#marc spector 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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Come Back to Me
Marc Spector/Steven Grant x F!Reader
Summary: Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.
warnings: ANGSTTTT!! (the fav), character backstory, flashbacks, character death, reader wound, sadness, despair etc etc, cliffhanger
masterlist!
“M-Mark?” Fuck. Fuck. Your voice was wobblier than you had expected.
“Baby?” You heard some shuffling. “What’s wrong?”
You pulled the phone away to clear your throat. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Despite your assurances, he wouldn’t be fooled. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk.”
The pain was spreading from your side, crawling through your torso like deadly vines. It was nearly blinding. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you tried to steady your breathing.
This isn’t how you wanted to go. Whimpering in pain and regretting every decision that got you here.
No. What you wanted was to hear your lover’s voice one last time. The warm timbre of his essence. Your favorite sound in the entire world.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed. “Where are you?”
Your man was nothing if not stubborn. “Yes, baby. I’m okay—“ you really weren’t. “What—what did you do today?”
Marc sucked in air through his clenched teeth, gripping his phone with white knuckles. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I’m coming home for a few days… our leads haven’t gotten us anywhere and Khonshu believes we just need a comfortable place to think.”
You would’ve scoffed at that if your chest and throat weren’t on fire. Khonshu believes?
The big bird knew what Marc would be returning to. He knew you were lying in a pool of your own blood.
The thought sent a surge of panic through your body, even as the pain was beginning to overwhelm you. “No! Uh—um you— you’re already so close. W-what are you stuck on?”
Tears welled in your eyes, it felt like a blazing iron rod was being shoved into your chest and dragged up slowly until every organ could feel the flame.
It was silent on the other end for a heavy moment, before Marc’s deep voice hesitantly spoke your name. His tone lifted, suspended in question.
A shake courses through you, fear beginning to blossom in the pit of your stomach. The last thing you wanted was for him to panic… and now you’re beginning to panic as well.
You weren’t ready.
A sob broke through your lips before you could stop it. As if you even had the strength to.
“Marc,” you sobbed, turning your head to gaze at the phone beside you. As if it would give you one last glimpse at the love of your life.
His breathing picks up frantically. “Where are you? Tell me now.”
On his end, fabric is wrapping around his body at a faster rate than it ever had before. He could feel the strength of Khonshu enter him, the god’s presence filling the void.
The corners of your vision darkened and just when you thought you’d scream from the pain— it was gone. Miraculously, you felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Your heart dropped.
“I’m sorry,” a daze washed over you. There was nothing else to do but wait. A forlorn smile graced your paling face. “I’m so sorry, baby. There isn’t much time left.”
“What time?! Stop this shit, where are you? I can make it there as soon as you tell me.”
“There’s not enough time,” you pressed. You were coming to terms with the distant bright light that was supposed to be illuminating your vision.
You would’ve wished that that was what you were seeing as you drifted off, but one wish stood above all the others—
Your desire to be with Marc and Steven.
You barely notice the frantic yelling on the other end of the line before you’re cutting it off weakly.
“I—“ you go to clear your throat but the numbness had spread too far now. “I love you. Every part of you, baby. I just— I just wanted to hear your s—sweet voice one last t-time. Okay? I love you…”
The last word died on your tongue. And the darkness had taken over before you could hear Marc’s broken response.
A strangled yell left Marc’s lips. His stomach was knotted. The shadow of Khonshu appeared in his peripheral vision.
But Marc was rooted in his own grief. His lips were quivering, snot mixing with salty tears as he bared his teeth, shaking from the pure emotion of it all.
Why wasn’t he home? He had vowed to protect you, shield you from the horrors of the world— his world— but it wasn’t enough.
He couldn’t be there all the time, and you’d always reassured him that it’d be okay. That you didn’t feel like you constantly had to look over your shoulder, you didn’t want Marc or Steven to spend every second of their life protecting yours.
It’s his fault. God, the thought made him choke. Hands flying up to grasp at his throat as if he could stop it from tightening. It’s all his fault.
Maybe—maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, you’re alive.
He could still feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder. “Take me to her.”
It’s silent. The wind breezing past his ears, the serenity of the night sky brazenly mocking his wild panic.
“Now, Khonshu!” He spun around quickly, voice wavering in rage.
If it hadn’t been for the God’s power over him, Marc would’ve been with you. The only person who truly matters to him in this world.
By some beautiful twist of fate, Khonshu unexpectedly relents, nodding his giant head in the direction of a portal.
Marc couldn’t find it in himself to thank him, everything else had faded away until all he saw was your mangled body on the other side of it.
His feet took him across the rooftop at an immeasurable feet, practically flying over the distance, until his surroundings had changed completely.
“No,” he cried, dropping to his knees painfully. Shards of glass pierced his skin as if he weren’t already bleeding out with you. “Baby? Baby, wake up. Wake up!”
Your body was lifeless in his arms, and the embrace felt strange, nothing like how you’d lay in his arms at night. Fingers gripping his necklace loosely, head tucked into the crook of his neck… legs tangled with his as if your bodies were one.
Blood left a trail from your nose to your chin and shaky hands went to wipe it away before pausing in midair to hover over your face…
“Love?”
Bewildered, Steven nearly gave himself whiplash as he snapped his head away from the sight of your bloodied body.
And despite wanting to run away, his hands tightened around your frame, his lungs failing.
Everything burned, his chest, his stomach. God, his arms and legs were going numb.
And where Marc couldn’t go, Steven went.
Denial.
“Love, come on,” his head has turned to you again but his eyes were squeezed shut. “Wake up. The gag has gone long enough.”
No response. Your laughter wasn’t shaking your frame, your voice wasn’t reassuring him that it’d all been a silly, cruel joke.
“Lovie…” he knew how much you hated the name and despite it, absolutely nothing.
Weren’t you going to argue? Playfully punch him in the shoulder as you giggled at him to never call you that again. Weren’t you going to put on that half-assed angry frown that you always did before smiling and pulling him to your lips?
Weren’t you going to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright?
His heart dropped with the realization that you already had.
You already spoken those words sweetly and he’d dismissed them, twisted them into something rageful when all he should’ve done was pulled you into his arms and never let you go.
“Steven,” you tried, grabbing onto his hands with an unusual hint of desperation. Almost as if you knew something he didn’t. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright.”
The sincerity in your eyes practically sparkled or maybe that was just the pure love that you felt for him. But it didn’t get through to him this time, instead his panic and anxiety twisting his words and actions into something else.
“How can you say that?” Steven stressed. “How can you be so positive all time?! Consider the possibility that maybe sometimes you’re just wrong!”
His soul shattered when he realized… it was the last time he’d ever hear those words.
He hadn’t believed in them and now this happened.
Steven forced his eyes to open slowly.
In the pale moonlight, your face was still as beautiful as the first time he ever saw you.
It was early in the morning; the sun was barely over the horizon and the streets of London were not all too busy for this hour.
Thankfully for Marc, the little coffee house that was nestled in the array of buildings on Russell Street was practically empty. Save for the steady stream of customers who would fly in and out with a streaming cup of coffee or tea in their hands.
But tucked in the corner of the large window seat was you.
Exactly as he’d seen you in his numerous hours of laborious research. Hair tucked behind your ears, oversized round glasses slipping off the tip of your nose, lips tucked in concentration, a loose sweater hanging off your shoulders.
There was a sense of tranquility about you. A stillness despite the bustling customers mere feet from you.
A girl immersed in her own world; a utopia all within the threads of your pale green sweater, the gentle sway of your feet under the table, the hint of a smile at the corner of your lips.
How odd it was to find such astounding beauty in someone you knew everything and nothing about.
Because in your little world, you may have been closed off from the reality around you, but an open book to anyone who cared to look.
And Marc couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t.
He just hated that he had to be the one to shatter your universe.
“Excuse me,” Marc said when he finally worked up the courage to enter the shop. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
Then you looked up at him and he knew it was a sight he’d remember for the rest of his life, an image that would flash behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.
Your eyes piercingly studied his through your eyelashes for a long moment. The hint of a smile was gone.
“Sure,” you eventually smiled brightly.
A dazzling smile that kept him rooted to the spot a little longer than necessary.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to mind it. “You’re American?”
Marc finally sat down next to you, gripping his chocolate muffin tightly. “Actually, I’m from Chicago.”
If your chuckle was charming, he couldn’t imagine your laugh.
“Which is in America, if I recall correctly.”
“You do, it is... in America.” God he needed to work on his social skills. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Partly because of your particular line of work, mostly because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
You shut your book softly. “What brings you to London?”
Marc was sure you would’ve shut him down by now, questioned his intentions or tried to put his ass down. But you were graceful, serene... Seemingly not worried at all about his intentions.
If he’d asked, you would’ve told him that you had a keen eye for vibrant souls. His being one of the brightest you’d stumbled upon.
“Uh, work,” he replied unconvincingly. “What about you? You’re a fellow American yourself, aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” You were teasing him.
Maybe he could hear that laugh again after all. “Your accent and the whole sweater thing you’ve got going on? Practically screams California.”
Your laugh was surprisingly booming, genuine. He found himself smiling at the sound of it.
It can’t be this easy to fall in love with someone you just met.
“It’s New York actually,” you corrected between fading giggles. “Close enough.”
Embarrassment tinted his ears red. “It’s not.”
Smiling widely, you shook your head in agreement. “It’s really not.”
It’s silent for a few moments and just when Marc thinks you’re going to open your book again, you speak softer than before.
“I’m assuming you sat in my little corner for a reason, Mr. Spector.”
The gravity of your simple statement uncharacteristically flew past his head. Instead, he was a little more focused on trying to hear that twinkling laugh again.
“What’re you doing?” You rose an eyebrow, watching as the man wildly looked around the space you were occupying. From the two adjoining walls to the wooden round table.
“Looking for any indication that this is in fact entirely your corner. So far I see nothing except...” There was no way he wasn’t making a fool out of himself but he was in too deep to stop--
The pin suddenly dropped.
“I didn’t tell you my name.”
A nonchalant expression adorned your face. “People like you don’t seek people like me unless they need something.”
His brain short-circuits.
“People like me...” Marc repeated, his voice lifting slightly as if almost in question.
“I’m aware of every single entity within my range whom fit the qualifications of a very secure database. Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Spider-Man who happens to be around on a school trip...” you listed idly, twirling the little stick that was stained with your hazelnut coffee. “... Marc Spector.”
The rose-colored glasses were slowly slipping off. His years of servitude under Khonshu’s hand began to harden his exterior until he could finally look at you as a threat. Just to be sure.
“Why would I be on that list?”
You motioned toward the untouched muffin. “Are you gonna eat that?”
“Why would I be on that list?” His jaw clenched.
“Well, why wouldn’t you?” You take a sip. “Moon Knight is an incredibly promising prospect in the eyes of those who protect our world. You’re incredibly powerful.”
Marc scoffed. Is that what he was to you? A potential business deal, a recruit?
“But it doesn’t really matter to me anyway.”
His eyes shot up in interest. The corner of your lips had turned up again.
“I don’t work for any agency anymore,” you explained. “I’m just a girl with an incredible skill set and impressive resume.”
“Humble much?”
There was a knowing twinkle in your eye. “Only when I need to be.”
Your stares met with a shared interest. As if you two were really seeing each other for the first time.
To Marc, your beauty was astounding, ethereal. He could only hope that you’d choose to stay in his life.
“I did come for a reason... I have a mission and I could use someone with your specific skill set.”
“You need help.”
“Well, I didn’t say that exactly--”
“It’s what you meant,” you narrowed your eyes playfully. “Thankfully, I’m a woman of the people. But why should I help you?”
“I’m backed into a corner. I’m just trying to do things right in the best way I can. But I need you to trust me.”
“Trust is gained, Spector.”
“Then allow me to earn it.” The mercenary countered.
You allowed your eyes to look over him. At his open grey button up, his ironed white shirt and black pants. His ebony hair, brushed away from his face, sprinkled with a hint of grey. The scruff on his jaw and the brown of his eyes.
Falling in love with someone you just met can’t be this easy.
Your resolve crumbled and you knew he was going to be in your life for the unforeseeable future. The fluttering in your abdomen pulled you in before you could stop it.
Not that you wanted to.
“So what does this mission entail?”
Slowly, a genuine smile curved Marc Spector’s lips, one that you reciprocated with a blinding beauty that made his heart nearly stop.
And as he walked out of the coffee shop that morning, your number scribbled on a note that was neatly folded in his pocket, there was a sudden change... brief but enough for Steven Grant to suddenly find himself on Russell Street. Confused and a bit frightened, but only for a quick moment--
Until he turned his head and gazed into the large coffeehouse window...
To see you for the first time, with eyes that had adoringly gazed upon yours for hours.
And the sight was like a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with something he didn’t quite know he needed.
The close-lipped smile that spread from cheek to cheek behind the fist of your closed hand, idle strands of hair that fell to cover your joyous expression, the simple rise and fall of your chest...
And between the moment that he saw you and Marc reemerged to front, Steven Grant couldn’t help but wonder who had made your eyes light up in that way.
Steven Grant wondered if he had the chance, could he make you happy?
But he couldn’t see the light in your eyes anymore. Eyelids rested over those effervescent eyes and a part of him finally shattered.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. Bringing your forehead close to his, his lips tenderly touched your warm skin. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”
Softly, as if to not disturb you, he reached for your hand, catching a glimpse of the fading paint job he’d done on your nails before he left last week.
“I-I-I can’t, I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t breathe anymore, gasping against your body as he tightened his embrace.
Acceptance.
With a shudder, Marc kept his eyes closed despite the sudden switch.
This way he could imagine that you weren’t dead, you weren’t cold and lifeless. No, you were alive. Finally squeezing in a nap between your tireless research, hours upon hours at the computer, hacking databases and trying everything you could to help the boys.
Yes, yes, he could take a moment to indulge in that fantasy.
Because once he opened his eyes, it was finally over. Marc Spector would have to live without you.
“How wasteful...”
That pent-up anger reared its ugly head. “What?”
If he wasn’t holding onto you, Marc would’ve committed violence against the god.
“To let such a valuable asset go would be a pitiful waste,” Khonshu drawled from behind his avatar.
Marc shook his head at the audacity. “I don’t want to hear this. I--I don’t want to hear this.”
“Perhaps you do, Spector,” the god insinuated. “Feel the warmth of her skin... look at the color beneath her skin...”
This was cruel. “No...”
“Your grief may be premature--” what? “-- her fate lies in no one’s hands but her own.”
He finally looked up. “Stop with the riddles. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just as I once appeared before you, the goddess Isis requires an avatar. Your lover is still in the fight between life and death.”
Deception was a skill Marc was certain Khonshu had mastered but yet, he found nothing but the truth in his tone. He felt the god’s sincerity.
Shock stilled his body, mouth slightly open as he stared into the night sky and then slowly back at you.
Despite his aversion to serving a god, the only thought running through his mind was the desire for you to come back to him.
In any way, he’d have you.
Otherwise, neither he nor Steven would make it.
“This is up to you, baby,” Marc whispered into your hair. “But fight. Please... fight. Come back to me.”
Please.
Come back to me.
The voice bounced off the walls of the chamber, echoing until it faded away.
It was the voice that would always bring you back.
“You have a choice to make,” a different voice reminded you, sweet and smooth. “Be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was.”
You were on the tip of the iceberg, held back from what you’d seen Marc and Steven deal with for years but itching to get back to the broken man that was begging for you.
“What does that even mean?” You groaned.
Isis gave you no further explanation than what she’d told you before. You glared at her for another moment before feeling a phantom pain shoot across your body. Well, metaphysical body.
You realized you’re running out of time.
“So I do this or what? Die? I love how you all deal in absolutes,” your snark was still intact. “Any room for negotiation?”
The Goddess of Magic and Fertility towered over you, mighty with large wings that spanned the length of the golden chamber. Eyes that pierced into your soul, quite literally, and a beauty that wasn’t made to be seen by mortal eyes.
It was easy to tell why. Such beauty was captivating, breath-stealing and enough to send any man or woman to their knees.
But yet here you stood, slightly annoyed and about three feet under.
Unamused, Isis blinked expectantly.
Please... Air caught in your throat. Baby...
The decision suddenly wasn’t hard at all.
And it seemed as if Isis knew it as well.
“Will you be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was?” She repeated.
The other half of your soul was missing and you knew how to soothe the agonizing pain for the both of you…
“Yes.”
#marc spector angst#steven grant imagine#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#moon boys#moonknight#moon knight#Marc Spector#Steven grant#jake lockley#oscar Isaac#marvel#f!reader#angst#character death#character wound#mgparker
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Misunderstanding
Marc Spector x fem!reader
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Read on ao3
Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.
Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.
Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3
A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!
Support creators! Reblog!
2.2k words
********************
Chaos made Marc anxious.
So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room.
A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.
Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone.
Until he saw it.
‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.
Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’
“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.
‘She’s leaving us.’
“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…
You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.
Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.
“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.
Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”
Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.
‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’
None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.
That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.
“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.
Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”
You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.
“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”
Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”
You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”
He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”
You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”
“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”
Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”
The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”
“I took them down to wash the walls.”
“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.
You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”
He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”
Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”
You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.
And he needed you.
“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.
Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.
Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.
“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.
Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.
“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.
“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck.
“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”
He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o.
“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”
You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…
“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”
With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.
When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.
You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.
On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.
You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.
“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.
Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”
“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”
His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.”
You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”
He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.
Then, he’s snoring loudly.
Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.
Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.
Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.
But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.
*************
We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3
Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM
My beloved one <3
MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!
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how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.
summary: what the title says!
warning: angsty angst.
word count: 1.1k
a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 2
Steven Grant:
“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”
His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.
“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”
Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.
He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.
“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.
Oh, he is tired?
“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”
You explain to him out of frustration.
“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.
“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.
“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.
Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.
“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.
“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.
Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.
You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.
He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.
“What’re you doing?”
Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.
“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.
You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.
“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.
Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.
“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”
That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.
“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”
You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.
Marc Spector:
“Look at the state of you,”
Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.
“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.
“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.
“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.
“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.
Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.
“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“
“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.
Marc was growing annoyed.
“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”
Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.
“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”
He scoffed at your words.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.
“That’s not what I’m-“
“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”
“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.
“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.
You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.
You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.
He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.
Jake Lockley:
You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.
With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.
“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.
The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.
“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.
You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.
“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.
He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.
“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.
Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.
“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.
Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.
“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.
You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.
“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.
“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.
“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.
#steven grant#steven grant headcanons#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant fanfic#steven grant x you#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x reader#steven grant angst#marc spector#marc spector headcanons#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x reader#marc spector angst#jake lockley#jake lockley headcanons#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fanfic#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley x reader#jake lockey angst#moonknight#moonknight fanfiction#moonknight fanfic#angst
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Stranger in my house
Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader
CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.
WK-1.6k
Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.
A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.
[Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
You notice him one day.
A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice.
That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out.
It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended.
He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend.
You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc.
You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.”
The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to.
You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go.
“Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response.
“Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.”
“Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.”
****
You notice one day
You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie.
When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after.
You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift.
He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes.
You should thank her mate
She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday
Well it’s technically not anymore is it?
He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it.
“I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun.
You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little.
“I know what you’re going to say…”
He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break.
He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath.
“Honey,look at me.”
His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face.
“Thank you, love.”
****
It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you.
You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.
“I thought you liked those?”
He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes.
You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter.
“Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass.
“Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet.
****
He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed.
After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you.
“You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear.
“You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’
“This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’
He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers.
“Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both.
****
You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar.
“I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”
Jake -he has a name
It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up.
Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.”
He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets.
“I know.”
They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house.
@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
Dejeme ver-Let me see
Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there
Asi- just like that
Es mejor- that’s better
#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight system#moon boys x reader#marc spector x fem!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fluff#jake lockley fanfiction#moon knight fic#marc spector angst#jake lockely x reader#moon knight x reader#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley x you#steven grant fluff
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SO LONG LONDON - STEVEN GRANT
Pairing: steven x reader (established) (and then marc shows up)
Word Count: 2,489
Summary: Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love.
//honestly idk what happened here, just go with it//
It made no sense.
You two were scheduled together all the time. Donna claimed it was the only way to make sure Steven actually showed up to his shifts. And for the most part, it worked. Occasionally, you two would have a day or two different and he wouldn’t show or would be ridiculously late. But you were usually able to explain it away to your manager so Steven wouldn’t get in trouble.
But now, it has been three straight days of Steven pulling no-calls-no-shows. Even when you tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone wasn’t even on.
You were walking around the city that day after work. You picked up some lunch and were looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not you wanted to try calling out texting him again, but the sharp whizz of a woman on a moped cut you off.
You stopped so suddenly in your tracks that your phone fell from your hands as you scrambled to catch your food.
“I’m so sorry!” The woman said quickly, suddenly in front of you with your phone in hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrugged it off and held a hand out for your phone. She went to pass it back to you but her eyes lingered on your screen where Steven’s contact photo was waiting.
“It was my fault for not looking.” You tried while she quietly stared at the screen. Your fingers hooked on your device and with a slight tug, you got it back.
“I’m Layla, by the way.” She said when you had moved to leave.
“Y/N.” You nodded. “Nice to meet you.” You tried to leave again but she spoke up.
“Boyfriend?”
“What?”
“The guy on your phone.” She gestured to your hand where your phone still sat. As subtle as possible, your thumb hit the lock button to hide the photo that was still waiting. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. “He’s M.I.A. right now so I’m starting to worry. Normal girlfriend things, y’know? He’s a bit of a sleepwalker so…” You finished awkwardly.
“Would you…” She began and your brows raised. “Would you wanna get some coffee maybe? I think we should talk some more.”
“Oh, well.. Thank you but I should get home. I’m like three missed calls away from a missing persons report.” You tried to joke.
“It’s just that your boyfriend looks an awful lot like my husband.”
“What?” Your heart sunk.
“Yeah, uh..” She hurried to pull her phone from her bag. “My husband, Marc Spector. Maybe you’ve heard his name? He comes and goes for work but then I got a call and now I’m here trying to find him.”
“Oh!” You sighed in relief. “Okay, it’s probably a coincidence because my boyfriend’s name is.. Steven… Gra…”
Your sentence trailed off as Layla showed you her screen and a photo of her and someone who looked exactly like Steven faced you. His posture was different and you assumed his aura was as well. His hair was styled differently and he even wore different clothes than Steven would. Too similar to ignore but too different to convince you.
“Wow, um, that resemblance really is… Y’know what, maybe we should get some coffee.” You agreed.
After a while of you two talking, neither of you were convinced the other person was talking about the same person. Layla’s ‘Marc’ seemed to have a completely different personality than Steven. He seemed rougher, insufferable even. To be able to completely abandon your wife with no explanation was borderline appalling, and Steven would never. He hardly even went to run errands without giving you a full list of everywhere he intended to go.
As far as you could tell, the only similarity was their looks.
You offered to bring her to Steven’s apartment to show her that he was a different person with a different life. But when you knocked, your usual habit just in case he was home, he actually answered the door.
“Hello, Love.” He smiled at you, though the expression quickly faded when he saw yours. “Something wrong?”
“Steven, this is Layla. Layla, Steven.” You introduced before she had pushed past you both and into the apartment.
Steven looked at you in confusion but you smiled in apology with a small shrug. He stepped aside and gestured for you to come in so you did. Layla was investigating the small space and Steven was staying close to your side. You could feel his fingers tapping the back of your hand, his silent request to interlock your fingers together, but you put your hands in your jacket pocket instead.
“This is your flat, Marc?” She asked and you were thankful someone finally spoke to break the tension.
“I’m Steven, actually.” He answered.
“And you live here with her?” She gestured to you.
“No.” You answered for yourself. “I stay a few blocks over.”
“It’s my mum’s flat, actually.” Steven defended.
“You guys are talking again?” She asked as she found one of the poetry books on his shelves.
They exchanged remarks about the French poet and the hieroglyphics on Steven’s desk. You watched quietly and were finding nothing that could indicate Steven was Marc. But then again, the one French poet he knew just so happened to be Layla’s favorite. And his explanation of hieroglyphs was the same as hers.
Was it possible?
While the two turned to argue about divorce papers and Steven’s identity, you were distracted by the unusual gym bag on the table. You glanced and saw them take their conversation to another side of the room so you went over to the bag. You were thankful it was already unzipped so you pulled the sides apart and were dumbfounded by what you saw.
Stacks of money, a gun, a golden bug, and a passport.
You were drawn to the document so you pulled it out quietly and opened it, seeing a different name printed on the page.
“Marc Spector.” You read to yourself and your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.
“Who’s Marc?” You asked suddenly, drawing attention to yourself. You held up the passport expectantly.
“Oh, jeez, uh…” Steven rushed over, crumbling the divorce papers under his arm as he reached for the passport.
“No.” You held it further away. “Who are you?”
“C’mon, love. You know me.” He tried, almost desperate for you to be on his side.
“I don’t think I do.” You said sadly. “Who’s Marc? Is he your twin brother or something?”
“I don’t know.” He answered quickly.
“He is Marc and he needs to tell me if we’re getting this divorce or not.” Layla spoke up and snatched the papers from under Steven’s arm.
“You seem lovely, Layla, truly. But I’m not Marc Spector.” He insisted and you so badly wanted to believe him. “I’m Steven Grant and I work at a gift shop. Well, I used to work at a gift shop. I just want my life back.”
“Doesn’t seem like you know which life that is, do you?” You slammed the passport against his chest.
“Y/N, please wait.” He reached for your hand but you backed away.
You nearly ran down the hall to the elevator. You needed to get away. From Layla. From Steven or Marc or whoever the hell he was.
It felt like you didn’t know him anymore. A different name you could live with. A secret job, sure, you could get over that. But a wife? An entirely opposite personality? That shook your entire world, the very foundation of your relationship. You could justify the rest but the idea of him loving someone else so wholly and being someone else so entirely, it had you questioning everything you knew.
About him. About life and love. Even about yourself.
It made you wonder if you could walk away from it all. Say so long to the quiet london boy that stole your heart.
You were back in your apartment before you knew it and you leaned against the closed door for a moment once you were inside. Your head was spinning with the new situation and you decided you didn’t want to think about it. You pushed yourself up and headed to your fridge, picking out one of the cans you usually reserved for after dinner or nights you had friends over for drinks and movies. You took it into your room and got changed before dropping onto your couch.
You put your can on the side table and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar movie played. You let it run as background noise while you read your book and slipped your drink. But despite your best efforts, Steven was still present in your mind. When you were picturing the main male character, all you could picture was your boyfriend. One of the female characters started to look like Layla. It drove you insane.
You threw the book to the coffee table and dropped to your back across the cushions. You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your ceiling when someone knocked on your door. The first time the noise came, you didn’t move. Surely whoever it was would leave. But after a few seconds the knocking came again, with more authority than the first time. so you hauled yourself up and shuffled over.
Opening the door, you were greeted by the ghost of your boyfriend. For the most part, it was the same man. Same clothes and same facial features. But his dark curls were pushed out of his face. His posture stood taller and his shoulders pulled back.
It didn’t take long for you to recognize you weren’t looking at Steven.
You moved to close the door when his hand shot out to stop you. You tried leaning some of your body weight against the door but it hardly budged. You muttered a small complaint to yourself before stepping back and opening the door fully.
You stared at the imposter expectantly.
“Not gonna let me in?” He asked, gesturing slightly towards your apartment.
Even his voice was different. Missing the accent, deeper and fuller than Steven’s. Seeing the more mature sound come from your boyfriend’s face sent goosebumps across your skin.
“Why would I? I don’t know you.” You shrugged.
“C’mon, Y/N.” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You really wanna have this conversation in the hall?”
You sighed heavily and as if on cue, your nosy neighbor was leaving her apartment. You grabbed Marc’s jacket and pulled him in, giving the woman a quick wave and a tight smile. You heard her question who he was but you shut the door before having to answer. You stared at the door for a second to collect yourself before turning to face Marc, who had already made himself comfortable on your couch.
“Little early in the day for drinks, don’t you think?” He tried to joke and shook the empty can but you didn’t laugh.
“Well when I find out my boyfriend is married and absolutely not who I thought he was, I’m entitled to a spiked lemonade… Just be glad it isn’t the bottle of vodka in my freezer.” You countered, the words spilling faster than you could control them. “So who the hell are you this time?”
“My name’s Marc.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “Steven and I are…”
“Twins?” You tried your earlier guess. You just desperately wanted something simple for an explanation. A case of mistaken identity among twins was simple enough.
“No, not exactly.”
“But you are the one married to that girl, Layla, right?” You pressed.
“Yeah.” He nodded and a small smile crossed his lips. “Steven’s never met her till today.”
“Well…” You said awkwardly, coming a few steps closer. “She’s very pretty.”
He smiled a little wider for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.
“Listen, I came here because I wanted to try and explain what I could to you.” He began carefully.
“Is Layla right then, Steven’s just an act?” You cut in sharply. “A fake name so you can lead a life away from her? Because it seems to me that that woman loves you. Why she would is baffling to me and why you would divorce her is even more ludacris.”
“He’s not an act and he’s not fake.” He seemed to flinch at the last word. “Maybe he’s not all that real, either. It’s…” He blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated, Y/N/N.”
“Don’t you dare.” You said tightly, closing the distance to put yourself in front of Marc. “You’ve existed to me for all of ten minutes. You have no right to call me that.”
“You’re right.” His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
“How do you know about that anyway?”
“I know pretty much everything about Steven’s life.” He shrugged innocently. “You, the gift shop, his really shitty boss. I know what bus he takes, that goddamn fish. Jesus, I even know what underwear brand he wears.”
“How? Why? I just-“ You groaned and pushed your hands into your hair. “What the hell is going on, Marc?”
“Sometimes…” He spoke carefully, as if he was treading around land mines. “There were a few nights when you would come to Steven’s, or walking back to his place after work, it wouldn’t be him… He wouldn’t take over in time and it would be me. Kinda got to know you through that.”
“Oh my god.” You said quietly, your hand covering your mouth as you sunk into the chair beside you. “When he would be super quiet and just nodding or making little humming noises…”
“Yeah…” He hesitantly agreed, clearly embarrassed. “I tried to kind of push him forward but- I don’t know how this shit works, Y/N. I’m just living with it at this point.”
“So… You’re Marc and he’s Steven, but you’re also the same?” You questioned as the information tried to sink in. “Like you two are-“ You interlocked your fingers together.
“Same body, different people.” He nodded. “I know it’s a lot but don’t.. Don’t leave him over this.”
“Leave him?” Your brows furrowed and you almost laughed. “I’m not gonna leave him over this.”
“Really?” His brows raised quizzically. “Cause it didn’t seem that way when you walked out.”
“I can handle personalities, I think. It’s the marriage that’s a problem.”
“To be fair, it’s my marriage.” He offered. “Like I said, he never knew her.”
“I just need a day or two to let it process.” You confessed. “And I think you need a day or two to figure out things with Layla.”
“Yeah, probably right.”
“And if you two work it out, me and Layla are gonna have to figure out an arrangement.”
#steven grant fic#steven x yn#steven grant one shot#mcu steven grant#steven grant hc#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#marc spector moon knight#steven grant moon knight#moon knight fic#moon knight x yn#moon knight x you#steven grant angst#marc spector angst#marc spector#steven grant#moon knight
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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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「 ✦ moon knight boys ✦ 」
╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all moon knight boys stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
┌──────────────────┐
MASTERLIST ✩ OSCAR ISAAC CHARACTERS ✩ 4/18/24
★ @mgparker
☼ comeback to me
☾Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.
☼ should’ve listened
☾ your tendency to put your loved ones above you puts you in what would’ve been a deadly situation, had you not been an avatar of the goddess of the sun.
★ @starryevermore
☼ more hearts than mine
☾ marc and jake have made it clear that they don’t like you. but your heart is not the only one being broken by their actions and the consequences that follow.
☼ not what he thinks pt2
☾ steven overhears something, but he doesn’t understand what he heard.
★ @spacecowboyhotch
☼ proper date
☾ steven gains some knowledge about how he and reader met…and some about himself.
☼ the honey girl
☾ sometimes the meddling of old men pays off.
☼ unlikely
☾ a look into how marc and reader met.
★ @moonlight-prose
☼ kiss me once
☾ dating steven grant came with its challenges. between being a superhero, sharing the body with a man you hardly knew, and his forgetfulness, you felt dizzy. so when your date goes awry, you take matters into your own hands.
★ @loud-mouth-loser
☼ not him
☾ you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows
★ @sarahghetti
☼ can you pretend to be my boyfriend
☾ the boys pretend to be your boyfriend in order to save you from a creepy stranger.
★ @popquizhot-shot
☼ magic
☾ 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?
★ @runa-falls
☼ reciprocation2 pt 3
☼ request
★ @soft-girl-musings
☼ salt and pepper
☾ Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?
★ @romanarose
☼ misunderstanding
☾ When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.
★ @primosworld
☼ blueberry pancakes
☾ You’re frustrated with Jake not being apart of your relationship so you take matters into your own hands.
★ @projectionistwrites
☼ imploding the mirage
☾ You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?
★ @heartthrobin
☼ press your tulips to mine
☾ Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.
☼ my bleeding dream, my shadow in the light
☾ you were convinced, no: you were sure, that Jake Lockley couldn't stand the sight of you. then why was he consistently banging at your door in the middle of the night, dripping in blood and begging to be stitched up?
★ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
☼ what you like
☾ Marc gets in his head about being with you, Steven talks him through it.
☼ embrace
☾ The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)
★ @bibli0thecary
☼ in the stars
☾ steven finds it hard to believe that you’re gone, while marc is forced to live with endless regret, and jake continues to blame himself for everything.
☼ no one can hurt you
☾ they would never bring you into the face of danger, but what if danger comes preying on you?
★ @ichorai
☼ dlz
☾ jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.
☼ love dog
☾ your neighbor was delusional. he cried a lot, spoke of nonsensical happenings, and always appeared somewhat lost. you found yourself to be rather fond of him
★ @foli-vora
☼ there’s always tomorrow
☾ Steven needed a wingman. Or maybe he already had one, he just didn’t know it.
★ @petertingle-yipyip
☼ so long london
☾ Dating Steven was always a bit of a gamble. So when a beautiful woman comes to town claiming your boyfriend as her husband, you find a whole new side to the man you love..
★ @peterman-spideyparker
☼ celebrate
☾ The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.
★ @freelancearsonist
☼ wingman
☼ oh, bollocks
☾ reader is a teacher, au where steven got promoted to tour guide and is living his Best Life, lots of fluff and pining
★ @pulchritudinousrogers
☼ missed date
☾ Set before the events of Moon Knight, you work in the museum like Steven and have been crushing on each other for a while but neither of you have even approached each other. Marc steps in to help Steven out, but things don’t go well.
★ @marc-spectorr
☼ the morning after
☾ as steven watches you sleep, he starts to wonder whether you deserve to be with a man as broken as he is.
★ @foreverinadais
☼ the break up
☾ 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.
★ @howaboutcastiel
☼ not my intention
☾ They notice she gets anxious and startled very easily, but when they bring it up she always brushes them off so they don't pry. They don’t know she's previously been in an abusive relationship. And maybe they're at an office party and some guy comes to her when she's alone and the boys get jealous since it's obvious he's trying to flirt with their girl.
★ @pinchofhoney
☼ just one word
☾ You may not be aware of their existence having only met Steven, but no Marc Spector alter will let anything happen to you.
★ @marvelsswansong
☼ clumsy
☾ you're extremely clumsy. Steven worries. Marc finds it amusing. Jake gets protective. But they all love you for it nonetheless.
★ @astroboots and @thirstworldproblemss
☼ red flags
☾ Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way.
★ @grantspectortrash
☼ suited and booted pt2 pt3
☾ you live across the hall from Steven. For whatever reason, he has to use your shower before going to a work event. You get the pleasure of seeing him in a suit.
★ @mknightgrant
☼ silence
☾ You should’ve stopped asking questions.
★ @mkfluffluv
☼ a future without you
☾ marc lost you to the snap and after 5 years of dealing with his grief by maiming people, he finally gets you back.
☼ keep the secret?
☾ marc and steven had gotten themselves sick. luckily for them, they have a wonderful and loving partner who’s willing to take care of them(you). unbeknownst to you, another person is taking care of them in their own way. (yes it’s jake.)
★ @little-worm-grant
☼ uncomplicated
☾ Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.
★ @mccn-bcys
☼ just a touch of your hand pt2 pt3
☾ when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.
★ @missdictatorme
☼ open my eyes
☾ Jake and Steven were more than happy when you agreed to be in a relationship with them, but Marc barely fronts when you're near. Will he warm up to you over time?
★ @wysteria-clad
☼ our little thing
☾ you have a specific thing with each of them. It's not like you don't do it with other two, but you do enjoy a little act of intimacy that is special to each of them.
★ @m00nsbaby
☼ the already over
☼ weightless
☾ The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed.
★ @bruhstories
☼ canonic jar
☾ marc is exasperated by you, but he needs to behave because you're steven's girlfriend.
★ @oswildin
☼ good day
☾ You and Steven work at the museum together, little did he know you had a crush on the man. After getting yourself into trouble, you and Steven are both punished with an evening in inventory.
☼ take on me pt2
☾ You end up on an accidental date with Steven, but it ends up being the best date you could’ve asked for. It leads into more, but things aren’t as simple as they appear. With adoration strong for the man, you take a chance on him.
★ @eyelessfaces
☼ formal wear
★ @bensolosbluesaber
☼ the jake problem pt2
☾ Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you
hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3
#moon knight#moon knight x reader#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant smut#steven grant angst#steven grant fluff#steven grant imagine#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector imagine#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector series#marc spector smut#jake lockley#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley smut#jake lockley fluff#jack lockley series#jack lockley angst#moon knight boys#moon knight system
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can i ask a very soft smut after a little fight between a married couple? you choose who you wanna write about! i love your works💛
omg I love stuff like this!?! and thank you :( I chose marc bc uhm bc well it’s marc. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌
REFUGE.
marc spector x fem!reader (no mention of moon system)
word count. 980
warnings. 18+ only!! mentions of arguing, hurt and comfort bc I love it, no foreplay, unprotected pinv, reassuring loving sex. mdni
Marc is often a difficult person to deal with. It wasn't his fault, really. It's just how he is, the way he grew up. Sometimes, he was challenging, frustrating, often making your blood boil - but on those other times, he was still that little broken shell of a boy on the inside, needing reassurance and comfort.
It was just tough to gauge what he needed as he rarely expressed it.
Like right now, Marc had a tough day and was having trouble putting it into words, and instead of talking it over with you, he slammed the kitchen cupboard doors and banged walls, sneering comments to himself when he thought you weren't paying attention.
You tried to initiate a conversation, asking him what had happened and why he was acting the way he did. He thought you were starting a fight, which couldn't have been further from the truth - you just wanted to know what had got him so worked up.
You just stood there, taking his mild verbal lashing, waiting for him to come to his senses. You knew that it wasn't healthy to be on the receiving end, but he was starting to get the route of the problem, so you decided to stick it out.
"Marc... Marc," you whisper, trying to cut through his rambling. "Marc," you repeat, voice slightly louder than before.
He exhales, blowing a harsh breath as he leans back onto the counter behind him. He steadily drags his palm over his mouth and down his chin, like the action was to calm himself.
You nod, comfortingly almost, slowly walking towards him with open arms. You envelop him in an embrace, holding him tight as your hands run down his back, stroking reassuringly.
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, words muffling against your skin. "I didn't..." he sighs, holding you tighter.
"It's okay," you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck.
He pulls his head back to look down at you, silently moving you from the spot between his neck and shoulder. He shakes his head, a soft frown lining his lips. "No, it's not," his brows knit, dark hairs pulling together in the middle. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't speak to you like that."
"Marc," you say, your tone lingering, almost as if you were cooing at him.
He removes his hands which rest on your mid back, and brings them up towards your face. He places his warm, roughened palms over your cheeks, holding you in his hands - his gaze remains focused on you, pretty, brown eyes half-lidded. "I'm sorry," he whispers, speaking softly within the close distance.
"I know," you nod, his hands moving with the delicate motion of your head.
His eyes flicker over you, darting from your softened eyes to your lips, seeming like he was debating with himself. But when he hears a gentle intake of breath from you, he leans into you, kissing you sweetly and urgently.
But it doesn't stop there. The kiss only grows more desperate, tongues clashing, moans muffling - murmured whispers filling the kitchen as your hands roam one another. Marc swaps places with you, turning you so your back is against the counter, the top of your ass hitting the edge as he pushes up against you. His chubbed-up cock prodding at your lower stomach.
He makes haste movements as he lifts you onto the counter behind, your legs instinctively spreading to allow him closer - his lower half slotted comfortably between your open legs. One of his hands part from your waist and slips into the waistband of his lounge pants, sliding into the front of his boxers where he starts to palm over his cock - rolling it in his hand. His other undoes the bow of your dressing gown, letting the fabric open and expose just enough of you. He inhales sharply, the lewd image of you making his cock throb in his hand.
Your eager fingers tug on his bottoms, making the fabric fall and pool around his ankles. You glance up at him, eyes soft, sweet and forgiving - silently pleading Marc.
His gaze mirrors yours, but his is slightly different - as if he’s asking you something, like he is seeking reassurance. It was like you were silently communicating, as though you knew what the other person was thinking - familiar with one another's thought pattern.
He brings his hand up towards his chin and spits into his palm, and then rubs the saliva over the head of his cock, the action looking like he was polishing himself. He grips the base of his cock, thumb resting on the upperside as he guides himself closer to you, his tip brushing against your wet slit.
He presses his head into you, slowly sinking into your unprepped pussy - letting you take him at your own pace. His forehead drops into the crook of your neck, his strained murmurs brushing against your exposed shoulder.
You adjust your hips, allowing more of his cock into you - wrapping your arms and legs around him. You curse at the consuming feeling of him, how your walls melt around him so perfectly, all of you taking him so well.
Your fingers trail up his back and behind his neck, grazing into the short curls at the back of his head, softly stroking over his scalp as you hold him close.
Marc mutters a string of apologies into your heated skin, mindlessly verbalising his shame from earlier as he continues to fill you with his cock - sinking deeper into your pretty pussy. His veins brushing against the ridges of your walls so deliciously.
You coo at him, telling him how you forgive him and love him, all while letting him seek refuge within your warm cunt and warm, loving touch.
#request#marc spector#marc spector smut#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x fem!reader#moonknight x reader#moonknight smut#marc spector angst#marc spector x y/n
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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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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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Jerk [Marc Spector x GN!Reader]
Summary: Despite having plans for a date with you after meeting with his ex-wife, Marc seems to have suddenly gone off communication, leaving you to be a bundle of nerves until you decided to call him. Heavily inspired by episode 3 of scenes from a marriage.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Angst with no comfort !!!!!!!!! foul language, Steven cameo (that's a sweet surprise than a warning), no mention of jake
A/N: Gosh! I apologize for being super late with this one,, this was meant to be a drabble but i got carried away lol. And I'm a little rusty with writing atm, so don't look at me if the writing feels a lil wonky. though, Constructive Criticism is greatly appreciated! PS; The ex-wife mentioned in this is NOT layla its some other lady because we love layla in this household
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
The drawn out rings of the phone was slowly aiding to a upcoming migraine as you paced between rooms, silently praying that you would get an answer to your frantic texts. A rather uneventful Friday night that you expected to spend with the person you were recently seeing, an unpredictably mysterious man, had come to an abrupt stop.
There was a lot you didn't know about Marc Spector; and that was okay, because it was just the process of 'getting to know someone' was, right? Sure, You had rambled your head off on the first date, all which he listened carefully; but with Marc, you never felt the need to push information out of him. It was like befriending an fragile animal that takes time to trust, but the epiphany that comes after is unexplainably amazing.
Growing from acquaintances to actually seeing each other and looking forward to spending time as a couple was unrealistic, which was why your entire relationship was so fascinating. The patience of talking things out was a quality that you both shared; likely being the reason of such a bond with each other. If anyone would listen, you would never stop talking about how perplexing that was.
As you both started building a line of trust, You came to learn that he was divorced and was in the process of sorting things out with his ex-lover— which, of course, you were fine with. And today, he had mentioned about her coming over, which you were also on board with. But with the plans that were arranged for today still being overdue and Marc falling off the face of earth, you couldn't help but feel.. jealous? worry, even?
It was exactly why you were frantically texting your boyfriend, questioning on where he was and if his ex-wife had taken her leave. The only response that you received was being left entirely on delivered, adding fuel to your already anxious state. You felt like you were just being extremely clingy— and that they were probably still talking.
Your gaze travelled to the clock. 15 minutes to 1 am.
Holy fuck.
Had you really been texting him for over an hour? Had it been over two hours since you had set your dinner table, waiting for him? The latest that Marc had promised he would be was by 10:30, so it was just utterly ridiculous that it was past midnight and he was still unresponsive.
Swiftly grabbing the unopened bottle of wine kept on your table and making it to the couch, You set your phone down on the coffee table as you took a swing of the drink. It was crazy how this entire thing had gotten you so riled up, but as much as you hated to admit it, you were head over heels for this guy. So committed infact, that you were desperately checking on him for the past two hours; that you haven't even had your own dinner yet.
One last call. Maybe he'll pick up.
That was the words that your guilty conscious prompted while you sat in the uncomfortable silence, eyes falling on the phone that lay discarded on the table. Obviously, you were going to feed into your thoughts. Of course you did.
And much to your surprise, it only took three rings to connect to the voice that you were just waiting to hear— but it didn't take you long to notice that it came off in a growl, much to the contrast of the soft spoken tone that Marc usually carried.
"Marc?"
"Hey."
You let out a sigh of relief, shaking your head ever so slightly at your own frantic actions. Atleast he was doing okay.
"Are you okay? Where have you been? I've been—"
"Good. Uh, yeah, but listen, it's not cool to, like, bombard me with messages."
There was a short pause where you sat slightly bewildered. before you felt yourself sink into the seat, like a child who had just been scolded. Even with guilt creeping up, You wanted to still defend your own case, which was the endless worrying you had endured for the past hour, waiting for anything from Marc.
Just a simple notice to cancel their date for the night or even to say that he was okay. But instead, You were simply left in the dark.
"Because you were supposed to call me, Marc."
"I told you, I'd call you when she left."
"Oh, so she hasn't gone yet?"
"No, She hasn't. She's still here."
Sipping from the glass of wine and setting it onto the table nearby, your mind was quick to rush into many conclusions, but you kept your mouth shut. Whatever they had to discuss must have been really important.
"Isn't it late? How are you both still talking?"
"No, She— She's in bed." An exhale could be heard from the other end, as your brows furrowed. In bed? Marc lived in a single bedroom, so did that mean he was taking the couch? But before you could even question it, it was like the male at the other end had almost read your mind, because he immediately cleared your doubts, Albeit, you would have wished he never said anything.
"..My bed."
Oh.
Feeling betrayed and lost would be an understatement of how you currently felt. Confused even, to some extend as a steady silence began to occupy the call.
You weren't quite sure how Marc wanted you to respond to that. Did he want to hear you weep from the other side? Or be upset at him? Maybe even yell a few select choices of words for wasting your time? But instead of any of that, pure silence rang through the call and if it weren't for Marc checking if the call was still running, he would've thought you hung up.
"Hello?"
The feeling of being let down was coursing through your veins at this point, making itself obvious with the lump that grew in your throat and how you stiffened up in your seat. You weren't sure what exactly to feel, a floodgate on sadness and anger opening like it was a pent up dam that was released.
You sniffled quietly, trying to bite back the tears that were pricking at the corner of your eyes. It was unfair how distraught you felt. Another audible exhale could be heard, before you heard Marc's voice again. You weren't even sure why you felt like crying, but it was clear that this wouldn't end well.
"Look, I'm suggesting that we should take a break because this is just not.. Not working out right now."
"When did it work out, Marc?"
"Wh— What are you talking about?"
"I said." You spoke, recollecting yourself in a suspiciously gentle manner. "When were you not trying to use me as a way to move on?"
It was his turn to grow silent, and that was pretty much the answer you needed. To think that you gave him the chance, thinking that maybe this time around you could actually be with someone who cared— There were no other words to describe what you've been this entire time. You were foolish.
"Goodnight. Sleep well."
You'd be lying if you said that you didn't still want him to come back to you. Justify himself properly. Say that this was all some sick joke. But you were also aware that there was probably nothing that would save this. Still, You stayed when he spoke up again, for whatever reason.
"Stop. Just Listen. This doesn't have to be.. what you think it is, I just need time to collect myself and honestly, I've been feeling for a while that—"
The urge to laugh was overbearing, and you didn't hold back. "You're so full of shit, Marc."
Anger was finally settling in before the male at the other end could even respond to your words, but this wasn't about being courteous anymore. It felt like if Marc had cared for you even a little, this wouldn't have happened like it did.
"Own up to what you're doing, asshole. I know you like to evade your responsibilities but just for once, if you have any respect for me, stand up like a man and say it to my face so I can just accept the fact that I've wasted my time and effort on you."
"Okay, Let me stop you here before you say anything else that you're gonna regret."
"No, fuck you. The only thing I regret is thinking that you actually cared enough to be with me. Turns out, your only concern is keeping yourself occupied and acting like you don't give a shit about everything that leaves you. You're a selfish prick."
"Fine. It's over then."
"Good. Lose my number and Have a good fucking night, Spector."
The call was immediately cut, and so was the brightness of the candle that you had lit earlier by the dinner table. The dimness eased your volatile temper, but it bought the dejection and uneasiness that had failed to show up during the call.
There was an option for you to cry it all out, but for reason, you didn't. A soft sigh escaped your pursed lips as you rubbed your eyes. Maybe you'd end up bawling your eyes out about this when you were nestled into the cold embrace of your bed.
You didn't even feel hungry anymore; so shoving the pasta that you had cooked hours prior into the fridge and cleaning up, you tried your best not to think of everything that just happened, which was difficult in it's own volition.
It was just a few dates, so you were technically the one in the wrong for letting your guard down so easily and falling for a man who barely talked to you. That conclusion stung a little, but it helped you feel better as you picked up your phone and the bottle of wine again— too exhausted to take off the gorgeous outfit you had picked out for the night as you opened tinder; trying to scroll away like you were gonna move on.
—
On the other side, Marc had made the mistake of pacing through his room as he made the call, biting his cheeks as it reached it's abrupt and upsetting end. Guilt did lace his features, but reminding himself that this was the last he would ever hear from you made the circumstances a little less horrible.
Glancing at the phone as his thumb hovered over your contact, He heard a meek voice call out to him. Not that of his ex-wife, but that of Steven's— who had seen everything from the reflection of the mirror that Marc found himself standing before.
"Marc.."
The reflection called out to him, a clearly disappointed expression lacing his features as he tried to find the words to even begin expressing how regrettable this would be. Steven didn't have to elaborate, though, because in the few seconds that Marc met Steven's concerned eyes, he knew this would just add into the contrition that already plagued his mind.
Marc tore himself away from Steven who made a lowly attempt at trying to reason with him; walking back to where he had just been previously.
It was because Steven knew, and so did he, that he found what it felt like to be loved again through you. But he was undeserving of it. With everything he has done and all the secrets that he hid, he only deserved the toxic relation he had with his ex, which atleast kept his needs at bay; a fair trade for all the arguments he had with her.
You were right about him being a selfish jerk. Though it was for all for the wrong reasons.
#marc spector x reader#moon knight x you#moonknight x reader#steven grant#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x you#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector#marc spector fic#marc spector angst#moon knight x reader#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x you#moon knight x y/n
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All Things End
Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: I mean none specifically it's just a generally minorly sad fic lol
Genre: angst & kinda fluff
Summary: Finding out your boyfriend's secret drastically changes the dynamic of your relationship; "And all things end // All that we intend is scrawled in sand // Or slips right through our hands" - Hozier
***
The first time you met Steven was coincidence, a happenstance, courtesy of one of your friends- kind of. They share an apartment building and after visiting her you ran into the anxious history buff in the elevator, or he ran into you. You were already in the elevator, your friend Macy lives on the floor above his, and when it opened for him to get on he walked in without looking up from the papers in his hand and crashed right into you because of course you didn't react quick enough when he came careening in. His papers scattered and he jumped back so far a cat would be jealous.
"Going down?" You asked him lightheartedly, holding the door open button for him.
"Oh bullocks! I- I'm so sorry, I'll take the next one."
"Nonsense, half your papers are in here. Plus it's just me in the elevator. Afraid I'll bite?"
"No!" He shook his head so frantically you'd thought it might fly off.
"Well then get in. We can ride down together and you can pick up whatever it is that had you too enraptured to look up."
"I'm sorry. Again I- I hadn't meant to-" Steven had scrambled to grab his papers as the elevator door closed.
"Hey I get it. When the reading is good it can really take you to another world. No hard feelings." You chuckled. He offered an awkward half laugh in response before silence fell over you.
"Are you new here?" He asked after a moment.
"What?"
"Are you new? In the apartment building, I mean. I don't mean to pry I've just never seen you around before is all."
"Right well that's probably because I don't live here actually, I'm just visiting a friend. She lives above you."
"Oh." He frowned and you couldn't help but tease him a bit at the way he deflated.
"Why? Were you hoping to see me more often?" You winked.
"No!" He'd almost sounded indignant when he answered and then his eyes widened as if he realized what he said only after the fact. "Not- not that I'm opposed to seeing you more often it's just that well- we just met. I have no idea who you are so I can't really say I'm hoping for anything yet. A-again it's not that I'm particularly opposed to seeing you again or anything." He was rambling. You thought it was cute.
"Shame. I'd certainly be happy to catch a glimpse of you next time I'm around." You winked at him as the elevator finally reached the lobby of the building. He'd been too stunned to respond as you got out of the lift. "See you soon 7th floor." You'd tossed over your shoulder as a goodbye and left him to his own devices.
It would be a while before you saw him again, a month or so before you happened to catch him again. This time on your way up. He's coming out of the elevator as you're waiting for it.
"Ah, you're paying attention this time!" You joke.
"Oh! It's you again." He blinks at you. The two of you swap places, him getting out of the elevator while you get in it. You press the button for your friend's floor.
"Yes. Hi, mister 7th floor. Bye, mister 7th floor." You smile as the doors close. When you reach your friend's apartment you can't help but ask her about him.
"What do you know about the other people in your building?" You ask her.
"Ask whatever question you actually want an answer to." Macy chuckles.
"There's a guy who lives on the floor below you. Curly brown hair, olive skin, brown eyes, about this tall I'm guessing but he hunches over, he's super anxious although that could just be me making him nervous." You rattle off descriptors.
"If you're talking about who I think you're talking about no it's not you, he's always that nervous, at least every time I've seen him. I call him squirrely. I dunno much about him though, not even his name actually, he's quiet and minds his business, seems nice though. He's polite at least." Macy shrugs. "Why do you ask?" Her eyes narrow with a curious smirk on her lips.
"I've run into him a couple of times. He's- curious, so I was just gathering intel."
"Gathering intel? Stay away from him y/n you'll break the poor boy." She laughs.
"I'm not gonna break him!"
"Not on purpose but he's not the type you usually go for, I don't think he can handle you."
"Well, he's been holding up as well as he needs to so far." You say.
"Don't tell me you've already taken a liking to him."
"I dunno if I'd go that far yet we've only spoken twice but he is cute." You shrug.
"I mean- try if you must babes." She muses.
And try you did. Eventually. It was slow going before you even decided to head down that road. You ran into him a few more times first with a teasing line or two each time and ultimately after a series of 'see you around 7th floor's he gave you his name and so you asked him to dinner.
Your first date had been expectedly awkward. Steven was so nervous he rambled through most of your meal which, from anyone else would seem so unattractively self-obsessed you'd have blocked them before you even left the restaurant, but from Steven, it was somehow so charming to see him so animated. Maybe because you know it's a nerves thing and not indifference to subjects other than his own interests.
Several dates later Steven, to your surprise, asks you to be his girlfriend. You're still not sure where the confidence to initiate that next step came from, you always thought you'd be the one asking him to go steady if it got that far, which it did but he made the move. It was a bit rushed and awkward in the way Steven usually is but it worked for him.
"Y/n." He'd been walking you home from a date and stopped you at your apartment building before you could go inside.
"Yes, Steven?"
"We've been seeing each other for some time now and well I've really had fun getting to know you and all so I was wondering, I thought that perhaps at this point you'd consider making it official. With me. I mean only if you'd like to it's not necessary. What we've got going on is good too. I'm okay with-"
"Steven you're rambling." You'd had to stop yourself from giggling at his frantic sentences avoiding your eyes.
"Right. I'm just trying to ask... would you like to be my girlfriend?"
"I would love to." You'd smiled at him and kissed him faster than he could process. He was easy to fall in love with. Charming even through his perpetual awkwardness, caring, funny, and one of the smartest people you know. Everything felt, right when it came to him. You didn't have to question things with him. He made things easy, so easy it was strange to even consider that things would go wrong.
When you woke up in his bed this morning and realized he wasn't beside you, it was more than a little strange. First of all, you know he doesn't work today, it was his selling point in turning your date last night into a sleepover. There's no note and the stillness of his apartment makes it obvious he's not in the bathroom or in the kitchen or anywhere. It's still early too. You turn over possibilities in your head as you shuffle to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Just as you complete those tasks and exit the bathroom having put on your moisturizer, you hear the door to the apartment unlock and swing open.
"You're back." You say.
"Yeah hey." The word sounds- wrong. As though, despite your eyes recognizing the man before you, your ears are hearing a stranger's voice.
"Steven?" You frown and he freezes immediately. It's as if he didn't even realize it was you he spoke to. There's a pause, it's only a moment or two but it feels so tense it might as well have lasted several minutes.
"Hello, love, I didn't know you'd still be here." He smiles awkwardly. Something still sounds off about his voice, the accent feels forced, and his tone is awkward in a way that even for Steven is out of place.
"You didn't know I'd still be here? That's- not exactly the greeting I expected." You scoff, crossing your arms. "Where did you go before 9 A.M. on a Saturday? And what is going on with your voice?" You ask. He's still again. It's like you can see a loading screen on his face before he speaks.
"I- uh well," his head tilts suddenly and he clears his throat. "I've been feeling a bit of an itch in my throat and wanted to slip out for some medication, perhaps surprise you by making breakfast even but it appears I didn't return quick enough. I'm sorry, and good morning by the way my darling." Steven's voice sounds better when he speaks again and he walks over to you to wrap his arms around your waist.
"You didn't mention an itch yesterday." You point out.
"I didn't want it to ruin our evening. No need to worry love it's nothing some tea can't cure." He smiles.
"Well, then I'll make you some tea."
"Nonsense, you're-"
"I'm your girlfriend of almost a year, I think there's no problem with making you tea, even if this is." You chuckle.
"Alright, if you insist. Thank you my darling." He smiles at you. Like I said, he makes things so easy. It would be strange to think something was wrong here. Right? You don't want to press the issue but there's a gnawing in the back of your mind that something is not quite right.
A girlfriend?! You've kept a girlfriend from me all this time?! How the hell did you even pull that off? The voice in Steven's head is angrily yelling at him in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.
"You had a wife once upon a time Marc. I think I'm allowed to date." Steven rolls his eyes, he's whispering though- so as to not alert you of the back and forth.
The problem isn't you dating Steven, the problem is I didn't know about her! And she doesn't know about us! What exactly is your plan huh to keep her in the dark forever?!
"You're overreacting."
You have to tell her or it'll ruin whatever thing you've got going on with her.
"No!" Steven shouts on accident, and you gasp at the sound of his voice.
"Steven honey are you okay?" You call looking at the bathroom door from the kitchen.
"Fine, love! Just- uh- dropped something!" He cringes at the not even remotely convincing lie.
Trust me Steven- it's the secrets and the lies that fucked things up with the wife you so conveniently mentioned earlier
"I'm not telling her Marc, none of this is her business. It's hardly mine even. Leave her out of it." With that order, Steven stomps out of the bathroom, taking a moment to calm himself before joining you in the kitchen.
You obviously didn't know it at the time, but that morning could probably be marked as the beginning of the end. After it, you started to notice weird things about Steven's behavior. Sometimes he'd leave suddenly with some half-assed excuse or you'll catch him talking quietly to himself and you can tell he's more tired these days but you don't bring it up. As strange as it all is you want to give Steven the benefit of the doubt. He's never given you a reason not to trust him.
You: Hey Steven, I left something at your place, gonna stop by to get it later tonight.
At this point, you and Steven have keys to each other's apartments so you shoot him a text before you leave work about something you left at his that you need to pick up. You'd gone over to his yesterday after work at his behest and ended up forgetting a flash drive when you left. When you get to Steven's you knock on the door a couple of times but when he doesn't answer you let yourself in. You just need to grab your drive and you'll be out as soon as you find it anyway. The apartment is empty when you walk in and you quickly find the flash drive sitting on the floor by the couch where you'd tossed your workbag the night before upon arrival. When you bend down to reach for it though, you hear a sound from somewhere in the apartment. You startle, you know Steven's not home so you scramble for a makeshift weapon, you think someone is breaking in. You grab one of the many books Steven leaves littered around his apartment and crouch behind the couch, out of sight of the window where you heard the sound come from. The window slides open quickly and you hear the intruder scramble through it, into the apartment. You don't give yourself too much time to think about it as you hurl the book at the stranger who immediately lets out a curse when the hardcover collides with his body. You're not sure where though, you ducked back behind the couch too quickly to see it land.
"Who's there!? I'm not in the mood to kill you but I will if I have to. Just so you know." His voice rings out in the small studio. You grab another book from the coffee table as silently as you can and prepare to chuck it when he inevitably finds you behind the couch. You poke your head around the side of the furniture to try and get a look at him. He's in some sort of costume, a greyish-white full body outfit that looks like it's made of mummy wrappings, and a hooded cape. If not for the fact that he's currently breaking into your boyfriend's apartment you might think it's cool, but under the circumstances, it seems silly and wrong for the situation. Like going to a funeral in a wedding dress, or the beach in a snowsuit. So wrapped up in your internal mocking you miss the moment when he sees you until he says so.
"Shit it's you." He says and you pop up fully because that sounds like recognition though you can't see him you definitely don't recognize the voice.
"Do you know me?" You ask, book in hand still ready to throw it at him if necessary. He holds up his hands in front of him as you watch the suit dissipate before your eyes and reveal your boyfriend, but not. It's his face for sure, you'd know it anywhere, but you'd heard him talk and that was not your boyfriend's voice coming from that body. Not to mention his demeanor is different, even in his placating defensive stance you can tell the man in front of you carries himself differently.
"It's just me. Steven." He says carefully. The voice you hear is so distinctly American coming from your very British boyfriend's mouth.
"Bullshit. I don't know what you are but you are not my boyfriend. What have you done to him?" Your hold on the book in your hand tightens as you prepare yourself to chuck it at the imposter's head.
"Nothing! I swear." He says with a small shake of his head. "Dammit Steven, where are you?" He grits out so quietly you don't quite catch the words.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?! You snuck into his apartment and you sound nothing like him. I'm pretty sure this is how the bodysnatchers movie works. Except you're really shitty at pretending to be him."
"I'm not a body snatcher." He scoffs.
"Right I'll just take your word for it." You roll your eyes. There's silence for a couple of moments and then something changes in the man's face.
"Darling... put the book down we- need to talk." This time when he talks it sounds exactly like you know Steven to sound. This only further freaks you out at this point and you hurl the book at him, immediately picking up another. He dodges the book you threw, just barely "Y/n!" He takes a step towards you but you hold up a hand.
"Stay. There. I don't know what is going on but if you come any closer I will scream so loud this entire building will call the police."
"Love I would never hurt you."
"How can I possibly know that? Why did you just sound like a different person? What was that... costume? Who- what are you? Is everything you've told me a lie?!"
"No. I am Steven Grant, your boyfriend of almost a year. I work at a museum gift shop. This is my apartment. I have... something called dissociative identity disorder. It means... my mind is fractured in a way. So while I am Steven Grant your boyfriend there is another- consciousness that shares my body. His name is Marc Spector and the uh, costume is his. He does... work for an Egyptian deity when I'm not working or with you. You've met Marc before actually. Months ago when you spent the night and I told you I was sick."
"Work?" You ask.
"Some would probably label him a vigilante of sorts." Steven shrugs.
"Oh." You say.
"Oh? That's all you have to say?" He frowns.
"You've been lying to me for months Steven be glad all I have to say right now is 'oh'." You say.
"I haven't-"
"A lie by omission is still a lie. If I hadn't come here to get my flash drive you would never have told me." You mutter. "I- I need to think. I'll call you." You say turning and leaving the apartment before he can say anything else.
The dissociative identity disorder part of all this you think you're processing very well. That's something you can make sense of, something you already know of and can research. This, part time vigilante business though you- struggle to wrap your head around. Steven doesn't hear from you for a week and it's rough. Marc tries to be there for him as best he can but the anxieties of you never speaking to him again are quite unbearable. Meanwhile you go to work. Like nothing is wrong, you go in every morning and leave every evening, trying to hold onto the things that aren't affected by the information constantly swirling in your subconscious, even when you aren't actively trying to come to terms with it. Steven is entitled to his privacy. He doesn't owe you every detail of everything that goes on in his life, it's not that. You've been together a year and- it hurts to think he still doesn't trust you. That's where your head is. Why else would he keep these things secret for so long?
Before another full week passes Steven has worried himself into an absolute state. Not eating or sleeping through the night he looks even more disheveled than usual. Marc can't stand it anymore and without Steven realizing it has marched the body to your apartment. At least if Steven saw your face maybe- maybe it would ease him slightly, even if you weren't ready to speak to him. The frantic knocking at your apartment door startles you as you sit on the couch. When you glance through the spyhole and see Steven with his messed up hair and tired, sad eyes your heart aches a tiny bit. You open the door with a confused frown on your face.
"What are you doing here Steven?" The words aren't harsh, in fact, they're almost quiet.
"I know you- said you'd call but I can't. I can't keep sitting with all the ways I screwed things up, wondering if you're ever going to speak to me, contemplating just how much you hate me, and- just tell me what to do and I'll do it. How do I fix things between us? I can't stand not speaking to you, not seeing you, not knowing if we'll ever be okay again." His words are frantic and the sentences almost feel jumbled with how fast he's speaking but you hear every desperation filled word.
"I don't hate you, Steven." You say flatly.
"How do I fix this? What do I do to make you love me again?" He asks.
"Do you trust me, Steven? At all?" You ask instead of offering an answer.
"More than anyone I've ever known." He answers so immediately it's almost enough for you to believe it.
"Yet, you keep these secrets that... say otherwise."
"I have no more secrets and- it wasn't just mine. Marc- he doesn't trust easily and he doesn't know you I couldn't- I didn't want to, expose him that way no matter how much I trust you it wasn't just about me. Please, you have to know I didn't do any of this to hurt you. I love you more than anything, you are my world. I can't lose you." Steven says and the look in his eyes makes you look away from him. You can't tell him what you're thinking really, that when people say something is forever either way it ends, so instead you say what will bring him comfort.
"You haven't lost me." You tell him. You don't think he has. You don't want this to be the end. So, you pull him into your apartment and his arms wrap around you so tightly you can hardly breathe. You let him hold you like that on your couch, as if he knows you'll slip through his hands if he lets go. You stay there listening to his heart beating in his chest, feeling the comfort of his arms, the heat of his body against yours, and you let yourself sink into those feelings. Eventually, his breathing evens out and you swear he's fallen asleep and in the quiet of your apartment, you murmur your thoughts out loud. "We didn't get this right but we did our best, and we will again." You say to yourself and you know, deep in your heart even if you can't tell him tonight. You know that all things end.
And just knowing that everything will end should not change our plans, when we begin again.
***
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marc spector#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fluff#steven grant fluff#steven grant fanfiction#jake lockley fluff#moonknight#moonknight x reader#moonknight fanfiction#marc spector angst#steven grant angst#moonknight angst
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drenched flowers
marc spector x reader
summary: you and marc had a serious fight and have been avoiding each other since. the tension is hard to handle for everyone, and your only wish is to make things right again between you and marc, only he strictly refuses to front...
warnings: angst, allusions to fighting obviously, i think that's it but please tell me if you can think of anything else while reading?
tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, it ends well I promise, fluff, marc being his grumpy and angsty and emo self, steven and jake are here too for emotional support
word count: 2.2k
reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!
Jake had yelled at him to confront you so the situation could get better; Steven had begged him to apologize because he saw how affected you were, but all Marc could do for now was to frown in disgruntlement and put a towel over the mirror to prevent himself from smashing it.
Not seeing them anymore didn’t change much as the two men still kept on ranting, but somehow it gave Marc the impression of having more control over the situation.
At least that was what he thought.
The resonating sound of the front door closing quickly left him to let Steven be in charge of the body for your return, to avoid heavy gazes and deafening silences in the flat.
It had been like this for a little more than a week.
This freezing, uncomfortable atmosphere everytime Marc fronted – which he rarely did lately for those reasons –, with the both of you avoiding your presences and throwing snarky remarks at each other every time you really had to talk. You couldn’t say this was enjoyable, In fact this was a pain for everyone, including Steven and Jake, and you knew that this whole situation caused them to fight too.
Steven exited the bathroom, sighing loudly now that Marc gave up on fronting.
He and Jake had found common ground in trying to convince Marc to apologize, but Marc was stubborn and headstrong so this was a lost cause.
Steven looked up and smiled at you when he noticed you were there.
“Hey love” he huffed out with a smile, walking to you to help with the bags of groceries. “How was your day?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen, putting the bags on the island. You followed him and offered him a sigh before answering his question.
“Really meh. Could have been better” you said while unloading the bags and putting away their content. “People at work were rude and people at the store were standing right in front of what I wanted to pick. Each time”
He chuckled in response and turned to stand in front of you.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll take care of the bags, go take care of yourself” he smiled before kissing your forehead.
“Thank you Steven. And you, did you have a good day? What had you sighing when I arrived?” you asked, smoothing the collar of his shirt.
“Oh, that? Had a little chat with the gentlemen. Didn’t go so well” he declared as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You nodded, pressing your lips together skeptically, noting that you weren’t the only one having trouble talking to Marc. You closed your eyes and hugged Steven tight.
The only good thing about your fight with Marc was that the affection you didn’t give to Marc, you gave to Steven and Jake.
Sadly.
—
Steven whistled softly as he beelined to the bedroom area with two hot chocolates in hands. You telling him you had a bad day always resulted in this and cuddles, and usually never failed to make you feel better.
But Steven understood the situation was worse than that when he noticed you were curled up on your side, wiping away warm tears running down your face.
“Steven.” Jake called out. Steven caught his alter’s glare in the full length mirror, an empathetic expression on his reflection. “Let me take care of that”
Steven surrendered the body to Jake without a word nor a question, and Jake walked around the bed to put down the cups on the bedside table before snuggling up behind you.
He pressed his chest against your back and snaked his arms around your waist before brushing away the hair sticking to your face because of the tears, and nuzzled the back of your neck.
“Jake” you breathed out in a barely audible sound.
The tight grip around you made you notice the change.
Jake shifted and left a kiss on your damp cheek. “I’m here, amor” he whispered. “I got you.”
You sighed and interlaced your fingers with his.
You both stayed here in silence, Jake softly caressing your stomach and kissing your shoulder from time to time while you tried to calm down and stop crying. The silence was somehow comforting and cathartic, even though you would rather have Jake have a normal evening rather than having to bear with you and your feelings.
“I miss him.” you muttered under your breath after a while. “I miss Marc”
Jake hesitated before talking, not sure of what he should say to try to make you feel better.
“I know, I’m sorry honey” he said as he blinked tiredly, hearing Marc sigh softly. “He won’t tell us anything but I’m pretty sure he misses you too.” he declared sternly as he caught Marc’s remorseful and shameful face in the reflection of the fish tank. “I’m sure he does.” he said as his brows furrowed at Marc and his hold tightened around you.
Marc’s shoulders slouched under the weight of guilt and the man couldn’t feel anything except utter frustration.
—
When you woke up the next morning they were gone. The spot next to you in the bed was cold as if a ghost was laying there and the flat was dead silent.
The only sound present was the rain pouring in the streets of London, raindrops quickly running down the windows considering how violent the precipitation was.
You sat up straight, pushing the covers away from your body.
This wasn’t normal.
Steven wasn’t supposed to be at the museum today, Jake wasn’t supposed to drive around today, and both of them would have told you if Marc was supposed to go on a mission for Khonshu.
The freezing temperature and that feeling of worry lodged deep inside of you made you shiver, urging you to put on one of Marc’s hoodies; the only proximity you could get from him from these past days.
You wandered around the flat, looking for any sign that they were here, but there were none.
You tried to be rational, you tried not panicking, so you ran to take your phone and call them.
He stepped into the flat, soaked from the rain. The previously slicked back curls were now falling in front of his face, thick drops of water falling on the old wooden floor.
He sighed as he watched the drenched flowers in his hand, petals falling down in a depressing way as they had been hammered by the rain.
Even buying you flowers he couldn’t do right, he thought.
Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the creak of the front door. You urged yourself to the entry, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your boyfriend back home.
“You’re here– Aw Jake” you cooed – almost out of breath from nearly freaking out – at the sight of the bouquet of flowers.
The man in front of you cleared his throat and pinched his lips in a signature awkward smile and you knew.
“Oh”
Marc adjusted his position of his feet and held out the bouquet to you.
“I, uh–” he paused and sighed. “You know I’m better with actions than with words, but I still need to tell you that I’m sorry.” he affirmed weakly, voice barely audible.
You walked up to him and took the flowers.
They looked beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.
“It started raining as soon as I left the flower shop, sorry… For that and for everything else.” Marc muttered under his breath.
You looked up at him and observed his pained expression.
Marc looked just like the flowers. Beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.
“...Marc” you huffed out, shaking your head.
“I’m really sorry. I mean it. I’m an asshole” he said nodding.
He was angry at himself, and he was sad, but he was first of all sorry.
He was sorry because he didn’t mean those words to slip out, sorry because he thought he couldn’t be the boyfriend you deserved to have, sorry because all of this should have never happened.
“They’re alright” you smiled, looking back at the flowers. “I think I like them more that way.”
“You don’t have to–”
“I mean it.” you cut him off, still staring at the flowers. There was something poetic about them being crushed by the rain.
“I hate pretending not to care about you.” he let out abruptly. You looked back at him, and raised your eyebrows. “I can’t stand it.” he declared, the inner corner of his brows angled up, attesting of his vulnerability.
You sighed as a shiver ran up your spine and tears started to threaten your eyes.
“Marc–” you started.
“You know I love you, right?” he cut you off, chasing your gaze.
You let out a shudder, quickly looking away from him because you knew you would start crying if you kept on looking at his face.
You looked at the rain-painted thin windows and nodded.
“I know”
Your voice resonated through the apartment, as if it was an abandoned building.
The wood floors creaked under Marc’s feet as he took a step towards you, and you let the bouquet of flowers fall to the floor, a barely audible sound compared to the sigh of relief you let out when you crashed into Marc’s arms.
“Fucking hell, you’re a pain in the ass, Marc Spector” you groaned against his chest, and he let out a sigh of relief and chuckle.
“I know, I’m sorry” he replied almost too seriously, wrapping his arms around you too. “I’m sorry” he repeated, and you dug your nails into his damp jacket, holding him tighter.
You stayed like this for a while, a few tears unwillingly running down your cheeks, just appreciating each other's presence and the relaxing feeling of being able to be in the same room without fighting.
Being able to hold him close and to finally get that proximity you had been missing and craving felt reviving.
“Baby get off me, you’re gonna catch a cold” he advised.
“Damn, not even two minutes since we made peace and you already don’t want me anymore” you joked, quickly pecking his lips before reluctantly pulling away from his drenched clothes.
He chuckled as he took off his jacket and put it over the radiator, watching as you picked up the bouquet of flowers from the floor.
“Those flowers were expensive” he grumbled, pushing away the curls falling over his forehead.
“It’s okay. I don’t need flowers to forgive you, Marc” you declared as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and put the flowers in it. You didn’t need those flowers to forgive him, but your heart still ached positively at the action. He was worried about their depressing state, but you couldn’t care less; they were flowers and no matter how they looked they remained flowers: beautiful and significant.
A small smile formed on his face, and he quickly kicked his shoes off to go and change into dry clothes.
You came back to him, slouching down on the bed as he thoroughly searched through the drawers of clothes.
He let out a grunt of frustration. “Where’s my–”
“Hey” you called.
“–Hoodie” he continued as he turned to you, rolling his eyes when he realized you were wearing it. He crashed next to you on the bed and you laughed. “Thief” he mumbled under his breath, laying his head over your stomach.
“Don’t be dramatic” you teased him as you covered your hand with the sleeve of his hoodie, ruffling his wet hair with it. “Want it back?”
“No that’s okay, my shirt’s not actually that wet” he said as he looked up at you. “And you somehow happen to look good with it, so…”
“‘Somehow happen?’ asshole” you laughed as you sat up to tickle his ribs, causing him to wriggle and writhe under your touch.
“Sto– Stop this!” he laughed, out of breath. You giggled and freed him of your tickles, laying back down on the bed. “You don’t want me to piss my pants on this bed” he affirmed.
“I don’t want you to piss your pants period.” you chuckled, and he shifted to plant his elbow right next to your face. He stared at you for a second, observing your face carefully.
“I love you” he whispered, stroking your cheek with the back of his other hand.
“Marc you can’t tell me you love me right after we talk about piss” you frowned, and he smiled softly.
“Oh yeah can’t I?” he asked teasingly, cocking an eyebrow.
“Let’s just say it’s not the most romantic thing.”
“Jake says anything can be romantic,” he shrugged.
“Jake is fucking delusional” you huffed out with a laugh.
“Steven agrees”
You bowed your head. “Thank you for being a reasonable man Steven.” you laughed, mirroring Marc’s action and planting your elbow into the mattress and holding your face with your hand too. “That being said, I love you too.” you grinned. “I missed you” you continued, brushing back the humid curls at the side of his face.
“I missed you too” he muttered. “I regret what I’ve said and done.”
“I do too. We’ll be okay.” you promised, pushing him to lay against his chest. He caged you with his arms, burying his face into your hair.
“I think we’ll be.” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be.”
—
reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!
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“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺
Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader
Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)
A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!
Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow.
He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner.
She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her.
He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth.
The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears.
She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to.
She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc.
Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more.
He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help.
It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together.
Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart.
She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust.
Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.
Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week.
In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting.
She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do.
She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door.
The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl.
There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings.
First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow.
Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms.
They even grinned the same way.
Marc’s daughter was well-loved.
Happiness like that could never be faked.
She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now.
He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath.
She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now.
She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates.
She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love.
The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that.
“Hungry?”
“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other.
“Just gotta finish the salad.”
She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?”
He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart.
She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her.
There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body.
If she gets to take months to learn his language.
It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there.
His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.”
“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips.
“Maya. She’s seven now.”
Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.”
He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.”
“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.”
He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays.
“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.”
There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on.
“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.”
He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?”
She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her.
“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone.
“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-”
He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her.
It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.”
She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen.
His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.”
The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.”
She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job.
His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?”
“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.”
The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself.
She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.”
He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.”
It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.
He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here, requests here.
#maria's requests#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x y/n#marc spector x female!reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector angst#marc spector fanfiction#marc spector fanfic#marc spector fic#marc spector x f!reader#marc spector imagine#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight#moon knight imagine#moon knight fic#oscar isaac
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The sun and the moon
🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor
🌔Summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor, crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future.
🌒CW-18+,MDNI, Explicit smut, angst, hurt, comfort, canon typical violence, god and goddess powers, mentions of parental abuse, past domestic abuse (not physical), healing old wounds, healing your inner child, eventual happy ending.
WK-1.2K
A/N- This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months and now I’m finally tackling it. Don’t have a set schedule for posting or an idea for how many chapters so it should be a wild ride for my moon babes.
Not beta read
[Series Masterlist][Moon Knight Masterlist]
Prologue
He steps into the coffee shop holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. He’s sporting that scowl between his brows as he grumbles under his breath.
He takes his fingers through his hair trying as best he can to smooth his hair out of his face. No flat cap today.
The barista doesn’t understand as she tries to make conversation. It was so obvious to you in the beginning and yet people who greet him everyday don’t even notice.
Hmmm coffee with sugar today…interesting.
He says something to the mirror next to the register about buying a new coffee pot as he taps his foot and waits. His arms crossed as he scanned the room.
It’s Pavlovian the way he drifts to you and sits next to your table. The one he doesn’t even know is saved for him.
“This tastes like crap.” He sets the mug down like it personally offended him.
“You’re a little nicer when you have tea.” Marc looks over at you, but you don’t look up from your book. “Although decidedly more grumpy than when you have black coffee.”
He clears his throat a little before speaking. “I’m sorry, did you say something to me?”
You pick up your pressed sunflower bookmark and place it gently between the pages. “You’re much nicer on the days you have tea.”
He feels warm suddenly, when your eyes meet him. The heat is almost too much as he shucks off his jacket. Maybe the coffee was stronger than he thought because he’s sure he can hear his own heartbeat.
Steven did tell him to take a break.
You smile at him and place the book in your bag as you stand from the corner table and exit. You squeeze his shoulder once as you wave goodbye to the barista.
He stares down at where your hand was, it’s seared into him. Like the ache from a sunburn.
Well that settles that mate
“Settles what?”
She has that effect on all of us
****
He doesn’t know how long it’s been.
When he sees you again and recognizes the barista as she smiles at him. Her cheeks are red and she stammers a little over her words.
He can’t focus on anything but that table next to you. He wants to get to that table before anyone else does.
You can tell it’s him when he walks in. His hair is combed back and he’s wearing that black jacket you love that fits him like a glove.
Your eyes flit briefly to the register where the girl who is absolutely smitten with them tries to compose herself enough to not ruin his coffee again.
He’s nervous
There’s two open tables, the one next to you and one by the drafty door. You meet his eyes as he weighs his options while he waits for the girl to finish his coffee.
There's that warmth again, it’s too hot in here. He removes his jacket and sheepishly heads toward you. He gently places it in the seat beside your corner table that looks out onto the street.
“I would never let anyone take your spot.” He’s certain this time, you’re speaking to him. You don’t look up from your book The art and architecture of ancient Egypt.
They call his name twice before he heads back to the counter to collect his coffee.
You take a few notes and bite down on your pen as you think of what to say next. He can see the indentation where you bite the pen. The way your lips rest carefully on the edge. The way your brow furrows when you’re thinking.
He finds himself exactly where he wants to be in his seat. With nothing to say.
The hot coffee somehow cools him down from the flames burning inside. He closes his eyes and is drawn back to the last time he remembered it tasting this good.
When he opens them again you’re smiling at the barista shooting her a thumbs up as she claps her hands in delight.
He swallows thickly, he’s never been this nervous. Not even as moon knight.
“I’ve seen that book before.” His voice somehow sounds foreign even to him.
You flip it over and glance at the back and laugh. A sound he could definitely get used to.
“I would hope so, Steven let me borrow it.”
She’s almost finished it, I just gave it to her a few days ago.
You resume your book as if you didn’t just say the most earth shattering thing for his fragile mind to hear. It shouldn’t come as a surprise with how comfortable you are in his presence.
You know he’s dangling off a cliff and you might as well just give him that push he needs to let go.
“That reminds me.” You dig through your bag for a moment before sliding a small leather bag toward him. “I haven’t seen Jake in a few days, it looked like he might need it.”
Marc shakily opens the bag to reveal a leather patch kit. He takes three deep breaths before zipping it closed.
If you’re going to sit there like an idiota at least say thank you.
“Jake said thank you.” Shit. Why would he say that out loud?
“De nada.”
You know.
Sì she knows.
Was he that closed off after Layla that they didn’t want him to meet you? Maybe they were scared he’d run you away. It’s shocking to have Jake partnering with Steven to keep secrets from him.
Then again, maybe you weren’t a secret.
You can tell he’s genuinely surprised and a little uncomfortable but Steven and Jake told you that was to be expected. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him, where he didn’t recede from the front.
Long enough for him to finally start opening up to you. Asking your name and how long you’ve known him, them.
You and Steven bonded over tea and your love for ancient Egypt. He was helping you prepare for your interview with the museum to become a curator.
Jake would give you rides to the library or home, when the weather was particularly bad.
He can place it now…that scent that lingers on his clothes from time to time. Your perfume, a mixture of vanilla and lavender. It’s overwhelming his senses now as you lean in and laugh at some off handed remark he said.
You must be comfortable enough to hug them, to press your body close to theirs. Close enough to leave a trace of you on them for days on end. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at once…to know he’s closed himself off from you for so long that you’re practically strangers.
Except you aren’t.
You’re much more than that. The way you reach over and trace a new scar on his brow. Staring at it like it personally offended you. Your touch burns and lingers long after you’ve placed them back in your lap. The look on your face like you’ve possibly crossed some boundary with him. He desperately wants you to touch him again. To leave a mark not unlike his scars.
“I thought he was supposed to heal you?”
It’s evident he’s missed more days with you than he can conceive. He can feel his chest constricting even before the words leave his mouth. “Who?”
“Khonshu.”
The bird looks on from a building high above the street. He’s not sure how you could’ve forgotten that you’re the one who’s supposed to heal them.
🌕Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒
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