#moon knight angst

[popquizhot-shot]

Magic

Moon Boys x reader<3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

[foreverinadais]

One Call: m.s , j.l , s.g

Summary:  Marc, Jake and Steven, your ex’s, ran into trouble and, as a result, are thrown into jail. At a loss, they ( begrudgingly ) use their only call on you in hopes you will bail them out. 

Pairings: ex!marc spector x reader , ex!jake lockley x reader , ex!steven grant x reader

Warnings: angst (!!!), they’re all readers ex’s, cussing, fluff, forced proximity, tension, jake being a bit of an asshole, *steven being sad* , kinda unhappy ending but there will be another part, this is part of the ex! moon boys x reader series but can be read stand alone, unrequited requited feelings, not being over your ex and vice versa. 

Word Count: 5.8 k

the ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

You should’ve known it was them the moment your phone started ringing. You had awoken with a start, heart pounding out of your chest at the loud intrusion to your sleep. It took you a brief moment to register what the sound was, the thick layer of sleep still hovering in your mind. But then, the familiarity of the ringtone settled into your brain.

You hardly registered the time- 03:27am- before picking up your phone.

Unknown Number.

The words made you hesitate. But only briefly, for then you were answering. “Hello?” Your voice was croaky from just waking up, and you coughed slightly. There was a small silence. You tried again.

“Hi.” Your heart skipped a beat before dropping through your stomach completely. You recognised the voice immediately.

“M-Marc? Why…” You tried to find the right words to describe this moment; why are you calling me? Do you know what time it is? What the fuck is wrong with you? Instead, you settled with, “Are you okay?” A sigh followed from the other end of the call, and you could just imagine him, eyebrows creased, eyes shut in whatever it was that was silently bothering him.

“Look, ‘m fine, just- need’ya to do something for me.” A favour? You hadn’t seen him in at least two months, the last time being in a grocery store. It had taken you weeks to get the interaction out of your head. Annoyance entered your mind, but you quickly pushed it away.

“What is it?” There was another silence, prompting you to now sigh.

“We’re in trouble.” You flinched, swinging your legs out of bed, heart accelerating.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Have you-”

“We aren’t in danger, it’s fine, just…” He seemed to hesitate on his next words, and you were tempted to push him, to make him spit it out so you could settle the thoughts racing through your mind. “We’re in jail.” He grumbled, and you realised the hesitancy was embarrassment.

“Jail?! Why? I mean, how?”

“Don’t have time for questions, okay? Can you just come get us?” It seemed as though he had to be prompted before he added a quiet, “Please?”

You huffed, getting out of bed and slipping off your pyjama shorts. “Fine. Where are you?” He began listing all the information you needed, and you quickly scribbled it down on the back of one of your friend’s wedding invitations. “Okay,” you muttered, finishing putting on your clothes and slipping on some shoes, “ ‘m on my way.”

“Right.” He finished hastily, hanging up. You scoffed, almost expecting something else, at least a ‘thank you’. But you reminded yourself that this was just a favour. That you were the last and only option he had to call. You pushed away the feelings that he was using you. You cant be used if you aren’t wanted in the first place.

You hurried out to your car, ensuring you had all you needed before you began the drive to you ex’s.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Marc Spector? He got here tonight.”

“And what is your relation to Mr Spector?” You hesitated, spluttering on your words slightly before settling on,

“A friend.” The woman at the desk raised an eyebrow, taking you in before sighing.

“Sign these forms and then take a seat. Your friend will be out shortly.” You smiled awkwardly, picking up the papers and muttering your thanks.

In the rush and the confusion, you had forgotten what picking up Marc entailed. You would be seeing him again. His hair, his face, his eyes. You would be reminded of his smell and his voice and his lips. It had been too long, too hard getting over them. It was your own personal purgatory.

You could hardly remember the lilt in Steven’s voice when he was excitedly telling you about the book he was reading. Or Jake’s stupid jokes, sat in the back of his cab in the early hours of the morning. Or Marc-

You jumped when you heard a small cough in an attempt to pull your attention. You noticed the boots first, and it only took you a moment to avert your gaze upwards. His eyes were so familiar yet so cold. You felt as though you had been pulled under water, had lost your breath for a moment and were fighting to surface.

You took in every detail of his face. Some were familiar; the crease between his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his lips, the small scar on the side of his face. Yet, some things were new. Particularly, the bruise covering his left eye, purpling angrily, and the freshly busted lip. You winced, resisting the urge to reach over and smooth your fingers over his injuries until they hurt less.

“You are free to go. You’re lucky your ‘friend’ bailed you out. Could’ve been a lot worse for you tonight, Mr Spector.” You noticed Marc grit his teeth, biting back the words he truly wanted to say. You were relived when he just nodded. He was out of the door before you could talk. You muttered a small ‘thank you’ to the receptionist before hastily following after him.

“Hey, Marc!” You called, and you couldn’t ignore how unfamiliar his name felt on your tongue. You pushed down the sourness rising in your throat as you could his name again. Marc stopped abruptly, and you noticed his body moving in a sigh. His head cocked to the side slightly as if he were hiding from you.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you want a ride home?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll drop you off, I know the way.” The reminder of that fact pained you both, but neither of you showed it. Marc cleared his throat, turning to face you now, but he still averted his gaze.

“Don’t wanna bother you anymore than I already have.”

“We’re past the point of that. Look, it’s fine, I insist.” You could see the dialogue behind Marc’s eyes, the debating and reasoning, before he settled with a small nod and an, ‘Okay.’

The small space of your car left little space between the two of you. You tried to ignore how good he smelt, how nice he looked, even after whatever he had been through tonight. You subtly cracked the window down, just to feel as though you weren’t drowning in him.

Silence settled as you began to drive. It wasn’t exactly awkward, more… uncomfortable. As if you were both about to talk, or scream, or cry at the exact same moment. Marc was set on staring out the window, every now and then his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror, and you could just imagine Steven or Jake’s expression looking back.

You wanted to ask about them. Despite it being a long time since seeing Marc, it had been even longer since seeing the other two. Fuck, your heart ached thinking how close they were to you, yet so far. Marc, too. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to release everything in your mind overcame you. You couldn’t stay silent, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted to say.

“So…” you started, slowing down as you approached a red light, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Good start. You peeked over at him, but all you saw was his reflection in the window, blurred by the street lights and stars.

“Your face looks pretty bad. I mean, shit, not your whole face, just the bruise.” You didn’t miss the way his lip twitched up as if edging into his signature smirk, but quickly fell again, as if he was reminding himself of the situation.

“ ‘s fine.”

“That’s it?” You wondered aloud, moving as the light changed to green. “Look, I don’t mean to pry, I just, prison is a big deal, Marc. I’m…” You hesitated, hearing the implications of your next words, “worried about you.”

Marc tutted, and you worried you pushed him too far. He was stubborn, after all. “Don’t gotta worry about me anymore, okay? It’s fine, just ran into some trouble after a mission.”

You ignored the way your heart wept at his beginning statement, deciding to see how much you could find out. “After? What, someone sent some bodyguards on you or something?” You noticed his silence, the way his eyes averted down to his lap, and worry filled you once more. “Were you Moon Knight? Or was it you?” The thought of him fighting without his superhero alias inserted a sense of fear into you.

Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you noticed how pained he looked. “It was Steven.” Oh. Steven? Sweet Steven? You knew he could fight; you’d heard his stories of fighting Harrow and various other things. He was perfectly able. Yet, somehow, you couldn’t picture him fighting. Without the suit, without his alters.

You realised why Marc had been so closed off.

“What happened?” Your voice was quiet, strained.

“Just got back from a mission. It was…” He trailed off, and the sigh told you everything you needed to know. “Steven was fronting, and he was so frustrated. Neither of us could calm him down. We were nearly home but we heard shouting. Screaming. This woman was inside her house as her asshole of a husband was banging on the door. We told Steven not too do anything stupid, to just summon the suit or call the cops, cause he was in such a bad place, y’know?”

You did know, nodding, trying to focus on the empty roads and the story.

“But Steven wanted to help, like he always does. Couldn’t get control of the body as he stormed over. The guy hit him,” He motioned to the bruise, and you winced, “Twice. And then Steven was just… fuck, he was goin’ crazy. Probably would’ve killed the bastard if some drunk guy on the street didn’t pull him off.” Marc’s voice had gotten slightly strained, and you could only imagine the turmoil he would’ve been through, how helpless he would’ve felt. How helpless they all would’ve been.

“B-But… why did you get put in jail?” You hardly had to ask. You knew Marc would do anything, anything, to protect him. But you didn’t know what to else to say.

“Steven snapped out of it. Let me front. I couldn’t let it be under his name, ya know? He has his job; he has a life outside of this shit… It doesn’t matter for me.”

You wanted to say something. You wanted to tell him he was a good person. You wanted to say he did have a life. You wanted to ask to talk to Steven. But then Marc was speaking again.

“The woman, she was grateful, you know, turns out her husband is an abusive piece of shit. But when we were put into the car, I caught sight of the window. There was a kid. Crying. Didn’t know if his dad was dead or what. Steven probably saved the kid’s life, but he doesn’t know that. Steven went after that, can’t feel him or speak to him up there, just… nothing.”

You were at a loss for words. You could feel the pain radiating off of Marc and it made you ache to hold him in your arms and whisper terms of endearments. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what you were apologising for, or who you were apologising too. There was so much you wanted to say, but so little ways you could say it.

“Don’t be. He’ll be back. Probably when this bruise is healed, bastard’ll probably avoid havin’ to feel it.” You forced a smile at Marc’s attempt at a joke. But it was all fake. You could read him like a book, even if you had finished the last chapter a while ago. But it didn’t take a genius to see how much he was harbouring.

“Marc… why did you call me?” You didn’t want him to think you were angry; you weren’t. In fact, you were relieved it was you and not anyone else. But you were curious. Out of everyone, why you?

“Your numbers the only one I- we know.” He muttered, and whilst it made sense, you felt a pang of sadness. There was nothing attached to their choice. Nothing present, anyway. It was a convenience.

“I see.”

“Look, I’m sorry I was such a prick earlier. I just didn’t wanna bother you like this, y’know? You don’t need this shit anymore.”

“I don’t mind, Marc. Honestly.”

“But I do. This shouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re too good for this.” He trailed off and your pulse rate quickened. You didn’t know what to say, so you decided silence was acceptable. This time, the silence felt more comfortable. As if you were now used to each other again. You mentally kicked yourself; you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to his presence.

You were driving down a particularly empty street, the prison taking you on the outskirts of the usual busy city life. That, and the fact it was incredibly early in the morning, so early, the sun was still hidden beneath the stars.

You had turned on the radio a while back, letting the music fill the car to disperse some of the tension. You hardly noticed, however, when it started crackling. It was only when the car started slowing down that you took notice of the dashboard. The flashing red light made you curse.

“What?” Marc said, but instantly realised why when the car spluttered to a stop, the radio dying with a whirl. You couldn’t resist the urge to flop onto the steering wheel, letting out a prolonged groan as you realised the situation- you had broken down on an empty road with your ex.

It truly couldn’t be worse.

“Shit.” He muttered, and you agreed, head still on the steering wheel. However, you looked up at the click on the passenger door.

“Where are you going?! Don’t leave me here!” You whined, and Marc rolled his eyes jokingly.

“Not leaving you, just gonna check the car. Just try ‘n call road services or somethin’, yeah? It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, reaching for your phone, nearly crying as you saw the ‘No Signal’.

“Fuck, Marc, I don’t have a signal!” You called out, holding it into the air to no avail. “Marc? I’m coming out.” You opened the door, eyes trained to the phone as you waved it into the air again, a string of curses leaving your lips as the same signal portrayed itself on the screen.

You could see the silhouette of him at the front of the car, figure hidden behind the bonnet. You were shocked he knew even remotely what he was doing. Car’s weren’t his thing.

Oh no.

It finally hit you as he fully came into view. His face was harder, eyebrows drawn together, lips in a tight scowl. You hadn’t seen Jake Lockley in a while. In fact, you hadn’t heard a thing from him. No accidental calls, no awkward run ins. The last time you had seen him, well, you’d been under him.

“Hi.” You started, instantly feeling awkward at your tone. There was no answer. You wondered if maybe, he hadn’t heard you, that maybe he was so wrapped up in the car that he was oblivious to anything else. So, you tried again, this time adding a small, “Jake?”

You heard him sigh, followed by a frustrated, “hm?”

Oh.

“How’s it looking?”

“Fine.” Confusion filled you at his tone. He was being short. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to you, and you couldn’t ignore the hurt it made you feel.

“Well, it clearly isn’t fine if it broke down.” You snapped; you couldn’t help it.

“ ‘k, then it isn’t fine. Lemme concentrate, bueno?” Okay. You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Is there anything I can do-”

“No.” Anger flared in your blood. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so nonchalant, so infuriating.  

You suddenly missed Marc.

Without another word, you stormed back to the car, making a point of shutting the door so the bonnet rattled. You could practically hear the roll of his eyes, and it provided you with some solace.

He was out there for another 15 minutes. You wondered if it would even be him to front back at the car, and a big part of you hoped it wasn’t. You knew by the sharp tap on your window that it was, indeed, Jake.

You opened the door, trying to appear calm. “C’mere, have to test the engine.”

“I could do that.”

“I will, I know what ‘m doing.”

“And I don’t?”

“C’mon, relajarse. Relax. Let me.” Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way his eyes were suddenly looking into yours from above, but you complied, rolling your eyes as you did so. Jake muttered something in Spanish that you didn’t catch, but you thought that was probably for the best.

You watched begrudgingly as he tried the engine once, twice, before the familiar roar of your car rumbled through the night. You expected him to get out, let you back in the drivers side, but much to your annoyance, he didn’t.

Instead, he motioned for you to get in. You wanted to complain but decided if he wanted to put in the effort of driving, whatever. You were tired anyway.

There was a different atmosphere than when Marc was fronting, and it was evident from the second you sat down. The atmosphere was tense, and the small space of the car felt suffocating, even with the window cracked down.

There was something about Jake, something utterly intoxicating, that pulled you under every time you even thought about him, let alone being in his presence. The implications that came with merely seeing his face made your brain cloudy and heart jittery.

How could you ever truly move on?

You tried not to let the thought in as you trained your eyes out the window, watching the trees and bushes blur into one green smudge. But it was corrupting your thoughts, infiltrating your defence systems.

You snuck a peek over at Jake. You were surprised he had even stuck around this long. A part of you expected him to stop fronting, render control to Marc as soon as he had fixed the car. The question was leaving your lips before you could even process you were speaking’ “Why are you still here, Jake?”

His jaw ticked, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “He wants me to stay.”

“Marc?” And he nodded. “You don’t…” You began but cut yourself off with a sad sigh. Jake didn’t want to be fronting with you and Marc didn’t want to swap back.

“I don’t…?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jake wanted to push but receded back into his silence. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel. You imagined Marc was pushing him to say something, but he didn’t.

He didn’t for a while.

You had adjusted to the silence, accepted that this would be how this night would end. The night sky had become lighter, the sun just beginning to peek out from beneath the horizon. You couldn’t quite believe it was nearly morning. You resisted the urge to yawn, covering your mouth slightly.

“Tired?” His voice shocked you slightly, but you hid it, raising an eyebrow in answer. “That was- of course, you’re tired, Soy un idiota. I’m an idiot.” You smiled slightly, shaking your head.

“You must be tired, too.” He shrugged.

“Who’s wedding?”

“Hm?” He took his eyes off his road for a split second to nod toward the crumpled invitation you had hastily scribbled the address down. “Oh, ‘s a friend’s. Next month.”

“Yeah? Do I know ‘em?” You shook your head.

“It’s a new friend.” He didn’t know everyone in your life anymore.

“I see.” You could tell he was pondering something by the way he was nodding slightly, tapping the steering wheel in succession to invisible music. “You got a plus one?” You couldn’t hide the shock on your face.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” he replied too fast, “Just wonderin’.” You kept your eyes on him for a moment, gaze hard, but you felt a playfulness fill you.

“I was thinking of inviting this guy from work,” His jaw clenched, “But I want to keep my options open, you know?” He hummed, lips twisting up in a smirk.

“That’s what I do.” You had started it, the playful toying, the ploy to make him jealous, but the insulation they had options made your stomach turn. You reminded yourself he wasn’t yours to be jealous about.

“It’s fun having options. It’s freeing.” It wasn’t. Since them, you had gone on a handful of dates and all of them ended with awkward conversation and blocked numbers. But it was worth saying to see his smirk falter.

“As long as you’re happy.” Happy was perhaps an overstatement. You shrugged. “You are happy, aren’t you?” You hesitated. It was easy to say yes. It was easy to end the conversation here, as the car was nearing their flat.

“I’m getting through.” That struck him. All he cared about, still, was your happiness…no, he couldn’t, not anymore. You recognised the road instantly, knew the flat was close. God, even the street felt like home. Like you were travelling back through the trails in your memory. If you shut your eyes, you could imagine you were back in their bed. You can feel the sun on your skin through the cracks in their curtains. You can hear the car horns from a traffic altercation. You can feel their heart beating underneath your head. Nothing bad has happened.

“Hogar dulce hogar; home sweet home.” But not for you.

He parked and turned the engine off. You listened as it died down to silence. This was it.

“So this was…” You tried to find a word to quite describe the night, but settled on, “strange.”

He chuckled and it was addictive. “You could say that.” He unclicked his seatbelt and settled back in the seat for a moment. Like he belonged in your car with you. “Listen, thank you for all this. Gracias.”

“Jake… why didn’t you want to front earlier?” He sighed deeply, and you were worried you had overstepped.

“ ‘s too much. Being around you again, fuck, just brings it all back, ‘s all, Carino.” The term of endearment slipped out, but it was too late, the damage was done. “I should go. Thank you again.” He muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers, making a move to leave.

“Brings what back?” He paused.

“Everything.” He felt it, too. You were surprised to see him already looking at you. Your eyes met but this time, you didn’t look away. It felt all too familiar to be looking into his eyes. And then, his eyes were rolling back. You didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening before he was there.

His eyes held a softness unlike any you had ever seen in your life. You could recognise it from anywhere, but only from him. His body instantly slouched, his eyes whipping away from yours.

Steven. Sweet, sweet Steven.

His hands began to tremble as he raised them in front of his face, looking at the swelling of his knuckles, at the bruises forming on his skin. “I-I-“ He began to stutter, turning to look at himself in the reflection of the glass before abruptly looking away. “I did something bad.”

“Steven-” He jumped as if he hadn’t quite comprehended it was you sat there. He hadn’t heard his name from your voice in too long and it made his heart quiver.

“I-It was like I just lost control, y’know? I don’t- I blacked out for a minute and then there was sirens and Marc-” He cut himself off with a gasp and you felt tears fill your eyes. “Oh goodness, what have I done? I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

“No, Steven, you’re not-” you began but he was already talking again.

“And now you had to come clean up my mess. ‘S not fair, how could I do this to you? After everything, fuck, you don’t need this. You don’t need me anymore.” You were at a loss for words. You did need him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. You needed him like you needed books to read. You needed him in a way you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, especially since you had lost him. Had lost all of them.

“Listen-”

“There was a kid, y’know? I saw him, in the window. He must’ve thought that I… that I…” And then, he was crying, body shaking in sobs. You broke then, the need to hold him too much, too strong. He melted into your arms, clutching at the back of your shirt as you held him in your arms. He buried his face in your shoulder, and you could feel his tears soaking your skin, but you didn’t mind, not one bit.

You ran your hands over his back, whispering whatever comfort you could string together. Your hands trailed the hairs climbing the back of his neck like you had a million times before, hoping it would provide something that would help, some solace that words couldn’t give. “You did the right thing, Steven.” You whispered as you felt his breathing begin to slow down. His hands became limp on your shirt, instead opting to hold you as tightly as you were holding him. “You always do the right thing.”

“What if ‘m a bad person?” He quivered, voice barely above a croaky whisper. You swallowed harshly, feeling tears sting your eyes at one of the people you cared about most thinking so lowly of himself.

“No, Steven, of course not. You’re… you’re one of the best people I’ve ever know? The best of the best, okay?” He sniffled, and you gently eased his face up, so he was looking at you. “You are a good person, Steven Grant.” You looked into each-others eyes for a while. There was no ounce of awkwardness, no trace of tension. The comfort it brought to see those eyes again was more than any drug, any romcom could ever provide.  

You studied his features. Soft, teary eyes, bloodshot and scared, but swirling with adoration and care. The tension between his eyebrows was gone, replaced instead with a smooth, vulnerable expression. But most of all, you noticed the bruises. Unlike with Marc, you didn’t resist the urge to run featherlight touches around them, hoping it would help him heal faster. Somehow, even in this state, he looked angelic. In fact, you had never seen him look bad. Because Steven was good. “ ‘m sorry.” He suddenly broke the silence, instantly looking away from you as if talking to you was too much. 

You looked at him confused, running a hand through his hair in encouragement as you whispered a small, “For what?”

“My fault you’re here right now. ‘m sure you have a trillion other things you’d rather be doin’ than sitting here with a sorry sod like me.” You smiled, shaking your head.

“If you think lying in my flat whilst my upstairs neighbours shag is something I’d rather be doing, you’re greatly mistaken.” You felt him smile against your neck and you resisted the urge to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Still, must be better than seeing us.” You shook your head, though he couldn’t see you.

I’ve missed you like crazy. I would do anything to see you, anything. Come back to me. Please. 

You settled on, “I’ll always be here to help.” Neither of you said much after that. Not for a while. You were so comfortable, unnervingly so, with Steven holding you, your hands in his hair. It was so intimate, more intimate than anything you’ve had since the break-up. You quickly realised you craved it. That this was the missing piece in your life, that they were the missing pieces. 

The sun was breaking through the dark now, a light pink casting a warm glow onto the dull streets. That was what he felt like, you thought. He was the sunrise. You felt yourself drifting off and caught yourself, realising the time in the car had to come to an end. You didn’t want too, but you shifted, and Steven lifted his head, rubbing his eyes slightly. 

“Should probably get you to bed, you must be exhausted.” You muttered to him, forcing your hands to untangle from his curls. He nodded, sitting up and you instantly missed the weight and warmth of him on top of you.

“ ‘kay.” You stretched slightly, feeling tiredness settle in your bones but you pushed it away. Steven took in the beginning of the sunrise, and you noticed his lips twitch up in wonder. He was the type of person to get excited at every sunrise, every sunset, every odd-shaped cloud; no matter how many times he’d seen it. He found the beauty in everything. It was one of the things you loved about him. Loved.

“So, just lemme know if you need anything, you can message me. Do you still have my number? I can write it down, or not, whatever you want-”

“You aren’t coming in with me?”

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d want me too.” 

“Yes, please. If you want too.” You paused. Seeing their flat? Being in that space again? The thought made your heart flutter and stomach churn. But you nodded, deciding he needed your help more tha your heart needed peace. The steps up to their flat was so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed. You knew every bump, every turn, every creaky floorboard. You were at the door before you knew it, and Steven was jingling the keys in the lock. 

“Sorry about the mess.” He said, and you smiled.

It was messy, yes, but messy in the way that felt exactly like home. It smelled the same. It looked the same, apart from the new curtains you were sure Steven had picked out. You felt like you were unlocking a piece of your heart with every step you took. You spotted his desk, piled with all sorts of Ancient History books, papers of various missions they’d been on, and Steven’s new name badge with the words, ‘Tour Guide’ formally placed underneath. You let your fingers trace it, a grin breaking out onto your face. 

“Congratulations.” You said, holding it up so Steven could see what you were talking about. He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s… wonderful. I love it. Donna quit, and the new manager, Kathy, she promoted me.” 

“That’s amazing, Steven, truly. ‘m so proud of you, you deserve it.” You couldn’t stop the praise, and you watched his cheeks tint in a blush. 

“You always said I could do it.” He said, and you nodded. “You always believed in me.” You always would.

“It’s cause I knew you could. It’s all down to you.” You stayed smiling at each other for a moment before Steven yawned. You shook your head, putting his name badge down and clasping your hands together. 

“Let’s get you to sleep.” He chuckled, nodding and rubbing his eyes. Steven went to the bathroom as you set up his bed, plumping his pillows and straightening his duvet. You ignored the ache in your heart at the sight of your side of the bed, lingering your hands on the pillow as you remembered all the times you had been in their bed. You broke from it at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking. 

He came out dressed in his pj bottoms and a jumper. He took note of his now tidy bed and smiled, wanting nothing more than to lay you down and hold you. He didn’t say much as he got into bed, tucking himself under the covers and sighing deeply. You didn’t know where to look, where to stand. You figured you could leave when he got into bed. You only shifted slightly when Steven grabbed your hand gently, tugging you toward him.

“Stay with me?” He whispered so quietly; you almost didn’t catch it. You felt a lump rise in your throat. You didn’t even have to ponder it as you nodded, slipping into the side of the bed, your side, next to him. He turned over, facing away from you as you swung an arm over waist. You felt his muscles untense as he grabbed your hands to the front of him, stroking the skin softly. You rested your cheek against his back, nuzzling the skin to provide as much comfort as you could.

“Thank you for taking care ‘f me.” He whispered tiredly, on the cusp of sleep. You tried to stop your eyes watering, a single tear slipping out which you quickly wiped away.

“Thank you for letting me.” His grip on your hands loosened and his breathing became heavy in a way you recognised instantly; he was asleep. You pulled your hands out from him, careful not to make too much movement. The bed creaked as you rolled out, but he didn’t even flinch. You straightened out the sheets, reshaped the pillow. You thought about him. And then about Marc, and Jake. What they meant to you, still, and what you feared they always would.

You couldn’t help but look at him one last time. He looked at peace, finally, like an angel. You couldn’t resist the urge anymore, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Steven.” You whispered, stroking his hair before making your way out of their flat.

The sun had risen completely now, gold cascading over the buildings. A new day. You turned one more time. You wished you could reverse time, go back to when you were happy and at peace with them. But, alas, that was impossible. So, with your heart yearning, and your stomach turning, you left.

You awoke in the late afternoon, thoughts plagued with the events from the night. As hard as it was, you hadn’t wanted it to end. You had never been happier than when you were with them. The thought haunted you. You turned, stretching deeply as your limbs refused to move too much. With a sigh, you reached over for your phone. You scrolled through your notifications, not paying too much mind, until you saw the familiar number beaming on the screen.

You sat up instantly, clicking on the message and reading it:

Thank you for everything. 

You didn’t know which of your boys had sent it, and you didn’t care. You held the phone to your heart, trying to absorb the remnants you had left of them. And whilst it was just a message, you couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of hope. Perhaps this wasn’t it. Perhaps they felt it too. 

You smiled, shutting your eyes, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Finally- a new day. 

tags: @daddyjackfrost @rmoonstoner @midgardian-witch @dalia-12-3 @kotonei-molyneux @lovepeaceorelse @lokilover476​ (please do let me know if you don’t want to be on this taglist, it is quite old now so feel free to message me and i’ll remove you!!!)​

[redeyerhaenyra]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Summary: It's been a month since you've broken up with the moon knight system, and you start to notice someone.. watching you

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, kidnapping, yandere themes, angst, no beta we die like harrow

Notes: So after all the positive responses on this post I just had to create in headcanon form- for those who want to listen to the song that inspired this fic, here :)

Breaking up with the moon boys was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do, but it did need to be done.

With the near constant dissappearing to do Khonshu's bidding, sometimes for weeks on end, with only a note or a text to tell you where they were and then radio silence, it was just too much for you. Your heart couldn't take waiting for them, worrying that they would never return, even if Khonshu was protecting them.

And so, you had begun the process of moving out during the time they were away on a mission.

Marc had come home to find your clothes, trinkets, anything that would indicate your presence gone.

You were there though.

Normally you'd be so happy to see him again, running up to him and kissing him with all your might.

Today, instead, you sadly smiled at him.

"Baby, what's up?" Marc had asked, gently holding your forearms after you had rejected his hug. He could tell you were upset.

"Baby?" "I'm leaving, Marc. I'm sorry."

He had stared at you, dumbfounded. You swallowed down your tears- "I can't do this anymore." You didn't have to explain, you knew what he meant.

You waited anxiously for his response, instead spying his eyes roll back into his head, and now you were faced with Steven and oh god, his eyes, they were already tearing up.

Coward, you thought of Marc, which was admittedly a little harsh but breaking up with them would be so much harder facing Steven's sorrowful gaze.

Steven looked terrified, moving to cup your face in his hands and you had to physically move back to stop him.

"D-darlin', please, what'cha talkin' about?" "I'm sorry steven-" "Please don't leave us love, please, 'can't do it without you please-"

"Stop it." You'd said firmly, Steven sobbed. You couldn't help but take his hands in yours, ever wanting to comfort him.

"Steven.. I will always love you," "Then why'd you have to leave!?" "Because I can't do this anymore!!"

You were both crying now. "I-i can't take waiting for you to never come home to me anymore, Steven, I can't do it."

Steven's gazed was fixed on the ground, his tears dripping onto the floorboards. You gave his hands one final squeeze, before pulling away.

"I will always love you, all of you, but my heart cannot take it anymore.. goodbye."

The strength with which it took to pull yourself away from Steven should have won you a medal, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying even more as you left him.

That was a month ago- with the help of a few friends you'd found yourself a decently priced flat for rent on the other side of London. Far enough away, you hoped.

It wasn't far enough. Jake had found out where you lived within days of you leaving. He knew it was wrong, but the part of him that didn't care grew and grew into something monstrous. At this stage the other boys weren't saying anything to disapprove of his actions, and so he continued to watch you.

He'd drive circles around your block to relearn your new routine, and you hadn't yet realised it was his cab you kept seeing.

The one person you actually hadn't said goodbye to was Jake- he hadn't fronted when you'd left, and you would always wonder if he was there, just choosing not to show himself. But if he wasn't? He'd have woken up to the discovery that you weren't together anymore and you'd always feel guilty for that.

But... you tried to move on with your life, as best you could.

It felt wrong to start dating again, but your friends had urged you to, even if it was a one night thing.

The guy you'd matched with on bumble was nice enough, smart, good looking- he wasn't them though. While he was polite and friendly during your dinner date, he wasn't your boys.

He'd walked you home, and you'd set up a second date. All things considered it was successful- but you just felt.. wrong about the whole thing. Like you were cheating, even though you weren't.

You'd guessed it wasn't all that successful, as he'd ghosted you a day or so after your date.

It was a week or so later that you'd seen the news report of his body having turned up in the Thames. God how awful! He hadn't ghosted you- the poor guy had been murdered.

Jake had really earned a bollocking off of Steven and Marc for that one, but he knew they were relieved you wouldn't be seeing that man again.

You'd decided to halt the dating game after that, for a while at least.

You were lonely though, there was no denying. Having no one to cuddle up to in bed sucked.

And so.. the logical conclusion was a pet, no?

Eventually, you found a young, ginger tomcat named "Franklin" in a nearby animal shelter and you just fell in love, you brought him home the same day.

He was great, not exactly filling the whole in your heart left by three men but you certainly adored him, and who wouldn't say no to curling up in bed with a cat every evening? Certainly not you.

One day, you'd left work for your lunch break only for the horrifying realisation to hit you: You'd forgot to feed Franklin that morning! You rushed home as fast you could- only to discover that, you had fed him, even when you were sure you hadn't.

And yet there he was, munching on his bowl of kibble.

Something squeaked under your foot- you looked down- oh, it was one of Franklin's toys. You threw it across the room for him to play with but- hang on... you didn't remember buying him that toy.

You shook your head free of thoughts that you were going mad- everyone forgets things, even buying specific cat toys. Or maybe one of your friends had left it when they'd been over- it didn't matter.

You moved to leave your flat and return to work- only to find your door lock jammed.

The locksmith you'd hurriedly called in was able to fix it in a jiffy, though advised that the jam was probably due to a break in, and that you should change your locks.

A chill ran down your spine- you checked and double checked, nothing of value had been stolen, but someone had been in your home! Is that who had fed Franklin? Who'd left him the toy?

You changed the locks, and threw out the strange toy.

Jake couldn't stop watching you. It was becoming more and more of a problem.

He was ignoring Khonshu and actively pushing Marc and Steven out when they tried to front, knowing they'd put and end to his antics.

But none of them could deny that they wanted, needed you back. Jake just considered himself the only one with the balls to get you back.

There was no warmth in his life now that you weren't there. Steven's flat no longer felt like home without your t-shirts in the laundry, or the brand of coffee you love but Marc hates in the cupboards.

He knew he ought to leave his little girl alone, but the fact remained you were his little girl. Jake would stop at nothing to have his bebita back.

Now it was two months since you'd broken up with the system. Life wasn't perfect, but you were chugging along.

You turned the lights on in your flat, yawning. Work was tough today, but it was Friday, and you had some left over popcorn in the cupboard. Film night~!

"Franklin? Baby? Mummy's home~!" You cooed, knowing that he always came bounding up and purring whenever you came home.

But.. he didn't. Your flat was silent. No distant meowing or the jingle of the bell on his collar. Nothing.

"Franklin?" You stepped further into your flat, worry seeping through you.

"Franklin..?!" Your tone became more and more erratic with the realisation that Franklin wasn't home- and then someone had covered your eyes with their hand, and pressed a strange scented cloth to your mouth. You kicked and screamed and struggled but it was no use- the chloroform had knocked you out in seconds.

Jake held you tenderly to his chest as you faded into unconsciousness. Steven had earlier expressed his distaste at this plan, but neither him or Marc said anything now, so close to having you again.

You woke the next day, nauseous and tired. The distant meowing you heard gave you comfort- it had all been a bad dream.

But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the horrifying scene of Steven's flat, not your own. So familiar, in any other situation you would have been glad to be here.

You shifted to sit up, eyes working their way down to notice your ankle tied to the bed with the restraint normally reserved for Steven.

You choked back a sob- a hum ripping your gaze to the other end of the room.

There lay Franklin, enjoying some pets from the man who's lap he laid on.

Jake Lockley stared back at you, you could tell it was him, you could always tell between them.

"Buenos dias, hermosa." His voice was rich like coffee, normally so comforting but now? It sent a shudder down your spine.

"You and I have some things to discuss, sí?"

[ichorai]

dlz ; jake lockley.

track ten of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; jake lockley x gn!reader

synopsis ; jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.

words ; 3.5k

themes ; angst, mild fluff, married au

warnings / includes ; suggestive, implications of sex, jake is a rough kisser e_e, mentions of injury/blood, mild cursing, marc and steven both have appearances, jake is emotionally constipated, jake calls reader peach !! reader is a sweetheart <3

main masterlist.

Jake Lockley didn’t like your perfume—it was almost nauseatingly fresh and its smell permeated through his own clothes so that he’d often walk out smelling like he had doused himself in Febreze. 

He didn’t like the way you’d hum to his favorite songs while doing the dishes. Nirvana, Elliott Smith, Radiohead—were you singing them on purpose just to annoy him? Nearly every night, he could hear your faint voice drift into the living room, where he was reading the same three sentences of the daily paper over and over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your endearingly inconsistent mutters to the music.

He especially hated when you’d walk out of the bedroom in nothing but Steven’s shirt loosely draped over your form, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your heavy-lidded eyes. There was just something about seeing you at your most vulnerable. You were comfortable around him, and that made Jake uneasy.

When Jake fronted, he slept in the guest room. Marc had convinced him not to blow more money staying at a hotel—and Steven was trying to persuade him to at least sleep in the same bed as you. After all, they were married to you. 

But Jake wasn’t your husband. Steven and Marc were. Jake was just… he was just there. A ghost living in your house.

The very thought of sharing a bed with you made a chill dance down Jake’s spine. He could never. As appealing as the thought of having you slotted between his arms, sleepily recounting how your day went to him, sounded, he couldn’t ever have that. Jake Lockley wasn’t a domestic man.

His hands would always be dripping with blood that wasn’t his, no matter how hard he tried scrubbing it away.

There were times Jake felt a morsel of regret. He was nowhere near nice to you, and yet you still spared him that infuriatingly patient, sweet smile, always telling him to stay safe before he left to drive his cab around (or do Khonshu’s dirty work), and never failing to whisper good night before slipping into your bedroom. 

Sometimes he had a queer, niggling feeling scratching at the pits of his stomach one would commonly refer to as jealousy. He knew that Marc and Steven got to hold you, kiss you, tell you they loved you as they pleased. 

Jake couldn’t do that. Jake wasn’t even entirely sure he was capable of loving someone. 

What made it even worse was that Jake learned about you through them—not because he ever actually tried to get closer to you.

He knew you loved apricots, but not as much as peaches. He knew you loved lighting scented candles whenever it rained. He knew you named each one of your house plants. He knew you were only slightly ticklish. He knew you had a tell; your nose would twitch and your eyebrows would quirk upwards whenever you lied. He knew from Steven to kiss just above your pulse point against the column of your throat to make you melt into him. He knew you had a birthmark between your thighs from when Marc—

Yeah, he’d rather not think about that one.

Jake knew you cried a lot—that one he learned on his own. He could hear you through the walls, but you probably weren’t aware of that fact. 

One night, Jake sat in the living room, staring into nothing, heart twisting angrily at himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, storming out of the apartment after shoving his hat onto his head and grabbing his cab’s keys. Steven and Marc had yelled angrily at him the whole time, but he learned to block their voices out. 

He wasn’t very good in the emotional department, that was abundantly clear.

When he came back home hours later, having driven around the city several times to clear his head, he tried to be as quiet as possible. At an hour as late as this, you were bound to be asleep, right?

But alas, there you were, curled into the corner of the couch, head uncomfortably lolled onto your shoulder. The house was entirely dark save for the dim glow of the television, casting a blue luminescence over your dozing form. Long shadows kissed the slopes of your features, softened with sleep. He noticed that there were tear tracks faintly outlined over the skin of your cheekbones.

Jake froze at the doorway for a moment. Were you waiting for him to come home?

He pushed down any and all intrusive thoughts, begrudgingly shrugging off his coat and hanging up his hat. A calloused palm carded through messy, coffee-hued curls. 

Heart dipping heavy within his chest, Jake stalked forward to turn the TV off, setting the remote down on the coffee table. He stood over you for a moment. A frown twisted at the corner of his lips, drawing his brows together.

Jaw clenching, Jake stepped away from you, slipping into the hall. He leaned against the door to the guest room for a moment, huffing out a low groan. Gods, what in the hell was he doing?

After another minute of frustrated hesitation, Jake willed himself to make his way back into the living room. You were twitching in your sleep, eyelids fluttering with what he could guess were the beginnings of a harsh nightmare. 

Gently—or, as gentle as a highly-skilled mercenary could be—Jake hooked an arm beneath the crook of your knee, the other looping over your shoulders and neck. When you stirred, Jake could only quietly make hushing noises, wincing at himself. Thankfully, you didn’t fully awaken, a soft noise falling from your lips as your nose turned to press against the fabric of his shirt obscuring his chest, just above where his heart scratched at the walls of his ribcage.

He kicked the door to your bedroom open none too silently, eager to set you down. Get as far away from you as possible. The sound of the doorknob thwacking against the wall behind it made your lids shoot open, and you groggily mumbled incoherent phrases under your breath before peering up at him with confused, watery eyes. He cursed internally.

“You’re back,” you said, voice hoarse with disuse. “You okay?”

There were lots of things Jake wanted to say to you at that moment.

No, I’m not okay. Were you waiting for me to get home? I’m sorry if I made you worry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. Am I an asshole? You shouldn’t ever wait for me again. What were you dreaming of? Was it a nightmare about me?

Instead of any of that, Jake merely set you down onto the mattress with a grunt, dusting his hands onto his pants. He glared down at you as if he was angry—and he was, but not necessarily at you. 

But wasn’t he, though? He was angry that you were just so… so kind to him. He was angry that you were patient. He was angry that you were so easy to love. 

“Go to sleep, peach,” he gruffed. A hot flush coursed over his face at the nickname that had unintentionally slipped out. To his relief, you didn’t seem to notice.

Your sleepy expression seemed to cave in on itself and you dazedly nodded, head falling back into the pillow. 

If only he could slip in beside you, entangle his legs with yours as you kissed softly over his tense face, call you his.

Jake nearly slapped himself to get his head screwed on straight. He spared your already-sleeping form one last glance before trudging out of your room. Hurriedly, he threw himself into the guestroom, ripping off his shirt and pressing a palm flat against his chest to quell the racing thunder of his heart.

You were not good news for him. 

You didn’t see Jake for weeks after that incident. 

A part of you was glad—you were beginning to miss the sound of Steven’s sweet voice, his tender touches, his passionate kisses. You missed Marc’s back hugs, his strange fixation with your bare legs, his lopsided smiles.

The other part of you, however, wondered about Jake.

“Does Jake ever… say anything to the two of you?” you asked Steven one day, stirring sugar into your steaming tea as you leaned against the kitchen counter. Your husband looked up from the novel he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose while considering your question. 

“Sometimes. Mostly stays to himself—quite the quiet bloke, innhe? Why, love?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you glared into your tea, as if it was the source of all your troubles. Steven was immediately out of his seat, tugging you close until your forehead rested upon his clavicle bone. You sniffled into him, crushing your eyes shut with shame. 

“Does he hate me?” you asked, voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I did to make him—”

Steven immediately held you all the closer, crooning out, “No! No, of course not, silly. He’s just… he’s just having trouble with himself, that’s all. Doesn’t really talk to us much, either. It’s not you, love, I promise. In fact, I’m nearly certain he fancies you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” you said, scrutinizing him with wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t need him to love me like you and Marc do. I just… it’s hard when it feels like a man with the same face as your husband hates you.”

Steven’s expression crumbled, and he kissed over your left eyelid softly. “I know. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t imagine what that’s like.” Rubbing soothing circles over your back, he urged you to take a seat next to him, leaning over to move your mug of tea from the counter to the kitchen table. “Come on, I’ve got an amazing poem I want you to read.”

It was only two days later that you saw Jake again. You strode through the door, juggling grocery bags in one hand and a stack of books you borrowed from the library in the other. With a huff, you set the groceries down in the kitchen, turning around to see Jake quietly observing you, leaning against the fridge. You bit down a startled scream, flinching at his unexpected presence. 

“Oh,” you said after a second of flustered silence. “Hi, Jake. Didn’t see you there.”

He was observing you with such a sharp gaze that it felt like his irises were cutting straight through your flesh. Finally, he pushed away from the fridge, slowly moving towards you until he stood just in front of you, about an arm’s length away.

“Jake, what are you—?”

“I don’t hate you, peach,” the man said, all gravelly and brusque.

It took you a moment to fully register what he was saying. “Oh,” was all you said, parroting yourself from five seconds ago in a rather poignant manner. “Well… I don’t hate you, either, Jake. Far from that.”

You could see the struggle in the dark depths of his irises. Turmoil raged behind those narrowed lids, and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to look away, not even if you tried. 

Feeling bold, you shuffled forward to slowly raise your hands, cupping Jake’s face within your palms. His glare seemed to harden at first, always so angry at things for not going the way he expected it to go, muscles tensing beneath your touch—but when your fingers gently scraped over his stubble, he could feel himself letting go, practically liquefying into you.

“Why are you like this, Jake Lockley?” you murmured, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. The action made his eyelids flutter shut. He’d never let himself be this vulnerable in front of you before. He wasn’t prepared for his walls to come crashing down around him so quickly—so easily. “Did I do something to upset you?”

All previous inhibitions thrown out the window, Jake grumbled out a small, “Yeah. All the fuckin’ time, peach.”

You quirked a brow. “Go on, then.”

One of his eyes opened before sliding closed again. “Where do I start? You smell too good—I can never concentrate around you. You’re always singing my favorite songs and it’s buggin’ the hell outta me. You’re always so nice to me—even though you know I’m not like your precious Steven and Marc.”

Something akin to a guffaw fell from your lips. “Well, first of all, thank you? Somehow you managed to compliment me in the rudest way possible, and I commend you for that. Second, I know you’re not like Steven and Marc. But I still love you all the same.”

The kitchen grew so quiet, Jake could’ve sworn he’d be able to hear a pin drop.

His heart began tripping over its own gallop of a pace. You’d said it so easily, so swiftly, as if loving him came as naturally as breathing. 

Jake found his eyes falling to your mouth, slightly puckered to the side in thought. 

Noticing his sudden change in demeanor, you started saying, “Jake—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted, glowering at you with a newfound fire crackling behind his eyes. 

You blinked once, then twice. Then you nodded.

A small sigh of content that made Jake far too excited for his own good escaped your lungs as he dove forward and melded his lips with yours, dipping you backward ever so slightly in the midst of his vigor. 

He kissed differently than Steven or Marc did. Steven was languid, careful, and tender whilst Marc was feverish, calculated, and explorative.

Jake Lockley, however, kissed like a mad man. He was all tongue and teeth, desperately furious with his motions, kissing you as if it was the very last time he’d have the chance to do so. His nose slotted against yours, brushing against your cheek as you caved into him, arms winding over his neck to pull him ever so close. 

His fingers immediately clutched at your waist, one moving upwards beneath your (Marc’s) shirt to lightly scratch over the skin of your ribcage and the other shifting lower to tug over the back of your thigh. 

Gods, you just felt so right. 

“Mmh, peach,” Jake growled into your skin as he traversed down your neck, biting at the spot just above your pulse point, which made a low, desperate noise scratch at the back of your throat. He’d do anything to hear that noise over and over again.

“Why do you call me that?” you panted out, fingers threading through his haphazard curls to haul him away from your neck and back onto your lips. 

“You like peaches,” he breathed into you, a groan of agony rumbling from his chest when you nipped at his bottom lip with a hum of approval. “Don’t you?”

A choked sound was all you could let out when he shoved you none-too-gently against the counter, bending over to accommodate for his eager lips over yours.

“I love them,” you whispered once he parted away to catch his breath. 

There it was again. The L word. 

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

Suddenly, as if snapped back into reality, Jake halted any and all ministrations, nose only a hair's breadth away from your neck. You smelled so damn good, so tantalizingly tempting, lips raw-bitten and skin flushed with heat.

But Jake couldn’t. You didn’t belong with a person like him. With Steven? Yeah, of course. With Marc? The idiot loved you too much to ever let you go, even if he tried to. 

Jake would bring you nothing but pain and misery and the thinly-veiled threat of danger. 

“This is a mistake,” he said, voice rough with tremendous restraint.

He thought that if he kissed you, all these stupid feelings would wash down the drain, as if you’d be able to suck it all out of him like a goddamn love vacuum. But, no, it was as if just having a taste wasn’t enough. He needed the rest of you. He needed all of you.

But he couldn’t.

“Jake…” Your voice was quiet, breaking off slightly when he let go of you, stepping back while glaring a hole into the ground. 

With the maturity equivalent to that of a prepubescent teenager, Jake stormed out of the kitchen and into the hall, slamming the guest room door behind him so hard that the picture frames of you and Steven and Marc on the walls rattled. 

A week passed by until you saw Jake again.

You were in bed with Marc, shivering as he ran his palms down your waist, swatting his hands away while gritting out, “That tickles, Marc!”

He hummed noncommittally, pressing kisses down your shoulder, nosing your cheek affectionately. 

“Tell me about this one,” he whispered into you, taking your hand to trace a thin scar over the inside of your wrist.

“I was seven,” you whispered. “This boy pushed me off a swing in the playground. I threw my hands out and a rock got me bad—fractured my wrist, too. I don’t remember much, but I remember there was a lot of blood. I’m pretty sure the poor kid was the one that ran screaming for a teacher to come help.”

Marc regarded you with a look of pure adoration, thinly laced with amusement. “Did you really just call the bastard who pushed you a ‘poor kid’?”

You barked out a laugh and he pressed a lasting kiss over your faded scar.

“Alright, your turn. Tell me about this,” you playfully pressed your thumb between his brows. “You got a little divot here. Been furrowing your eyebrows too much, huh? And you wonder why I call you the grumpy eagle muppet.” When he rolled his eyes, you chuckled out, “What? Listen, it’s not my fault Khonshu got rid of all your scars! I gotta work with what I’m given, here!”

“That’s enough out of you,” Marc bit out, though you could tell he wasn’t really being serious with the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, turn around. Sleep time, baby. Love you.”

You hummed in mild contentment, turning around so your back molded perfectly against his chest. “Love you, too, Marc.”

The rise and fall of his chest was deep, rhythmic, so calming that you were just on the brink of sleep—

Until it stopped.

You could feel the body wrapped behind you stiffen. Immediately, you knew this was Jake.

With a lump lodged in your throat, you hesitantly turned around, only to be met with Jake staring back at you, wide-eyed. It was dark, so you could just barely make out the upset tautness of his features.

Jerkily, he started moving to clamber off the bed, all but shaking you off of him like you were a pesky insect.

No. No, you wouldn’t stand for this.

“Jake,” you said firmly, reaching out to wrap your hand around his wrist. “Stay. Please.”

Mute, the man shook his head, legs slipping out from beneath the blanket. 

Desperate, you sat up, wrapping your arms around his midriff and pressing your cheek into his back as you said, “You deserve love, Jake. You deserve my love. Please, stay.”

For a moment, you wondered if he’d just push you off again. Disappear into that guestroom you were too scared to venture into when he left for work. Just when you were on the near precipice of relinquishing any and all hope, you could feel Jake’s shoulders sag. His head hung low as he sighed.

Wordless, he shifted around and you let go of him so he could slip back under the covers. 

Tentative, you laid down next to him, shifting so your head could rest over his chest. His arm jostled around to rest comfortably beneath your neck. 

Jake held you differently from Marc and Steven.

Jake held you as if he was afraid you’d break apart. Jake held you like he had to be ready to let you go at any moment. Jake held you like he was afraid to show you just how much he loved you.

You craned your neck upwards to press a light kiss to his stubbled jaw, then settled back down.

You heard Jake sigh, but this time, it was one of pure relief—utter bliss. It was quiet, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally, nose tucked into your hair. “I’ll try to be better with you. I’ll try, peach.”

Nodding minutely, you intertwined your hand with his free one, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “I know.”

Just before your breaths evened with sleep, Jake could only barely hear you drowsily mumble out, “I love you, Lockley.”

He knew you were already asleep, which made the feat of saying it back somewhat easier for him.

“Love you, too, peach.”

[the-witheredroses]

Oscar Isaac Characters Finding You Dead

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Anselm Vogelweide, Llewyn Davis, Abel Morales x gn!reader

Sorry if anyone is ooc!

CW: death, murder, suicide, blood/gore, break-in, various wounds, torture, etc. + pet names, untranslated Spanish, so on.

Notice! Not all of these scenarios are romantically founded, the reader is just someone who knew the character/was close with them.

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best.

Not proof read or heavily edited

Miguel O’Hara - Villain Attack

There was never a doubt in Miguel’s mind, he knew that one day he’d have to save you. But not like this…

A Green Goblin anomaly had appeared and started bombing Nueva York.

You’d think with all the Spider People so close by, there’d be no casualties. But being so focused on protecting other universes, he almost neglected his own.

The moment Miguel was aware of the anomaly, he and many other Spiders rushed in to help protect the city.

The damage was already extreme, with two buildings nearly demolished.

Spiders spread across the scene, saving and moving the bystanders as Miguel focused on the alternate Goblin.

After capturing the terrorizer, Miguel started barking orders to everyone, wanting everything cleared up asap.

He was heading back to base as the spiders cleared the rubble.

“Oh god- MIGUEL!” One of the Spiders cried out as they tried to lift a large blanket of concrete up. The urgency in their voice quickly set Miguel off.

Miguel rushed over, his heart dropping seeing your dust covered body.

How long had you been under there? Why didn’t anyone sense you sooner? Miguel’s mind raced with panic.

With his sheer strength, he threw the debris away from your body and checked your vitals, his eyes focused on your face the entire time.

Open your eyes… please… mi amor…

When didn’t feel a heartbeat, he went to start cpr, but realized your ribs were broken. The broken bones had stabbed your vital organs, he couldn’t save you, it would’ve only caused more damage.

Miguel didn’t even realize he was crying until he saw his tears hit your face, muddling the dust covering your skin.

It wasn’t often he cried, hell, it took a good few minutes for him to start crying over Gabriella’s death. But after another loss, he couldn’t hold in the pain he was already barely containing.

His arms cradled your broken body with the most care possible. It didn’t matter that you were gone, you were his, the person he swore to protect.

I failed again…

Sobs ruptured through the bombing site. The boss who everyone saw as intimidating and cold, was now hunched over, sobbing over your limp body.

I failed.

I failed.

I failed…

Moon Knight System - Steven / Marc / Jake - Break-in and Murder

Steven, once again, had a late night of work at the gift shop. He was exhausted when he came home, but was more than happy to be back home after stocking shelves for hours.

He was almost tempted to let Marc or Jake front instead, but Steven wanted to see you before Jake took off to do Konshu’s bidding later in the night.

“Love, I'm back!” He says, keeping up his cheerfulness. It had been a long day, he just wants to see you.

Looking around the house, Steven felt confused. You normally rushed to meet him, to welcome him back.

Where were you?

Walking into the bedroom, Steven saw your form under the blankets.

“Love? Are you not feeling well?” He asked quietly, worried he might wake you.

You looked at peace, your hair tousled as it lays on the pillow. Your skin was a bit pale, but Steven smiled softly, assuming you were just tired, he knew he sure was.

His hand fell on your covered stomach as he sat beside you. But a warmth quickly spread over where he had applied pressure to the blanket.

Looking over, Steven nearly had a heart attack. His hand was tacky from blood that now soaked the thick comforter that’s covering you.

With fear rushing through his veins, he ripped off the covers to reveal the stab wounds littered across your torso.

A scream ripped through his chest as he quickly tried to see if you were still alive. His heart dropped when he felt your cold skin and lack of a heart beat.

Despite Jake and Marc trying to desperately front, Steven wouldn’t let them or listen to their pleads.

Instead, he grabbed your body and sobbed. His hand clasped yours, wishing yours would squeeze his, that you’d wake up and kiss his worries away.

No, no, no— what happened— love… oh god…

It took a good while for Steven to let one of the others front, but Marc took over when he got the chance.

Both had been confined to the mirrors in the bedroom, wishing they could hold you like Steven had. Instead, for over an hour, they were stuck in the mirrors, cursed to grieve from a distance.

Steven faded back into the subconscious, too drained to watch Marc from the mirror.

Jake, on the other hand, took a step back into the subconscious because he had his own plans.

Marc didn’t sob as much as Steven did, but his pain was just as bad.

He had lost so much in life, he was almost confused on how to express his grief for you.

His fingers run along your face, tracing every detail he loves so much. Marc wished you would open your eyes, but your body was long since cold.

Marc wished he complimented you more. Sure, he praised you often, but did you know how much he loved you?

His heart ached with guilt. Marc wanted to make you blush once more from his compliments and soft kisses.

He didn’t know who did this. But he would. They’d find out who did this.

They all would get justice for you.

By Konshu’s word, he swore they would.

It was Marc who called the police and watched as you were dragged away to the hospital morgue.

It was Marc who watched the security footage that showed your killer breaking into the apartment and leaving an hour later.

It was Marc who found out the explicit details that came with your murder.

Marc was the one who told Steven and Jake the details.

This shouldn’t have ever happened… but now we know. What do we do next?

Jake was the protector, or so he’s supposed to be.

Standing over your body in the freezing morgue, Jake stared at your expressionless face.

He could remember the last time you two had a date night. The night was warm as he drove the two of you around town. He could remember the beautifully warm smile that broke across your face as the date came to a close.

Jake would do anything to see that smile again.

The others had already fronted to say their final goodbyes, Jake wanted to be the last one. He wanted to talk to you one last time.

“We found out who did this, amor.” He whispered, trying to contain his wavering voice.

“They won’t get away with this…” His lips brushed your forehead.

”I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” His tears finally fell down as he reluctantly pulled away.

As he left the hospital, Jake dawned the suit and slipped into the night, ready to enact revenge for you.

Your murderer will regret ever laying a finger on you…

Basil Stitt - Suicide

Basil hadn’t seen you in a while. Yes, part of it was because he had locked himself in his apartment, but he also just hadn’t seen you pass by his door.

He always had his eye to the peephole when you should be leaving or getting home from work.

Is that weird? Of course, but it made him feel less alone. He wanted to talk to you, but his scars contained him to his room.

Where were you? He wondered after spending an entire day looking out into the hallway.

Basil’s heart dropped when he saw movers taking garbage bags out of your apartment.

What are they doing to your things?

Despite his fear, Basil dawned his paper bag and poked his head out.

“What are you guys doing?” Basil questioned nervously.

“There was a suicide. The family wanted us to collect the person’s belongings.” The confused and hesitant workers answered.

Basil slammed his door and collapsed to the ground instantly. The paper bag tumbling to the floor as he clutched and pulled his hair.

His body trembled with grief and hatred as tears pooled on the floor.

He never was good at reacting to bad information, but this was worse.

Why did you leave him too? What did he do wrong?

First it was his face, then his job, then his family and girlfriend, but now you too?

His tears turned to screams and Basil went on a destructive rampage in his apartment, the agony overwhelming him.

He blamed himself for your death, despite barely knowing anything about it.

Maybe if he hadn’t gone into hiding, you would’ve lived. Maybe you two could’ve been lonely together.

But he was also angry.

How could you leave him after everything that happened to him? When he needed you the most?

You didn’t know though. How could you? Your neighbor, the only person you saw everyday, had disappeared for weeks without a word.

Basil knew that, but nothing could stop the emotions flooding and pouring out of him.

Why did you leave me? Why? Why?! Why?!?

Blue Jones - Murdered by a Client

Working for Blue always had its risks, and everyone knew that, including him.

But Blue didn’t expect this.

You had been bought out for the night by a rich newcomer. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.

Blue gave them permission to use you as you saw fit. As long as the merchandise didn’t get damaged, anything went.

Blue stood over your strangled body, his face neutral and flat.

Your glossed over eyes stared back at him, lips hung open loosely.

He didn’t expect his toy to be destroyed, let alone strangled to death.

Your costume was still on, but your makeup was out of place. Blue’s doll was a beautiful, broken mess.

Blue exhaled a puff of smoke as he turned to the killer, the man a sobbing mess.

“I didn’t mean to- they wouldn’t listen to me- please let me go, I’ll compensate you-“ He tried to ramble out, shutting up when the barrel of Blue’s gun pressed against his forehead.

The shot rang through the entire building. The girls and clients quickly rushed out of the other rooms to see what happened.

Screams and tears broke out from the girls as Blue pushed past everyone going to his office.

But it was once he was alone that Blue had the chance to process what happened.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw your dead ones. It hurt seeing something he owned in such a state.

Only one tear falls down his cheek as he reviews the footage of what happened. He always kept cameras in the rooms, it was a security measure, but he didn’t think he’d actually ever watch the footage for something like this.

Blue already knew the man was lying about why he killed you, but it hurt to watch you get choked and beg to be let go of.

The man was just angry, he only wanted to kill. You had done nothing wrong. Which made Blue mad.

He leaned back in his seat as the hot, silent tears fell down his cheeks, hidden by the cigar smoke flooding the front of his face.

Blue decided that, from the forward, he was going to be far more strict with who could touch his toys…

My poor bunny…

Poe Dameron - Spaceship Crash

You and Poe had agreed to stay safe, to meet one another after the fight concluded.

Together, you were going to celebrate the victory.

Poe knew you were an intelligent flier, that you were going to do great things for the universe.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that everything went well, until he joined the celebrations…

Everyone was celebrating over the successful stop to the First Order. But as Poe searched the crowds, he realized you were missing.

Fearing the worst, he darted to the medical tents, desperately looking for you. His fears were met when he saw your barely breathing body.

Poe fell to his knees besides the cot you rested on, analyzing the damage you had taken.

He called out your name, to no response.

“Their ship was shot and crashed. There were some malfunctions and the safety’s didn’t trigger. They don’t have much longer, there’s nothing we can do on such short notice.” A nurse sadly explained.

“So you're just leaving them to die out!?” Poe exclaimed in horror, his tears falling fast and hard.

Despite wanting to reprimand the nurse, he knew it would do nothing. Instead, he held your hand to his lips as he watched you until your final breath.

In your final moments, Poe had been whispering soft and loving words to you, hoping you could hear him.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, that any of this happened. You deserve the world, the galaxy. You helped save us. You’re a hero… you’re my galaxy…”

Poe couldn’t stop crying, and he could barely hear himself over the cheering outside.

He should’ve been celebrating with you, this shouldn’t have happened.

No one knew where Poe had gone, and hours later, Finn had to pull Poe away from your body.

Despite all reluctance, Poe eventually left your side for the night, but he didn’t stop mourning you.

That night, he spent his time in your room holding your belongings close, not wanting to lose the last bits of you he does have.

My galaxy, I’m so so sorry…

Nathan Bateman - Killed by a Prototype

You had been one of the few people Nathan trusted enough to come around the house.

Not that he ever let you go downstairs, no.

He didn’t need you to.

When first developing Ava and her predecessors, he had chosen to try and study a real person. Not through the cameras like he did later on, no.

He thought it’d be better to model the AI after someone he liked.

But he was wrong. One of the few times he had let his emotions make his decision, and it was the worst one.

While trying to work out the kinks of the AI, it had escaped. It had knocked him unconscious for long enough that it made its way upstairs.

The girl stared at you in horror as you stood in the kitchen, knife in hand from making dinner.

You looked just as shocked to see a nude woman coming up from the basement, wires hanging from her broken arm.

She even looked oddly similar to you.

Before you could even react, she tackled you, the knife going flying.

Nathan, having heard the crash, awoke and ran upstairs.

He came up from behind and broke the AI’s skull, the body falling on top of you.

“For fucks sake. That was awf…” he trailed off once he shoved the AI’s body to the side and saw you.

Nathan didn’t know how to react seeing your bleeding body, knife sticking out from where your heart is.

There was no hospital nearby, and with how glassy your eyes looked, he knew you were doomed.

Silently, Nathan sat back on his knees and feet, just staring down at your lifeless body.

He wasn’t an emotional person, but he didn’t like how he felt at that moment.

His eyes searched yours before shifting to the dead AI woman, his creation, your killer.

Nathan’s fists reacted quicker than his brain had, and before he knew it, his hands were bloody from breaking the AI down to nothing but shards.

His feet moved to the bar, and before he knew it, he had drunk a full bottle of vodka.

His knuckles, caked in dried blood, chucked the bottle at the wall. The shatters go flying, some even hitting you…

Nathan stood over your body, once again, staring down at you. His expression unclear.

After your death, Nathan was far more careful. Adding keycards to open doors, not just simple locks.

He even kept the prototypes locked up no matter what.

And who knows, maybe your death is what got him to start drinking so much…

How idiotic…

Duke Leto Atreides - Poisoning

Leto knew the dangers of loving you, yet he still did it.

He always made his love clear, practically worshiping you in private.

Leto would risk his life and title as Duke just to care for you for forever.

He wanted to propose eventually.

But your life was taken long before he had the chance.

The Duke looked down at your slumped body, your poisoned drink spilt from where your head had fallen.

In that moment, Leto regretted never marrying you.

He loved you, but in theory, it was better to stay unmarried, open to alliances with the other Great Houses.

But this wasn’t worth it.

Your life wasn’t worth it.

Leto had to keep his composure in front of his men, but in the comfort of his room, he cried. He weeped.

His sobs shook his body as remorse and grief overwhelmed his senses.

Seeing your body in such a way, it shook him to the core.

Sure, he had experienced death before, but this was different.

He loved you, and he saw where you died, he saw you dead.

Choked sobs escaped his lips as he recounted all the moments you two shared.

He wished he could’ve kept you safe, stopped you from drinking the poison.

You were in the House of Atreides, you should have been safe.

That’s what ate at him. That you died where he swore you were protected.

You died under his care.

Why you were killed, he wasn’t sure. But he swore to find out, to avenge you.

If nothing else, he’d make sure to get you justice.

He loved you, and he messed up never marrying you.

I wish I had made you mine, my dear…

Prince John - Assassination

John, the prideful idiot, should’ve never put a bounty on Robin Hood’s head.

It only made his reputation worse.

John should’ve lowered the taxes, but he didn’t.

And now all the citizens hate him, rightfully so.

But John always had you to go back to, you to love and receive love back.

You tried to reason with John, to show him he was being unreasonable and bleeding his kingdom dry.

Yet he never listened, and he now knows the danger of not listening to the advice he gets.

You had just been going about your business, crossing through the towns when you were attacked.

What was supposed to be a simple robbery, turned to an assassination. One of Robin’s troupe mates had gone rogue; they wanted to send Prince John a message.

The message was received.

John had gotten word of what happened.

He found out about how you begged for your life.

How you cried before your body was abandoned on a wooded path.

It made him angry. It made John furious.

You didn’t deserve this. You advocated for the citizens, yet you were the one killed.

John had destroyed everything in sight upon hearing of your murder.

His guards and mother had barely been able to calm him down. But once he had come down from the rage, John broke out into sobs.

He was barely consolable, all he wanted was to fall into your arms and be comforted by you.

Just one more time, John wanted to feel you caress his scalp as you reassured your love for him.

He couldn’t believe he lost you, the only person who loved him.

In spite and pure hatred, John raised the bounty on Robin Hood and his gaggle of followers.

John wanted them alive so he could execute them on your behalf, but he’d take their dead bodies as well.

As long as they were dead, he would be content.

Robin Hood… you’ll regret this… hurting my beloved…

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Car Accident

Santi had been through so much in life, and it made him extremely overprotective of those he loved.

He always was worried and tried to protect you.

He didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, especially in the dangerous world we live in.

So why did the world still take you from him?

Santi didn’t know how to react when he got the call from the hospital.

He initially had ignored the call, thinking it was a reminder to set up an appointment or something. But when they called again a few minutes after, the blood in his face drained.

“… died… car crash…” those were the only words his brain registered the operator saying.

His heart broke into a million pieces and he felt like he was hyperventilating.

You died..? How could you die in a crash? After everything tried to do to protect you?

The call had ended and Santi sat hunched over, crying into the palms of his hands. His breathing was erratic and uncontrollable.

If he had picked up the first time, maybe he could have made it to the hospital. Maybe he could’ve said goodbye. At least, that’s what he thought.

“I’m so sorry- oh god, no…” He murmured over and over, desperately wishing it wasn’t true.

He almost wished he was at the crash, that way he could’ve seen you one last time. But now, he’s stuck waiting for the morgue to call, waiting to confirm that it’s your body on the table.

Santi’s sobs only stopped when he passed out from exhaustion.

Why did this happen to you? Why you…

Anselm Vogelweide - Shot on Accident

Anselm was known for his erratic and random behavior. That included when he’d change his mind on a whim.

Despite his absurd actions, you cared for him, as he did you.

Anselm always kept you nearby, and everyone knew that. Even people just passing through his office knew that.

He treated you differently, he treated you better than most of his other employees.

Where he’d change his mind as he saw fit with his clients, he was very firm with his decisions regarding you.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

So when Anselm decided to raise the price out of the blue on a client, the client was pissed.

It wasn’t unexpected that a gun was going to be pulled, but the gunshot that rang out- that was a surprise.

His men had already detained the perpetrator before Anselm realized that you’d been shot.

Your hands clutched at your bleeding heart, and your eyes quickly fell shut, your body following suit.

Disregarding his squeaking leg brace, Anselm dove to collect your body in his arms.

His eyes were wide with horror and disbelief at the sight of you dying in his arms.

The world was practically silent for him as he watched you breath your last breath.

Anselm sat there for a moment, pulling your body close to his chest in an attempt to preserve your warmth. He felt an ache in his chest when you gave no response, your body limp and spilling blood.

Anselm didn’t give himself the time to mourn or cry, instead he went cold, his heart stilling for a moment as his attention turned to the shooter.

Looking through the fogged glass lens, Anselm ordered to have your killer chained up in the basement as he carried your body to another room.

For months after your death, Anselm tortured the person who killed you.

The basement became a crime scene of horrific activities. Teeth and nail pulling, breaking bones, slicing skin, it was all incomparable to what Anselm felt the murderer deserved.

They killed his dear dove. This was the least he could do.

His disappointment was immeasurable when he found the murderer dead one morning, Anselm felt far from done torturing them.

The body was disposed of swiftly, and afterwards, Anselm visited the extravagant grave he made special for you.

It was only then, after everything, that he let himself cry over your passing.

My dove…

Llewyn Davis - Suicide

Llewyn was your friend, and the two of you always helped one another out.

He needed a couch to sleep on, you were open. You needed a drinking buddy, he was there.

You both couldn’t offer much monetarily, both just trudging through life and old habits.

But you always left the window unlocked, just for him.

Llewyn hadn’t heard from you in a while, and it had just so happened, he needed a place to stay and was in the area.

Throwing open the fire escape window, he hopped through, entering your apartment.

He called your name as he wandered around, confused where you could be so late in the day.

Yet, when he arrived at the bathroom door he paused, knocking before entering.

He instantly wished he never opened the door.

In the tub, surrounded by bloodied water, he saw you. Your face was towards the window, like you were watching the sky before you died.

The sight made him nearly hurl, but the tears made it out first.

What have you done…

Just when Llewyn thought his life couldn’t get worse, you decided to leave him just like Mike did…

Of course, he knew it wasn’t actually a choice to go against him, but it still felt like he was part of why you took your life.

And that broke his heart.

If he had just visited you or bummed at your place more often, would you still have gone through with it?

He called the police after a bit of a breakdown, and a few days later, he was alerted that your only goodbye was a note scrawled with “I’m sorry.”

Maybe the note was for him, but boy, he wished there was more.

A simple “fuck you Llewyn” would’ve been better than this…

You had always asked him to play a song, but he alway said no. He always said he was too tired, that music was his work, not something he wanted to do all the time.

You never pushed him to play for you, not like other people did. So, he never played for you.

But now, in front of your grave, Llewyn played his heart out to you. His tears bouncing off his guitar, onto the frozen ground where you’d been buried.

‘If I had wings, like Norah’s dove,

I’d fly up the river to the one I love…’

Abel Morales - Accidentally Killed During Work

Abel knew the dangers of letting his employees continue their oil deliveries and solo inspections.

So many of his employees had already been attacked, yet he still took the risk.

He just didn’t expect the attacks to get worse.

Sure, some had been threatened with a gun, hell, one was kidnapped and beaten.

But this was the first time someone actually died…

Upon hearing about your death, Abel stopped in his tracks and demanded to know what happened.

He felt like his life was falling apart the moment his wife explained what happened.

After so many troubles and hoops he’s had to go through for his company, he didn’t think he’d be losing one of his best employees as well.

You were doing a simple house call and sales pitch.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

If he had known your colleague wasn’t feeling well, he wouldn’t have sent you out to the call at all.

He never would’ve guessed you’d decide to go alone…

Abel felt guilty over your death. You died because the competition was trying to send a message, or at least that’s what he assumed.

Abel held his head high as he found out about the circumstances of your death.

Apparently, the murderers were only meant to rough you up a bit and dump you just outside city limits, in a particularly snowy area.

But as you tried to run away, one of the goons tried to shoot a warning shot to get you to stop.

The bullet hit you in the Achilles tendon.

You collapsed into the dense snow instantly, crying out in pain.

In fear of getting arrested, the shooters fled, leaving you to bleed in the snow.

You died of hypothermia. You could’ve been saved.

That’s what hurt Abel the worst.

If your killers had just tried, they could’ve brought you to the hospital. But instead, they’re now awaiting a trial and eventual imprisonment.

But because they confessed, and it was an accidental death, they would be able to have parole, they could walk free one day.

To Abel, they deserved to rot in prison forever. But he didn’t have the right to oppose the judge, not when your family had already accepted the punishment.

Abel paid for the funeral, and there he saw you for the last time.

I’m sorry this happened… I’ll take care of your family from now on. I promise…

—————————————————

Brb sobbing in the club rn…

For real though, thank you for reading!

Feel free to send over any requests/suggestions

[eyelessfaces]

drenched flowers

marc spector x reader

summary: you and marc had a serious fight and have been avoiding each other since. the tension is hard to handle for everyone, and your only wish is to make things right again between you and marc, only he strictly refuses to front...

warnings: angst, allusions to fighting obviously, i think that's it but please tell me if you can think of anything else while reading?

tags: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, it ends well I promise, fluff, marc being his grumpy and angsty and emo self, steven and jake are here too for emotional support

word count: 2.2k

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

Jake had yelled at him to confront you so the situation could get better; Steven had begged him to apologize because he saw how affected you were, but all Marc could do for now was to frown in disgruntlement and put a towel over the mirror to prevent himself from smashing it.

Not seeing them anymore didn’t change much as the two men still kept on ranting, but somehow it gave Marc the impression of having more control over the situation.

At least that was what he thought.

The resonating sound of the front door closing quickly left him to let Steven be in charge of the body for your return, to avoid heavy gazes and deafening silences in the flat.

It had been like this for a little more than a week. 

This freezing, uncomfortable atmosphere everytime Marc fronted – which he rarely did lately for those reasons –, with the both of you avoiding your presences and throwing snarky remarks at each other every time you really had to talk. You couldn’t say this was enjoyable, In fact this was a pain for everyone, including Steven and Jake, and you knew that this whole situation caused them to fight too.

Steven exited the bathroom, sighing loudly now that Marc gave up on fronting. 

He and Jake had found common ground in trying to convince Marc to apologize, but Marc was stubborn and headstrong so this was a lost cause.

Steven looked up and smiled at you when he noticed you were there.

“Hey love” he huffed out with a smile, walking to you to help with the bags of groceries. “How was your day?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen, putting the bags on the island. You followed him and offered him a sigh before answering his question.

“Really meh. Could have been better” you said while unloading the bags and putting away their content. “People at work were rude and people at the store were standing right in front of what I wanted to pick. Each time”

He chuckled in response and turned to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll take care of the bags, go take care of yourself” he smiled before kissing your forehead.

“Thank you Steven. And you, did you have a good day? What had you sighing when I arrived?” you asked, smoothing the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, that? Had a little chat with the gentlemen. Didn’t go so well” he declared as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded, pressing your lips together skeptically, noting that you weren’t the only one having trouble talking to Marc. You closed your eyes and hugged Steven tight.

The only good thing about your fight with Marc was that the affection you didn’t give to Marc, you gave to Steven and Jake. 

Sadly.

—

Steven whistled softly as he beelined to the bedroom area with two hot chocolates in hands. You telling him you had a bad day always resulted in this and cuddles, and usually never failed to make you feel better.

But Steven understood the situation was worse than that when he noticed you were curled up on your side, wiping away warm tears running down your face.

“Steven.” Jake called out. Steven caught his alter’s glare in the full length mirror, an empathetic expression on his reflection. “Let me take care of that”

Steven surrendered the body to Jake without a word nor a question, and Jake walked around the bed to put down the cups on the bedside table before snuggling up behind you. 

He pressed his chest against your back and snaked his arms around your waist before brushing away the hair sticking to your face because of the tears, and nuzzled the back of your neck.

“Jake” you breathed out in a barely audible sound.

The tight grip around you made you notice the change.

Jake shifted and left a kiss on your damp cheek. “I’m here, amor” he whispered. “I got you.”

You sighed and interlaced your fingers with his.

You both stayed here in silence, Jake softly caressing your stomach and kissing your shoulder from time to time while you tried to calm down and stop crying. The silence was somehow comforting and cathartic, even though you would rather have Jake have a normal evening rather than having to bear with you and your feelings.

“I miss him.” you muttered under your breath after a while. “I miss Marc” 

Jake hesitated before talking, not sure of what he should say to try to make you feel better.

“I know, I’m sorry honey” he said as he blinked tiredly, hearing Marc sigh softly. “He won’t tell us anything but I’m pretty sure he misses you too.” he declared sternly as he caught Marc’s remorseful and shameful face in the reflection of the fish tank. “I’m sure he does.” he said as his brows furrowed at Marc and his hold tightened around you.

Marc’s shoulders slouched under the weight of guilt and the man couldn’t feel anything except utter frustration.

—

When you woke up the next morning they were gone. The spot next to you in the bed was cold as if a ghost was laying there and the flat was dead silent. 

The only sound present was the rain pouring in the streets of London, raindrops quickly running down the windows considering how violent the precipitation was.

You sat up straight, pushing the covers away from your body.

This wasn’t normal. 

Steven wasn’t supposed to be at the museum today, Jake wasn’t supposed to drive around today, and both of them would have told you if Marc was supposed to go on a mission for Khonshu.

The freezing temperature and that feeling of worry lodged deep inside of you made you shiver, urging you to put on one of Marc’s hoodies; the only proximity you could get from him from these past days.

You wandered around the flat, looking for any sign that they were here, but there were none.

You tried to be rational, you tried not panicking, so you ran to take your phone and call them.

He stepped into the flat, soaked from the rain. The previously slicked back curls were now falling in front of his face, thick drops of water falling on the old wooden floor.

He sighed as he watched the drenched flowers in his hand, petals falling down in a depressing way as they had been hammered by the rain.

Even buying you flowers he couldn’t do right, he thought.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the creak of the front door. You urged yourself to the entry, and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your boyfriend back home.

“You’re here– Aw Jake” you cooed – almost out of breath from nearly freaking out – at the sight of the bouquet of flowers.

The man in front of you cleared his throat and pinched his lips in a signature awkward smile and you knew.

“Oh”

Marc adjusted his position of his feet and held out the bouquet to you.

“I, uh–” he paused and sighed. “You know I’m better with actions than with words, but I still need to tell you that I’m sorry.” he affirmed weakly, voice barely audible. 

You walked up to him and took the flowers.

They looked beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“It started raining as soon as I left the flower shop, sorry… For that and for everything else.” Marc muttered under his breath.

You looked up at him and observed his pained expression.

Marc looked just like the flowers. Beaten up, tired, but still beautiful.

“...Marc” you huffed out, shaking your head.

“I’m really sorry. I mean it. I’m an asshole” he said nodding. 

He was angry at himself, and he was sad, but he was first of all sorry.

He was sorry because he didn’t mean those words to slip out, sorry because he thought he couldn’t be the boyfriend you deserved to have, sorry because all of this should have never happened.

“They’re alright” you smiled, looking back at the flowers. “I think I like them more that way.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I mean it.” you cut him off, still staring at the flowers. There was something poetic about them being crushed by the rain.

“I hate pretending not to care about you.” he let out abruptly. You looked back at him, and raised your eyebrows. “I can’t stand it.” he declared, the inner corner of his brows angled up, attesting of his vulnerability.

You sighed as a shiver ran up your spine and tears started to threaten your eyes. 

“Marc–” you started. 

“You know I love you, right?” he cut you off, chasing your gaze.

You let out a shudder, quickly looking away from him because you knew you would start crying if you kept on looking at his face.

You looked at the rain-painted thin windows and nodded.

“I know”

Your voice resonated through the apartment, as if it was an abandoned building. 

The wood floors creaked under Marc’s feet as he took a step towards you, and you let the bouquet of flowers fall to the floor, a barely audible sound compared to the sigh of relief you let out when you crashed into Marc’s arms.

“Fucking hell, you’re a pain in the ass, Marc Spector” you groaned against his chest, and he let out a sigh of relief and chuckle.

“I know, I’m sorry” he replied almost too seriously, wrapping his arms around you too. “I’m sorry” he repeated, and you dug your nails into his damp jacket, holding him tighter. 

You stayed like this for a while, a few tears unwillingly running down your cheeks, just appreciating each other's presence and the relaxing feeling of being able to be in the same room without fighting. 

Being able to hold him close and to finally get that proximity you had been missing and craving felt reviving.

“Baby get off me, you’re gonna catch a cold” he advised.

“Damn, not even two minutes since we made peace and you already don’t want me anymore” you joked, quickly pecking his lips before reluctantly pulling away from his drenched clothes.

He chuckled as he took off his jacket and put it over the radiator, watching as you picked up the bouquet of flowers from the floor.

“Those flowers were expensive” he grumbled, pushing away the curls falling over his forehead.

“It’s okay. I don’t need flowers to forgive you, Marc” you declared as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and put the flowers in it. You didn’t need those flowers to forgive him, but your heart still ached positively at the action. He was worried about their depressing state, but you couldn’t care less; they were flowers and no matter how they looked they remained flowers: beautiful and significant.

A small smile formed on his face, and he quickly kicked his shoes off to go and change into dry clothes.

You came back to him, slouching down on the bed as he thoroughly searched through the drawers of clothes.

He let out a grunt of frustration. “Where’s my–”

“Hey” you called. 

“–Hoodie” he continued as he turned to you, rolling his eyes when he realized you were wearing it. He crashed next to you on the bed and you laughed. “Thief” he mumbled under his breath, laying his head over your stomach.

“Don’t be dramatic” you teased him as you covered your hand with the sleeve of his hoodie, ruffling his wet hair with it. “Want it back?”

“No that’s okay, my shirt’s not actually that wet” he said as he looked up at you. “And you somehow happen to look good with it, so…”

“‘Somehow happen?’ asshole” you laughed as you sat up to tickle his ribs, causing him to wriggle and writhe under your touch.

“Sto– Stop this!” he laughed, out of breath. You giggled and freed him of your tickles, laying back down on the bed. “You don’t want me to piss my pants on this bed” he affirmed.

“I don’t want you to piss your pants period.” you chuckled, and he shifted to plant his elbow right next to your face. He stared at you for a second, observing your face carefully.

“I love you” he whispered, stroking your cheek with the back of his other hand.

“Marc you can’t tell me you love me right after we talk about piss” you frowned, and he smiled softly.

“Oh yeah can’t I?” he asked teasingly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say it’s not the most romantic thing.” 

“Jake says anything can be romantic,” he shrugged.

“Jake is fucking delusional” you huffed out with a laugh.

“Steven agrees”

You bowed your head. “Thank you for being a reasonable man Steven.” you laughed, mirroring Marc’s action and planting your elbow into the mattress and holding your face with your hand too. “That being said, I love you too.” you grinned. “I missed you” you continued, brushing back the humid curls at the side of his face.

“I missed you too” he muttered. “I regret what I’ve said and done.”

“I do too. We’ll be okay.” you promised, pushing him to lay against his chest. He caged you with his arms, burying his face into your hair.

“I think we’ll be.” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be.”

—

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

moon knight taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @beccabecs521 @wibblywobblytimesindeed

[blue-sadie]

A Dark Slumber

they accidentally hurt you when having a nightmare

Steven Grant

The nightmares only started after the whole experience death and finding out his purpose of living he felt used and betrayed, he couldn't stomach looking at marc for a while let alone talking to you about it but what hurt him most was his mother's death.

You both layed soundly in your bed the only noise was from the fish tank that released bubbles every few moments, it was peaceful well for you, Steven's nightmare started with his leg twitch then to his hands pulling at the covers, he started muttering words no one could understand.

He woke you up when he accidentally smacked you in your face making you squeaked out which made him sit up in alarmed by your noise, he'll look around frantically intill his eyes landed on you holding your cheek and he immediately knew what he did.

The first thing he did was ask if your ok he wouldn't come close to you unless you tell him it's ok, he would feel ashamed and full of guilt and breakdown he would tell you everything that's been on his mind mostly about the nightmares and of the things he saw when he died "i-ive just been so stuck in my mind I guess my feelings were just catching up to me"

Marc Spector

He always had nightmares from his childhood but they've never been this bad, after the countless missions he's done he would think that killing would get easier that the guilt feeling would subside but it never did it was actually getting the best of him sometimes.

You were pretty used to his slight movements and bumps in the night he was a restless sleep it was very rare when he had a peaceful slumber, his hands would grasp the blankets tightly his breathing uneven as he twist and turned.

You woke up gasping as you felt your air way close your hands immediately wrapped around his he would only wake up probly when you gasped out his name, he would immediately release your neck and stare blankly at his hands.

He would quickly raise fron the bed and refuse to get back in, you'd have to coax him back in after nights of him on the couch he would take alot of convincing and time to even touch you again the images of him strangling you crossing his mind everytime he comes into contact with your skin "I don't know what came over me it felt as if I lost control of my whole body it was... scary".

Jake Lockley

He never had dreams only nightmares but that hardly ever happened anyway since he normally stares up at the ceiling as you slept beside him, he'll do anything to stay awake the thought of sleeping repulsed him but it was actually the fear if what he'll see that stopped him.

He only closed his eyes for a minute only wanting a slight rest but that was quick to turn into a long slumber but that miracle turned sour as his body started to flinch and his rapid eye moments were frantic, his body thrashed around kicking the blankets off of him and he squirmed around.

The thing that woke you was when you came into contact with the ground the coldness and shock of the fall caused you to scream making him fling himself out of bed to your rescue but it took him a minute to figure out it was his doing that got you onto the floor.

He would profusely apologize and help you back into bed while cursing at himself in spanish as he took got back into bed, he would cuddle you whispering apologizes and praises while making internal promises to himself that he'll never sleep in your presence again afraid it would be worse next time "I'm so sorry mi amor I promise I'll get better"

[jake-g-lockley]

hi! i see that requests are open and i love your writing! could you do an imagine with all three moon boys based on the prompt “running into reader’s ex” thank you! <3

Vengeance (Moon Knight x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks for the ask, here’s the protective moon boys (I had to include the all powerful being too)

Warnings: Slight dark!moon knight, them being extra protective, swearing, mentions of bad mental health and unresolved trauma, Khonshu needs his own warning sometimes. 

Word count: 1.3k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You know, I really could have just driven us here.” Jake grumbled, one hand protectively clutching onto yours and his other arm slung around your shoulder.

You leaned into him as he guided you through the city’s bustling streets, your bag slung on his shoulder. You smiled at your fiance’s coddling, loving the attention that he brought with him whenever he fronted. 

The new bookstore that you wanted to visit was located in a cultural hub and you had a list of books that you wanted to splurge on. Steven was happy to join you on your spending spree, Jake was happy to carry all of your books and Marc was just happy that you were happy. The second you walked in, you sprinted away from Jake’s protective grasp towards the novel section, making him chuckle at your enthusiasm.

“Don’t go too far princesa, we’re gonna lose you to books, like we always lose Steven.” he joked, shaking his head at you.

“Jake, we are quite literally attached to the same body, what are you on about?” Steven grumbled. 

“I mean mentally, hermano.”

The second you were a bookshelf away from your boys, everything started going horribly. Your eyes landed on someone that made your hair stand on its end, goosebumps rose throughout your skin as you stood frozen, in shock. The person hadn’t seen you yet, instead talking to a customer. You back away slowly, turning the corner before you collide into a familiar chest.

“Aye, why you walkin’ backwards, sweetheart?” Marc questioned, the amusement in his tone fading instantly as he scanned your face. 

He instinctively put his arm around your shoulders and you buried your face into his chest, breathing in his calming scent. You started to count from one to ten, backwards and forwards again and again until your breathing calmed. Marc knew you were scared about something but he didn’t ask instantly, choosing to look at his surroundings to find anything that could have triggered you. You fisted his jacket and pulled him close when he shifted slightly.

“Not going anywhere, baby, we’re still here with you.” he soothed, rubbing your hair and kissing your forehead.

You were safe, you had Marc, Steven and Jake, you were fine. You focused on Marc’s voice, holding on to it like he was your rock as the memories started to flood to you. Marc began to rub a spot on your back that made you begin to tear up. 

“He couldn’t hurt you, not when your boys were around.” you thought to yourself. 

You were pulled out of your swirling memories by the call of your name.

That voice.

“Huh, I thought I saw you here.” said the smug voice.

Marc, Steven and Jake were absolutely confused. Marc looked between the man in front of him and you, trying to piece together what was happening.

“Hiding in the arms of another man like the whore you are.” 

You began to shake in Marc’s arms, fear creeping up your spine and dread flooding you. Marc was in shock. He couldn’t react to what this man had just called you, he just stood there, holding you tighter than ever. You wanted to tell them what was going on, or just pull Marc away from this mess, pretending that it never existed, but you couldn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?” Marc spat when he came to his senses.

A cruel laugh met your ears, your blood curdling at the sound, your heart racing as your brain began to shut down.

“I’m guessing the right slag didn’t tell you about me? I’m her ex.” 

Marc froze. Your ex wasn’t a topic they got to discuss. You had your own troubles, it gave you nightmares and horrible anxiety that plagued you worse than any disease ever. It haunted you but the boys hadn’t figured out how to bring the topic up, choosing to deal with the aftershocks of whatever you had gone through. They were happy with you, they didn’t exactly need a full rundown of your life to know that you were good for them. 

Marc was a little lost, trying to both focus on his own anger and pushing his alters to stay at bay. Khonshu had taken an interest in what was going on and had appeared behind the man that claimed to be your ex. No matter how much he despised the god he worked for, Marc felt relief rush over him, as if Khonshu had casted a safety blanket over them and flashed a reminder in Marc’s mind that he literally had the power of the gods. He swallowed his demons and took a deep breath. 

“I suggest you apologize to my fiance and I before I make your life a living hell, Mr… Vic.” he said, eyeing the man’s name tag.

“Hmph, what can you do? Like I care about her to apologize. She should be the one facing the music.” the man lunged forward and grabbed your arm.

Fear coursed through you like a wave as you felt yourself being pulled away from Marc but all you saw was a flash of white before you. You dropped to your knees as your eyes fell on graying bandages. You knew you were not staring at any one of the boys’ suits. Slowly you looked up and there stood your fiance’s body but he looked different, more dangerous than any of the three could be.

“What the fuck is that!” your ex screamed and looked around but no one came to his aid. 

Reassuring energy took over your fear and you now knew what was happening. Khonshu had taken over Marc’s body, his eyes shining bright and white like a full moon. Your ex was cowering now, his arms over his head as the possessed Marc stepped over your body, towards your ex. 

“Don’t hurt me, please.” he begged and part of you wanted to smile at the fear that was etched on his face.

“You’re going to pay for this.” boomed Khonshu’s voice and all you saw was another flash of white before your whole vision went blank.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up in your fiance’s bed, Steven’s worried and tired face forming in your vision. You tried to smile at Steven but it came out as a grimace as you tried to sit up, your head pounding.

“Shh, stay down, love.” Steven cooed, pushing you back down onto the pillows. 

“What happened?” you whispered.

“Well, our boss decided to show his full form, right in front of you and you passed out.” Steven said nervously, playing with the cuff of his sweater. 

“What happened to, you know…” you asked, fear edging you around you again. 

You were admittedly worried that the four of them had collectively done something irreversible and you stared at Steven with big scared eyes.

“Oh, let's just say that you’ll never have to deal with him again, my darling.” Steven said, his voice a tone lower. “And before you ask, no, he is not dead. Death would be mercy for him.”

Your mouth went dry but you didn’t question it. Instead your hands found the collar of Steven’s sweater and you pulled him down. His lips met yours gently and he pressed his forehead against yours reassuringly.

“I guess I owe the three of you an explanation.” you mumble.

“Only when you are ready, baby.” Marc’s voice slowed your heart and ebbed your anxiousness away. 

“We’ll always wait for you, amor.” Jake promised and with a soft kiss to your cheek he laid down and pulled you over him as you began your story, never feeling more safe in your entire life. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With the contact’s Marc had, wiping a person off the face of the Earth without killing them was probably the easiest thing in the world. All it took was a few calls, a little bit of money and Marc’s thoughts slowly started clearing. He didn’t care about the explanation you had for him, he knew your love was true and that fuelled him to do anything for you, no matter the consequence. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie

[winniethewife]

Moon Boys Arguing Head-canons.

Steven Is a nonsense arguer, the minute you start arguing he makes less and less sense, its mostly because he hates arguing he's avoiding the actual point of the argument,

He's Just bubbling at you like he has nothing to add.

"B-but... I did the...and the...but the...Just..."

he would probably start to cry when it got to the point of a fight, Just silently crying as you yell. He'll stay and take it, knowing the other two would react badly but he doesn't respond, becoming the verbal punching bag he has been his whole life.

Jake is a silent arguer, he just mumbles some stuff, usually in Spanish, Ignoring your points, not acknowledging his part in the problem, More than willing to push blame around.

"No soy idiota, no hace falta hablar para ser así." (I'm not an idiot, you don't have to talk to be like that.)

He's making the argument worse and worse until its a full blown fight, then he's yelling and cussing, he gets really close physically too, never gonna hurt you but physically intimidating. Standing inches from you ready to do whatever it takes to win come hell or high water.

Marc is very passive aggressive, he doesn't look at you, he doesn't really acknowledge the problem, he's similar to Jake in the quite arguing but he's really drawn back he doesn't get close, the more you argue the farther away he gets

"I don't know what you're talking about...its not that big a deal, Just calm down..."

once you get to fighting he yells once and then shuts down. apologizing right away. Yelling is really triggering so usually if you start first yelling he'll pullback in the headspace and let one of the others front.

this of course goes out of the window if he's drunk. if you guys fight when he's drunk he goes all out, everything you might have ever done to annoy him or any mistake is on the table, he will tear everything down, probably leave in the middle of the fight, just wandering the streets. He'll be home in the morning with a gift to apologize and a face filled with guilt.

~

Masterlist

[romanarose]

Used

Marc Spector x GN!reader

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Moon Knight masterlist

Summary: Marc and you enjoy rough sex, but when Marc asks you to try something new, it quickly goes downhill.

Warnings and Content: reverences to BDSM, Dom/sub, whipping with a belt, Marc's abusive childhood, references to self-harm in the past, mention of self-harm scars, just.... a lot of talk about self-harm. Misuse of BDSM. Breach of trust in a D/s dynamic, miscommunication. This isn't meant to be a perfect or even good D/s relationship or relationship in general. this is a relationship that is struggling right now. Don't look to fanfiction for sex and relationship advice. Marc is self-destructing, reader isn't the best at handling it but the are trying. Lots of crying lmfao. If I miss anything LMK but really this is a proceed at your own caution situation as I've at least laid out the basic themes.

Immersability: Marc can pick up reader. I think that's it? I usually write Fem!reader but there really wasn't a reason to make this fem so I put GN!reader this time. If I accidentally fem coded something lmk.

*****************

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Marc looked up from his food he had barely eaten. You’d made him his favorite: chicken strips and fries. Marc was a picky eater due to his sensory issues so you were happy to have simple little meals when Marc was fronting for dinner. He’d been absent for a few days, only fronting when Steven and Jake insisted. You’d been worried, after all. The last night you and Marc had together hadn’t ended well, and you wanted to talk to him.

*

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” You said, climbing off the back of Marc’s legs that you had been stradling and quickly pulled on your robe.

“I- what?” The panic in Marc’s voice was evident. You and Marc… liked things rough, but unlike you and Jake, it was you who was the dominant in this dynamic. You and Marc had been doing things like this for a while, clearly defined boundaries and safewords and communication had made a smooth going of things. Marc had been having a bit of a tough time lately so you had stuck to regular love-making, but tonight he had come to you with a request to try something new. He wanted you to use a belt on him.

“Something’s wrong, Marc.”

His face was still in the mattress, face down, but lift enough to speak without looking at you. “I didn’t use the safeword?” It was more a question than a statement.

“Well, I am. Red, on your behalf.” You weren’t super into the idea of using a belt on him, but you weren’t uncomfortable, and since it was something he wanted, you decided to give it a try. Pretty quickly, you didn’t think it was going to happen again but you intended on seeing it through. Marc usually whimpered and yelped during sex, but you could tell his pleasure even still… something told you this was different. This was wrong. He didn’t use his safe word, but he didn’t need to. You knew him.

“I’m fine-”

“Turn over” You instruct, and when he doesn’t you nudge him over gently. Your heart hurts at the tears in his eyes, but his boxer briefs tell you what you suspected. His erection was gone. “Marc…”

Immediately, his lip quivers, breath shaky and he sputters out apologies and you remember your job. It’s not to chastise him, not to question him. Not right now. Right now you need to take care of him.

First was reassurance. “Hey, hey baby,” You cup his face. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Second was always his weighted blanket. He didn’t usually sleep with it, so you kept it under the bed for any time he needed the pressure.

Third depended. If he needed anything medical or was hurt, that was next, but you didn’t think what you had done was too bad (your hesitant actions didn’t lead to anything harsh and you had been researching and reaching out to others on how to do this correctly.). Right now, Marc needed to calm down. With tears wetting his cheeks and his anxiety over thinking he ruined the scene, he needed reassurance next. 

“Can I lay with you?” You ask as you tuck the blanket over him the way he likes. When he nodded, you lie down beside him. “The usual?” He nodded again, and you place yourself how you usually did. You lay on his chest, arms holding him, right leg bent over his, adding to the weight of the blanket.

“You didn’t do a thing wrong, Marc. You were perfect, this is me, okay? My choice to end it.”

You stay like that for a while before asking to check his back when his breathing was normal. He nodded again and you knew he wasn’t going to be talking the rest of the night. That was okay, you knew how to communicate without words. Marc rolls over, and you see you were correct; not much as far as wounds. You ice him and gently rub aloe vera ointment over the small welts. Once that was done, you help him in dressing in his most comfortable pj’s and resume your previous position until he fell asleep.

You woke up to Steven that morning.

*

“Talk about what?” Marc tried to deflect, but you cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows.

“The other night, Marc. We need to talk about it.”

He avoided your eyes again and mumbled. “I wasn’t the one who safworded.”

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Marc, honey, please? I wanna talk about it so I know what I did wrong-”

His eyes flicked up, his tone harsher than you were used to. “Only thing you did wrong was safeword.”

Taken aback, you feel your chest tightening with anxiety at the argument bubbling. You want to dial it back, but the implication of his words hurt. “Marc… I’m allow to use the safe word too”

Immediately he looked regretful. “No- that’s not what I meant, fuck, sorry…” You gave him a second to regain his thoughts. “I just meant you shouldn’t have done it for me.”

You soften, understanding what he meant. “Baby, you were clearly uncomfortable, and that makes me uncomfortable.” 

“I was fine!” He snapped, yelling at you and you see it right away when Jake takes over. “Lo siento, amor.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” But it was clear that his shouting hurt your feelings.

“He shouldn’t yell at you like that.” Jake began eating the chicken. One thing about Jake is he’s going to take care of Marc, and that includes eating when Marc won’t.

“We’ve been… going through a little bit of a rough patch…” You conceded, admitting it to yourself for the first time. The last month with Marc had been hard. He was drifting, and you couldn’t figure out how to stop it. 

“It’s not you. He loves you very much.”

“I know he does, I love him.”

“I know.” Jake stuffed his mouth full of chicken. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to reenact his moms abuse, but he never listens to me.”

That caught your attention. “Wait, what?” You weren’t stupid. You knew his enjoyment of rough sex probably had something to do with his childhood, but Marc didn’t divulge much other than his mom physically abused him.

“Oh great, Marc’s yelling at me now, I guess he never told you his mom whipped-” Marc took the body back. “SHUT UP!” He screamed with eyes pinched shut. You sat in silence until they opened again. When he saw you looking at him with wide eyes, he spoke quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t think… I didn’t realize I was in control again…”

“It’s okay…” You whisper. “Marc… what was Jake gonna say.”

Marc sighed, closing his eyes I think you know.

You did, but you wanted him to say it.

“Marc?” Your voice was shaking and seemed so distant from you as you slowly realized what happened, what he had done. What he had made you do.

“She whipped me with a belt.” Marc’s face was deadset, the look he gave when he was trying so hard not to show emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest always gave it away.

You stand up suddenly. “Marc…” stepping backwards as Marc stands with you, you try to get distance  from him, disgust with yourself permeating your bones.

“Marc…”

“Baby, it’s not what you think-” He held out his hand to calm you but your body began to curl in on itself, horrified as you wrap your arms around your waist.

“Were you using me to self harm?”

Horror washed over his face. “No! No that’s not it!”

“But you were! You were using me to hurt yourself, to punish yourself! That’s sick, Marc! Sick!” You couldn’t believe he’d made you an accomplice in his battle against himself.

“It’s not like that, I swear!”

“Making me into your mother, Marc? How could you use me like that?” The tears were welling in your eyes, hurt and self-loathing swelling your thoughts. 

“Baby…” Marc looked like he was about to cry himself. “It’s not- it’s not that big a deal…” Marc always tried to down play, to refuse help, to refuse to admit when something he’d done hurt you. Not because he didn’t think he was wrong. Marc always thought he was in the wrong. No, it was because he didn’t think he was worth crying over.

“YES IT IS!” In a fit of frustration, you reach for the kitchen knife. Marc didn’t jump, didn’t startle. He knew whatever you were doing, you wouldn’t hurt him. You give him the handle and hold out your wrist. “Cut me.”

He looked as confused as he was horrified. “Wha-”

“Cut me!” A litany of scars riddles your wrist, he knew what asking him to add to it meant.

“No!” Marc set the knife down far away from you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him in concern. “Baby, why would I do that?” He kissed the scars., speaking softly now as you cried freely. “C’mon, your scaring me… are you having urges to hurt yourself again?”

Classic Marc, always more worried about you. “N-o,” You stammer, crying hard as Marc pulls you into a hug. “That’s the point! You’-d-d-d never help me hurt myself, why would you ask me to hurt you like that?” You are crying, legs shaking and you don’t feel you can keep standing.

Marc sinks to the floor with you, holding you close and crying with you. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He held you in his arms for a while until you started to calm down. When you were no longer shaking, Marc lifted you up, carrying you to your bedroom.

First, he reassured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong, baby girl. It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

Next was the weighted blanket. It was a gift from you to the boys, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t sleep under it sometimes.

“Can I lay with you?” He asked, and when you nodded, too tired to speak, he crawled under the blanket with you. “The usual?” You consented, and Marc wrapped you up tight in his arms, leg draped over yours in extra comfort.

Lastly, he whispered more assurances in your ear.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Rest, we’ll talk about it later.”

“Everything is going to be alright.”

And you knew it would be. It always would be between you four. Marc just needed help, and he needed to let you help.

Rough sex was out for now. If you couldn’t trust him to use the safe word, you wouldn’t be putting him or yourself in that position. Slowly, Marc opened up and let you, Steven and Jake in, and slowly things got better. It took time, to be sure, and a lot of work on both your parts to repair the trust that was broken, but you loved Marc and Marc loved you.

In the end, Marc was right. Everything was okay.

***************

angsty marc overwhelmingly won my poll. yall like to see a pretty boy cry, huh?

@moonknightly this is the fic i was brainstorming months ago that hurt you so bad lol

@whatthefishh @missdictatorme @ahookedheroespureheart @eyelessfaces @campingwiththecharmings @runa-falls @fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @littlenosoul @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @faretheeoscar @boysddontcry

[heroinnne]

“are you okay?”

marc asks, gripping your arm and checking you over for any lethal injuries, his brows knitted in worry.

“i’m fine.” you say, wiping away at some blood that was on your cheek from a cut.

the two of you are in the aftermath of another fight — and you got caught up in the crossfire, and bravely — or stupidly, depends on where you see this from —  you had jumped in to defend marc.

“you shouldn’t have done that.” marc says, pushing off your hand and wiping the rest of the blood off of your cheek.

“marc, i told you —” he cuts you off, “it was stupid and reckless.”

“marc —”

“do you know what would've happened if i didn’t get there in time?”

“i’m —”

“you could’ve died, y/n!” he cries out, and he doesn’t know what he would've done if you did, you weren’t meant for all of this, the fighting, the violence, the hurt.

you were too fragile, too chaste.

and he was all you had for protection at a place and time you shouldn’t have been at.

“and it would've been my fault.” he continues, his voice gruff and weak, and his hand shakes in yours, and you notice the tears welling up in his eyes even as he casts his gaze down so you wouldn’t see.

“marc,” you say softy, cupping his face in your hand as you tilt his head up to face you, and when a tear slips, you wipe it away with your thumb, “i’m okay.” you reassure him.

“look at me,” you say softly, “i’m as good as new.” you try to joke to lighten the mood but it doesn’t work.

you lean in closer, pressing your lips against his in an attempt to comfort him, to ground him to your presence.

it works as you feel him melt into the kiss, his hand holding yours and he knows that you’re here.

you pull away slight from the kiss, and you whisper against his lips,

“come on, let’s go home.”

[writingdumpster]

chores

pairing: Moon Boys x reader (mainly Marc)

warnings: none

summary: Marc is insecure because he struggles with household chores after you move in together.

word count: 1.3k

You moved in with the boys about two weeks ago. It was wonderful and you couldn’t be happier. You woke up next to one of the boys and went to bed next to one of them too. You got to see all of them every day now that you lived together and always had time in private. You had never felt more at home before you moved in with them. 

You and the boys were all settling into a domestic routine. Jake cooked. Steven did the laundry and dishes. You cleaned the house. Marc hadn’t figured out his place yet. One Sunday evening you had brought home a new dresser kit for the bedroom. Marc put the box on the floor of your bedroom. He started to open it. 

“You don’t have to build it now, baby,” you told Marc. You had seen Marc try to put together furniture before and it never went well. You had intended to wait for Jake to take care of it. 

“I can do it,” Marc said. 

“Just leave it,” you tried. “We can watch a movie.” Marc knew what you were doing. He knew he struggled with building furniture. He felt like he was failing at all of the domestic tasks. It made him feel like he wasn’t taking care of you well enough. He wanted to prove himself. 

“It’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll do it now,” Marc insisted. He spent the next four hours sitting on your bedroom floor hammering, screwing and unscrewing, tightening and loosening, but he couldn’t get the dresser together. You had been bugging him to leave it alone after the first hour. He refused to come to the table for dinner, Steven forcing his way into the body so that he could eat for Marc. 

You took a shower, brushed your teeth, and got into your pajamas. You read on your bed while Marc worked. You glanced over at the clock and realized it was almost 11:00. You put your book to the side and slid off the bed. Marc was still sitting on the floor. You came up behind him and put your hands on his shoulders, rubbing out the knots that had formed after hunching over the ground for so long. 

“Let’s go to bed. You can finish it in the morning,” you called. 

“We shouldn’t leave all the pieces loose on the floor. It could be dangerous,” Marc said. You sighed. 

“You’ve been trying for four hours, baby,” you said. 

“I can do it,” he said. 

“I know you can, honey,” you assured him. “But it’s late. I want to go to sleep and I want you in bed with me.” You kissed the top of his head. 

“I can’t go to bed if it’s not finished,” Marc said. You sighed. 

“Marc, baby, I want to go to bed. Please just let Jake do it,” you begged. Marc took a deep breath. 

“Fine,” he relented. A second later Jake was looking up at you from the floor. 

“I’ve got this, mi amor,” Jake said. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you, querido,” you called. The dresser was finished in a little less than twenty minutes. 

“All done,” he said. Jake stood up, pushing the dresser next to his. He turned around to see you standing there. You leaned up on your toes and gave him a sweet kiss.

“Thank you,” you said. “Can I see Marc? I think he needs me.” Jake nodded. 

“He does,” Jake said. Marc took over the body again. He looked behind himself and saw the finished dresser. He sighed. He turned back to face you. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Marc said dejectedly. “I can’t seem to do anything right around here.” You gave him a sad smile. 

“Come sit with me, honey,” you took one of his hands and pulled him towards the bed. The two of you settled on the bed. Marc leaned against the headboard and you sat cross legged facing him from his side. His head was against the headboard, eyes looking up at the ceiling as he pouted. You reached out and took his hand in yours, giving it a squeeze. 

“You know that you do more than enough for the family, don’t you?” You asked. 

“I don’t do anything,” Marc said. “I can’t do anything.” 

“Baby, you do so much,” you said. Marc scoffed. 

“Do you know that you’re always the one who showers for Jake?” You asked. “And you always set the alarm when Steven has work. You put Jake’s keys back in the bowl when he forgets them in his pocket and whenever Steven loses his bus pass you always go get him a new one.” Marc still looked disappointed in himself. “When I was sick last week you were the one who got my medicine. You drew my bath and rubbed my shoulders,” you reminded him. 

“But–” Marc started to argue. 

“I know you have trouble doing chores, but you take care of us. You do things for the others that they don’t even realize. I’m sure you do things for me that I don’t notice either,” you said. “You do enough for our family, Marc,” you assured him. 

“It’s just…I feel like if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t be able to take care of you,” you said. 

“Honey, you know how to do the dishes and you’ve cooked for me before. You lived on your own for years. Just because we all have a little easier time with chores doesn’t mean you can’t do them,” you said. “You just don’t have to now. You have us. And we have you too.” 

“Is that enough? Me?” Marc asked. You gave him a soft smile as your heart broke in your chest. You knew he was insecure about himself. You didn’t know how to make it clear that he was enough. For you. For the family. For the world. You reached out and cupped Marc’s cheek in your hand. He leaned into your touch. 

“Marc, baby, you’re more than enough. You’re everything,” you said.

“You promise? You won’t leave if I can’t keep Jake and Steven around?” Marc asked. Your eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Leave? Marc, I would never leave you. Any of you. All of you,” you assured him. He nodded hesitantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just never feel like I’m enough for you,” he admitted. You let out a small sigh. You rubbed your thumb against his cheek. 

“I know, baby,” you said. “But you are,” you told Marc. He nodded. He laid down, cuddling into your chest as you slid down the bed with him. You ran your fingers through his curls as he lay there, your other arm wrapping around his body. 

“I love you,” Marc said. You smiled softly. You knew why he was saying it. He wanted to hear it back from you. It wasn’t a problem for you. You would tell him every time he wanted to hear it. He didn’t need to say it back. Most of the time he didn’t have to ask. You turned your head to the side and kissed his forehead before whispering against his hair. 

“I love you more than anything, Marc,” you assured him. 

“Do you want to sleep with Steven?” Marc asked. “I know you haven’t seen him much today.” He would give every opportunity for you to choose someone else, purely because he didn’t think he deserved to be chosen. 

“I want you, Marc. Stay right here.” Marc nodded against you. 

“Don’t let me go,” he begged. You gave him a squeeze. 

“Never.”

[foreverinadais]

bad date: j.l

summary: you find yourself on a bad date. in desperation, you call your ex, jake lockley, hoping he can help you. which he does, in ways you never could've bargained for.

warnings: smut (eek), dry humping, kissing, light choking ig??? jake puts his hand around reader's neck, fluff, teasing, reader's date is a twat like he seriously sucks, angst but not with jake, no use of y/n or pronouns :) ~part of the ex! mk series but can be read standalone!!!~

word count: 3.4k

ex!mk series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

It felt wrong to be on a date. Extremely wrong. You felt as though you were being disloyal, despite having no commitments, no one to be disloyal too. The events of a couple of weeks ago were still freshly embedded in your brain. It was as though every time you blinked, you remembered a different detail from your conversation with Marc, or a different look from your car ride with Jake, or a different touch from your comforting of Steven.

You had never been quite so confused.

You almost cancelled the date that had been scheduled for quite some time. But doing that would admit you weren’t over your exes. And admitting that would put all the work you had done in getting over them to shame.

So, you got ready, put on your finest outfit with the glamour you desired, and got a taxi to the restaurant you were meeting him at.

He seemed nice enough over text. You had shared stories, even laughed at his pick up lines. He was handsome in a way which felt… unnatural. You struggled to find attraction to other people after so long denouncing everyone. It felt odd to look at a person, that wasn’t your person, in any way other than politeness.

He had embraced you, even kissed your hand, and you worried as you felt nothing. He had opened the door for you, even pulled your chair out, waiting for you to sit and still… nothing. He was perfectly nice.

Until he started talking.

“I just do not understand the people who say looks mean nothing. I mean, obviously, I am attractive, I know that. And you’re decent looking. We’re attracted to each other, nothing wrong with that.” You cocked an eyebrow, taking a long sip of wine as you hummed.

“Right. I mean, I think appearance is surface level. Other things matter more, like how much you laugh together, your morals… good conversation.” He scoffed, waving over the waiter with just his hand. Ew.

“Should’ve known you would think like that. Crickey, wonder what other opinions you have in that brain of yours?”

“Actually, I have a lot.”

“Right, Would love to hear about those, that’s why I came on this date.” The sarcasm dripped off his words and anger bubbled in your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk when the waiter came over, notepad in hand. “I’ll have the steak -rare- with the potatoes and veg. Gotta get the protein in after a work-out.” You cringed and the waiter shot you a sympathetic look.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the lasagne, please. With garlic bread.” The man in front of you chuckled, but it felt cold.

“Are you sure? Don’t want to have to kiss you with garlic breath.” Your stomach lurched at the thought of kissing him, but it was by no means a positive feeling. You would rather be sick.

“Make that extra garlic.” You said, and the waiter nodded with a smug, ‘certainly.’

Your date talked at you for the next fifteen minutes. He told you his life story, his career, about his friends and their “absolutely wild times, we go kinda crazy, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You were relieved when the food came out, so you had a moment of silence.

You wanted to leave. To shout at him, get up, and go. But you knew that wasn’t smart. He seemed like the type to follow you out the restaurant and ridicule you for making a scene, before claiming he was a ‘nice guy’.

You stuffed another piece of garlic bread in your mouth as you attempted to plan your next move. “These potatoes are vile. God, you want something done right, I can’t even eat this.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead shrugging.

You had eaten at supersonic speed to rush the date, to get home and snuggle under your covers watching a shitty romcom whilst eating the leftover cake in your fridge. You were relived as he swallowed the last bite of food, putting his cutlery down and sighing deeply. “Well that was a load of shit. The food, I mean, not you, darling.” You almost threw your food back up but managed to keep it down.

“Hmm. Right, should we-”

“Dessert first, right? Not that either of us need it but can’t have a date without something sweet.” The wink he sent you made your whole body curl in disgust. If you had to spend more than thirty seconds more with him, you were sure you’d end up stuffing your ears full of cheese just to never him speak again. This was the worst date you’d ever been on. You weren’t expecting the best date ever, but at least something to distract you from-

The idea hit you all at once.

Pulling out your phone, you pretended to look concerned, opening the one contact you knew would be readily available right now. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” You said as your date just shrugged.

Standing from your chair, you found an empty corner, hitting the call button and desperately holding the phone to your ear. It only took a couple of rings before you heard the familiar, “Yes?”

“Jake, you gotta pick me up. I’ll act like you have an emergency and you need my help or something, and then I’ll hastily leave, and you can get me in your cab and-”

“Woah, woah, slow down. What’s goin’ on? Estas en peligro? Are you in danger?” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Nothing like that. I’m just… this is kinda awkward but I’m on a date.” You could imagine him tensing up as his breathing changed slightly. “But it’s terrible and awful and I just, if I spend one more second with him I’ll end up killing someone.” Jake chuckled, and you scoffed. “It isn’t funny! Look, you owe me. And here’s your chance to pay me back like right now. As fast as you can. I don’t care how many laws you break getting here.”

“Relax, Carino. I got in the car when you started talking.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat and your heart skip.

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll send you my location.” He hummed, and you hung up, quickly sending the restaurant name before returning to your date.

“I’m so sorry but my friend’s had an emergency. This has been… lovely… though.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have too, yeah.”

He scoffed, and you noticed a shift in his persona. “Figures. Everyone leaves me.”

“Nonono, it isn’t anything like that! My friend-”

“Likely story. You know, I’m too good for you anyway. You won’t get a date with someone like me again.”

“Well, thank fuck for that. In fact, I’m deleting every dating app I have just to make sure I never do!” It came out before you could bite your tongue, but fuck, it felt good.

“Whatever. Didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

“Excuse me? That’s all this was? God, you’re such an arsehole! Fuck you, I’m leaving. I’ll pay my half at the till.” He started ranting about something, about how you ‘probably couldn’t afford it’ and how ‘you’re lucky he’s being nice’ but you were already walking away.

You paid for your meal, apologising to the waiter for the arsehole’s rude behaviour, but she just smiled and handed you a piece of dessert in a takeaway box; “It’s on the house.” You smiled, ignoring the shouts from your date as you left the restaurant.

You were beyond grateful to see him. He was wearing his driving gloves, the rough leather ones that you loved. He had got out the car, waiting anxiously to see you. You saw his sigh of relief when he did. You couldn’t help yourself.

You practically ran toward him, watching his face of shock turn to acceptance as you reached his arms. You wrapped an arm around his waist, careful not to drop your food as he engulfed you in a hug. “Hi.” You whispered into his chest, beyond grateful he was there. You knew you could look after yourself. You didn’t need a man to come to your rescue.

But he wasn’t just a man.

Secretly, you were looking for an excuse, any excuse, to call them again.

“That bad, huh?” He said as you pulled away, scanning your face as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Worse.” You wanted to convey a serious composure. It had been terrible. But if you didn’t laugh, you’d definitely cry. Jake rose an eyebrow as you began chuckling, covering your mouth to try to contain it. But eventually, it started pouring out, until you were out of breath laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jake asked but couldn’t help smiling himself. “Huh?”

“It was the worst date ever.” You managed to get out, and even though Jake couldn’t quite understand, your laughter was so contagious, he couldn’t stop himself from joining in. People passing by shot you a few weird looks, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you released your emotions in the healthiest way you had for a while.

Eventually, you calmed down, wiping a tear from under your eye as Jake looked at you in admiration. “Want a ride?” You smiled, glancing back at the restaurant before nodding. Jake opened the door for you as you climbed in the cab.

“We have to stop doing this.” You said as Jake had pulled up to your flat. You had told him every detail about your date from hell, down to what seasoning you had on your food.

Jake had listened neutrally, apart from whenever you mentioned that man. His blood boiled as he thought about you on a date, thought about another man looking at you, making comments about you.

But he ignored the jealously, instead focusing his negative feelings on your date. “He sounds like a fucking asshole. Should’ve gone in there and given him a piece’f my mind.” He had said,gripping the steering wheel, but you brought him down, assuring him you had taken care of it and would be deleting him off every app you had him on.

“Doin’ what?” He asked, and you gestured between the two of you.

“Picking each other up? Calling each other? Seeing each other at all?” Jake nodded, but smirked.

“Almost like we can’t get enough of each other.” He teased and you tried to ignore the effect he had on you.

“Almost like you can’t get enough of me.”

“Ey? How’d ya reach that conclusion? You called us.”

“You called me first! I thought it was just something we did now.”

“Sounds like it’ll become a bad habit.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, I like being bad.”

“I remember.” The air shifted and suddenly, there was too much space between the two of you. You watched as he gulped, watched as the vein in his neck tensed and his lips twisted up in the familiar way they did.

“Thanks for the lift. Again.” You said, chuckling lightly, trying to clear the fog in your mind.

“Right. Anytime.”

“Anytime huh? That’s dangerous.”

“Maybe. But I like danger.”

“I remember.” You teased his words from earlier, and he shot you a small smile. Fuck, you wished he hadn’t looked over; and so did he. You held eye contact a beat longer than you had intended, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicked briefly towards your lips. You swallowed harshly, pulling yourself away from the moment, forcing yourself to make a move out of the car. “I should really…” You pointed toward your flat, smiling awkwardly as he nodded.

“Right. You should rest. I’ll see you, well, whenever either of us need a lift.”

You chuckled, nodding, “Well, thanks.”

“Por supuesto, anytime, seriously.” You didn’t want to leave. This felt different from every interaction with them since you had broken up. Something was screaming at you to stay, and you didn’t think it was the remnants of wine left in your system.

No, it was as if an invisible force was willing you to him, to his scent, his warmth, his stupidly attractive smirk. He noticed your hesitation, eyebrow raised in question. “If you’re gonna sit here all night, lemme know so I can turn off the engine.” He teased jokingly, and you forced a laugh.

“ ‘m going now, just… preparing for the cold.” He nodded but didn’t look convinced, amusement lingering in his features. “Okay, ready now!” You felt suddenly embarrassed, deciding to get the inevitability of your leaving over with. “Goodbye, Jake.” You said quietly, sticking your hand out as if to shake his hand.

“You want me too…”

“I don’t know! I thought it was a nice, civil gesture to end this terrible evening with!”

“A handshake…?”

“Fine, it was dumb anyway-” You began, retracting your hand before he grabbed it with his gloved one.

“No, no, c’mon.” He squeezed your palm with his own, and your skin tingled at the contact. The friendly gesture was corrupted in your brain as he shook your joined hands, a smug look on his face at the way your breath hitched. “There, happy now?”

You couldn’t think. Could hardly breath as you shook your head, ‘no’. Because it wasn’t enough. No amount of contact would ever be enough.

You didn’t think about the possible aftermath of your next action. You couldn’t think about anything but him. With zero hesitation, you were shuffling forward in your seat, hands falling on his jacket as you pulled him toward you slightly. Your lips barely grazed his, but it was enough to send your heart soaring.

No sooner than you had done it, you pulled away. It was his move. His cho

Jake looked to your gaze, then down to your lips, repeating the action twice. His eyes were glazed over, and you were sure his mind was reeling, his alters talking over each other, but he couldn’t hear anything apart from your heavy breathing and all he could smell was your perfume-

His hands cupped your cheeks, a small groan leaving his lips before they were on yours. You sighed in content, moving your lips with his as if you had never stopped. Your hands found his hair, tugging on the familiar locks gently as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

You didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It felt so familiar yet so distant, as if you had only ever dreamt of moments like this. When in reality, you had kissed him thousands of different times. And it all came flooding in to this moment.

Jake pulled back slightly, breathless. You wondered why he had stopped, about to ask when you felt his thumb trace your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as he pulled lightly, your mouth obediently opening for him. He smiled before pulling his own lip between his teeth, eyes dark as he gently pushed his thumb into your mouth.

You made a noise of shock, but quickly pushed it away as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his thumb, inviting him to push further. Jake groaned, almost in disbelief, eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby.” His words were drawn out, like they always were in situations like this. It drove you crazy. “C’mere, need you t’ be closer.” He said, voice husky as he apprehensively removed his thumb from your mouth, quickly silencing your groan of disapproval with his lips.

Jake pulled you over the gearstick, careful you didn’t hurt yourself, not that you cared at all about your safety right now. He sighed in relief as you swung your legs over his lap, straddling him as your arms looped around his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer. “Relax, Carino, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” He chuckled against your lips, but you hardly heard as you rolled your hips forward.

His chuckles turned into groans as you found a pace, desperate to feel him against you, everywhere. Jake held onto your waist, helping you move rougher against him, trying to keep kissing you but fuck it felt so good.

You pulled away first, breathing heavy in pleasure as small moans left your lips. Every sound you made only amplified what he was feeling, and he couldn’t help but clash his lips to yours just to swallow them.

“Jake.” You whimpered, and he couldn’t recall a time his name had ever sounded so good. It was euphoric, just hearing you say his name.

“Fuck, baby, you sound ruined, and I’ve barely even touched you.” His words elicited another moan from you as your head fell into his shoulder, hips rolling faster to chase a high you couldn’t reach on your own, or with any other partner you had tried with since them.

Jake squeezed the flesh of your waist, still guiding your movements as his other hand went to the back of your neck. He tugged you up, watching as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Lemme hear what I do to you.” He pulled your lip out from your teeth, and you let out a broken moan, eyes squeezing shut as his teeth bit possessively at your neck.

“Who’s makin’ you feel this good?” His voice had an edge to it, dark and dirty. It made your thighs clench harder around him.

“You.” You whimpered, eyes rolling back as you felt yourself hurdling closer to the edge.

“Not that prick from your date, huh? Ey, look at me. Who makes you feel like this? Need’ta hear you say my name.”

“You, Jake! Always you!” You practically sobbed, overwhelmed and so, so close. All your senses were heightened, and you couldn’t recall the last time you had felt this level of pleasure. And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Jake chuckled darkly, his hand slipping up to your neck, squeezing only slightly, but it was enough to send your mind reeling. “Thaaat’s it.” His words were drawn out in arousal. You were at the edge, practically falling off, and Jake could tell. Even after all this time, he could read your body perfectly.

“You can let go, Carino. Let go f’me, c’mon, there you go.” He cooed as you clutched onto him, gasping and repeating his name like a mantra as you reached your peak. Jake kissed your shoulder, stroking at your back as your body shook with aftershocks. “Did so good f’me, baby.” He whispered and you practically melted against him.

The windows were covered in perspiration from the events inside the car, and your heavy breathing filled the car. Jake whispered terms of endearment in your ear as you snuggled into his body. It was hot inside his car, yet somehow, you couldn’t get enough of his heat.

Eventually, you felt strong enough to speak, lifting your head up to face him, skin glowing in a thin layer of sweat and euphoria. Jake’s smiled matched your own as he cupped your cheeks, bringing you in for another kiss. “Wow.” You whispered against his lips, and he chuckled, agreeing.

You stroked the side of his face, tracing the details of his skin with soft fingertips. Jake leaned into your touch, savoring the softness of your actions. Neither of you were thinking about the consequences. And if you were, neither of you cared. Not right now. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. He had almost forgotten that happiness existed outside of you.

“It’s late.” He said suddenly, and you sat up straighter. “You need rest, especially now. I don’t wanna disrupt that.”

“Wait, what? I just kinda figured… you don’t want to come up with me?”

“Well… I thought you were finished.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get to…” You looked down at his lap, at the prominent issue still there, and you smiled teasingly.  

“Trust me, baby, that was all I needed.”

“But I want to make it up to you.” You innocently ran a hand down his chest, stopping just before his belt and he tensed.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want too. If you want too.” You watched as he tutted, before nodding. “Please?” Your voice was soft but seductive as you ran a hand through his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his jaw, then his cheek, then just next to his lips.

You felt drunk on him and you didn't care about what this could mean. How far it could set you back. You were too far gone, too deep already. You needed him. You always needed him.

Jake groaned, squeezing the flesh of your waist. “Joder eres tan bueno -fuck you’re so good-  when you ask so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

a/n: i have never written smut before so this was a fun venture into it!!! i promise more parts are coming. i was conflicted on how to do this chapter but it kinda found it's own end. the next one will involve our other two boys yayyy :) i am really enjoying writing this series. thank you so much for reading!!!

tags: @rmoonstoner @marinalor @readingfan @neteyamsluvts @howellatme @nana90azevedo @midgardian-witch @daddyjackfrost

[redeyerhaenyra]

It's not warm when she's away

Summary: A part 2 continuation to this fic, what is life like with your three kidnapper exes?

Warnings: Angst, yandere dynamics, unhealthy relationship, threat of physical harm, threat of harm to animals (no actual harm tho), yeah this one is heavy, Steven dislocates readers shoulder, forced imprisonment, let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Suggested by @ominoose ty bb (she made me do this she is keeping me in her basement tied up as I write this sos)

Marc Spector

Arguably the best of the bunch here

And by best I mean most sympathetic to your circumstance, but that still doesn't mean Marc is going to let you go free

No, he lost you once. They all did. He won't be making that mistake again.

He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, knowing that Steven and Jake can be.. pushy, with you.

Watches movies with you, cuddles you in bed, kisses you and whispers sweet nothings into your hair like this was a normal situation.

Does his best to make you as comfort as possible, to make it seem like you never even left them in the first place.

Marc is the one that gives you thr most freedom- he lets you walk around the flat for a start.

You're still trapped, though. Still a prisoner. And as much as you beg and plead, and as much as he wants to make you happy.. you aren't leaving anytime soon.

Jake Lockley

Ah the kidnapper himself.

At first he was the one part of the system you were most afraid of, having been the one to kidnap you, after all.

But now.. he's only second worst. We'll get back to that later, don't worry ;)

Jake has never acted angry with you, ever. Even now.

When he scolds you for running away like you did, his voice is quiet, his tone is of harsh disappointment, and cuts you deeper than anything raising his voice could do.

On the face of it he's the most restrictive

He'd have you hogtied, blindfolded, and gagged 24/7 if not for Marc's protest

He's not happy about it but he settles for having you tied to the bed with Steven's ankle restraint.

Funnily enough he's also the one you see the least of. You would have thought Jake would force himself to front incase the other two let you free. You hadn't realised they were all in on it.

Jake is the type of person to apologise with actions, not words.

He does sympathise with your situation. He loves you, they all do, and he isn't as upset as you would have thought to find you aren't too happy with your predicament

He buys you things- new clothes, toys for Franklin, he makes you tasty food, anything you could ask for.

Another of the reasons he's sympathetic is that he knows he isn't the worst you have to deal with.

Steven Grant

Oh boy

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

Steven is such a two faced bitch

In the beginning he cared the most, was the one fronting more often, getting you anything you could've asked for, and showering you in affection.

But then you managed to break free from the ankle restraint one night.

You had only made it a few feet across the room before you were bodyslammed into the floor, arms twisted roughly behind your back.

Steven had taken this so personally, like a catty, high-school mean girl.

His words were vitriolic, and he shouted them at you with an anger you thought poor Steven simply incapable of.

He even threatened to hurt Franklin if you tried anything like that again, describing it as "only fair", as the way you "hurt" him would be nothing compared to what he'd do to your poor innocent cat.

Remember how I mentioned Marc was the only one who opposed you being hogtied 24/7? Yeah no Steven agreed with Jake.

He isn't above restraining you like that.

Oh and he's so manipulative

It was like a switch had been turned on in his head. He would never had used his tears to hurt you before you left.

But now he knew how to use his big, round eyes glittering with tears to have you yield to the system's whims

Steven scares you now.

Each time he comes home from work, smiling and so happy to see you and Franklin, sends a cold chill down your spin, as you'll never know when he might snap.

Jake and Marc had been the ones to understand that you don't really want to share the same bed as them anymore, and had taken to sleeping on the sofa

Not Steven. He smothers you in affection whether you want it or not, and even has the gall to ask why you're so rigid when he forces you into the once safe haven of his arms

He wasn't stupid, he understood full well why you were scared of him. The body all three men shared was strong, it had dislocated your arm when you'd tried to run away the first time.

The threat of physical harm was not something Steven was above using.

He'd changed so much, was he always like this? Was he always capable of doing this to you?

You'd never know. But at least, if you kept your head down.. things were.. somewhat stable.

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,�� you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. ��I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Based on a reblog of this post

@marisferasiop, you're amazing!

But doesn't because he secretly loves that bear too and it gives him comfort!

They both use it to ground themselves, and talk to it when they're feeling like they're about to burst into tears.

Marc of course has difficulties, falling asleep in his apartment storage place were he doesn't have anything else to hug -not even Layla. So he just takes the bear of the keys and hugs it tight to fall asleep, talking to it about his day like he used to do with her.

And for a moment he feels safe, safe enough to fall asleep anyway... Remembering what love feels like.

After that Steven subconsciously names it "Laylo" and reads French poetry to him, like Layla used to do with Marc.

He once put Laylo on Gus's tunk but Gus got scared. So he decided their friendship wasn't meant to be.

...But when he woke up "next morning" he saw a tiny chair next to the tank and Laylo was sitting on it! It felt like Steven's friends where getting along quite well. But how? He started to question wether or not Toy Story is a work of fiction, after that day.

Well the truth was... Jake was getting attached to Laylo too!!

Comment if you want to be tagged in part 2 ✨

@marisferasiop