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princessofmarvel · 2 years

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Cara Mia

Summary | You and Marc are invited to a Halloween party by Layla, and before you can get out the door, Jake just has to have a moment with you in your costume.

Pairing | Marc Spector x fem!reader/Jake Lockley x fem!reader, And A mention of Steven Grant x fem!reader lol.

Genre | Fluff!

Word Count | 753

Warnings! | Allusions To Smut!, Marc Spector, Inaccurate DID, Some Google Translate Spanish , And, Not Really Proofread! Lol .

Author's Note! | I rewatched the Addams family and I could just not stop thinking of this! Lmao, If you are not familiar "Cara Mia" Is A Term Of Endearment That Gonez Addams Uses For Morticia Addams! And As Always I Also Have Severe OCD So If There Are Random Cap’s Where There Normally Would Not Be, I’m So Sorry, And That Is Why! But, I Think That I Did Pretty Well This Time! Lol .

You and Marc had been invited to a Halloween party by Layla. He begged you to not go. He would rather order take out and watch Halloween movies with you on the couch all night instead of going to a party, because at a party, he would more than likely have to socialize. But, you wanted to go, and for you, he would do anything.

He looked at himself in the mirror and thought that he looked absolutely ridiculous. He had been growing and keeping up this pencil stache for about 2 weeks now. Jake seemed to think that they looked good with it, Marc and Steven, not so much.

He put on the suit and walked out of the bathroom to get the cigar. But, he was quickly stopped in his tracks when he saw you looking in the mirror dressed as one Morticia Addams.

"Marc! What do you think?" You said giving him a quick little spin in your costume. You were very pleased with how it all turned out. Especially with how he looked.

The words were taken out of Marc's mouth, he was in pure awe of you. The way the dress hugged you in all the right places. The way you had styled your hair. Once Marc had figured out the words to say, the body had been taken over before he could even say them.

"Cara Mia indeed." Jake said, walking up to you with his arms out and ready to hold you from behind. He was frilled when you told Marc that you wanted to go as Gomez And Morticia Addams for this Halloween Party and had immediately offered to take over the body on that day since it fell on one of Marc's days . Much to his dismay though, Marc refused, claiming that The Invitation was for him and Steven and not Jake.

“Jake, Sweetheart, you know that it’s Marcs night.” You said to him while smiling. One of yours and Jake's favorite things to do together was to watch “The Addams Family''. It started with having to pick a movie one night to watch together while you ate your dinner. Jake had been the one to suggest it. It turned into watching the movies so many times that you could quote them, to having the 1960s show on while you did random things during the day such as cleaning. The two of you just bonded over it.

“Mi Amor, Do you truly expect me to stay away, and let Marc have you all to himself when you are dressed like this?” He asked while he was staring at you through the mirror. He could feel Marc trying to take over the body again, but Jake was just not gonna let that happen right now. He couldn’t help himself.

“I will give the body back in a moment, cariño. I just need a moment with you in this dress, I mean, I think that poor little Steven might have fainted.” He said, causing you to turn around in a panic.

“What do you mean? Is he alright?” You asked with worry written all over your face.

“He’s fine, Querida. Just in awe of how absolutely beautiful you are.” He said leaning in to kiss you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Every time Jake kissed you he always took your breath away. He always kissed you with so much passion that it almost hurt when it ended.

“I will give the body back to Marc, but only if you promise to put this outfit back on for me, okay?” He said while putting a hand on your face to graze his thumb over your cheekbone while you nodded.

The next thing you know, Marc is back and moving his hands to your waist. “I ought to find a way to kill Jake for taking me away from you when you look like this.” He said, Causing you to laugh. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Marc.” You said while adjusting his tie. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep the stache?”

“Oh, you like it that much?” He said, smiling and pulling you closer.

“Maybe.” You told him in a sing-song voice. “It suits you.”

“Well, I’ll keep it long enough for you to have your fun with it, Cara Mia.” And with that, you knew you were going to be dragged out of that Halloween party as soon as possible and in for a long night.

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dystopian-reverie · 2 years

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Shoutout to all my fic writers who translate what he speaks to English because this is being lowkey educational to me

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #moon knight meme #moon knight imagines #jake lockley x reader #latino #oscar isaac #poe dameron #santiago garcia #moon knight marvel

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inknopewetrust · 2 years

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𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

summary: steven finds a missing piece of marc's puzzle as the fate of their lives are at stake.

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader; steven grant x fem!reader word count: 2.6k

warnings: mentions of child abuse and death, depression, also i love layla, just making the story complicated. spoilers episode 5.

quick links: masterlist and gif credit to @stevenrogered ; Part II Here

"Where are you going to go?"

The eyes he looked into were glassy–the kind that did not want to cry but ones that also could not help that they would. He was hurting. He couldn't stay.

So, he swallowed his pride, admitting he wasn't sure.

"I don't know." His own voice betrayed him. Here, in this two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan he had been in one thousand times, he finally shattered and nearly gave up on himself.

But it was this street. It was the memories tethered to it that made life unbearable and the admission that he needed to get away was difficult, but true. And you knew that… you had to.

"Is it selfish to say what about me?" You laughed, tears leaving your eyes in delicate drops he wanted to wipe away–his hands frozen in his lap. Marc shook his head, looking out the window where the cars were parked and the tree outside of your building was beginning to lose its leaves for the fall.

"You'll be ok…" To you, it sounded as though he was trying to convince himself that without him here, in New York, that your life would be fine. You would move on, graduate from college, get a job, build a family with someone who wasn't… broken. Maybe if he convinced himself, you could have the dream of 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.

"And you?" Marc could never get used to the kindness you gathered in pain.

"What about you, Marc?" His name caught in your throat as you sucked in a breath. "Are you going to be ok?"

Transitioning from the window to the comforter of your bed, the pale blue flowers he could see in his dreams danced beneath his fingertips. Tracing for memories beyond this block, beyond this city, and somewhere he could go without the people of his past knowing every inch of his trauma. Marc could not answer with words because a part of him already knew a 'yes' would have been a lie. So, he shrugged.

"Will I ever be able to contact you? Is this it?" Steven.

The memory was becoming convoluted. It was no longer two people inside of a bedroom, but three and then four; a voice calling out to mute the memories words.

Steven let's go.

"No…" Marc's reply went flat as he responded to the girl. Steven's arm received a sharp tug, but his eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the sight. Marc, so broken and vulnerable, and a girl he had no memory of.

"Steven!" The Marc he was familiar with cut in front of the scene before him. His eyes pained, stressed, panicked. Steven lifted a finger, pointing beyond Marc's shoulder was.

"That's not Layla."

"No, it's not… let's go now." Marc's threatening tone did not frighten him as it used to. The scale was not balanced. So much of Marc's life was a mystery and he begged to remain that way, but Steven wanted to live, as did Marc–which had surprised him. However, each memory that progressed through Marc's life made it increasingly difficult to reach that balance.

"Marc!" Steven's own voice was frantic, not understanding Marc's motivations. "We are never going to be able to go back if you don't tell me what has happened."

"This is a good memory… There are very few good memories."

"Good!? This is what you consider to be good?" Steven asked, astonished at the ex-mercenary's behavior.

"It doesn't matter." Marc pulled on his arm, turning Steven around and back out the door from whence he came. "It's irrelevant to what we need to do. She's got nothing to do with this."

"I think seeing a girl as broken as the mirrors you like to smash is indeed important." Steven wiggled, breaking his arm free of Marc's grip, and facing the man as the apartment got further and further away and the hallway returned to the psych ward. "Who is she?"

Marc sighed, looking at Steven as if he was a walking parasite. Steven held his ground, not searching for the next door nor wanting to return to the memory.

"Who is she, Marc?"

"She's not important."

"She's not Layla."

"No."

"But Layla is your wife."

"No… yes, but we are separated."

"Then who is she?"

"Why? You want to find her after we get out of this mess and ask her on a date? We all know how the last one went!" Marc got defensive again, storming off down the hall with a grudge and heavy footsteps. Steven followed, feet pattering along the tile floor as the doors remained without memories behind them.

"That is not what I said!" The English man laughed, unnerved by the attitude. "Could she help us?"

Marc stopped, whipping around, and pointing at Steven. "She has no part in this, do you understand?"

"No, no I don't." Steven swatted Marc's hand down. "We need to balance the scale. I do not want to be frozen in sand because you can't handle your own memories." Steven did not know what he was asking of Marc.

"She is not part of this life."

"What life? This one–" He pointed to facility around them. "Like Khonsu and your… jobs."

"Yes, that one."

"Alright then, so before all of this… how long ago did you last see her? When was this?"

"This was…" He coughed, scratching the back of his head and racking his memories for a date. "Two days before I left the city… joined the military and never really looked back."

"Never really? So, you have not seen her since?"

Marc was unwilling once more to answer that question. Steven tried not to think the worst, but there were two ways the 'worst scenario' could go. One, where he never saw that girl, you, again because of an accident or disease or something worse; or two, he did see you again and he cannot admit it because of Layla.

"Marc…"

"Why don't we move on, huh?" Marc motioned carelessly at the door across from him. "I'm sure all of my life is here for your amusement so why don't we see what these shitty gods have cooked up for us, yeah?"

"Marc, come on…"

Before Steven could receive a reply, Marc opened the door and another memory opened. Slowly, the tales of Marc's life became known to Steven.

Trauma, resolution, trauma, death, trauma, and the people that perpetrated it. Steven was an empathetic soul–but he hated to see the man he had known as strong, resilient, and fearless, break.

The next time he had seen you, their mother had just passed.

Marc had missed the burial–intentionally so. The shiva began at the house that he had been berated in, beat in, lost, and loved in, and he could see the mourners gather inside.

Steven could not see the shiva. His arrival brought him at the end of the street and all he could see was a drunk, distraught Marc unable to face his father because he hated his mother and missed his brother at the same time. The pain of the past often found no resolution, but the people those in pain can lean on can lessen the torment–if even for a moment.

A figure appeared in the window of the townhouse. Dad, it had to be. Although Steven had no memory of this, he could sense the familiarity behind the stone. Steven observed Marc shake his head, take a shot from the flask, and stumble away, mumbling to himself as the emotions overtook him.

Halfway to him, Marc stumbled, sobbing to the ground.

Down the block, the townhouse door opened and the girl, you, older now, looked across the street and back down to where Marc was kneeling–making haste toward him. Neither could see Steven.

The closer you got to Marc, the louder your steps became, and Marc looked over his shoulder, shaking his head at you.

"Just go back… please." He croaked, tears flowing freer than before, and Marc pulled the yarmulke from his head.

"You know I can't do that." Your voice was soft, comforting. He clutched the yarmulke on the ground and felt the woven yarn become strangled underneath his fingers–it was not the same feeling as the blue, flowered comforter of the past.

You knelt beside him–not caring if the black tights became ripped or the shoes scraped the cobblestone street. Resting a light hand on Marc's shoulder, he leaned into the touch.

Steven felt he knew the answer of his scenario. Love was a complicated thing, even if he was unfamiliar of it himself.

"I'm here…" You whispered to him, letting him cry and not telling him the classic lines of 'you'll be ok' or 'you don't have to be sorry.' "I'm here…"

Layla wasn't. And that said something to Steven.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulder, you laid a kiss on his dark curls and held him as he sobbed harder and harder, breaking away when he pounded the yarmulke into the ground before cradling to his chest.

"We don't have to go in." We.

How much did you know? Did Steven know you?

There was a strange familiarity to the moment. The dress, the hair, the face. He had seen you before.

"We can leave." To where?

Steven thought for a moment Marc was going to reply but instead, he turned to the side, his eyes rolling backwards, and you pulled back. Your face was confused, alerted, concerned but then suddenly it became sullen–as if you knew it would happen.

In a second, Steven was looking at himself, not Marc.

That is where he had seen you before.

"What?" Steven said aloud and glanced at you, startled at your presence but you did not flinch.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" His accent felt so loud in that moment. "Do I know you?"

Marc had warned you of this moment. One day it would come.

You shook your head, pointing to the taxi at the corner. "No, no… I thought you needed help, but I am just on my way… are you alright?"

"Fine, fine. I–actually… I seem to be a bit lost."

Your smile was strained, eyes hurt, and deflated.

"You're on Milwaukee Avenue, just make a call and I'm sure someone can help you."

"Thank you, Miss. I'll just be on my way then."

Steven got up, calling up 'mom' on his cell phone and Steven, still knelt on the ground, felt defeated–for himself but mostly Marc. It was then that the man reappeared to him as Steven went about on the phone.

"This is it." Marc said, reliving the memory against his will. "Mom's death and Shiva two months ago. This was the moment our lives started bleeding into each other."

Steven looked to Marc as the man stayed staring as you remained knelt on the ground, missing the taxi you claimed was yours.

"I just couldn't… I just couldn't face that again. All the things I had done…"

"Marc…" Steven spoke honestly, "all those horrible things that she said to you, she was wrong. It wasn't your fault."

Marc's eyes became red, his willingness to share pain now here. "I shouldn't have brought him in the cave."

"You were just a child. It wasn't your fault."

Marc nodded, not genuinely believing but somewhere in-between. And then he looked down again, watching you sit there with a sadness he had seen too many times before.

"This was, though."

Steven looked too. You picked at the underside of your nails, the sound rhythmic and distracting.

"She does that when she's upset." Marc said, chuckling and running a hand through his hair. After one resolution, another break occurs, and another mend must be made.

"She's the only person who could have handled the switch that way. She's the only one who knew."

"But I don't know her."

"I was gone a lot…" Marc admitted, not giving every detail. "I've lived in a lot of places, seen too much."

"Does she know about Layla? Does Layla know about her?"

That side-eye that Steven had been accustomed to was chilling but filled with so much truth. No. The answer was no.

"Maybe if they did, they could help us."

"Layla chose this life, Y/n didn't. I won't put her in danger to save me." Y/n. Name. Me, not us.

"Do you love her, Layla?" Steven asked Marc, narrowing his eyes to balance the scale. One more truth, just one.

"Steven…"

"If it's true it shouldn't be hard! DO you love her? She put her life on the line for us and all I am asking is do you LOVE her, Marc?"

"I can't answer that."

"Why not? WHY NOT!?" Steven pushed, the time ticking, the end was so close.

"BECAUSE I LOVE HER TOO! I have my own goddamn life!" Marc yelled back, pushing Steven's chest as the buildings began to rumble. Steven shook his head in both disgust and disbelief. Steven only knew of Layla, maybe he would think differently if he met you too.

The ground beneath them shook.

"Did you feel that? It feels like we just stopped."

As they ran, Steven looked to Marc one last time and said:

"Maybe the truth has set you free."

London was rainy—as you expected it to be. Having never visited, your beliefs had been based in fiction. Did Love, Actually really represent English values or was it fiction? You wanted to explore the answer but a higher purpose was calling.

Marc.

You had seen him on the news, global news. An attack at the British Museum had left you to consider your future for the better—sit waiting for Marc to (maybe) return or go looking yourself.

So, you stopped sitting around and booked a plane ticket with no return flight and the first place you stopped was the museum.

It had reopened a week ago with signs blocking the Egypt wing. The vast halls didn’t surprise you, nor did the collection of surely stolen artifacts gleaming from the projected lights. In one particular exhibit, Roman vases had caught your eye and distracted your attention.

“Have a fondness for early Roman pottery?” A man, American man asked. You looked through the glass at the reflection of a man with longer hair, a black cane, and boho-chic look aced.

“Not particularly.” You responded, looking to move away from the case to give him space but he lingered—setting off the alarms in your mind immediately.

“American? Where from?” He smiled with a kind face but his eyes recalled a different story. He moved with you to the next exhibit.

“Midwest.” Vague. He caught on.

“I’ve been meeting many Americans lately. They all seem to be coming from the same place…” he trailed off, looking at the pottery in the case you settled at. You went to move away but quickly realized this man wasn’t alone.

The room was filled with people watching, waiting. They were so close and inching toward you at a slow and steady pace.

“It is amazing what a little research can lead to, isn’t it Y/n?” He said your name; the blood inside of you ran cold.

“Tell me, are you looking for someone?”

“I think you have the wrong person, I’m sorry.” You tried to get around him but his cane shot out and pushed you back. The people kept getting closer.

“I think we are both looking for something…” he talked slow and low. His eyes traced every inch of your face—trying to memorize it in case something went awry. “We are off for Egypt tonight and I think you may find what you are looking for there… he always seems to follow me.” Taunting.

This man didn’t give you a choice.

“On second thought, you are coming with.” He pointed to the followers behind him and your world went dark.

The next thing you knew, you were in Egypt, sitting in a car watching as a scarab compass found a tomb.

You truly doubted love would find you here; no resolution could be made.

#moon knight #moon knight spoilers #moon knight x reader #Marc Spector #Marc Spector x reader #Steven grant #Steven grant x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #moon knight marvel #mcu #mcu x you #marvel #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac x reader #Marc Spector x you #Steven grant x you

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hauntedfarfalle · 5 months

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Hi I’m back from the dead and obsessed with moon knight, enjoy this one single post before I am drowned in the tidal wave of studying for finals

I’ve never been a huge MCU fan but i could write a 10 page essay on how much I love this show and I probably will

The fact that I had a Kane chronicles/egyptian mythology phase in middle school has nothing to do with this whatsoever

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marvel #MCU #tawaret #moon knight marvel #moon knight episode 4 spoilers

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munohlow · 2 years

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My actual reaction to that hype af credit scene

#moon knight #mr knight #khonshu #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #oscar isaac #arthur harrow #ethan hawke #moon knight spoilers #marvel moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight marvel #mcu #disney

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luddycris · 2 years

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Marc got Steven those socks in hopes that Steven will kiss him

#luddycris #luddy doodles #fanart #steven grant #moon knight fanart #moon knight #moon knight marvel #moon knight mcu #now even I want a pair of goldfish socks #marc spector #marcsteven #marc x steven

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thedeadtravelfast · 2 years

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the diabolic duo

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endofthelinegang · 2 years

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𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ jake lockley x fem! reader, sort of marc spector x fem! reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you gave marc a key to get in from his nightly adventures, but something isn't right

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ descriptions of blood

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ mind fuck lemme warn ya now, my top 3 repeated requests of the week were to write something for and or with JL so here ya go (2.1k words)

part 2

“What time is it?” You groaned upon hearing a bang up against your door, rolling around in your bed while the tv was still on. Pulling on your phone cord it eventually came up to be on your bed.

“Four in the morning, of course it’s four in the fucking morning.” You sat up in bed rubbing your face and moving your blankets off to stand up completely.

“Here’s a key Marc! Use it anytime Marc! Make sure to tell Steven about the key Marc!” You mocked your own words seeing that they clearly weren’t heard. Even if they were, they went through his ears and into the fan blown around the room into stranded letters.

Avoiding your furniture and misplaced items littered on the floor you made your way to the door. Tired, disgruntled, and annoyed you clicked the two locks on your door opening it up.

Ready to scold Marc for his behavior you were met with a body laying in front of your doorway groaning and rolling around just a little bit. On the wall facing the other way was what looked like the backside of Marc hauling off and hitting the other man. His neck snapped to the side as he fell to the ground.

“Marc! What the hell is going on?” You whisper yelled across the way not wanting to grab anyone's attention. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” You mouthed to the man with the bloody face laying on the ground in a ton of pain as he cried.

“Marc!” Walking closer to Marc you looked around making sure no one was going to try and jump out at you. As you made your way over to him he turned around to face you. Breathing heavily, his face was covered in blood as was his shirt, hands, and parts of his pants.

“Lock the door when we go inside.” The area was barely bright enough due to the light fixtures above the door that you could tell who it was, and you were 100% sure it was Marc but yet you weren’t at the same time.

“This isn’t funny.” Walking closer to who you knew it was you worried that even though he clearly won the fight in front of your door he may have suffered during another one earlier on in the night.

“Seriously, we do not have time to be standin’ out here.” The body stood completely still as the two of you were now within arms length of each other. He didn’t falter or even take a step back but he wasn’t acting right, his body language was all wrong.

“Fine, inside now. I’m not happy with you, Spector.” Marc had only told you about Steven, and you loved Steven to death. You assumed after that point that there would be no one else in the equation since neither of the two of them ever brought anyone else up and even made a schedule for the three of you. Specifically when the two of them would switch in and out of being in control.

“I get it, hey blood isn’t everyone’s things, clearly isn’t yours.” He looked you up and down, keeping his hands in fists at his sides.

“The blood is fine, it’s the fact that it’s a couple hours from sunrise and you’re banging on my door when I gave you a key.” Clearly at least the body had sought out your place of living.

“Baby doll, you never gave me a key.” He sounded different than both Steven and Marc, his voice was a little deeper, he spoke louder, and he had a slight accent. Almost like the one that Marc has when he gets angry.

“Whatever, just get inside, I don’t need to see or hear anymore fighting tonight.” You pointed at your open door that he had just talked about moments before, and even though you knew it wasn’t Steven and that meant it had to be Marc something just wasn’t right.

“I’ve been trying.” He walked past you and through your door, grabbing your hand, he took you with him watching both directions making sure that no one else was coming. Almost like the two of you were crossing traffic.

“I’ve got a question for you though, I’ve been meaning to ask you since I saw you last week. Just haven’t gotten around to being here.” He started stripping off his clothes in the middle of the living room, placing the bloodied garments on the table in the middle of the room.

“What’s that?” Just as you thought the situation was over with and the last thing you needed to do was make sure he was okay and could figure everything out from here his words struck you. Last week? He left here hours ago. You thought to yourself as you watched him strip.

“Why are you always calling me Marc?” You completely froze, you were right, you weren’t talking to Marc, you weren’t talking to Steven.

“That’s what I thought your name was.” Voice barely above a whisper you spoke and started fidgeting with your hands.

“Hey, it’s alright, I appreciate you calling me that in front of those guys, keep it as a code name babe. I really did need one, don’t need everyone knowing who I am, I’d be easier to find. Best not to say you know me, especially to other people.” He ran his hands through his hair getting blood in the curled strands.

“So if you don’t mind me asking what’s your name?” Not sure whether to be angry at Marc for not telling you or worried for Marc if he did not know who that was.

“Ah what the hell, we’ve been around each other long enough now, gotta get you to stop calling me Marc one of these days. Can’t believe we've done this much together and my name hasn’t been mentioned. Jake, Jake Lockley.” He winked at you and then cracked his knuckles.

“Oh, I uh. I really like that name. You know mine right?” You were nervous, way more than you should’ve been. This was just another idenity of Marc’s and he didn’t seem to hate you. But what had you done with him before? When had you mistaken him for Marc? How was he getting mixed into the schedule?

“Hey, you alright?” Your thoughts must have really gotten you mixed up because now here was Jake standing right infront of you inches away waving a hand in front of your face.

“Just thinking, how long have we been seeing each other now?” Answers were all you wanted, he was clearly more unhinged, more violent than either of the other two so setting him off was not something you really wanted to do at all.

“Few weeks I’d say, I’ve woken up here a lot, you’ve cooked me meals, we’ve gone out, and I know you don’t forget the other thing.” He was awfully confident in whatever that last thing was as he put his hands on your hips and guided you closer to his body.

“You really need a quick shower and some sleep, you’ve gotta be exhausted honey.” Playing along you ran a hand through his hair feeling how wet it was, putting the other hand on his cheek.

“Can’t stay, I’ve gotta change my clothes and head back out, got a job to finish. Just knew I had clothes left here. Lucky for me those boneheads ran in this direction.” You were now body to body with one another as he told you his plan.

“In the bedroom, in the closet on the left side, they’re all your clothes.” Before you could separate for him to go get changed he leaned down and kissed you hard making you suck a ton of air into your lungs, his hands in your hair on the back of your head.

“Thanks baby.” He released you all of a sudden as he went into your room.

The moment he left you ran to go through his clothes, he had Marc’s body and Marc needed a way to get in in the morning. The two of you obviously needed to talk and you also needed to know more about Jake. Looking through his pockets you found small knives, a gun, all sorts of cards, and finally the key you had given Marc. “My god is he a serial killer?” You whispered to yourself as you heard footsteps coming back from where they had left. Throwing everything back into his pockets besides the key haphazardly you stood up and stumbled backwards.

“I promise I’ll see you soon okay.” As he approached you, you were trying to stand still since you had just been incredibly off balance.

“Don’t forget your key.” You put your hand in his long coat pocket, placing the key in there yourself rather than letting him take it himself.

“You got it sugar.” Bending down beside you he transferred everything in his pockets into his clean pants.

“I’ll wash those for whenever you get back.” As he stood you saw some blood he had missed when cleaning off his face so, you took your finger and swiped what you could off.

“I owe you.” And with a quick peck on the lips he was out the door and you were left with two possibly dead guys outside, bloody clothes, most likely a bloody towel in the bathroom, and a new person to deal with. But you were also exhausted, there was no way you were staying up all night cleaning everything that he had just messed up.

“Oh Marc Spector, do you ever run out of surprises?” You yawned and walked back into the bedroom laying back down into bed.

It felt like you had just laid down to sleep before you heard someone screaming and running into your room where you had fallen asleep incorrectly only halfway under the covers.

“Y/N! ARE YOU HERE? ARE YOU OKAY? SHIT.” You heard something crash and fall before hearing feet slam into the ground and the running continue.

“I’m in here.” You raised your hand out of bed and stayed laying exactly how you were, but that wasn’t going to last long at all.

Marc rushed to your side grabbing your arm and rolled you over basically jumping on you to look for any possible injuries.

“I’m fine Marc calm down.” You squinted and petted his face as he completely relaxed, crushing you under his weight.

“Why are there bloody clothes everywhere? I feel like Steven waking up somewhere weird, I can’t remember what happened.” He rolled over onto his side of the bed with a grunt.

“So, you don’t know who Jake Lockley is?” You turned to face him, completely rolling your body over and grabbing his hands in yours.

“Who is that? Did someone break in here?” He squeezed your hand not sure if he needed to be sympathetic or not.

“Yeah, you did.” You weren’t sure how to bring this up, just in case he didn’t know or if maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about this with you.

“What are you talking about?” Marc looked genuinely confused as he looked at you like you were crazy.

“Take a closer look at the clothes out there, those are the ones you were wearing when you left last night, the key was in your left coat pocket to get in here right? I put it there. You happen to have a very similar idenity within yourself, more like you, much less like Steven.” Marc was wide eyed and looking at you.

“I didn’t hurt you right?” In that moment he seemed to not care that he had yet another person living in his head that could take over his body. He seemed more like he cared that there was blood, he knew it wasn’t his and he just had to make sure it wasn’t yours.

“No you didn’t hurt me. Are you hurt? You showed up covered in blood.” Marc shook his head and just pulled you into himself more. This was somewhat unusual for Marc to want to be this close with you in this way.

“No. I’m not hurt. But the junk bowl in the living room is hurt. It’s actually one hundred percent dead. Oh and that asshole got my white hoodie all bloody. Can you?” He was squeezing you just a little tighter.

“Clean up the glass in the living room before Steven comes out so he doesn’t step in it and I’ll get the blood out of the hoodie and pants.” You groaned and patted him on the back.

“Deal. But before we get to chores I’ve got one more question.” Marc had his lips almost pressed right against your forehead as he spoke.

“You’re killing me Marc.” You could feel his hand travel down your back caressing your lower back.

“I told you last night. My name’s not Marc, but I know him well enough to sound like him. Don't I?"

Your eyes shot wide open. What was going on?

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