his rougher hand, effectively making his heart stutter. “Fuck, you’re cold,” he hisses, gently running his thumb over your chilled skin. He lets go of your hand (much to your disappointment) so he can remove his jacket and drape it over your body. You breathe in the familiar cologne that all the boys wear, snuggling into the leather.
“Thank you, Jakey.”
He shakes his head at the nickname as he takes a seat in the plush chair beside your bed. You turn your head to look at him playfully. “You know this isn’t how I imagined our first date.” He scoffs in response, "this isn’t our first date." You feel the sting of rejection and consider hiding under his jacket to cry a little but then he takes your hand in his (where it belongs, in your humble opinion.)
"Once you're better I’ll take you somewhere real nice, okay? But you have to heal up first.”
Your heart rises from where it had fallen in the pit of your stomach to flutter in your chest. “I’d like that,” you hum. Your gaze travels to your interlaced fingers, thinking about your words carefully. “To be honest, I didn’t even think you liked me.”
‘Nice going, locker,’ Marc seethes mentally. ‘You hurt her feelings.’
Jake ignores him as usual. “Oh princesa,” he sighs deeply, “I’ll admit at first I didn’t trust you. Nothing personal, I just didn’t want Marc or Steven to get hurt. But then I saw the way you treated them and I started falling for you too.”
This time his altars are quiet. Your voice is soft when you ask, “why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know how. I’ve never been in a relationship. I’ve never cared about someone the way I care about you. And you seemed so happy with them.”
Your heart melts at his confession. You’re not naive. You know Jake has a dark side. He’s the manifestation of anger and resentment Marc felt as an abused child, but he’s also a protector. “We’re lucky to have you,” you softly confess.
He looks at you in awe for a moment before you notice his lip slightly quivering. He bows his head but you can still tell he’s holding back tears. “Oh baby,” you coo softly, wanting nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and hold him against your chest, or even wipe his wet cheeks, but your injured back and sides won’t allow it.
‘You deserve to be happy too, mate,’ Steven pipes up, only making his eyes burn more. ‘Yeah man, stop shutting her out. She cares about you,’ Marc adds.
“Are you okay?”
He nods slowly, his altar’s words echoing in his mind. “Sorry princesa, I should be the one taking care of you.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m glad you can be open with me.”
He looks at you with so much adoration it makes you shy. Then he gently kisses the back of your hand, “I should probably let Marc and Steven talk to you. They’re worried sick.”
“Okay, but only if you promise to visit me again, amor.”
He grins at the sound of you using his first language. “I promise, mi vida.”
____
Within a few days you’re released from the hospital. Your boyfriends insists on staying with you until you’re better.
“Alright muñeca, bed or couch?” Jake asks. “What about shower? I smell like the hospital.” You counter, leaning into his solid chest. His arm flexes around your waist as he leads (practically carries) you into the bathroom. “Do you need help, princesa?” He asks. You nod shyly.
You lean against the counter as he gingerly pulls your baggy shirt over your head, leaving your chest bare (you learnt quickly that broken ribs and bras don’t mix.) “There’s my beautiful girl,” he coos. You grin bashfully, looking away as he kneels in front of you to pull down your sweatpants and underwear, leaving a gentle kiss on your hip. “Jake!” You protest shyly with heated cheeks as he stands in front of you.
“Sorry mi vida, couldn’t resist. This is my first time undressing you, after all.” He smirks before ducking into the shower to turn it on. He strips himself before wrapping his large arms around you to help you in the shower. You let out a happy sigh as the warm water hits your sore body
“Stand still so I can wash you,” he instructs, reaching for your fruity body wash. “Wait,” you interrupt, making him freeze. “Can you use yours? I like smelling like you guys,” you sheepishly admit. It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re worried you weirded him out, when his lips brush against your ear,
“Marc wants you to know that that’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.”
You grin at his words, trying to ignore the goosebumps left in their wake. “Tell Marc he’s cuter.”
“Alright, alright, enough flirting through me.”
You bring one of Jake's large hands to your mouth, pecking his knuckles. “Aw baby, don’t be jealous. You know I don’t play favorites with my boys.”
Jake smiles so big it makes his eyes crinkle. Suddenly belonging to someone doesn’t seem so bad, especially when they belong to you too. He wordlessly kisses your neck and reaches for their body wash. You giggle to yourself but it turns into a gasp when he puts the cold loofah on your back. “Did I hurt you?” He asks worridley, movements stilling. You shake your head softly, “no, I’m ok, just surprised me. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”
Once he’s washed your back and shoulders he helps you turn around to face him. He runs the loofah over your front, being extra careful of your broken ribs. He places intermittent kisses across your face and forehead to distract you from any discomfort, mumbling apologizes against your damp skin.
After you’re cleaned off he helps you out of the shower, running a fluffy towel across your body to dry you off. “Alright, let’s get you to bed, mi vida,” he coos as he walks you to your room and sits you on your bed. He grabs you some underwear then moves to your closet.
“What do you wanna wear?”
You immediately point to your favorite stolen item of clothing. “The black jumper.”
Jake takes it off its hanger, examining it closely. “Is this Steven’s?”
“Mhmm, I always take his clothes.” You confess as he lays it on the bed beside you.
“Well Steven isn’t the one who just helped you shower but by all means,” he grumbles to himself as he helps you pull up your panties. You playfully roll your eyes at his childness. “I already told you, baby, I don’t play favorites, it’s just that Stevie wears the comfiest shirts. And besides, I don’t have any of your clothes yet.”
“Oh, so now he’s Stevie?”
“I tried to call you Jakey and you said you didn’t like it.”
“I was lying! Obviously!”
You scoff at his unprecedented jealousy. “Just get in bed, Jakey. I want to watch Encanto.”
____
A few Disney movies later Jake leaves to get you dinner and feed Gus II and Gil. When he comes back he’s bearing gifts.
“This one’s from me,” he explains proudly, presenting an oversized Yankees shirt. “And this piece of trash is from Marc,” he groans comically, presenting a Chicago shirt. You giggle at his dramatics, making him smile proudly.
“Oh and the flowers were Steven’s ideas but I picked out the type,” he adds on, holding out a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers. If your body wasn’t in so much pain you’re sure your heart would be beating out of your chest cartoon style.
“I have the best boyfriends ever.”
#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fluff#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#moon knight x reader#moon knight fluff#moon knight#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant#moon boys
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