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[lesuccube]

what can i say , i love putting my favorite blorbos in pain by giving them a more in depth character description that's totally probably not even canon .

but really , thank you . i'm glad there's still people out there that still like the works i put out .

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴍᴀᴍᴀ'ꜱ ʙᴏʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — who did he take after ?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — this is a little bit different from my regular works and more of a short self-indulgent insert of what i think about marc's character . i do find him interesting and wish to dissect him piece by piece . dedicating this to @ominoose , the loml when it comes to angst . not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.6k

hey

normalcy (noun)

the condition of being normal; the state of being usual, typical, or expected.

how do my plans fit in with yours? (oh)

you're such a doll and i'm a boy

where did my parents go? (oh, oh)

i'm not in italy

they like vacation homes much more than they love me

what was normalcy? was it the familiar sting of the belt in his mother's hands on his body? or her palms on his cheek? was it the loud volume of her voice whenever she spewed whatever drunken and grief-stricken profanities she was able to come up with? was it the way she would constantly bring up his dead younger brother on every opportunity she had?

to marc, that was what he had considered normal during his childhood, at least until after randall passed. he had a relatively happy childhood before the accident, the flooding and the rain. oh yeah, marc stopped liking rainy days and storms after that day.

you're made of plastic, i'm just blood

when i was born, you were produced

then he left home and served in the military. his next perception of normalcy became the heat of his gun to his cheek (like when his mother would slap him). or the scorching heat of the desert on his skin (like how it feels after he would be abused). or the way everyone would be barking orders at each other or cussing on the battlefield (like she would whenever she saw him outside of his room).

actually, his life after leaving his childhood wasn't that much different than he likes to think. violence was still violence, just in a different form and with a different target.

will he ever be able to leave that past behind?

i wish i was a toy

you say, "hahahahahaha"

and you laugh

and i cry

after the seals, he became a mercenary and then became moon knight.

taking orders from a god that constantly spoke over his shoulder (like his mother would before she'd beat him up). the way he'd get his knuckles bloody and his body bruised (the way his younger body would after every visit she makes). the violence, the anger, the channel… nothing much ever really changed, not really, not ever.

violence was violence. it's embedded in marc's dna.

the way he had randall killed by dragging him to that cave with him.

the way he'd enjoy the way his fists would do the talking; like mother, like son.

the way he'd drink to forget but never will, in a way he was a mama's boy but in the worst ways possible.

half of my heart is in your chest

i'm not a mama's boy

i'd go see italy

i'd go see tuscany

if you could come with me

marc’s worst nightmare would be told that he's like his mother. the violence, the anger, the self-loathing… not that it wasn't true. for the most part.

in a way, he was and will always be his mother's son and not just by blood. not when he acted much like her, as much as he loves to deny it.

maxa-maxa-million, what you waiting up for?

please come out and play with us more

izzy-izzy-izzybell likes to stay in the house

please come out and play with us now

marc spector was a mama's boy, not because she loved him (maybe she did, once upon a time?), but because half of him is built and crafted from years of torment and abuse. molded by her fists and her hurtful words. bent and broken and shaped into the man he is today, a replica, a fragment of the woman he had grown to loathe throughout the years.

under her inescapable shadow, marc spector, the man he is now. marc spector, a reflection of his mother. marc spector, mama's boy.

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

[lesuccube]

happy to break another heart , yet again . i plan to do it again ♡

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ; ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ghosts aren't the only ones capable of haunting , sometimes it's the people you love most in the world .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.8k

sometimes we fly

sometimes we fall

sometimes i feel like we're nothing at all

dream in the light

dance in the dark

you fill the spaces inside of my heart

married for 3 years, dated for 2, you'd think by then you would know a person so well, better than you'd know yourself. but for you? for you it feels like you never knew marc at all. he still looks like your husband, talks and acts like him but at the same time he's not. distant, quiet(er) and cold, so very much unlike the man you had fallen in love with in the beginning. sure he was like that when you first met but you got to know him better, saw the deepest, darkest parts of him and kissed them all.

marc has a certain warmth once you get past his shell, a type of fire that burns bright that not even the rain of his tears nor the floods of his past can put out. he was always tough or rather, time made him tougher. the abuse he faced after randall's death, running away from home because he can no longer handle his mother's beatings eating away at the very core of him. he had hoped joining the marines might help him forget, it didn't. not all the way at least.

the rain of bullets sometimes reminded him of his time at the cave, the torrential downpour that afternoon flooding the cramped hole they were in, roro's desperate pleas for help. every pull on the trigger brings him back to the sounds of a leather belt clutched in his mom's fist as she slams it down on his childish body again and again, spews of profanities and accusations, wanting her youngest child back and it would go on for what felt like an eternity until his father would hold his mother back, physically dragging her away from his curled up form on the floor with welts blooming on his skin, hands pressed to his ears as he sobs repeating the words 'it's not my fault' until he passes out.

life hasn't been kind for marc spector since then… until you.

marc never knew how sunshine felt on his skin until your touch, only the way it burned during his tours or from his mother's hands. didn't recognize warmth until your hugs only the heat of his gun after a mission. he's long since forgotten how spring felt before your laughter reached his ears, he was a desert before he met you.

you were vibrant and brimming with life, a stark contrast to his bleak world of gray's and red's. marc often called you his star, as he is moon knight, he had told you that the moon can never be alone in the night sky if there is even a star that shone next to it. you kissed him breathless after that.

marc loves you, really he does. he still has difficulties expressing himself and often chooses to retreat within his shell whenever he's overwhelmed with emotion, especially the bad ones. but you had learned how to coax him out again, somehow you always knew when to save him from drowning, he thinks you're telepathic. and he had married you because he felt like you were his saving grace, his paradise after all the sins and pain he's caused to those around him.

he doesn't regret it at all, seeing you in white as you walked towards him. you shone like a star, fallen from heaven just to grace his lonesome self with your presence. that night during your wedding, he swore his heart was full and his love for you was endless. it'll never change, nothing will.

but recently, marc keeps on repressing himself. after every mission he comes back to, he becomes like a statue, devoid of any emotion. you've tried to help him as much as you can but he would only shrug you off, grabbing a can of beer before disappearing into the bedroom, not even glancing at the dinner you had prepare for him hours before while waiting for his arrival.

you tell yourself it's fine, he'll come around soon, that he was simply exhausted with the burden he carried as the vigilante moon knight, tired with an invisible god constantly speaking over his shoulder and head.

you tell yourself it's okay. but until how long will this cycle continue? how long has it been since the first time you've convinced yourself that it won't happen again? you don't know, you've lost count after a month of cold shoulders from him.

am i really mine?

are you really yours?

if all your emotions cut straight to my core

times when you cry, i feel it all

whenever you leave me i wait for your call

you are everything i'm living for

the first time marc missed a big occasion, you tried not to think too much about it.

it was your birthday, celebrated in the middle of spring ("fitting", marc has said before when he celebrated it with you for the first time, "because you are an ever blooming garden with so much love to give and yet ask nothing in return even if your flowers are plucked, only pray they'd treat it with kindness.") and he was nowhere to be seen. you weren't even supposed to go out that day, having decided that you would both spend the day in bed, eating cake and watching a game of baseball even if you didn't understand a single thing about the sport.

marc loved it and in turn you did too. but your husband was mia, not in bed or in the kitchen, he wasn't home. only when you checked your phone did you know that he wasn't even in the country.

'in kenya, be back soon. x'

not even a single greeting in his message. the apartment you shared felt cold that day despite the warm sun shining outside the large windows of your bedroom, bathing the space in natural lighting. a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

when he finally came home, two weeks later, he saw you sleeping on the couch. curled up in one of his hoodies and a blanket draped over your form as the tv played quietly in the otherwise silent apartment. kneeling beside you, his fingers brush away the strands getting in the way of your features, the brief gesture rousing you from your slumber as you blink your eyes awake, vision clearing to find your husband in front of you, a little worse for wear but still in one piece.

"hi baby." he greets you softly as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, "why are you sleeping on the couch? it can't be comfortable." you only sigh as you turn your head to look at him, the skin under your eyes visibly darker, clearly you haven't been sleeping well since he left you while you were asleep two weeks ago.

"you forgot." you told him blankly, running a hand through your hair, combing down the bedhead.

"forgot what baby? i don't— i don't understand." you smiled weakly as you raise your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head there. "my birthday." you whispered, "two weeks ago.

shit, marc thinks to himself. he had gotten so wrapped up with his duty as moon knight, khonshu giving him more and more missions recently that he'd forgotten. never in the five years you've known marc had he missed it since the first time he celebrated your birthday with you, never. until now. "i'm sorry baby, i— i forgot and i got so busy—" you had shushed him, cupping his cheek with your palm. it's okay, was what you had said, there's always next year.

marc knew you'd forgiven him but he doesn't quite think the same way. he carried you back to bed that night, the bags he brought with him forgotten by the door. making it a priority to cuddle you, talk to you until you fall back asleep.

when you woke up the next day, he prepared you breakfast in bed, having woken up early despite his jetlag to run by your favorite café to get you your favorites. he spent the day with you the way he was supposed to, promising to make it up to you.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

the house is silent most of the time, marc's presence haunting every corner of it despite his growing absence. you look around the place again, his favorite mug sitting on the kitchen counter with half of his black coffee still inside. a bunch of postcards thumbtacked and decorating a part of your living room walls, showcasing all the places he's been to ever since he became khonshu's moon knight. his favorite cap was still hooked on your bedroom door's knob, you keep forgetting to hang it in your shared wardrobe whenever you cleaned the place up.

there were so many traces of him living with you and yet he was like a ghost. you rarely see him these days, even more so at night when the god would demand of his time.

never had you been so jealous of a bird before.

sometimes we're right

sometimes we're wrong

sometimes the lines just never been drawn

nights when we fight

we strike a chord

and then we forget what we've been fighting for

the pattern continued for months and the days began to turn colder with autumn right around the corner. marc was beginning to miss bigger events and moments in your shared life. some of those would lead to larger arguments whenever you'd confront him about it, never screaming at each other but you had both definitely said a lot of things you regret but don't take back. well, marc doesn't. not like he hasn't even been communicating much with you anyways.

marc never apologizes after each fight, you do though. you'd press yourself to his back when you're both settled in bed, holding on to the back of his shirt as you whisper apologies, murmuring how you don't want to fight with him, you never do.

"i just miss you. you've been gone more and for much longer periods of time it feels like you're never here at all." you admitted weakly, sniffling as your emotions come bubbling at the surface again but you're exhausted, previous arguments draining your energy. "it's hard when you're not around."

he's missed so much in your lives it hurt, especially when you had lost your father during the fall, your only family, and he wasn't there to comfort you. during the whole wake, you sobbed in the arms of your godmother, your heart cracked and torn at the edges at the loss of the man who had raised you, the man who had walked you down the aisle to meet your currently missing husband and it broke you.

you lost one man and yet in that week and more, it felt like you mourned for two.

marc didn't show up at the three day service, not even for the funeral. all your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts left on read. whether he just doesn't bother to reply or was blatantly ignoring you, you'll never know but he was met with an empty apartment when he came back after another mission by the ancient god, you had chosen to sleep at your childhood home, yearning for your deceased father as you wept in his old bedroom.

the following weeks after that, you'd given marc the cold shoulder, much like he does to you until you broke, unable to stand the distance it sets between you. moments of love few and far in between fights and continual disappearances but it always ends the same way, with you in tears as marc holds you in his arms, whispers of empty promises gluing back pieces of you he doesn't even know he broke. a temporary fix.

lay on the floor

sleep in your arms

pausing the world to stay right where we are

close all the blinds

lock all the doors

things fall apart and i'm wanting you more

you are everything i'm living for

the final straw was when he missed your third wedding anniversary one winter evening.

you had both sat down and talked about this weeks ago, marc finally agreeing to make up for the times he's been gone and fighting when he's around. you were able to snag a reservation at a really popular restaurant downtown, buying yourselves a fitting outfit for the day as you had wanted to make it special. you secretly bought a small gift for marc too, nervous as you hid it away until said date rolled around.

when your anniversary came, marc, as per routine by now, wasn't in bed. he's already left for the day doing what he needed to do and promised you the night before that he'll be there in time to pick you up for dinner.

well... the hours ticked by fast, nighttime falling just around the corner amd snow beginning to settle on the concrete streets and you were dressed to the nines and warm, although it was already approaching quarter to eight and your reservation was at 8:20, the journey from your apartment to the restaurant taking at least 20 minutes if traffic wasn't too bad.

you arrived at the packed restaurant with three more minutes until your reservation was to be passed to someone else, the host guiding you to your seat, a table for two, though it was only you present. your server followed not too far, handing you a menu to which you had ordered a bottle of some red wine, hoping to ease your nerves with it.

it wasn't until it was almost 10 in the evening when marc arrived, his curls no longer staying slicked back and his tux looking like it was put on in a rush with his tie knotted loosely and crooked around his neck, his shoulders wet with melted snow and a wrinkled bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. but when he approached the host, stating his reservation, she looked at him with pity before shaking her head.

"i'm sorry mr. spector but your reservation ended thirty minutes ago, your wife arrived and paid for the bill on the bottle of wine she had ordered but that was about it."

he had thanked her before nearly dashing out of the restaurant, flowers still clutched in hand as he hailed a cab home. he ran a hand through his curls, muttering curses to himself throughout the ride back and ignoring the egyptian god in his head.

when he turned his keys in the lock, the whole place was dark, the heels you've worn for the night thrown haphazardly along with your coat and bag, all these items trailing to your shared bedroom.

he creeps in quietly, toeing off his shoes as he sits down next to your curled up form under the blankets. you didn't even take your dress off, only washing your face off the makeup you'd carefully applied but there was still some mascara trailing down your cheeks, it was obvious that you'd been crying.

his heart squeezes tight in his chest, guilt eating at his core. he knows he hasn't been the best husband as of late, dealing with a lot of things all at once with khonshu and all the goddamn missions he's been sending him off to in god knows where most of the time. but it didn't excuse the fact that this was something you mutually planned, talked about in the previous weeks.

god he knew how excited you were about it, your face lighting up for the first time in a very long while that he's seen and now it feels like he's been punched in the stomach— no it felt much worse than that seeing that not only did he stand you up for a date, your third wedding anniversary at that, he had gone and let you starve and made you cry yourself to sleep.

he's not sure that making up for this the next day could fix the damage he's already caused but he was going to try. he swore to himself he would...

had it not been for khonshu meaning him take on another mission, hunting down ammit's worshippers that very same night.

and you were left all alone yet again.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

you couldn't stand it anymore.

you love marc, god knew just how much you loved that man but good the past half year, it felt like you were married to a ghost and you don't want to spend another waking moment with him gone.

you don't know where marc was this time, long since updated you where he's been going, only saying when he'll be home. and he was supposed to be home tonight so you waited.

you sat on your living room couch, glancing around the room for the faint traces your husband was still with you, a ghost that haunts your memories, taking up space in your home even though he wasn't even around much anymore. you don't know what hurt more, the fact that you're married yet you two act like two strangers living under the same roof or that he's treating you like you were the ghost, lingering around your shared home and watching his every movement during the little time he spends there.

you're hurt, so fucking hurt it makes you numb. and that hurts even more because in all honesty, you want to cry and scream and punch, claw at his chest and make him see things your way but fuck if you weren't exhausted, tired from keeping a failing marriage alive. you don't regret being with marc, but you hate how much he's changed since then.

you sat there and waited as the hours passed by you, the moon rising and you begin to hear the familiar jingle of his keys turning the locks of the front door.

you didn't mean to turn it into a fight but you're drained and your patience was running thin and marc, god. he was infuriating with that cold shoulder. ignoring your pleas to talk and heading to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. it took all of you not to smash that metal can away from his hands.

"if you would just listen to me marc! i'm begging you! you're out more than you're home and you don't come back until it's deep into the night and i'm already asleep, jesus i don't even see you when i wake up!"

"i have duties—"

"yes i know, you do but baby, i'm not asking you for much okay?" your voice cracks as the dam cracks and fractures, all the things you've bottled up and ignored pushing against the walls in giant waves, testing the limits of your emotions.

"i'm not asking you to stop what you do... just look my way every now and then. is that— am i asking for too much to want my husband to come home to me?"

he sets the can down on the kitchen counter, the dim lights above the counter shines over him, casting a dark shadow over his face and he nearly looks unrecognizable with that unreadable expression on his face.

and for a moment it scared you that you were no longer speaking to your marc at all.

"all i ask, marc, is to set a time for me too. god knows i've been patient and i try to understand you as best as i can because i know you carry a heavy burden, okay? i know, but marc, does it hurt for once to be here? to be with me? because why the fuck are we even married if you're just going to act like i don't goddamn exist at all?!"

he stays quiet, eyes still trained on you as the tears start to fall, the dam beginning to fissure and break, the waves of hurt pushing and pushing and pushing until it shatters the intricately built wall you created.

"i miss you." you whisper, "i've missed you." you stress as you run a hand through your locks, turning on your heel to sit at the living room couch, burying your face in your hands as you take deep breaths, too fucking tired of being the understanding wife to a husband who was never around anymore, not in your time of need and not even when you hit rock bottom.

was this even the marc who had laughed so warmly at you as you both danced under the night sky, the one who would show up at every date with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers, was this even the same marc that said i do as he lifted the veil from your face just to kiss you like he's never before? because he sure as hell doesn't act like it anymore.

for once it's you who disappears, when the clock strikes 2 in the morning and marc had fallen deep asleep, your own bags packed the weeks before that lead up to this.

for once it was him who woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier apartment. most of your clothes gone from their hangers in the closet, your toothbrush gone from the bathroom sink along with your tray of skincare products, and with your disappearance did marc feel empty, a part of him missing as you left.

for once, marc begins to live here in your shared apartment again, looking around at the final traces of you lingering within these walls. now he lives with the ghost of you, haunting him through dreams and memories, his every waking and sleeping moment a nightmare the longer you stay gone.

for once, it's marc who deals with the loss of a loved one. and you're not there to comfort him and keep him from sinking, he drowns in the waters you've left from your broken dam of hurt, flooding his life and his heart with a burden much heavier than anything he's felt before.

you haunt him, like he used to haunt you. you went down and left, taking all the love you had with you. leaving behind the shell of the man that marc spector used to be. and now he was sinking too, drowning in your absence, drinking your ghost away.

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

[lesuccube]

Happy Merry! ❤️❤️❤️

how mischievous ! truly , happy merry indeed ! 🤍

[lesuccube]

tagged by mother @winniethewife ♡

〘 posting it here on my writing account to see if it sees more audience ! 〙

rules : make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner got.

npt : @reallyrallyauthor @romanarose @soft-girl-musings @redeyerhaenyra 〘 i'm sorry for tagging you guys if you've done this or have already been tagged 〙

[lesuccube]

aww , thanks for the tag rally ! i've been feeling a little down lately so this is s nice way to cheer and appreciate myself a little .

i'm often told i look younger than my age

i'm a really quick learner

i'm a good performer, especially dancing

npt : @summonthesoups @noodlelooodle @soft-girl-musings

NORMALISE SPEAKING HIGHLY OF YOURSELF

Let's exercise some self-love because we all need it!

I dare you to say three things you like about yourself and tag your friends so they can appreciate themselves too. ♡

---

Okay, I'll go first! 🙈

1. I'm musically talented. ♡

2. I don't look my age. ;)

3. I'm a great cook and baker.

Tagging @valyrra @esolean @finalgirllx and @subastian-swallows to force them to admit how awesome they are! Get loved btches! ♡♡♡

[lesuccube]

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to 10 of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better. 🩵💜🩷🖤🩶🤍

aww , this makes me so happy . i appreciate whoever sent this , especially after the long day i've just had . whoever sent this , i hope you know you made me very happy ♡

[lesuccube]

aww , thanks for mentioning me rally ! i absolutely love jake in this headcanon of yours , he's hilarious for wanting to grow a moustache just to piss marc off (ᵔ́∀ᵔ)

Can I get headcannon about any Oscar Isaac character but preferably the moony ones about having a s/o that has a very extensive skincare routine?

My brain will headcanon anything. 😊🩷

This is only based on things I’ve tried in the past or still do. I have a medium-extensive skincare routine. I’ve cut down… it was getting out of hand.

Headcanon: Moon Boys & Skincare

Time

Marc: Routine is very comforting to Marc, so he leans on the doorway and watches you, no matter how long you take. It would be asmr for him. Doesn’t comment much, but obviously loves to see how your hands and fingers pick up the little tools and bottles, delicately applying everything. -He frowns. “You missed a step.” -“What?” -“It’s the clear bottle, then the blue one, then the little white tube-thing.” -“Oh, huh, you’re right. Thanks.”

Jake: “Take as long as you like. You’re just gonna sweat it all off as soon as you get in bed. I’ll make sure of it.”

Steven: “I’ll put the kettle on. That way I can have a cuppa while you steam your face.” He would love watching any self-care thing you did, smiling the whole time. Would love a panda or tiger face mask as a treat.

Face shaving

Marc: Suspicious of the whole thing, but likes to touch your soft face so doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t love to watch the tiny razor go over and over your skin, very scared you’ll cut yourself.

Jake: Would offer to take you for a straight razor shave because he thinks the old guys at the barber shop would get a kick out of talking to you.

Steven: Confused. “Like, I’d love you even if you had hair all over your face.” When you explain it’s mainly for exfoliation, he’s very relieved b/c he’d been googling diseases that would give you excessive hair and nothing really fit. Would also like to talk to the old guys at the barber shop, please.

Light Therapy Mask

Marc: “Baby, please, can you wait until I head out to do that? It-*sigh* -it creeps me out. It’s like your head is Tron and Hannibal Lecter, but your body is still so hot. I get a confused boner.”

Jake: You would catch him using this, laying asleep in an armchair with a timer set so he doesn’t have it on too long, phone laying on his chest quietly playing a soccer game.

Steven: *pokes it* “Is this, like, a science thing? I did once have a doctor tell me I had Seasonal Affective Disorder and I should use a light to make myself feel better. But turns out I was just 3 people…. so…”

Serums

Marc: “Sun spots and wrinkles? Are you saying I look old? Baby, that hurts my feelings.” Starts seeing if the suit will reverse his crows feet until you tell him that you love the way his eyes crinkle at you.

Jake: "Any of these make hair grow faster? I gotta thing to do that’ll take about six hours. I’d like a mustache by the time Marc fronts."

Steven: “But like, why are they so expensive? Oh, that feels nice. Oh Gods, no. No. Not nice. It burns. Oh oh oh. Get it off. Wash it off.”

Creams & Moisturizers:

Marc: “Can I use this on my hands? Well, that’s unfortunate because I’ve already been using it. None of your business why. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Jake: “Mi vida, por favor, will any of these help me grow a beard in six hours?”

Steven- Loves moisturizer, loves feeling hydrated, but you have to get him a completely separate scent b/c if he walks around smelling you all the time he gets distracted, head turning all the time, thinking you’re around.

Fic Rec:

Kira (@lesuccube), has a couple of awesome fics about Steven and skincare. —Self-Love   —Something On Your Lips

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**Moon Knight masterlist**

**masterlist**

[lesuccube]

i don't have that big of a following but if there are some that are interested or curious , i'm more than down to answer some questions ♡

Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write? 💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with? 🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

🌿how does creating make you feel? 🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change? 🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? 🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"? 🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you? 💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it. 🍭why did you start writing? 💎why is writing important to you? 📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of? 🤲what do YOU get out of writing? 💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer? ☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to? 💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — he was once a child too . he was just a child too .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — heavy angst bug , heavy dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — some heavy thoughts . like , very heavy thoughts i needed to put into words . not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k

now it's been long enough to talk about it

i've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it

i remember when you told me it's an everyday decision

but with my double vision, how was i supposed to see the way?

how long has it been since he left home? how long has it been since he's seen his father? his mother's grave? or even visited randall's grave? how long has it been since then?

how long has it been since he's escaped his mother's abusive clutches? how long has it been since he's tasted the feeling of a belt on his skin? her palm on his cheeks? how long has it been since then?

how long has it been since he actually sat down and thought about his younger brother properly? to reminisce? to grieve? how long has it been since then?

how long is long enough? how long is good enough?

how long does it take for his wounds to heal?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

a ruined childhood, a broken family, a dead sibling, a distant father, an abusive mother. what else did his younger self sacrifice to become the man he was today? what other sacrifices would he have to make until it's good enough?

will he have to give up layla's happiness too? his marriage? his heart? what else is there for him to give up until god or gods or whatever omniscient being is looking down at him is happy? when will he be good enough?

always the fool with the slowest heart

but i know you'll take me with you

we'll live in spaces between walls

taking bits of pieces in his alter's life for a journey he'd spend with bloodied knuckles and a bruised body? taking away his one sense of normalcy that's not even his own to do a bidding that's not his own will?

what else will he have to sacrifice? how much more selfish will he be? how greedy will he have to be until everything he's did and done is deemed enough? will it ever even be enough?

marc thinks it never will be. deep down he knows, but like everything else in his life, he denies what's already been set in stone. it's what he does best second after all.

every city's got a graveyard

the service bought and paid for

now i'm sleeping in the backyard

passing out as night turns into day

day and night passes him in silence either in his dreadful storage room he calls his refuge, his home, or in the headspace hidden from steven’s consciousness. he watches from afar the one part of his life that's not corrupted by him (not for long).

even if it meant steven blissfully calls his mother (she's dead). a person in his past he'd rather leave behind, a ghost he rather wishes would stop haunting him to this day. even if it meant being an onlooker to his own life, a life he's relinquished to his alter, his alter that doesn't even know he's an alter.

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

he's given so much and gotten too little in return. he's sacrificed so much for so little change. he's taken away so much to have his own taken from him as well. he's given up so much and for what?

for what is this all for? for what is his purpose for? for what is he even living for?

when will enough be enough? when will it all end?

always the fool with the slowest heart

but i know you'll take me with you

we'll live in spaces between walls

he hates her but he loves her. he hates her but her blood runs in his veins. he hates her but she's half of him. he hates her but she is his mother.

no amount of abuse and years of hating will change the fact that she is still his parent, as much as he has grown to despise it. what can he do when she's irrevocably, undeniably, irrefutably a part of him? what then?

go and stretch out my arms

long as they need to be

long as they need to be

turn off all alarms and lie to me

what can marc spector do to change the fact that she is and always will be a part of and with him, be it his dna or in his memories as much as he tries to bury them in the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind? what can marc spector do but accept and accept and accept that fact?

what can he do but weep and hate a part of himself for the man he's become, the outcome of years of torment and hatred both towards his mother and himself? what can he do if not swallow this truth, something he cannot deny no matter how much he tries? it's in his blood, in his veins. despite it all, she is and always will be his mother's son.

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

haven't i given enough, given enough?

wasn't that enough? shouldn't it have been enough? when will enough be enough? when will it end? it definitely didn't when she died. not in the way his father tolerated her abuse towards him, his own son.

it didn't end when steven came to be all those years ago. not even when he'd surrender his own nody to his alter to live on a normal life completely oblivious of what he, the original, had gone through. and it most definitely didn't end when he became khonshu's avatar, when he took on the mantle as moon knight. oh, no. it did not.

always the fool with the slowest heart

but i know you'll take me with you

i know i'll take you with me

when he married layla, the nightmares and the fears would constantly bubble up to the surface, afraid of becoming one day a parent to his own child and treat them the way his mother did to him. even in death she would still linger in his life through the scars that litter his heart and soul, in the way she broke his mind and split him into parts. so he did what he does best… he leaves.

marc leaves and files for a divorce to avoid the impending doom of failing as both a husband and a father.

he loves her, truly he does but the fear of not being enough or of being too much clouds his judgement and hides away from the rest of the world, as if he doesn't do that enough already.

enough should have been enough but it wasn't. and it never will be.

always the fool with the slowest heart

but i know you'll take me with you

we'll live in spaces between walls

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴍᴀᴍᴀ'ꜱ ʙᴏʏ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — who did he take after ?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug , mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — this is a little bit different from my regular works and more of a short self-indulgent insert of what i think about marc's character . i do find him interesting and wish to dissect him piece by piece . dedicating this to @ominoose , the loml when it comes to angst . not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.6k

hey

normalcy (noun)

the condition of being normal; the state of being usual, typical, or expected.

how do my plans fit in with yours? (oh)

you're such a doll and i'm a boy

where did my parents go? (oh, oh)

i'm not in italy

they like vacation homes much more than they love me

what was normalcy? was it the familiar sting of the belt in his mother's hands on his body? or her palms on his cheek? was it the loud volume of her voice whenever she spewed whatever drunken and grief-stricken profanities she was able to come up with? was it the way she would constantly bring up his dead younger brother on every opportunity she had?

to marc, that was what he had considered normal during his childhood, at least until after randall passed. he had a relatively happy childhood before the accident, the flooding and the rain. oh yeah, marc stopped liking rainy days and storms after that day.

you're made of plastic, i'm just blood

when i was born, you were produced

then he left home and served in the military. his next perception of normalcy became the heat of his gun to his cheek (like when his mother would slap him). or the scorching heat of the desert on his skin (like how it feels after he would be abused). or the way everyone would be barking orders at each other or cussing on the battlefield (like she would whenever she saw him outside of his room).

actually, his life after leaving his childhood wasn't that much different than he likes to think. violence was still violence, just in a different form and with a different target.

will he ever be able to leave that past behind?

i wish i was a toy

you say, "hahahahahaha"

and you laugh

and i cry

after the seals, he became a mercenary and then became moon knight.

taking orders from a god that constantly spoke over his shoulder (like his mother would before she'd beat him up). the way he'd get his knuckles bloody and his body bruised (the way his younger body would after every visit she makes). the violence, the anger, the channel… nothing much ever really changed, not really, not ever.

violence was violence. it's embedded in marc's dna.

the way he had randall killed by dragging him to that cave with him.

the way he'd enjoy the way his fists would do the talking; like mother, like son.

the way he'd drink to forget but never will, in a way he was a mama's boy but in the worst ways possible.

half of my heart is in your chest

i'm not a mama's boy

i'd go see italy

i'd go see tuscany

if you could come with me

marc’s worst nightmare would be told that he's like his mother. the violence, the anger, the self-loathing… not that it wasn't true. for the most part.

in a way, he was and will always be his mother's son and not just by blood. not when he acted much like her, as much as he loves to deny it.

maxa-maxa-million, what you waiting up for?

please come out and play with us more

izzy-izzy-izzybell likes to stay in the house

please come out and play with us now

marc spector was a mama's boy, not because she loved him (maybe she did, once upon a time?), but because half of him is built and crafted from years of torment and abuse. molded by her fists and her hurtful words. bent and broken and shaped into the man he is today, a replica, a fragment of the woman he had grown to loathe throughout the years.

under her inescapable shadow, marc spector, the man he is now. marc spector, a reflection of his mother. marc spector, mama's boy.

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

m-a-m-a-b-o-y, mama's boy, mama's boy

[lesuccube]

ahh yes , the torment my fics bring mushi is one of my top tier ingredients to make even worse angst fics .

which also reminds me i have a few standalone works to do to create an even bigger emotional turmoil to bring the moon knight fandom .

Anyone got some sad, emotional Marc fics? Like character introspective or smth?

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴍɪɴ���

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — he's gotten awfully close , thank god you didn't know much better . at least , that was good news to him .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd, constructive criticism is welcomed . comments and reblogs are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.7k

you've been working with steven at the museum for quite a while now. him, still a gift shop-ist and you a new guide for the greek exhibit. at first steven was jealous how they easily gave away the position of tour guide but when he passed by your group during your first month when donna made him do inventory, he was hooked.

you were smart and passionate, fun and easygoing. plenty of the people you guided had questions to ask that you readily answered, both from adults and children. usually the former are quiet, uninterested in the old history but you had a way to charm people, steven was no exception.

so he made the effort to befriend you. approaching you more until it was you who would seek him out during lunch. on days you were able to leave early, you'd join steven doing inventory because donna got mad at him again for being late. as per usual.

"you don't have to stick around f'me love, i'm used to it." earthy browns would look at yours through curly bangs, sheepish at having held you back from going home early. "i know i don't... but i want to."

and that was when he had truly fallen in love with you. if you can even call that love. steven was obsessed, he was obsessed with your kindness, with your knowledge. he wanted that all to himself. how can he not when you readily give it when he comes by to ask for your time. you were so nice, so good, so beautiful... he hopes you like what he has planned for you.

he began following you in and out of work, uncaring he loses sleep. not that he gets that many hours in anyways. he followed you for months until he has learned your routine outside your house, after that he learned how to break into your place and get to know you even better in the comforts of your home. he steals a few things, a spoon you used that day, a shirt buried underneath your laundry, a pair of panties from your freshly folded ones... some he returns and others, well let's just say they became a permanent part of his collection of you.

he worships the things you own, treats them like fine china. most of the time that is. he uses them to his pleasure other times, unable to hold back. your smell would linger on the items he'd steal and he'd sniff it until it disappears, replaced by his own. then he'll clean them up (he bought the same laundry detergent just for this case) and return them. most of them.

nearly a year into your friendship, steven asked you out for a simple hang out at the park, saying he found a nice spot for a picnic just you and him. unaware of his true intentions, you had agreed.

at first it had gone well, you and steven chatted and chatted, eating the sandwiches you had prepared until he handed you a glass of lemonade did it start going downhill. half an hour after your brunch you started feeling sluggish, your mind hazy and muddled. you don't notice steven grinning in joy, knowing that his plans were finally coming into fruition. he had drugged your drink, enough to weaken your muscles for you to go down without a fight and then... light's out.

oh how long did he wait for this moment.

"oh love, i've wanted you for so long... ever since i passed by your first tour i've been madly in love with you d'you know that? of course you didn't silly me." he circles your weakening body, struggling to stay awake, struggling to hear him. "w-why?" was the only thing your lips were able to get out in your fight to stay conscious, alarm bells ringing in your head at steven's approaching figure.

he grins a cruel, wicked grin when you're finally unable to hold yourself up, lying limply on the blanket he had all but spread out and you looked like a masterpiece to him at that moment. like a fallen angel in your pretty white dress, hair spread out before you like a beautiful halo. like a painting, like art had come to life, you were so, so beautiful. you were gorgeous in his eyes and you always will be.

"why? well... i can't stop thinking how perfect we would be together."

[lesuccube]

i'm glad we agree that steven + baking is a stevencore thing to do ! i can see him all floured up and wearing an apron with a funny design you got him as a gag gift but he ended up loving it and grinning while he pipes some cream in his eclairs and listening to you ramble about your day in the kitchen .

and yes , this is indeed a big NO DONNA space . we don't give her anything in this household .

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ , ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a treat for you and your lover .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.5k

baker!steven who loves making you treats and sneaks them into your lunch bag without you knowing.

baker!steven who makes the most of his goodies gluten free but will occasionally (read: every time you ask for baked treats) indulge your request to make them sugary and sweet.

baker!steven who would spend sleepless nights in the kitchen concocting new recipes.

baker!steven who, with enough encouragement from you, opens up a shop after his sudden unemployment from the museum.

baker!steven who cried upon hearing that you had used up most of your lifesavings to get him a quaint spot downtown with a busy enough street that guarantees him a steady flow of customers.

baker!steven who promised to pay you back for your investment and won't take no for an answer which in the end resulted into agreeing to open a joint account so his 'debt' would be put to other uses like your shared responsibilities like rent, groceries and for emergencies.

baker!steven who absolutely adores his shop, making sure to keep his customers saitisfied with quality food (he has two menus, separating gluten free items for the vegan options).

baker!steven who makes friends with his regulars, chatting up with the old ladies that come in for afternoon tea and crumpets, helping college students to the best he can but absolutely enjoys it when they ask help for history subjects and entertains little children with ancient egyptian trivias and gives them tiny trinkets for free.

baker!steven who refused to serve donna when she came in for coffee after the horrible treatment she had given him when he used to work at the museum.

baker!steven who closed shop for a few hours to call you up looking for comfort because seeing donna so suddenly after finally recovering from what he had endured from her before shook him.

baker!steven who would most definitely close the bakery after lunch rush to personally visit you at work to hand you a basket full of extra baked goods to share with your co-workers.

baker!steven who loves when fall arrives because he gets to decorate the shop in fall amd halloween themes and gets to experiment baking with different pans and cookie cutters.

baker!steven who eventually experiments with learning how to make drinks so the equipment you had gotten him will be put to good use until he learns the hard way that brewing coffee is not good for his autistic brain.

baker!steven who would hire a barista instead to make the drinks and gets along with them, gives them free treats during lunch break and gives them leftovers from the day's batch.

baker!steven who eventually joins the farmers market after getting enough recognition from customers in his street and encouragement from aunties from the neighborhood.

baker!steven who had to close his stall after just a few hours because he had sold out all of his baked batches for the day.

baker!steven who 100% loves his new career path.

baker!steven who would drop by the street act he used to talk to after work hours from the museum to give him a goodie bag and a big tip just because.

baker!steven who waits for you before closing up for the day so he can dance with you between counters and tables, murmuring sweet, sweet love to your ears in between laughter and feeds you a small fresh batch of your favorite cookies before walking back to his place hand in hand with you.

[lesuccube]

i see you're back for more jake , op . it's good to have you back . jake is definitely the type to be ride or die 〘 get it ? because he drives ? no ? 〙with his partner when he's 100% with them . and i love writing about it .

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — what happens when you take hostage the partner of a person known to be extremely dangerous and extremely violent?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.8k

jake can get unhinged sometimes. there's only one thing that sends him flying and it's danger. when it comes to the other boys, he's quick to act and won't hesitate to kill anyone but you? oh their sweet little girlfriend, for you he will take his time, draw out the deaths of anyone who dares do you wrong.

for you, he'll bask in the afterglow of getting his knuckles bloody for you.

there came a time when moon knight was a danger to those around them, to you. just because harrow was dead and ammit was sealed didn't mean his followers stopped. they were still scattered across the globe, some of them people with power and access to a lot of things, weapons and information alike. and what they got their crummy hands on was you. and nothing sets jake off more than you in harm's way.

with a new resolution to save you, jake swears to rip and break off the hands that dared touch even a single hair on your head.

all he sees is red as he kills and kills anyone that gets in the way of him saving you. marc tried to force him into the backseat but his lust to see them bleed and to rescue you was so strong it's marc that's reeling back from the intensity of it all. steven tried talking some sense to him but it all fell under deaf ears. nothing, and i mean nothing, will get between him as his mission: saving you.

he stabs a man on the side of their neck, using their corpse as a shield from the rain of bullets firing at him before picking up a discarded gun on the ground to fire back. all he felt was an all encompassing, soul consuming rage, the need to save you even stronger as he hears your voice much clearly now, you were close and so was your screams.

it gave him all the more reason to put a hole in the heads of every person he comes across in this base somewhere in guatemala. ammit's worshippers were either crazy or stupid for trying to target khonshu's avatar by getting you. maybe both.

don't they realize how they would have suffered an easier death instead had they not taken you hostage? but this was still mercy for the way he was sending them off to the afterlife in a quick and painless way. the one who he'd savor killing would be the person who had orchestrated your kidnapping.

jake painted the walls and floor red. it stained his clothes and split open the skin of his knuckles but it will be all worth it once you're back and safe in his arms. after that, he'll never let anyone else touch you again. (he'll even lock you up if he has to.)

the only thing standing between him and you was this steel door but that wouldn't be the case for long as he pushes the heavy weight open and sees you, strapped to a chair until your wrists and ankles were raw from the squirming you probably did, blood flowed down the side of your head and your lip was bust open.

no words could ever describe the look on his face. it was simply pure and unadulterated anger as he finds himself already over the other side of the room with his hand wrapped around the neck of your assaulter. there's only searing hot fury in his eyes and body as his fingers tightened their hold around his neck.

he didn't kill him, oh no. not yet. he jake will make sure he meets his maker but for now, he needs to tend to you. freeing you from your restraints and into his embrace as he proceeds to kiss you and every injury on your face. there will be hell to pay. jake will make sure of that.

"are you okay, mi vida? did he do anything else to you? i'll kill him. tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost. te amo mi amor, if there's something he did to you, we'll do to him tenfold okay? we'll kill him, you'll get to end him so he pays for what he did to you and your beautiful face. anything for you, anything."

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐃 : ᴀᴜ-ᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — what happens when you take hostage the partner of a person known to be extremely dangerous and extremely violent?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — mild dark trojan [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 0.8k

jake can get unhinged sometimes. there's only one thing that sends him flying and it's danger. when it comes to the other boys, he's quick to act and won't hesitate to kill anyone but you? oh their sweet little girlfriend, for you he will take his time, draw out the deaths of anyone who dares do you wrong.

for you, he'll bask in the afterglow of getting his knuckles bloody for you.

there came a time when moon knight was a danger to those around them, to you. just because harrow was dead and ammit was sealed didn't mean his followers stopped. they were still scattered across the globe, some of them people with power and access to a lot of things, weapons and information alike. and what they got their crummy hands on was you. and nothing sets jake off more than you in harm's way.

with a new resolution to save you, jake swears to rip and break off the hands that dared touch even a single hair on your head.

all he sees is red as he kills and kills anyone that gets in the way of him saving you. marc tried to force him into the backseat but his lust to see them bleed and to rescue you was so strong it's marc that's reeling back from the intensity of it all. steven tried talking some sense to him but it all fell under deaf ears. nothing, and i mean nothing, will get between him as his mission: saving you.

he stabs a man on the side of their neck, using their corpse as a shield from the rain of bullets firing at him before picking up a discarded gun on the ground to fire back. all he felt was an all encompassing, soul consuming rage, the need to save you even stronger as he hears your voice much clearly now, you were close and so was your screams.

it gave him all the more reason to put a hole in the heads of every person he comes across in this base somewhere in guatemala. ammit's worshippers were either crazy or stupid for trying to target khonshu's avatar by getting you. maybe both.

don't they realize how they would have suffered an easier death instead had they not taken you hostage? but this was still mercy for the way he was sending them off to the afterlife in a quick and painless way. the one who he'd savor killing would be the person who had orchestrated your kidnapping.

jake painted the walls and floor red. it stained his clothes and split open the skin of his knuckles but it will be all worth it once you're back and safe in his arms. after that, he'll never let anyone else touch you again. (he'll even lock you up if he has to.)

the only thing standing between him and you was this steel door but that wouldn't be the case for long as he pushes the heavy weight open and sees you, strapped to a chair until your wrists and ankles were raw from the squirming you probably did, blood flowed down the side of your head and your lip was bust open.

no words could ever describe the look on his face. it was simply pure and unadulterated anger as he finds himself already over the other side of the room with his hand wrapped around the neck of your assaulter. there's only searing hot fury in his eyes and body as his fingers tightened their hold around his neck.

he didn't kill him, oh no. not yet. he jake will make sure he meets his maker but for now, he needs to tend to you. freeing you from your restraints and into his embrace as he proceeds to kiss you and every injury on your face. there will be hell to pay. jake will make sure of that.

"are you okay, mi vida? did he do anything else to you? i'll kill him. tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost. te amo mi amor, if there's something he did to you, we'll do to him tenfold okay? we'll kill him, you'll get to end him so he pays for what he did to you and your beautiful face. anything for you, anything."

[lesuccube]

you're always welcome ! once i'm not too tired or sleepy , i do have big plans on 〘wink wink〙part two〘nudge nudge〙but i'm not spoiling anything yet (σ-`д･´)

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ᴍᴀʀᴄ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ — ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ; ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ghosts aren't the only ones capable of haunting , sometimes it's the people you love most in the world .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 3.8k

sometimes we fly

sometimes we fall

sometimes i feel like we're nothing at all

dream in the light

dance in the dark

you fill the spaces inside of my heart

married for 3 years, dated for 2, you'd think by then you would know a person so well, better than you'd know yourself. but for you? for you it feels like you never knew marc at all. he still looks like your husband, talks and acts like him but at the same time he's not. distant, quiet(er) and cold, so very much unlike the man you had fallen in love with in the beginning. sure he was like that when you first met but you got to know him better, saw the deepest, darkest parts of him and kissed them all.

marc has a certain warmth once you get past his shell, a type of fire that burns bright that not even the rain of his tears nor the floods of his past can put out. he was always tough or rather, time made him tougher. the abuse he faced after randall's death, running away from home because he can no longer handle his mother's beatings eating away at the very core of him. he had hoped joining the marines might help him forget, it didn't. not all the way at least.

the rain of bullets sometimes reminded him of his time at the cave, the torrential downpour that afternoon flooding the cramped hole they were in, roro's desperate pleas for help. every pull on the trigger brings him back to the sounds of a leather belt clutched in his mom's fist as she slams it down on his childish body again and again, spews of profanities and accusations, wanting her youngest child back and it would go on for what felt like an eternity until his father would hold his mother back, physically dragging her away from his curled up form on the floor with welts blooming on his skin, hands pressed to his ears as he sobs repeating the words 'it's not my fault' until he passes out.

life hasn't been kind for marc spector since then… until you.

marc never knew how sunshine felt on his skin until your touch, only the way it burned during his tours or from his mother's hands. didn't recognize warmth until your hugs only the heat of his gun after a mission. he's long since forgotten how spring felt before your laughter reached his ears, he was a desert before he met you.

you were vibrant and brimming with life, a stark contrast to his bleak world of gray's and red's. marc often called you his star, as he is moon knight, he had told you that the moon can never be alone in the night sky if there is even a star that shone next to it. you kissed him breathless after that.

marc loves you, really he does. he still has difficulties expressing himself and often chooses to retreat within his shell whenever he's overwhelmed with emotion, especially the bad ones. but you had learned how to coax him out again, somehow you always knew when to save him from drowning, he thinks you're telepathic. and he had married you because he felt like you were his saving grace, his paradise after all the sins and pain he's caused to those around him.

he doesn't regret it at all, seeing you in white as you walked towards him. you shone like a star, fallen from heaven just to grace his lonesome self with your presence. that night during your wedding, he swore his heart was full and his love for you was endless. it'll never change, nothing will.

but recently, marc keeps on repressing himself. after every mission he comes back to, he becomes like a statue, devoid of any emotion. you've tried to help him as much as you can but he would only shrug you off, grabbing a can of beer before disappearing into the bedroom, not even glancing at the dinner you had prepare for him hours before while waiting for his arrival.

you tell yourself it's fine, he'll come around soon, that he was simply exhausted with the burden he carried as the vigilante moon knight, tired with an invisible god constantly speaking over his shoulder and head.

you tell yourself it's okay. but until how long will this cycle continue? how long has it been since the first time you've convinced yourself that it won't happen again? you don't know, you've lost count after a month of cold shoulders from him.

am i really mine?

are you really yours?

if all your emotions cut straight to my core

times when you cry, i feel it all

whenever you leave me i wait for your call

you are everything i'm living for

the first time marc missed a big occasion, you tried not to think too much about it.

it was your birthday, celebrated in the middle of spring ("fitting", marc has said before when he celebrated it with you for the first time, "because you are an ever blooming garden with so much love to give and yet ask nothing in return even if your flowers are plucked, only pray they'd treat it with kindness.") and he was nowhere to be seen. you weren't even supposed to go out that day, having decided that you would both spend the day in bed, eating cake and watching a game of baseball even if you didn't understand a single thing about the sport.

marc loved it and in turn you did too. but your husband was mia, not in bed or in the kitchen, he wasn't home. only when you checked your phone did you know that he wasn't even in the country.

'in kenya, be back soon. x'

not even a single greeting in his message. the apartment you shared felt cold that day despite the warm sun shining outside the large windows of your bedroom, bathing the space in natural lighting. a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

when he finally came home, two weeks later, he saw you sleeping on the couch. curled up in one of his hoodies and a blanket draped over your form as the tv played quietly in the otherwise silent apartment. kneeling beside you, his fingers brush away the strands getting in the way of your features, the brief gesture rousing you from your slumber as you blink your eyes awake, vision clearing to find your husband in front of you, a little worse for wear but still in one piece.

"hi baby." he greets you softly as you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, "why are you sleeping on the couch? it can't be comfortable." you only sigh as you turn your head to look at him, the skin under your eyes visibly darker, clearly you haven't been sleeping well since he left you while you were asleep two weeks ago.

"you forgot." you told him blankly, running a hand through your hair, combing down the bedhead.

"forgot what baby? i don't— i don't understand." you smiled weakly as you raise your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head there. "my birthday." you whispered, "two weeks ago.

shit, marc thinks to himself. he had gotten so wrapped up with his duty as moon knight, khonshu giving him more and more missions recently that he'd forgotten. never in the five years you've known marc had he missed it since the first time he celebrated your birthday with you, never. until now. "i'm sorry baby, i— i forgot and i got so busy—" you had shushed him, cupping his cheek with your palm. it's okay, was what you had said, there's always next year.

marc knew you'd forgiven him but he doesn't quite think the same way. he carried you back to bed that night, the bags he brought with him forgotten by the door. making it a priority to cuddle you, talk to you until you fall back asleep.

when you woke up the next day, he prepared you breakfast in bed, having woken up early despite his jetlag to run by your favorite café to get you your favorites. he spent the day with you the way he was supposed to, promising to make it up to you.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

the house is silent most of the time, marc's presence haunting every corner of it despite his growing absence. you look around the place again, his favorite mug sitting on the kitchen counter with half of his black coffee still inside. a bunch of postcards thumbtacked and decorating a part of your living room walls, showcasing all the places he's been to ever since he became khonshu's moon knight. his favorite cap was still hooked on your bedroom door's knob, you keep forgetting to hang it in your shared wardrobe whenever you cleaned the place up.

there were so many traces of him living with you and yet he was like a ghost. you rarely see him these days, even more so at night when the god would demand of his time.

never had you been so jealous of a bird before.

sometimes we're right

sometimes we're wrong

sometimes the lines just never been drawn

nights when we fight

we strike a chord

and then we forget what we've been fighting for

the pattern continued for months and the days began to turn colder with autumn right around the corner. marc was beginning to miss bigger events and moments in your shared life. some of those would lead to larger arguments whenever you'd confront him about it, never screaming at each other but you had both definitely said a lot of things you regret but don't take back. well, marc doesn't. not like he hasn't even been communicating much with you anyways.

marc never apologizes after each fight, you do though. you'd press yourself to his back when you're both settled in bed, holding on to the back of his shirt as you whisper apologies, murmuring how you don't want to fight with him, you never do.

"i just miss you. you've been gone more and for much longer periods of time it feels like you're never here at all." you admitted weakly, sniffling as your emotions come bubbling at the surface again but you're exhausted, previous arguments draining your energy. "it's hard when you're not around."

he's missed so much in your lives it hurt, especially when you had lost your father during the fall, your only family, and he wasn't there to comfort you. during the whole wake, you sobbed in the arms of your godmother, your heart cracked and torn at the edges at the loss of the man who had raised you, the man who had walked you down the aisle to meet your currently missing husband and it broke you.

you lost one man and yet in that week and more, it felt like you mourned for two.

marc didn't show up at the three day service, not even for the funeral. all your calls went straight to voicemail and your texts left on read. whether he just doesn't bother to reply or was blatantly ignoring you, you'll never know but he was met with an empty apartment when he came back after another mission by the ancient god, you had chosen to sleep at your childhood home, yearning for your deceased father as you wept in his old bedroom.

the following weeks after that, you'd given marc the cold shoulder, much like he does to you until you broke, unable to stand the distance it sets between you. moments of love few and far in between fights and continual disappearances but it always ends the same way, with you in tears as marc holds you in his arms, whispers of empty promises gluing back pieces of you he doesn't even know he broke. a temporary fix.

lay on the floor

sleep in your arms

pausing the world to stay right where we are

close all the blinds

lock all the doors

things fall apart and i'm wanting you more

you are everything i'm living for

the final straw was when he missed your third wedding anniversary one winter evening.

you had both sat down and talked about this weeks ago, marc finally agreeing to make up for the times he's been gone and fighting when he's around. you were able to snag a reservation at a really popular restaurant downtown, buying yourselves a fitting outfit for the day as you had wanted to make it special. you secretly bought a small gift for marc too, nervous as you hid it away until said date rolled around.

when your anniversary came, marc, as per routine by now, wasn't in bed. he's already left for the day doing what he needed to do and promised you the night before that he'll be there in time to pick you up for dinner.

well... the hours ticked by fast, nighttime falling just around the corner amd snow beginning to settle on the concrete streets and you were dressed to the nines and warm, although it was already approaching quarter to eight and your reservation was at 8:20, the journey from your apartment to the restaurant taking at least 20 minutes if traffic wasn't too bad.

you arrived at the packed restaurant with three more minutes until your reservation was to be passed to someone else, the host guiding you to your seat, a table for two, though it was only you present. your server followed not too far, handing you a menu to which you had ordered a bottle of some red wine, hoping to ease your nerves with it.

it wasn't until it was almost 10 in the evening when marc arrived, his curls no longer staying slicked back and his tux looking like it was put on in a rush with his tie knotted loosely and crooked around his neck, his shoulders wet with melted snow and a wrinkled bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. but when he approached the host, stating his reservation, she looked at him with pity before shaking her head.

"i'm sorry mr. spector but your reservation ended thirty minutes ago, your wife arrived and paid for the bill on the bottle of wine she had ordered but that was about it."

he had thanked her before nearly dashing out of the restaurant, flowers still clutched in hand as he hailed a cab home. he ran a hand through his curls, muttering curses to himself throughout the ride back and ignoring the egyptian god in his head.

when he turned his keys in the lock, the whole place was dark, the heels you've worn for the night thrown haphazardly along with your coat and bag, all these items trailing to your shared bedroom.

he creeps in quietly, toeing off his shoes as he sits down next to your curled up form under the blankets. you didn't even take your dress off, only washing your face off the makeup you'd carefully applied but there was still some mascara trailing down your cheeks, it was obvious that you'd been crying.

his heart squeezes tight in his chest, guilt eating at his core. he knows he hasn't been the best husband as of late, dealing with a lot of things all at once with khonshu and all the goddamn missions he's been sending him off to in god knows where most of the time. but it didn't excuse the fact that this was something you mutually planned, talked about in the previous weeks.

god he knew how excited you were about it, your face lighting up for the first time in a very long while that he's seen and now it feels like he's been punched in the stomach— no it felt much worse than that seeing that not only did he stand you up for a date, your third wedding anniversary at that, he had gone and let you starve and made you cry yourself to sleep.

he's not sure that making up for this the next day could fix the damage he's already caused but he was going to try. he swore to himself he would...

had it not been for khonshu meaning him take on another mission, hunting down ammit's worshippers that very same night.

and you were left all alone yet again.

if you go down

then we go down together

if you hold on

i might just stay forever

you couldn't stand it anymore.

you love marc, god knew just how much you loved that man but good the past half year, it felt like you were married to a ghost and you don't want to spend another waking moment with him gone.

you don't know where marc was this time, long since updated you where he's been going, only saying when he'll be home. and he was supposed to be home tonight so you waited.

you sat on your living room couch, glancing around the room for the faint traces your husband was still with you, a ghost that haunts your memories, taking up space in your home even though he wasn't even around much anymore. you don't know what hurt more, the fact that you're married yet you two act like two strangers living under the same roof or that he's treating you like you were the ghost, lingering around your shared home and watching his every movement during the little time he spends there.

you're hurt, so fucking hurt it makes you numb. and that hurts even more because in all honesty, you want to cry and scream and punch, claw at his chest and make him see things your way but fuck if you weren't exhausted, tired from keeping a failing marriage alive. you don't regret being with marc, but you hate how much he's changed since then.

you sat there and waited as the hours passed by you, the moon rising and you begin to hear the familiar jingle of his keys turning the locks of the front door.

you didn't mean to turn it into a fight but you're drained and your patience was running thin and marc, god. he was infuriating with that cold shoulder. ignoring your pleas to talk and heading to the kitchen to grab a cold beer. it took all of you not to smash that metal can away from his hands.

"if you would just listen to me marc! i'm begging you! you're out more than you're home and you don't come back until it's deep into the night and i'm already asleep, jesus i don't even see you when i wake up!"

"i have duties—"

"yes i know, you do but baby, i'm not asking you for much okay?" your voice cracks as the dam cracks and fractures, all the things you've bottled up and ignored pushing against the walls in giant waves, testing the limits of your emotions.

"i'm not asking you to stop what you do... just look my way every now and then. is that— am i asking for too much to want my husband to come home to me?"

he sets the can down on the kitchen counter, the dim lights above the counter shines over him, casting a dark shadow over his face and he nearly looks unrecognizable with that unreadable expression on his face.

and for a moment it scared you that you were no longer speaking to your marc at all.

"all i ask, marc, is to set a time for me too. god knows i've been patient and i try to understand you as best as i can because i know you carry a heavy burden, okay? i know, but marc, does it hurt for once to be here? to be with me? because why the fuck are we even married if you're just going to act like i don't goddamn exist at all?!"

he stays quiet, eyes still trained on you as the tears start to fall, the dam beginning to fissure and break, the waves of hurt pushing and pushing and pushing until it shatters the intricately built wall you created.

"i miss you." you whisper, "i've missed you." you stress as you run a hand through your locks, turning on your heel to sit at the living room couch, burying your face in your hands as you take deep breaths, too fucking tired of being the understanding wife to a husband who was never around anymore, not in your time of need and not even when you hit rock bottom.

was this even the marc who had laughed so warmly at you as you both danced under the night sky, the one who would show up at every date with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers, was this even the same marc that said i do as he lifted the veil from your face just to kiss you like he's never before? because he sure as hell doesn't act like it anymore.

for once it's you who disappears, when the clock strikes 2 in the morning and marc had fallen deep asleep, your own bags packed the weeks before that lead up to this.

for once it was him who woke up to an empty bed and an even emptier apartment. most of your clothes gone from their hangers in the closet, your toothbrush gone from the bathroom sink along with your tray of skincare products, and with your disappearance did marc feel empty, a part of him missing as you left.

for once, marc begins to live here in your shared apartment again, looking around at the final traces of you lingering within these walls. now he lives with the ghost of you, haunting him through dreams and memories, his every waking and sleeping moment a nightmare the longer you stay gone.

for once, it's marc who deals with the loss of a loved one. and you're not there to comfort him and keep him from sinking, he drowns in the waters you've left from your broken dam of hurt, flooding his life and his heart with a burden much heavier than anything he's felt before.

you haunt him, like he used to haunt you. you went down and left, taking all the love you had with you. leaving behind the shell of the man that marc spector used to be. and now he was sinking too, drowning in your absence, drinking your ghost away.

if you get hurt

i'll try to make it better

if you go down

then we go down together

[lesuccube]

all my plans to collect your tears are coming to fruition ! but giggling , kicking my feet and twirling my hair because you love it ~

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — after two months of radio silence and he suddenly comes back to your life but he's not alone .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.3k

i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit

been saying "yes" instead of "no"

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though

it's been two months since you last saw steven. two whole months of leaving all your texts on read, missed all your calls, two months since he said and promised to go stargazing with you for your birthday. the celebration passed with no sight of him, making you blow your candles out by yourself in the middle of the park you two frequented under the light of the stars. now you and steven aren't dating. you didn't put a label on your relationship, haven't really spoken about it but you know there was something between you, a spark, an unspoken chemistry. now it seems like it's only you who thought so.

the taxi you hailed was a friendly old man, who played some jazz music on low volume while also chatting to you about his granddaughter. you indulge his friendliness, making small talk here and there but throughout the ride you had stayed silent, head leaning against the window as you watched the bleak scenery of london pass you by.

until you pass by a familiar street, a small waiting shed where you and steven would wait with giggles having run there in hopes the bus hasn't arrived yet whenever you stay over. you spy a mop of curly hair. it had you sitting straight in your seat and the car blocking your view made you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of your friend-but-not-really-friend steven. the vehicle passed by after a second, but to your dismay, it wasn't him.

you let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as you sink back to your seat. if the driver had noticed your strange actions, he made no comment about it.

i hit the ground running each night

i hit the sunday matineé

you know the greatest films of all time were never made

today was a cloudy sunday evening. it was half past five and the streets were slowly beginning to fill up with tourists and people wishing to spend a quiet evening out and about london's cobble streets. many, if not most, of them can be seen filling pubs and bars that littered the main street. your cab slowly comes to a halt, stopping in front of a quaint yet lively bar, the faint noise of laughter and a live band playing can be heard through the closed doors, the large windows showcasing patrons enjoying their drinks with their chosen company, talking amongst themselves, enjoying themselves. somehow, you envy them a little.

"this is your stop miss." the old cabbie smiles as he turns his head a little to face you. you hand him a 50 pound note with a smile of your own, "keep the change." you told him as you grabbed the strap of the guitar case next to you. you exit the cab, waving goodbye to the kind cabbie as he drives off.

your fingers tighten their hold to the guitar case as a chilly autumn breeze nips at your nose, other hand holding the lapels of your white denim jacket, the sleeves nearly consuming your fingertips. it was a couple of sizes too big for you but you always insist on wearing it. a little something you stole from steven's wardrobe, not that he minded. you clutch the fabric a little too tight to yourself, one of the few things you kept that reminded you of steven in his absence.

you walk through a dimly lit alleyway, entering the bar through its backdoor hidden within the building's gray bricks. warmth floods you as you step inside the staff/break room, greeting the guard stationed at the corner with a quiet 'good evening' as you walk past him before you slip past the red curtain that separates the small break room from the bar itself.

cozy booths covered most of the floor, the bar on one corner of the building and a stage at the other where a band was casually playing.

your boss, a burly woman with a passion for alcohol, waved at you from her spot behind the counter, tending orders of her regular customers that sat in front of her. you wave back with a smile before climbing up the stage, speaking softly with the members up there about your performance tonight. you talked briefly with them as you kneeled to open the case protecting your guitar, stamps and random stickers littering its shiny brown body, a singular name inked with permanent marker near its neck in neat letters. steven.

usually the small writing makes you smile before you begin performing, today though, it does nothing but tug at your heartstrings painfully and force you to tear your eyes away from it. you sit at the tall chair on the stage, one foot up on the wooden step to rest the weight of your guitar's body on your thigh, stationing yourself in front of the microphone placed front and center of the round platform.

i guess you never know, never know

and if you wanted me, you really should've showed

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

and it's alright now

"good evening ladies and gentlemen. happy sunday to you all. i hope you're enjoying yourselves tonight but let's liven it up a bit more, yeah?"

the night rolls by like clockwork, you sing and strum your guitar to requests made by the customers tonight. it stays like that for a few hours until the clock strikes 10. the bar has filled up quickly with patrons having to share booths with each other, the small space in front of the stage is filled with drunk people singing along to the songs as they place their tips on the small jar next to the mic.

you smile at them with ease, the music and melodies taking your mind off of your missing friend-but-not-really-friend.

"okay, what do you guys suggest we play next?" one patron yells out the 1 by taylor swift, female by the sound of it to which you nod, signaling the band behind you to ready themselves. "ooh i like that suggestion, hope you guys don't mind if i pour my feelings out to the song yeah? to all those whose heart long for another, those that wonder what could have been... i hope you find some comfort tonight because you're not alone."

the pianist and drummer nod to each other, tapping the drumsticks together three times before the keyboard begins to play with its signature opening, quickly followed by the strum of your guitar and the quiet beats of the drum.

the door jingles open but you don't notice the sound over the music and the ladies inside the bar singing along. two new customers find an empty corner booth for themselves to enjoy, the female opting to order for her and her company by the bar. once she's out of sight, dark eyes like molten chocolate find your form on stage, singing happily alongside the small crowd in front of you, easing easily to the chorus of the song.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

if you would've been the one

"give me the body marc. please." steven pleads desperately from the reflection of the window beside marc, the latter sighs, well aware as to why his alter is acting that way before surrendering the body to steven. eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second before a small gasp escapes his lips. steven's in control now.

for once, he's glad nobody really pays him any mind, even in the crowded bar. he had to beg marc to come here as soon as they came back from egypt, having disappeared without any word after getting sacked from his job at the museum.

it wasn't that he forgot about you, no, but between stopping an ancient egyptian god from being released to the world, being shot at and dying, learning about himself and marc and layla (he still feels bad for kissing her because he likes you a lot), he simply didn't have the time to. now here he was, after two months of complete radio silence, watching you sing from his corner of the bar.

he wants to tell you that he's here, talk your ear off about all that's happened to him but he was gone for some time, feeling unsure on how you'd react if he makes himself known.

sure you've known each other for some time now, you two were friends, best friends even although steven desperately wanted more. he's never admitted it though, happy to stay as friends with you if it meant keeping you by his side, too afraid that if he confesses, you might leave him to be by his lonesome self once again. steven can't handle that, he doesn't want to be alone again.

he wants to be selfish but he's scared it might drive you away, even more so after the stunt he'd pull for seemingly ghosting you. layla returns to their seat with two pints of beer in hand. she was about to call out to her husband until she takes note of his posture.

hunched shoulders as if trying to make himself small, the nervous bounce of his leg as he runs a hand through his slicked back hair causing a few curls to fall in front of his face. she sees his eyes, wide and openly staring at the lady performing on the stage, longing lingering within those earthy eyes with every passing second. "steven?" she calls as she set their drinks down on the table and taking a seat at the chair beside him, "are you okay?"

it was a simple question. at first he nods, mumbling a small 'yeah' before pausing and then shaking his head. "actually no, no i'm not okay layla." steven sighs, lowering his gaze to the floor before flickering towards her.

"i'm the farthest thing from okay because i might have just missed out on my only chance of asking out the girl of my dreams for, oh i don't know, dropping off the face of the planet around the same time of her birthday that i planned to take her out and celebrate only to get swept up with the whole khonshu and ammit business halfway across the globe?"

steven was being sarcastic but he was also speaking the truth. he had initially intended to ask you out on your birthday, it's why he promised to take you out stargazing, one of his favorite hobbies aside from reading books and learning french.

within the span of two months, layla's become fond of her husband's alter. it's not the same affection she pours towards marc, it was more like that you'd show to a younger brother. she takes his hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze as she flashes him a smile. "you can't possibly know that steven, not until you try."

i have this dream you're doing cool shit

having adventures on your own

you meet some woman on the internet and take her home

as the song enters the second verse, your eyes sweep over the bar, finding familiar faces in the crowd until you see him. in the corner booth by the window is steven's familiar slumped form but he wasn't alone. no. beside him sat a pretty woman, voluminous dark curls and tan skin. her smaller hands curled around his own atop the table. of course. so this was why he's suddenly cut off contact with you, he's settled down with someone else.

for a second you nearly waver and stumble over your words but you were quick to catch and save yourself, tearing your eyes away from the couple.

you feel an onslaught of emotions wash over your already aching heart, willing yourself to keep it together until the end of the song. how foolish, you think to yourself, how foolish of you to think that what you had with steven ran deeper than just friendship. you turn your attention back to the crowd, masking your hurt as you put on a show for them. and try as you might, your eyes keep going back to steven and the woman and each time you look, the more your heart cracks and falls apart.

we never painted by the numbers, baby

but we were making it count

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

maybe you should have told him sooner, told him all about the feelings your heart carried for him but now there's no chance because how can you possibly compare to her? she was pretty, you can tell even from where you stood. you feel a little sick to your stomach.

"i don't know layla, i'm already a proper prick for not even sending her one message for two months. two whole months i didn't contact her and tell her i was fine or even say how sorry i was for ditching her on her birthday of all days." steven sighed, exasperated and tired as he pulls his hands back from her grasp, running them down his face. he's so disappointed of himself.

he doesn't know how he can ever make it up to you. "well, you can always apologize to her first." layla gives him a smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i know it's hard considering you can't tell her anything about what happened in egypt but it's worth a shot."

he shook his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "no layla. you of all people should know how it feels when someone you love completely cuts off any sort of contact with you for months, keeping you in the dark for god knows how long about who knows what. isn't that what happened with you and marc before i found his phone and called you?"

steven's eyes were a mix of serious, hurt and regret as he looks at layla, "it's not fair to her, keeping quiet about why and what happened during those two months. i already broke a promise, i don't want to break her heart too."

i guess you never know, never know

and it's another day waking up alone

your eyes follow their every movement, each touch and each look they share stabs another dagger into your already bleeding heart but you can't look away.

maybe it was some form of self-punishment that you're so unable to take your eyes off them, reminding yourself that you've lost to someone better, prettier, someone who steven was much more comfortable to be with. your voice wobbles but doesn't break, the same way your heart shatters but you remain standing. how foolish, you scold yourself once more, how foolish of you to think you ever even had a chance.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

your fingers grip the neck of your guitar tighter, knuckles turning white with the pressure as his head turns towards you, your eyes meeting. you see his eyes widen and you can feel your own doing the same but you can't look away. god, why won't you just look away?

steven feels his heart rate pick up as soon as he sees those eyes gazing upon him for the first time since they've entered the bar, the first time he's seen them in two months. you've always been beautiful to steven but he can't help but think how gorgeous you are on stage, a singular spotlight shining on you from above.

you look like an angel heaven sent down to earth with that pretty green dress he remembers you bought during spring, your favorite but worn out white doc martens and oh- his white denim jacket he'd let you take from his closet the first time he let you stay the night at his flat. he didn't know you still kept it around, somehow that sends a new wave of guilt to wash over him.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you

if one thing had been different

would everything be different today?

you wonder what it would have been like if you had just confessed to him before... would he still end up disappearing or would you be happy, the same way you two end up being whenever you daydreamed of being in a relationship with steven.

thoughts like that made you happy, got you looking forward to the next time you and he set out on another excursion around london in quiet book shops and music stores. now all it does is put a bittersweet smile on your lips, chest tightening as you sing the bridge of the song, eyes finding its way back to him. and he's still looking at you, his deep pools of amber never leaving your form since you two made eye contact.

steven's afraid that if he looks away, you'll disappear.

"she's all i have."

you pour your heart out to the lyrics of the song as you continue to sing, closing your eyes shut as you press your lips against the mic. can he feel it? can he feel how much you're hurting? you hope he does. because ever since steven's arrival, your heart has split into two.

the song comes to an end, patrons clapping and cheering for more, the small tip jar next to you filled to the brim with plenty of notes and coins. as your fingers stop strumming against the strings of your guitar, you put on your best smile as you address the crowd before you.

"thank you guys for listening, really. i'll be taking a break and let these guys," you point to the band behind you with a breathless grin, "take over again. enjoy your evening folks."

we were something, don't you think so?

rosé flowing with your chosen family

and it would've been sweet

if it could've been me

you pack up your guitar hurriedly before getting off the stage, nearly bolting towards the staff room as you sling the leather case over your shoulders. your hands clasp the doorknob, twisting the copper ball as the frigid autumn air greets you once more.

you don't make it ten steps away when steven's breathless form blocks your path. eyes wide and frantic as he pants, curls falling over his eyes, hands curled into fists beside him. "please wait... give me a chance to explain!"

as it turns out, steven had made a run for it soon as he saw you get off stage, nearly running over bar-goers as he weaved through the crowd and exiting the front door, hoping he wasn't too late. he probably upset marc by leaving layla on her own but he's confident she can handle herself.

he takes notes of your glassy eyes and tense form, making him wish he could reach out and hug you but he can't. he knows better than to make you uncomfortable with him even more. "please." he breathes out almost quietly.

your hands ball into tight fists, nails digging into your palm so harshly you'd break the skin if you applied any more pressure. your lips press into a fine line, refusing to speak in fear that if you do, you'd only break down crying. steven takes your silence as a yes, and he exhales.

taking a step forward, he begins to talk. "i'm sorry. i truly am sorry. for disappearing, for missing out on your birthday, for not letting you know that i was alright, for everything that happened these two months i was gone." when you don't move nor speak, he takes it as a sign to continue.

"i know nothing i say will make this all magically better, i know that but please believe me when i say that i am truly apologetic for going away without prior notice. i know i have a tendency to disappear for a few days, two weeks at most but i've never gone for as long as two months. i can't tell you yet why but please believe me when i say that i did not mean for that to happen."

in my defense, i have none

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. "i don't need you to explain anything steven." his name rolls off your tongue for the first time in a while it almost feels foreign. you sniffle, tears threatening to spill over and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your (his) jacket.

"did you know how worried i was? none of my calls or messages were answered, your flat was empty no matter how many times i visit and gus the second almost died!" you rub your temple with a hand, vision blurring with tears no matter how many times you try to wipe them away.

"i called your work only to find out you were fired, hell i nearly reported you missing to the police after the second week passed and you haven't come back!"

you take a deep breath to calm yourself, brows knitted as you look at anywhere but steven standing just a few feet in front of you. "i stayed in your flat at least three times a week waiting for your return, praying to whatever god was listening that you were alright, breathing and alive."

pausing, you finally gain the courage to face him as he too let the tears fall down his face. "i thought you were kidnapped, or worse dead. alone, somewhere i don't know because you can't send me one fucking message that you're okay!" with every word you say, the tone of your voice raises, finally letting out your frustrations and sadness and hurt the last few months have caused you.

"i know i'm just your friend but i thought you'd at least have some decency in not making the people that care for you sick and worried to the bone!"

for digging up the grave another time

steven whimpers but he knows you're right. it's inexcusable how he had never made time to update you, writing a simple text of 'safe, be home soon' would take him less than two minutes, hell he can do that in even less but he didn't. he didn't. and in return it had caused you to worry and panic.

his head hangs low in shame, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you take it all out on him. marc was protesting in his head to return the body to him, not wanting steven to feel so.... miserable, although he was one of the biggest reasons why his friendship with you was falling apart. "i'm sorry..."

"i didn't realize i meant so little to you."

it was this one sentence from you that had his head snapping up, waving his hands in front of him as he sputtered, trying to convince you that you meant the world to him.

"n-no! no, no, you mean a lot to me okay? you mean so much to me you wouldn't believe me!" he hears you laugh but there's no humor in it, dejection and defeat hanging over you like a dark cloud. "you're right steven... i don't believe you. because that's not how it felt to me these past two months."

but it would've been fun

he makes a noise, the sound was a mix between a whimper and a cry as he tries to block your path once you begin to move away from him. "please, please believe me! you mean everything to me okay? everything! i love you!"

silence fills the air as you stop in your steps. looking back at him, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as you speak with the softest yet broken voice he'd ever hear from you. "and i love you. i loved you. and if you really feel the same, please just let my heart break in peace."

there's a pregnant pause between you as you take a breath with a shudder, shoulders shaking from trying to contain the sobs that wrack your body.

"i hope... i hope you're happy with her. she looked really beautiful tonight." confusion makes his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what you were saying until he hears marc whisper layla's name.

you'd mistaken layla as his partner, his significant other. although you weren't exactly wrong, you weren't right either. he wanted to scream, tell you that she wasn't who you thought she was and that i was you his heart wanted. it's you and it will always be you. but that heartbroken look on your face makes the words die on his tongue before he even had the chance to say it out loud.

it doesn't suit you, the tears, the frown, it doesn't suit you at all, he thinks to himself. he loves it when you smiled, when you laughed fully and he loved hearing you talk. he loves it when you call his name but now, now he might just never get the chance to hear you say it again.

you were right, he should just let your heart break in peace. it was the least he could do for you after all he's put you through, after breaking your heart. he regrets it, he thinks, not telling you that he loved you sooner. perhaps this could have all been easily avoided.

so he lets you go, even though in his heart, greedy as it is, you will forever have a home deep within its crevices, safely nestled and cocooned between his lungs and ribs. you were the one, you were and always will be his only one.

if you would've been the one