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angel-of-the-moons · 27 days

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A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Graphic depictions of child abuse, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, defenselessness

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, this is something that just popped into my head while languishing in my bathtub the other night. Happy birthday to me by giving y'all this lil gift lmao

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @lillycore555 @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

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Chapter 12:

Helplessness

Today was so boring... You had customers come in, order the usual snacks, get some books, and leave. You had one couple in particular that grinded your gears just a bit out of bitterness.

They were just married--soulmates--and were still in the "touching all the time" phase of their relationship. You felt a lurch in your chest each time they shared a kiss, giggled to one another, and shared little inside jokes.

You had been feeling lonely. All. Day. Long.

Even Jake hadn't come to visit you. He said Steven and Marc were still out of the country at the moment, on a trip of some sort. Good for them, you thought. They seemed like they needed it.

But... something kept... tugging at you. Pulling you away from your daily routine, distracting you. It felt like a stone being dropped in a pond; sinking down and settling in the silt at the bottom.

Seeing that couple had put you in a bad mood. Not angry, but... hell. You'd be surprised if you weren't glowing a nice bright green after their public displays of affection.

You flopped down onto your bed, Puck leaping up with a purr to lick at your cheek.

You chuckled softly, rolling onto your side to scratch her round little cheek affectionately, "This is the longest you've stuck it out inside here, Puck. Finally gettin' tired of being outside all the time? Ready to settle down? Be my bookshop kitty?"

Puck responded with a slow blink, and a long yawn, her pink tongue poking out at you a bit.

You giggled, your chest feeling just a bit lighter at how cute she was.

"Yeah. You're right." You say to her. "Let's go to bed. I can take a shower in the morning."

Puck mewed, moving around to sit atop your end table as you got ready for bed, slipping on your comfiest shorts and sleep shirt before going to brush your teeth for the night.

Her little green eyes tracked your every move, blinking once, twice, her ear flicking slightly as she hears you heave another heavy sigh before face-planting into your pillows, hugging one close to you.

Puck purred loudly, snuggling up against your side and tucking her paws beneath her.

She only closed her eyes once she felt you relax, content as your hand idly reached out and stroked her fur as you eventually slipped into the land of dreams.

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You stumbled on your feet as they hit the cold, damp asphalt, the soft droplets as the rain misted down on you felt... strange. Not London.... Not Maine.

You whip your head up and around, looking down at your body. You still wore the pajamas you'd selected for the night, nothing else.

Your body shivered and your teeth began to chatter as you looked around for someone--anyone--to ask for help, to find out where you were and how the hell you were suddenly dropped there.

The brownstones and townhouses around you were all shut tight, the street entirely devoid of cars and people. To you, it felt like it was the afternoon. The world was illuminated in cloudy gloom that told you it was daytime...

Your eyes flicked to your right, spotting one singular home, the windows glowing with a warm light, the silhouettes of people within calling you towards the front steps.

Your feet felt like ice; your toes ready to fall off as you make the short climb, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt at warmth.

You raise one hand and use the knocker three times.

"H-hello? I'm sorry to b-bother you, but um.... I'm afraid I.... I don't know where I am. Is there a phone I can borrow?" You call out as the wind whips around you, the misty rain begins to get heavier, turning into sleet; a chill settling deep into your very core.

Upon receiving no response, you raised your voice: "Hello? Is anybody there?"

It was crazy. You saw people through the window, you could see somebody was home. The lights were on, you could hear muffled words and shuffling feet--

CRASH!

You jumped slightly, eyes widening in a bit of fear and shock as you heard a very angry voice from within; accusatory and full of venom; followed by the rapid thumping of more footsteps.

Your teeth chattered and you looked around.

Nobody else was on the street or looking down on you... it was freezing. Somebody could be hurt...

You swallowed the paranoid lump in your throat as you turn the knob and let yourself in.

"H.... Hello?"

The warmth was heavenly on your icy cold skin as you slipped inside, the last of your chills slipping away as you took in the surroundings.

The home was cosy, sweetly and primly decorated. As you made it past the entryway and circle of plush sitting chairs, you discover what looked to be the dining room.

A photo frame sat atop the dining table, a tipped over bourbon glass trickling down onto the hardwood floors.

Your fingers stiffly reached out to grab the frame and look at it. It was a photo of what looked to be two young boys--possibly brothers. But you couldn't really tell because the bigger one had his face violently scratched away, leaving the younger one beaming happily at the camera, the bigger child's arm wrapped tightly around him.

You pursed your lips and felt a stab in your heart as you set the photo down. Who would do such a thing to a picture of a child? Was it some kind of coping skill? You'd heard of some people removing things that remind them of those they lost, but this...

You suck in a sharp breath of air and walk to the threshold, moving towards the stairs leading to the second floor.

At the bottom of the steps was a bottle of bourbon, shattered on the wall and laying in pieces on the floor, the sickly sweet liquor dripping down the wall and pooling around the glass shards.

Amid the debris was the remnants of a vase, the wilted flowers laying sadly in the sticky drink and shards of brown glass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard another slam, followed by loud banging and the rattling of a door.

A shrill voice cut above it all as you took the first step:

"Let me in you worthless little brat!"

Your heart stopped briefly at the sheer hatred in her voice, the sound of her fist pounding on wood.

You tried to race up the flight of stairs, but every step felt like you were walking in wet cement; sinking deeper like quicksand as you heard whatever door she was pounding on finally open.

"There you are."

"No, no, no..." You grunt, pulling yourself up from of the stairs that may have been wood when you first touched them... but now they were sucking you down like the whirlpool in a drain.

The wooden banister was your greatest ally in your trek, sweat beading from your brow and your lungs burning as you hauled yourself up; step by step.

When you finally reached the summit of the stairs, you chanced a brief look down.

There were only maybe sixteen steps, maybe a couple more. Why did it feel like six hundred?

You heard her grunt, the sound of leather cracking over something.

"You're making me do this! You know that!"

You stumbled to your feet and frantically raced down the hall and to the room the sounds were coming from. You gripped the knob and leaned in.

Beneath the sounds of leather, her angry words, was the soft sniffling of a child. A child trying so desperately to stay quiet for fear of making the abuse worse.

"Stop!" You cried, the knob stiff in your hands.

You jiggle it, pound on the door like she had moments ago.

"Stop it! I can hear you!" You shouted, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as tears burned your vision. "Why are you doing this!"

"All you have to do is listen, and you can't even do that!" The woman spat like you weren't even there, "Just look at what you did! You worthless little bastard!"

"Mom, please--"

The young voice was cut short by a loud shriek, followed by a groan and a sob. More shuffling. You threw yourself against the door, wanting so desperately to break past that final barrier, to maybe try and save the poor boy you knew now was being abused.

The door opened and you stumbled forwards, falling to your hands and feet hard on the floor.

The typical trappings of a young boy, Star Wars, NASA, Indiana Jones, and even a poster of another movie you couldn't quite recognize, but some part of you recalled.

You didn't have time to take in the rest of them, your eyes immediately zeroed in on the woman standing above the boy who was curled in on himself, his mop of dark strands hanging over his face as he cried, his nose running down his chin; lip busted and bleeding.

His arm he cradled so gingerly against his chest had burns. Fresh red, bleeding welts.

His mother, you surmised, stood over him, cigarette in one hand and the belt hanging at her side in the other as she looked down at him, her drunken, hate-filled gaze unmoved by her child's soft pleading.

He hiccuped, his body wracked with the sobs he so desperately tried to keep inside. "Mom, please.... I... I didn't mean it. I tripped--"

"No, you were being stupid again." She said, slipping the cigarette between her teeth and raising her arm to strike.

"Like you always are. Like you were with my Ro-Ro."

"I didn't mean it!" The boy cried defiantly, finally looking up at his mother, his gorgeous amber eyes glassy and wet as more fat tears curled over his eyelashes. "I didn't know that would happen to--"

He was interrupted by the belt cracking over his cheek, instantly turning it a deep, angry shade of red, a small cut welling up with droplets of blood.

He stayed quiet, curling once more into himself as she prepared for another blow.

"Shut the fuck up! All you ever do is talk, you don't fucking stop! I'm sick of it!" She howled, landing blow after blow on his back, the cigarette dropping to the floor, singing a shallow hole into the wood.

"Talking is what gets you in trouble!"

"Stop!" You sobbed desperately, finally finding the strength within you to stand, rushing forward to try and tackle the woman, to get her off of her son. His eyes caught yours briefly, and you felt a protective urge well up in your chest in your bid to help the poor boy.

Your eyes burned badly, almost feeling that child's pain as if it were your own. He was bleeding... You could have sworn you had reached for her, but...

You slipped right through her like she wasn't even there.

You pushed yourself to your knees, staring at your hands in shock, looking back up at her as she slapped the thick belt across his back again, earning a weakened shudder from the young boy.

His eyes stared at you openly, dumbly, silently pleading for help, his bloody lip wobbling as more tears tracked down his cheeks, one of his eyes already beginning to swell from the cut and welt the belt left in his face.

You looked up at her and gritted your teeth, reaching up to try and grab the belt, but once again to no avail; you slipped through her like you were a ghost. Some... specter cursed to watch this torture unfold but never stop.

"Fuck!" You cursed, a sob creeping up from your chest as you crawled over the poor boy.

Unlike his mother, you could actually touch him. You could feel his wracked sobs, the trembling he tried to hide.

You laid your body over his, crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

The belt slipped right through you, unleashing more pain.

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Marc didn't know he was screaming until Layla had rushed up to him, her big beautiful eyes wide and frantic, her hair only half-tucked into her silk bonnet as she reached out for him.

"Marc--"

Her voice became strangled as his fist lunged, wrapping around her slender throat as he tackled her to the ground, his mind and heart pounding with adrenaline and fear; tears dripping down and falling onto her cheeks as his eyes glowed an unearthly white.

Only when he looked up at his reflection, the linen and magical garb beginning to enshroud his body, did he see it all.

His own wide, fearful eyes staring back at him through the full body mirror across from the bed. Layla pinned beneath him.

"Marc!"

Layla kicked her feet out, her hands trying to pry his from around her neck.

Marc scrambled back and away, hyperventilating, until his head collided with the bookshelf behind him, rocking it back so a few of the books Steven so loved clattered to the floor.

Marc curled into a ball, his fists tight as he ducked his head beneath his arms, rocking on his heels.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" He repeated over, and over, and over...

Layla coughed slightly as she gasped for air, hauling herself to her feet to rush and collapse next to Marc, touching his back gently.

"Marc, it's okay!" She tried desperately. "You were dreaming! Just breathe, you need to--"

Marc just shook his head, his mind frantically tripping over itself in an effort to see past his panicked haze.

Where was Jake? Why wasn't Jake here? Why didn't Jake save him from this like he normally did?

Why did Jake let him almost--

Layla wrapped her arms around his shoulders softly, rocking with him, "It's okay... It's okay... She can't hurt you anymore." She murmured, touching her head to his.

"Just breathe."

Marc sniffled, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as a broken sob came from him.

"I didn't mean it." He whispered, his voice stuttering with emotion.

"Marc..." Layla said, her brows pinching tightly together as she felt her heart break for him.

This had happened before, many times. He would have flashbacks in his sleep, thinking he was back to being a child under the domineering and abusive hand of his mother, suffering horrible pain because of the inaction of his father because of their grief over his dead baby brother.

But... something about this time was different. Strange.

Jake was the one who went to sleep, last night. Jake was the one she traded pot-shot jokes with about his "friendly dates" with you...

When did Marc come to the forefront?

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, his hand reached out to brush her neck, fresh bruises already blossoming on her olive skin. "I did this."

His voice was so... broken. Lost. In pain.

Gods, it killed her.

"It's okay. You were having a nightmare. It's normal to come out of them in a fight-or-flight response." Layla shushed gently, rubbing his back and tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear.

Marc shook his head, shoving himself away from her, to... to put some distance between them, to protect her from him, what else he might be capable of doing to her.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, staring morosely at the floor, before furiously rubbing at his tears.

"This--this wasn't like last time, damn it!" He sniffed as Layla slowly sat next to him, her body movements calculated as though she were approaching an injured animal.

"It was different?"

"There--there was somebody else there this time." Marc replied, hanging his head into his hands.

"Somebody else?" She asked, her eyebrows rising sharply. "Who?"

"I... I don't know. It sounded like a woman but... But it was like her voice was underwater." He whispered.

Layla's heart skipped a beat, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"What did she look like?"

"I don't know." Marc said again, running a hand through his hair stressfully.

"I could see her, but I--couldn't. She was--she was like a blob of glowing light, but... but I know it was a woman!"

"Did she... say anything?"

He lifted his dark, haunted eyes to stare deeply into hers.

"I'm sorry."

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Chapter 13: Ehhh

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knoght x you #layla el faouly #A Rose Under The Moon #soulmate au

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