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loki-hargreeves · 2 years

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For Your Love [18+]

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem!Reader Warnings: Smut [Minors DNI!], reader is being a bit of a brat [brat taming], vulgar language, biting, degrading name calling, dirty talk, oral [both receiving], spanking, loads of teasing, unprotected sex, it gets a bit sweeter at some point, over-stimulation, [I could only proof-read this once] Word Count: 6K [I have no defense] Summary: After a little mishap with your hacker project, you have to stay the night at Marc’s place for safety reasons. Things get heated and you finally decide to do something about the sexual tension between the two of you. A/N: Wrap it before you tap it! Also yes, this was inspired by for your love by Måneskin. Enjoy :)

YOUR POV

Marc had looked through the peek hole in his door, which was why he wasn’t surprised to see you standing there as he opened it. On the contrary, he was happy to see you, but he didn’t make that too obvious. There was a nervous smile on your face and he knew instantly that you had a story to tell.

“Who did you piss off this time?” Marc raised an eyebrow and stepped back, letting you inside his apartment. Before closing the door, he looked up and down the dim hallway, making sure no one had followed you. Satisfied with the quick check, he closed the door and made sure it was locked. Better be safe than sorry.

“So much for hi, how are you...” You joked, clearly stalling as you put your backpack down on the wooden floor, turning around to face Marc. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and he leaned against the beige wall, not tearing his curious eyes off of you. Was he concerned?

“What happened?” Marc wanted to know.

Sighing, you decided it was best to just get it over with and tell him what had brought you to his place that night.

“You remember that group that attacked the secret database a few weeks ago?”

“Of course. What about them?”

“Well, you see...” You avoided his intense gaze, feeling the pressure building already, “I hacked into their servers. Everything was going well, until I got this pop-up message from them. I freaked out, okay? I made sure to close all the programs and I don’t think they traced my exact location, but just in case, I thought it would be better not to spend the night there.”

Marc pulled his lips into a thin line as he allowed the information you just gave him to sink in. Anger and worry conflicted within him, but he remained surprisingly calm.

“You shouldn’t have done that alone,” Marc scolded, causing you to roll your eyes. He didn't acknowledge that, but he most certainly noticed it. Perhaps his thoughts were misguided, but Marc found himself thinking about how bratty you had been recently. If only you knew what that did to him.

“I know!” You raised your arms. Marc had been right all along, again, but had you listened to him? No. You didn’t want to argue though. Surely, it wasn’t that big of a flop. “I just thought-”

“We had a plan!” Marc cut you off, abandoning his spot from the wall and closing the distance between the two of you. That one move, in a split second, changed the atmosphere in the apartment. Marc’s beautiful, brown eyes were inches away from yours and you couldn’t look away from them. Something about his gaze was magnetizing. For just a moment, you lost yourself in them, almost allowing yourself to get closer. Then reason spoke and you chased any unnecessary thoughts away - you were just friends.

“We can still follow through with that plan,” After all, you had shut the operation down instantly. Nothing had been lost. Even if they had traced your location, they wouldn’t find anything or anyone there.

Marc really hoped you were right. He decided not to push it any further, since the damage had already been done. Besides, he didn’t want to fight with you.

“What did the message say?” Marc inquired, walking past you and plopping down on the couch, not bothering to move the pillow out of his way. Although you made it seem like everything was under control, Marc had a bad gut feeling about this. It was gnawing at him with sharp teeth, creating a feeling he didn’t particularly enjoy.

Joining him on the couch, you let out a deep sigh and shrugged, “ ‘Do you wanna play a game?’. Someone’s been watching too much saw,” You revealed what the message had said, leaving out the part where they had attached a picture of a google maps screen capture of your general area. It hadn’t been specific enough for them to know exactly where you were, which you took as a good sign. If they really wanted to scare you, they would’ve sent a picture of the apartment complex or even worse - you.

“Sounds kind of tacky if you ask me,” Marc admitted, clearly not impressed or disturbed by their tactics.

“It does!” You agreed with him. “But hey, at least the backdoor is still open. I don’t think they’ve noticed that, so we’re good,” You informed him of the backdoor you had created on their system. If you had happened to lost access to it, that would’ve been detrimental.

Nothing seemed to frighten Marc. As you thought about it, you couldn’t recall seeing him afraid. After all the time you had spent together on missions, he never put on anything but a brave face. Even with gruesome wounds on him and blood dripping down his face, he managed to keep on a rather courageous look. His enemies must’ve found him terrifying, but you thought he was kind of hot when he was all bloodied up and full of rage. Not that he had to know about that.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’re cool with me staying the night. I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” You didn’t want to be a burden to Marc. He had been the first person on your mind when you realized you couldn’t stay the night alone. Being near him made you feel safe.

“Yeah,” Marc nodded, “make yourself at home. Just don’t try hacking anyone again tonight, okay?” He actually smiled for once, which was a rare sight. It made your heart beat a little faster, filling you with a warm feeling.

“Ha ha!” You fake laughed, hoping it could conceal the genuine smile that grew on your face, “very funny, Marc!”

“I know, I’m hilarious,” Marc took pride in the fact. Suddenly, your worries melted and were replaced with relief. At least he had your back, even when you fucked up.

Marc couldn’t believe this was happening. You were staying the night at his place and he could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Just moments before you had knocked on his door, he had been thinking of you in all the ways he wasn’t supposed to. The way you looked at him every time you met and after every suggestive comment you made, the way you worried about him when he was injured although you had seen him in much worse conditions before, everything about you was intoxicating his mind.

No, Marc wasn’t the type of person to form close bonds but somehow, you were an exception. Now it seemed too late to go back, since he wanted you. Oh if only you could scratch the surface of the thoughts he had about you. Marc wondered if you thought about him, too.

“Marc?” His thoughts came to an abrupt end when he heard you calling out his name from the bathroom.

“What is it?”

“I’m so sorry to inform you that I didn’t bring a shirt. I actually grabbed two pants as I packed... can I borrow one of yours?” You wondered nervously, standing behind the bathroom door with a towel wrapped around you. If someone had told you this was how your night would go, you wouldn’t have believed them.

Marc felt a rush going down his body, agitating the hard-on he had been trying to disguise for a while now. This certainly wasn’t going to help.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on,” Marc cleared his throat as he walked over to his dresser, picking out a clean t-shirt. When he turned around, you stood only a few feet away from him, still only wearing a towel. The sight made his heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” You hadn’t thought he would bring one to you, which was why you had walked into his bedroom. After all, Marc had said to make yourself at home. You felt embarrassed as you stood there, feeling rather exposed even in the shade the unlit bedroom provided you with. Marc was looking at you so intensely you swore his gaze was going to burn through your skin. Why wasn’t he looking away? Why weren’t you looking away?

The water droplets cooled down on your skin, but somehow you felt hot when Marc looked at you like that. Something about him changed. His eyes were darker and he unashamedly checked you out, following the trail of water droplets travelling down your body. It left you with a burning desire to show him more, to have those eyes trace every inch of your naked skin.

“Here,” Marc finally tore his eyes off of you, handing you the t-shirt. As you grabbed it from him, your hand brushed against his which felt electrifying. His skin was so warm and it made you wonder how his hands would feel on your body. It was a thought that had entertained you mind many times before, but until now, it had only seemed like a fantasy. Judging by the way Marc was eyeing you, you were led to believe that fantasies could come true.

Driven by a sudden boost of confidence, you decided to shoot your shot with him. “Do you want me to put it on?”

“What?” Marc blinked a few times, taken aback by your words. Had he heard you correctly?

“It’s just that the way you’re looking at me leads me to believe you’d rather I didn’t wear that,” The words that left your mouth surprised you.

“Y/N,” Marc said your name, which sounded much like a warning.

“...or anything else for that matter,” You took a step closer to Marc, never tearing your eyes off of his. You couldn’t believe you just said that and the rush made your heart rate elevate dangerously, your poor heart drumming against your rib-cage as you waited for him to say something.

Marc tensed his jaw as he let you approach him. It took plenty of self control to just stand there, when all he wanted was to touch you, to take you against the wall or the dresser behind him. Just the thought of the sounds you would make made it harder to hold back. Marc didn’t want to hurt you and he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be gentle.

“Well?” You tilted your head innocently, glancing at Marc’s lips as you awaited his next move. You wished with all your heart you hadn’t just made a fool of yourself.

“Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?” Marc finally broke his silence, his voice now lower and much raspier than before. Without any hesitation, he snatched the t-shirt from your hands and threw it on the floor. Next thing you knew, Marc put his hand on your jaw, giving you no choice but to look directly at him. The way he held you mixed with the way he looked at you with his brows furrowed angrily was almost enough to make you moan. Did he know how hot he looked when he did that?

“I think I do,” You answered him, enjoying the way you were riling him up.

Marc used his other hand to take a hold of your wrist, bringing it to his crotch. When you felt how hard he was, your eyes widened with surprise. You couldn’t believe how quickly things were escalating - not that you minded it. It was enthralling.

“This,” Marc leaned closer to your face, “this is what you’ve been doing to me for so fucking long. You have no idea what I want to do to you,” He revealed darkly, inching dangerously close to your lips.

“Then show me,” You encouraged him, giving him a teasing squeeze which he hadn’t expected. Making a man as powerful as him needy for your touch filled you with courage and you were determined to see this through. Both of you had waited for this for way too long now. Stealing inappropriate glances and accidentally brushing your hand against his wasn’t enough to satisfy either of you anymore.

What you had said was like throwing a lit match to a pool of gasoline. Marc closed the gap between you with a fiery kiss, still having a hold on your jaw which made it harsh, but you would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t love it. Feeling his lips on yours was like a wish come true and you were quickly intoxicated, needing more. Just one kiss was enough to make you hungry for him for a lifetime. Marc had created a need that now only he could satisfy.

You felt your towel loosening around your body, but you didn’t care. Instead, you wrapped your arms around Marc’s strong shoulders, throwing yourself at him. Marc’s hands travelled down your body and he tugged at the towel, making it fall down on the floor just below your feet, revealing the naked beauty that was underneath. Instead of stepping back to admire the view, Marc squeezed your ass, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers dug into your hair at the nape of your neck and he pulled, making you look up as he exposed your neck.

“Oh my god,” You moaned when his tongue licked a stripe up your neck, going right over your sweet spot which sent shivers down your spine. Your boobs were pressed against his clothed chest and you were sure he could feel them, hardened by the cool air and lust. You wanted him more than air at this point.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to a man like me,” Marc growled into your ear, being so close that his scent filled your lungs and your body with burning desire. “Are you sure you want me to show you what I wanna do to you, baby girl?”

“Yes!” The answer made you sound desperate, but you didn’t care. At this point, he seemed to just be teasing you.

When Marc let go of you and pushed you down on his bed, you were surprised. He didn’t give you a chance to cover yourself as he joined you on the bed, straddling you with his legs on your sides as he worked on removing his shirt, tossing it away somewhere on the other side of the room. The moon light that crept in through the partly closed blinds landed on his skin, revealing his toned muscles that were covered in scars - some old, some new.

Marc was truly a sight to behold and you gladly took in every little detail, wanting to touch him all over. He finally looked at your exposed body, eyes tracing the perfect curves of your boobs that rested softly on your chest, rising with every shaky breath you took. A cocky grin grew on his face when he looked at your bare skin and that pleading look in your eyes. You really did want him as much as he wanted you and that blew Marc’s mind.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Marc let you know, amazed by the vision before him. The compliment made your cheeks hot, flustering you. “So perfect, you pretty little thing.”

Unabashed, Marc cupped your chest with both hands, leaning down to kiss you again. Your arms wrapped around his body, fingertips exploring every muscle on his back and brushing his small, dark curls. His body felt warm on top of you and his thighs kept you locked underneath him, with no way of escaping - which was incredibly exciting. You were precisely where you wanted to be.

When his fingers pinched your sensitive buds, you moaned into the kiss and Marc had the audacity to chuckle, “you like that?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, barely managing to say just that when his lips assaulted your neck, peppering kisses on the delicate skin as his hands massaged your chest. The pleasure from that alone made you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Marc was just getting started with you. He had thought about this for so long, dreamt of seeing you falling apart under his touch. This was so much better than his dreams. It was real, he could feel you and god, he could smell you. It awoke an carnal desire deep within him.

Next thing you knew, he fucking bit you, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to drive you wild.

“Marc!” You were shocked, but you wanted him to do it again.

“That’s for all the times you’ve teased me, knowing damn well what you were doing all along,” Marc let you know, nose brushing against your skin as he neared your collarbones. Once again, he dug his teeth into your skin, causing you to writhe underneath him. It only hurt for a second and then he licked and kissed the sore spot, making it up to you.

“Fucking hell, Marc-”

“I bet that has you dripping. I can smell you, baby,” Marc had pushed all his manners aside, allowing his desire to do all the talking. The more dominant attitude made your heart flutter and as he said, you were indeed dripping for him. He just had to point it out, didn’t he?

Marc’s hand abandoned your chest, tracing your the skin on your sides and leaving goosebumps in his trail, all over your stomach and then making his way between your legs. His skilled fingers parted your wet folds which made Marc smirk, a sense of pride filling him.

“I knew it,” that cocky bastard had been right. You didn’t even care, because the way he touched you felt so nice. All you wished was that he wouldn’t straddle you anymore because you wanted to part your legs further. Marc was having fun with you, watching you longing for more. He wanted to have control. Marc wanted to make you pay for your past bratty behaviour and he was going to enjoy it.

“What do you want?” Marc wanted you to say it. He looked at you with a devilish little smile which made you feel something deep in your core.

“You,” You told him, wiggling your body under his hold, trying to get some friction as his fingers were still between your folds, ever so slightly pressing against your clit.

“You gotta do better than that, “ Marc pulled his fingers away and slid off of the bed, leaving you in your desperation as he worked on unbuckling his belt. “Tell me what you want and then I’ll give it to you.”

Was he seriously doing this right now?

You moved on the bed so that you were kneeling on the edge, looking up to meet his eye, somehow not feeling embarrassed by what you said next, “please Marc, I want you. I want your fingers inside of me, I want to kiss you, I want you to fuck me, just please,” Your fingers touched his abdomen, the cold of your skin a stark contrast to his hot one which made his abs strain.

“I want your cock, just please give it to me, Marc.”

Marc let his pants drop to the floor and he kicked them away, leaving himself in just his boxers that did a poor job at hiding his achingly hard cock. As he wondered what he should do next, Marc cupped the side of your face and guided you closer to his crotch. It seemed like you could speak to one another without even using words, your bodies working in sync already as your desires intertwined.

Without having to be told what to do, you knew what he wanted and you were more than willing to do whatever it took to please him, to make him proud of you. Your fingers hooked in the waistband of his boxer and then you tugged down, watching as his cock sprung free from the fabric.

“Oh my,” That was all that you could say when you saw the mere size of him. Pre-cum was leaking from the tip which was so close to your face now. If he wanted to see how badly you wanted him, you were happy to show him. Glancing up at him one more time, you were met with his dark gaze and a small nod,

“Go ahead,”

That was all the encouragement you needed as you grabbed the base of his cock, feeling how the veins throbbed under your touch. Marc was so huge that you found yourself wondering how you would be able to walk after this. But at the same time, you couldn’t have cared less about anything else than the present.

You licked the tip gently, tasting the salty cum that coated his cock. Marc let out a low groan, taking in the sight of you kneeling before him and toying with his cock with that beautiful fucking mischievous gleam in your eyes.

Needing to hear more of those sounds he made, you closed your lips around his tip and wrapped your hand firmly around his shaft, rubbing him as your mouth couldn’t fit more of him inside. You hollowed your cheeks which caused him to moan, which was like music to your ears. Pulling back for only a moment, you jerked him off a few times, allowing your spit and his cum to spread along his length. When you wrapped your lips around him again, you circled your tongue around his tip which caused Marc’s hips to jerk.

“Fuck, you’re so good that that,” Marc couldn’t believe how good you made him feel already, with just your hand and mouth - that fucking mouth that could drive him nuts sometimes. He loved it.

Your lips let go of him with a ‘pop’ as your hand continued working on him, “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long. I was thinking about sucking your cock when I was in the shower,” You admitted to him, enjoying the bewildered look on his pretty face.

Marc was certain he would cum right then and there if you continued doing what you were doing right now. He had to make you stop. Marc grabbed your wrist almost painfully and he forcefully twisted you around so your chest was pushed into the mattress. He followed the curve of your spine all the way to your ass and then he spanked you, making you yelp. He started off with a mere smack, because he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“You’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you?” Marc wanted to hear your pretty voice, to know if you were still into this. When he saw a smile on your face, he was relieved.

“Just for you,” You promised sweetly, wiggling your backside as a quiet plead for him to do that again. You could handle some roughness. After the moment you had fallen for Marc Spector, you had fantasized right about every scenario like this and enjoyed all of them. It was finally happening for real.

His palm was rubbing your ass ever so gently, making you anticipate when he would spank you next. Since he had you face sideways into the mattress, you couldn’t really see him that easily which made it furthermore thrilling. Marc was torn between two feelings; wanting to fuck you and make you scream and cry, but he also wanted to drown you with sweet, loving pleasure. He wanted to do everything and anything for you, for you love. Marc hated to admit it, but he was all yours.

Without warning, Marc spanked you, harder this time than earlier. You gasped as the sweet pain spread across your skin, which felt like heaven.

“Look at you,” Marc spanked you again, this time ripping a cry from you, “dripping like a whore when I spank you.”

“Fuck... Ah!” You whined as he spanked you a fourth time. Immediately followed after that, Marc traced his finger on your slit, collecting your wetness and spreading it over your sensitive clit. The sweet pleasure you felt when he touched your sweetest parts mixed with the burning pain on your skin was making your head spin. All you could think about was Marc. Shame had left you long ago, leaving you a horny mess for him to play with.

“Feels so good...”

“Yeah?” Marc inquired and began rubbing circles on your clit, enjoying how his every little touch made your body writhe and tremble with need. Although the nature of this situation was quite crude and sexual, Marc couldn’t help but feel something deeper blossoming within his heart. He adored you - all of you, even when you acted like a little brat just to get a reaction from him sometimes.

Much gentler now than before, Marc guided your body in a new position, lying on your back before him. He made himself comfortable between your legs, showering your trembling thighs with kisses. Seeing how sensitive your skin was when he just kissed you was astonishing. Your body reacted to his touch so well.

“Marc...” You needed him so badly. Every little kiss started a fire within your body. You reached out to hold onto his dark locks, needing something to hold as his touch overwhelmed you in the most fun way.

When his tongue finally licked you where you needed him the most, a loud, relieved moan escaped your lips. Marc closed his lips around your clit and began to tease it relentlessly, flicking his tongue over it and sucking, wanting to make you crumble in his arms.

It only took mere seconds for Marc to push you to a point where you couldn’t stay still, your body trying to escape the pleasureful torture while your mind wanted more. Marc was strong so he had no problem holding you down when his mouth continued to worship your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and then your entrance. The sounds of your wet folds being eaten by him were filthy, filling the entire room and apartment surely.

When Marc pushed his tongue into your dripping hole, you swore you felt better than anything ever before in your life, chasing a high that Marc was providing you with.

“Please, please, please...” You were begging, your wails being quite unspecific but you needed something very badly.

“Please what, baby?” Marc pulled back, licking his lips as he looked at you. Replacing his tongue, he pushed two of his fingers into you, curling them against that soft flesh. You rocked your hips as much as he allowed you to, trying to match the rhythm of his fingers as that wonderful feeling tightened deep in your stomach, letting you know you were close.

“I’m going to cum, Marc. Please...” You cried out, tugging at his hair harder and felt your walls pulsing around his thick fingers.

“You wanna cum?” Marc had heard you very well, but finally being the one pushing your buttons was quite fun for him. A taste of your own medicine.

All you could do was nod, wishing it was enough for him. You were so close, if he continued what he was doing, you knew you’d come hard any second now. It was almost as if you had to mentally prepare for what was about to happen.

Then as if you had hit a brick wall, it all came to a halt. Marc removed his fingers from you and instead of letting you cum, he spanked your pussy which caused you to jump.

“Not yet, baby. You’ll cum when I say you can, do you hear me?” Marc grabbed your jaw harshly and you felt his wet fingers pressing into your skin. The smell of your arousal was so strong, yet you failed to feel embarrassed. Instead, you nodded, willing to do anything for him in order to cum. The control Marc had on you turned you on even more, which you didn’t know was even possible.

“I asked you a question, use your words, baby,” Marc brushed the side of your face, not slipping into your drenched hole yet which took a lot of willpower, because he wanted to hear your answer first.

“Yes! Just please fuck me already,” You couldn’t stand his teasing anymore, entire body quivering with anticipation.

That was all Marc wanted to hear. It filled him with pride and somehow he almost pitied you, watching you plead for his cock like that. Almost.

Marc guided his cock between your slick folds, holding back a moan when he felt your warmth around him. One more push and he slid into you with ease. His eyes glued to your face, studying your every reaction like art. The way your mouth rounded into an ‘o’-shape when he sunk deep into your pulsing cunt, the way your eyes filled with something so sweet yet lustful at the same time made his heart burn for you. It was beautiful.

You wrapped your legs around Marc, desiring to hold him as close to you as possible. Marc glanced at your lips and in one swift move, he kissed you. This time was much sweeter than before, not as rough but it made your heart race nonetheless. His lips tasted like you. When you realized that, you let out a satisfied moan into the kiss.

Marc’s rough hands held onto your body as bottomed out. He was drowning between your legs and he loved everything about it. Your hot, slick cunt was like heaven to him and your cries the angelic prayers.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Marc admitted as he broke the kiss, hiding his face in the crook of your neck - now painted with a faint bruise where he had bit you. Instantly after seeing it, Marc kissed your skin, waiting for a cue to move. He got that when you rolled your hips against him and it seemed to switch something in his mind.

He began to roll his hips into yours, keeping his cock deep inside you at first which was simply ecstatic. Marc was so close to you, so deep inside you and his scent filled your lungs. Every single part of you was so full of him and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now with a hand around your throat, Marc picked up the pace, slamming into you fiercely. His eyebrows furrowed, sweat resting above his dark brows and those warm, brown eyes looked right into your very soul as he fucked you. At that point, your brain felt like a mush, every thought occupied with Marc and Marc only.

The orgasm he had denied you before resurfaced quickly and soon you felt the coil in your stomach tightening,threatening to snap. The pleasure intensified with each thrust of his hips. Even breathing was harder because you tried so hard not to cum just yet.

“I can feel it, you’re close,” Marc knew by the way your walls tightened around him. Not only that, but the look on your face gave it away. “You wanna cum, princess?”

God, why did he hold such power over you? Just a petname was enough to push you closer to the edge.

“Yes...please!”

“Alright,” Marc nodded to you, guiding his hand back to your clit and rubbing circles on it. “Cum for me, you’ve been such a good girl.”

The pure bliss from getting railed by him while he teased your sensitive clit was the last drop. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing upon your body in a wave of nothing but pleasure and comfort. You curled your toes and gasped, shocked at how strong it was, rippling through your each cell electrifyingly. Marc had to slow down his movements, watching you in awe as you whimpered and moaned beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marc had to let you know, knowing what he was seeing would live in his head for the rest of his days.

Forming sentences or even words at that point felt impossible. You were swimming in delight with Marc’s cock still deep inside your walls, now sensitive to the smallest of movement. You could just hold onto his body for support and nod as you took him.

“How do you feel?”

“Mmhmm,” You failed to say anything else, since you were still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm.

Marc laughed at you, “Is that all you can say? Mmhmm?” he imitated you as he picked up the pace, chasing his own high.

His words made your cheeks burn and god did they affect you. If you weren’t fucked senseless, it would’ve been humiliating. Now another orgasm was just around the corner and you had barely recovered from the first one.

It caught you off guard when Marc pulled out of you. For a moment, you thought he came, but when he turned you over like it was nothing, your thoughts were proven wrong. Marc kicked your weary legs apart and slid right back into you from behind, cursing because of the pleasure the new position provided. It seemed like this way he could reach even deeper inside you, which you certainly noticed too.

“Ohh...” All the pleasure and sensations were almost too much, making your breath hitch in your throat. Tears were rolling down your cheeks, but they were most certainly tears of joy. Marc was making you feel things you didn’t even know were possible. With your hands and knees digging into the mattress, you pushed yourself against Marc’s hips and embraced yourself for your second orgasm.

Marc was close, but he didn’t fail to notice you were too - again. Knowing that was almost enough to push him over the edge right then and there. He absolutely loved that he could make you feel good, the way you deserved to feel. Just to push you one more time, spanked your ass completely out of the blue. His other hand was holding onto your stomach, fingers digging into your skin as his cock bulged in your abdomen so delightfully.

“Marc I...I’m gonna- ah...” You tried to warn him, but the second orgasm took the words right out of your mouth, replacing them with those beautiful moans of yours. As your walls tightened around Marc’s throbbing cock again, he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

“I’m gonna cum - oh fuck!” Marc growled as his high reached him, making his muscles tense as his cum spilled deep inside of you, coating your walls with white. Feeling his cum filling you up was just the cherry on top on a euphoric ride. At that point, you were exhausted but also the happiest you had felt in a long while.

Marc pulled out of you and sat down on the bed beside you, having to catch his breath for a moment as that blissful feeling embraced his entire being. Did that just happen?

As he looked at you lying on his bed with his cum dripping out of you, he wasn’t sure he could trust his own eyes. Was this just another one of his fantasies?

“Hey, handsome. Come here,” You reached out to hold his hand, chasing away his thoughts. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to see his thoughts were getting a hold of him. Marc was happy you pulled him out of his head before it would chase away his joy.

Marc allowed you to pull him close to you. He fell on his back right next to you and even smiled, which was the cutest sight to you. Not that many people got to see Marc Spector smiling like that. You felt incredibly lucky.

Marc turned to his side so he could look at you, skin covered in sweat and lovebites becoming more prominent, he wondered if he had hurt you. Gently, he reached out to touch one of the marks, silently asking a question only you could answer.

As if somehow you sensed what was on his mind, you turned to face him, grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles softly.

“I’m fine, Marc,” You promised him, “I feel amazing, actually.”

“Good,” He was glad to hear that as it washed away his worried. Marc wasn’t really used to this, whatever this was. He knew you were more than a fling, but thinking about it too much was terrifying.

Marc never meant to get attached.

A/N: If you made it to the end, I’m seeing you in horny jail <3

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deadqueerboys · 1 year

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Steven: Some people might say that hanging out with an assassin can be bad for your health..

M/n: ...

Steven: Not me, of course, I think your relationship with Marc and Jake is beautiful.

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morksphincter · 2 years

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“Are you an Egyptian superhero?”

“I am”

CURRENTLY SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP, I’m not even Egyptian but I felt so happy at this representation !

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gillian1701 · 2 years

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My boy, Steven Grant :) done in ink

#fanart #Steven Grant #steven grant fanart #moon knight #moon knight steven #moon knight fanart #marc spector #jake lockely #oscar isaac #oscar isaac moon knight #oscar isaac fanart

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tammysart · 2 years

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Moon Knight ✨

...and this is where there's a new obsession for me on the way🙏

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imasimpforstevengrant · 1 year

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THRICE (Chapter 4)

Summary: Steven Grant was begotten from Marc's need to deal with emotional pain. Being a fraction of the same person and the living shield of a mercenary has its toll on his already frail psyche. Did Steven actually live a happy life as Marc intended him to?

Warnings: angst and comfort, lovesickness, DID, existential crisis, violence, death, fluff, sexual themes and smut (flashback), unsafe sex, breeding kink (kinda)

WC: 10.663 (I know it's too long, I hope you don't get bored!)

Note: This is basically a retelling of the series (chapters one to four). I hope you don't get bored, I wrote it as entertaining as I could.

Note²: Some of the lines and scenes (post-Moon Knight) are taken from:

• Marc Spector: Moon Knight (#27 - #31)

Note³: sorry for any typos. As you know, English is not my native language (Chilean spanish FTW)

Chapter four: Unworthiness

Life had never been easy for Marc Spector.

After his mother's passing, his mind digs through the rubble of his shattered sanity, desperately searching for a sliver of stability. Unable to grieve the woman who made his life a living hell, Marc spawns a new self from the shreds of his soul. One who would live a simple, happy, and peaceful life, far from the problems that gnawed at his mind. One that took all the good things in his life to build a better man than Marc Spector could ever be.

Steven Grant was what Marc Spector wanted so badly to be. He was the innocence that he no longer had, the sweetness that had already turned sour in his heart, the tenderness which he used to see in life before having become the executioner of his brother without wanting it.

Steven is sweet, meek and honest. He is plagued by insomnia when he tries to sleep, he works in a gift shop at the National Gallery of Art. Grant dreams about being a tour guide, even though Donna - that insufferable boss who was always hurtful towards him - always insisted on shattering any illusion of becoming one. He sometimes didn't quite understand why he was ignored or looked at as a freak.

He wakes up in his flat, alone as always, shielded by big pillows, blankets all over him and a restraint around the right ankle. Having sleeping disorders - if he ever managed to have a decent sleep - made him foster a self-care routine: he unties the restraint, steps head toward the door, taking off the blue adhesive and chain lock.

He then feeds his one – finned goldfish, whom he endearingly calls “Gus”, talks to his mom, tries to compensate for the lack of sleep by an even more dulling lethargy that ends up in awkward situations in public. Steven cannot understand the reasons behind the frequent mental and physical fatigue. That week had been so strange and stressful. Almost falling asleep in a bus, arriving late at work and a pretty, smiling woman who just passed by near him.

"Hello," she greets him.

"Hellooo," Steven answers playfully, waving his hand.

"How's the sugar trade going?"

"I don't know what this has to do with Egypt, really… they didn't have that back then, did they? No."

She stares at him.

"They liked figs and dates, and…" but she made a clear sign that something else was on the way, rushing to the end of the chat.

"My next tour's here but just checking. We're still on for seven tomorrow?" She asked.

Something else than perplexed, Steven mumbles:

"Seven… tomorrow?"

"Best steak in town"? Her frisky tone suggests him to stop playing as if he had forgotten it.

"Oh, yeah… yeah, right…" Steven is unsure of the situation. She steps out of the Giftshop, but Steven follows her through the limited space behind the desk and display.

"What?"

"Sorry… but… are you asking me out?" Steven almost whispers, as if such a thing was forbidden.

The mysterious woman just laughs and comments how much of a funny guy he is. Donna walks by, witnessing the scene that had Steven Grant dazzled and confused.

"Stevie, you absolute rascal. I didn't know you had taken a crack."

"I didn't know either."

"Hang on, did she say steak? What in the world's a bloody vegan gonna eat in a steakhouse?"

"I don't know, Donna. Salad? Bread?"

The disgust in her eyes was more insulting than any coarse comment she had darted at him that day.

"Yeah, I can see why she went for it. Real catch you are."

Steven stuck with the good part: at least he had a date!

-----

How many times had he been the object of ridicule in his work for his fascination with ancient Egypt? Steven always found it nice to talk, given his deep loneliness, even though the weirded out looks of people killed any intention of further chatting. Despite this passive mistreatment by people, he always strove to make the environment pleasant and bearable. After spending the week in the inventory, he bids farewell to the guard, who cannot even remember his name.

"It's Steven… with a V," he gasped, a bit exasperated, accelerating the pace to get out of the place as soon as possible.

Steven doesn't know it, but missing that day on a Friday evening would turn out to be much more than just an unfortunate loss. Once he's back in the flat, he proceeds to do the usual: sand in the floor to see if he had been up during night, blue adhesive tape to seal the door, chain lock securing the door and finally, the ankle restraint.

Those nightmares. Those fucking nightmares that lately had been gnawing his mind. Nightmares where he was covered in someone else's blood, where his hands broke bones, smashed skulls with gushing flesh. It always ended with a dreadful Steven jumping off the bed, preventing a further run thanks to the restraint, anchoring him to reality. The initial pain of having his face smashed to the ground relieved his fears of a severe sleepwalking episode.

This is a common theme he talks about with a living, golden statue in the square near his flat, the only company he manages to get.

"Honestly, it's like my body wants to get up and wander about, you know, like it has to get the 10,000 steps in," He takes a bite of the vegan burrito he holds in his hand.

"You know? I don't even know about it until I wake up. That's why I try to stay awake at night. What do you think? Nah, you're right. I mean I guess there are stranger things that people do, but…

"No? Well, I think it's a bit…`` Suddenly, Steven turned around as if he had remembered something very important, taking a few chocolate bars for the time spent.

"Extra pralines for the man himself."

Steven continued the conversation - or more like a monologue -, mentioning the girl from work.

"Anyway, if I am gonna have a girlfriend, at some point, obviously I can't have ankle restraints on my bed, can I? That's like the definition of a red flag, isn't it?"

The man knows what Steven means. Oh, yes he does.

"I better jog on. Nice catching up. All right, laters."

-----

He repeats the routine once home. 'Staying awake' is on the phone, while solving a Rubik's cube, engulfing himself in the messy mountain of books about Egypt over his desk. Many things can be said about Steven.

Being uncultured is not one of them.

Not being in control was something he had come to accept, though he always wondered why such a thing happened to him. His mild mannered ways crashed so much with the adrenaline of near death experiences seen in dreams.

Searching for answers, Steven Grant spends countless hours, and even entire nights with his gaze upon books, filled with pictures illustrating dreams in vivid colors, mostly blue. Rain and hot chocolate were good company, while drifting away in long paragraphs. It all started with a nightmare. One bloody nightmare to make the lines between reality and dreams become blurred. He suddenly wakes up in a vast green field, far away from home.

Perplexity becomes fear as he tastes the iron flavor of blood and the pain of a dislocated jaw. Disoriented and unsettled, Steven gets up to watch the beautiful yet unknown landscape before his eyes.

"Go back to sleep, worm."

Steven turned around, scared.

"You're not supposed to be here," an angry otherworldly voice suddenly rang in his ears.

"Yep. I completely agree… where are you?"

"Surrender the body to Marc!" the voice demanded.

Marc? Who the hell was Marc?

"Sorry, what? 'The body'? Wha—?" Steven answers puzzled, much to the presence's chagrin, "'surrender the body?' What body?"

"Oh, the idiot is in control," there was a profound disappointment in his observation. He realizes there's something in his pocket. A golden scarab, more precisely. A quick move puts the object back safe in his jacket. He sees a castle-like edification behind his back. Two men peek out for Steven to wave his hand at… just to be greeted by a gust of bullets.

"Don't you stand there! Run!" The voice screamed to an startled Steven, who didn't think twice before running for his life. A village was nearby, barely populated. Steven seeks refuge behind the walls of the unpainted facade and later, in a curious diaspora.

People congregate, waiting for something or someone. His doubts are resolved when a man makes his way through the crowd, who admires him with unspoken hope in their expressions. People gather around him. Steven got the impression that he was a preacher, a spiritual guide. The man, leaning on his cane, begins to speak.

"What a beautiful day. It's like we're in Heaven. Only it's not Heaven, is it?"

The group of people grew larger as the man spoke about darkness, and how it hid in the heart sometimes.

"We are here to make the Earth as much like Heaven as possible." Steven tries to go as unnoticed as he can, getting closer to have a better look of the curious scene.

"Who'd like to go first?"

He had a bad feeling about this, but he kept silent. A man steps forward. The leader praises his bravery to submit his soul to judgment on behalf of a dormant goddess.

'What on earth is going on here?' he asks himself.

The stranger and the leader place their hands above the other's.

"I judge you in Ammit's name with but a fraction of her power". The cane starts to oscillate.

Ammit? Like… the first boogeyman? Steven was anxious to know how this situation would turn out, squinting to catch a better sight. The cane stopped balancing and the leader pronounced the verdict:

"This is the face of a good man".

The crowd rejoices silently. A few clap when the first one hugs the judged one. Steven turns around just to see the same two men who previously chased him in the hills near the gathering. He had to be out of there as soon as possible, but another willing individual got his attention again. An old lady pleads with the leader to repeat the process, just with her instead.

"Call me Arthur. Come" he offers his hand generously, "will you accept your scales, regardless of the outcome?" to which the lady gladly agrees. Steven slightly crouched down, fearing the worst when Arthur pronounced the ominous verdict.

"I've been good my entire life" the lady tries to rebuff.

"I believe you. But the scales see everything. Perhaps it's something that lies ahead".

Much to his horror, the body fell with a loud thud. Her skin turned into an unpleasant, pale gray shade that betrayed her death before their eyes. An armed man steps beside Arthur to whisper something he cannot hear clearly, due to his attention being completely drawn to the two people carrying the corpse of the lady away.

He then got up, shouting words in ancient Egyptian. The crowd immediately knelt… except for Steven, who mimicked the action way too late to go unnoticed this time.

"Oh, bollocks," he sighed.

"You…" Arthur hissed, with an accusatory tone, "I know you."

"Me?" He gasped, inaudibly, pointing at himself and seeing no other option than to step up.

"Mercenary." Arthur spits.

"No, no. I'm not a mercenary," Steven chuckles nervously, especially when the whole crowd turns around to see him. He futilely tries to explain his job in a Gift Shop, his name, where he lives. But nothing seems to change the hostile expression in Arthur's face.

Chaos ensues when the cult leader demands the golden scarab to be returned.

"You will give him nothing," The voice growls with an angry threat.

Steven tries to obey Arthur to set himself free from this confusing situation. But it only leads to the cult chasing him to seize the object.

Then he blacks out. And everything goes downhill from there. Steven doesn't know, but once he regains conscience, all of those who tried to corner him are dead.

Horrified by the sight of blood, he drives a muffin van, escaping through the solitary highway with frantic despair. Scene gets more difficult when that voice again threatens to kill them both, displeased at his incompetence.

But how could he succeed when he was nothing more than a gift-shopist? Steven was no mercenary. Then he blacked out once again. The man he had attacked with a muffin fell through the open back doors. But he tried not to panic, especially when he was surrounded by two cars with armed men after dodging a truck.

A third black out ended up with Steven driving in reverse and just when he thought this couldn't get any crazier, the people chasing him were crashed by falling logs from the truck he had avoided earlier. How was he alive? He doesn't know.

Then, chuckling, wakes up in his flat. Steven falls on his back over the bed, unaware of what awaits him that day.

_____

Discovering Gus wasn't Gus anymore - the fish had its two fins - was the beginning of this spiral of insanity. When going to the pet store, the clerk explains that he had gotten another goldfish. When? He doesn't remember it.

He then sees the clock. He had a date he couldn't miss. Though he thinks he looks like a knob, Steven Grant does his best to look acceptable for his date. He rushes to the steakhouse in a dark suit, patiently waiting for her with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses. Minutes pass by and she's nowhere to be seen. Soon Steven finds out that the current day is not Friday, but Sunday. Her tone is angry and resentful when Steven tries to explain himself.

"Come on, no. I think Friday still comes after Thursday, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't change the fact that today is Sunday, which means 'lose my number'. Cheers'. She ended the call. To ascertain this, he asked the waiter. He just confirmed what he feared.

Bloody Sunday.

_____

Steven leaves the steakhouse, broken hearted and ashamed. The failed date would be the least of his problems when he finds a key and a flip phone hidden in an upper corner of his flat. There are dozens of missed calls from the same person.

Layla.

The device starts ringing, startling him. Who was Layla? Why were there so many unanswered calls? He jumps off his seat and revolves to answer the call.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, my God, you're alive!"

"Yeah, all right" is the only thing he can reply.

"That 's it? I've been texting you and calling you for months. You couldn't give me any sign that you were okay? I thought something happened to you. Where are you? Where have you been?" The woman asks, with certain exasperation.

Who was this lady? Why did she call him 'Marc'?

"Steven." A male voice echoes, "Steven… you need to stop."

"Who said that?"

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble."

"Oh, no, no, no, mate… someone's having a laugh." Steven wanders over the flat, looking for the origins of that mysterious voice. He goes to the bathroom and sees his reflection in the small, circular mirror hung on the wall.

"Bloody hell…" he mutters but his reflection shakes his head. Terrified, Steven turns on the lights.

Nothing.

"Steven. Stop. Looking" the same voice hisses. The electricity starts buzzing, a rumbling noise caused by his books falling prompts him to leave the place with phone in hand. He shelters in the elevator, pressing the buttons frantically so the sliding door can shield him from whatever threat may be after him.

Only then, Steven sees an ominous presence at the end of the hallway. It was a beaked, mummified creature. He huddles against the mirrored wall, squirming like a prey being cornered by a predator. The flickering lights just made him more terrifying. It caws and keeps appearing, even on his way to work in the bus, for more shame.

Steven didn't mind the weirded out glares, he just wanted to run away from that ghastly presence. His mind starts questioning his sanity but everything crumbles down to horror when he catches the sight of that man with long, grayish hair and cane.

The same man who judged people in the name of Ammit in his dreams was just a few inches away from him.

What could possibly go worse now?

_____

The air feels heavy that night. The notion of persecution grows stronger. It's harder to focus but Steven tries to protect himself at any costs from this dangerous visitor.

"I'd assumed Steven Grant was an alias. Imagine my surprise to find you here."

He steps back, telling the guard that he has been following him. But he rolls his sleeve, flaunting a tattoo of a scale.

"Praise Ammit." The guard says.

Steven freezes. He then turns to face Arthur.

"Mate, I don't have your bloody beetle. I swear. I…"

Arthur makes him know that the golden scarab doesn't belong to him, but to Ammit. The force that punishes the evildoers to protect the innocent, shaped by the Egyptians as a creature that merges the head of a crocodile, forequarters of a lion and hindquarters of a hippopotamus. These three animals are the ones Egyptians regarded as the largest "man eating" creatures. A beautiful way to combine fierceness and supernatural aspects, Steven thought. But even in beauty lies the horror. He tries to escape but many visitors besiege the entrance.

How many people were part of this crazy cult?

He was convinced he was dead, until he repeated the process of judgment. Steven remembers that woman in the Alps, dead at Harrow's hands. The scales tattooed on his right arm start moving… but they don't offer a clear verdict.

"There's chaos in you" Harrow sentenced. The leader allows him to escape, but just to keep the cat and mouse game, since his uncertainty was a thrilling characteristic.

_____

The waning moon hardly enlightens the night. Almost like a prelude to the horror Steven is about to witness. Once he finishes registering the small gifts and souvenirs, he grabs his bag to lead home when he hears a distant squealing. He mistakes it for a dog, trying to lure the animal out of its hiding place.

"Where are you, little bugger?"

Steven walks by a mirror that reflects not one but two images of himself that just stare at him, perplexed - maybe - for his bravery to face this alone. A shadow behind a statue goes unnoticed for the mild mannered man, who keeps his unfruitful search.

With the lights off, Steven finally sees what lurks within the shadows: a growling, menacing jackal. He hides behind a display containing a golden statue. The loudspeaker rings with a jolly marimba tune before Arthur speaks a warning like an omnipotent being:

"Steven Grant from the gift shop, give me the scarab and you won't be torn apart."

It 's useless. Steven just throws his bag to earn time in his escape but the beast is faster: it hounds him towards the restroom, where there was no escape.

He sees the mirror again, beholding the man whose voice he recognised from earlier:

"Steven… I can save us. But I can't have you fighting me this time."

It was himself, with a more determined expression in his face. His attempt to find another way out was thwarted by the man who insisted on being given the control.

"No, what? Control of what? What are you talking about?"

"That thing's about to break through the door, we're out of time!" He exclaimed, pointing at it, "hey, listen to me…"

"Damn it, no!" Steven slaps his face to daunt the nightmare away, "you're not real!"

"This is real. I am real" but Steven refuses, "you gotta give me control, it's the only way".

"I'm gonna die… I'm gonna die…" he repeats out of his mind.

"You're not gonna die," Marc says firmly, "let me save us."

With the monster getting closer, Steven finally allows him to take control of the body. He feels a vertiginous depersonalization that soon flourished with his form summoning a suit.

The hellish creature made its way into the ruined restroom, only to be greeted by the ruthless fist of Spector, dragging it back to finish it when it tried to escape his grasp.

Even if he wasn't Steven, he was glad to finally fight back.

After his first confrontation with Harrow in London, Steven is determined to find answers to his questions. Tracking down the location through the key found with the flip phone, he heads to the cellar.

What he discovers in that place leaves him speechless. There was a stretcher, a bag of guns stuffed with wads of cash, that damn gold beetle… and an American passport with that bloody name on it.

Marc Spector.

He appears in a reflection, finally clearing things up. The revelation of Marc Spector as a servant of Khonshu only leaves him even more confused. Steven disbelieves his situation, attributing his recent instability to having eaten a steak while he was a vegan. Convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him, Steven rushes out and does the right thing: report this the authorities and load himself with pills.

But when he flees from the place, he realizes that the existence of that deity is true. It approaches him threateningly, hissing angrily:

“Give it back, you fool.”

But all Steven does is run away, carrying the bag with him. The heaviness of it causes him to trip on the sidewalk. A vespa almost runs over him, but then the most wonderful thing happens:

A woman with a familiar voice tilts her head, looking down at him.

"Marc?"

Amazed, Steven Grant realizes who she is.

"Layla?"

_____

Steven is deeply deprived of touches. This harsh reality hits him like a bus when Layla appears in his life, envisioning his failures to go on simple dates, to hold small talks without being seen as a freak. Her first interaction with Steven is not precisely positive, though. She's angry and frustrated at him, complaining about his British accent and an abrupt disappearance he couldn't explain, much less understand.

Things take another turn when she doesn't oppose nor protest when Steven wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. Steven is so thunderstruck to speak even a word at this sudden closeness. He can have a feel of her body, battling the dichotomy of guilt and enjoyment for holding a feminine figure for the first time… as he could remember.

"Do you see the spiral you put me through?" She asks accusingly… and heartbroken. Steven squints, without Layla noticing.

"It's not okay, yeah? I'm still your wife."

Wait. Steven's mind stopped working, overriding at the last word. He tried to get his thoughts back together as fast as he could to catch a break.

"By the way, this would be a great time for you to say something. Anything. Just in case it's not clear."

"Sorry, sorry… Did you say wife?" Nervousness and amazement got his words correctly articulated, resulting in a disbelieving stammering.

"My… are we married?" Steven voiced, completely taken aback by a revelation that just crowned an insane week. His whole world had turned upside down in just a few days. Several seconds flew by for Steven to dimension the magnitude from being a mentally ill, recluse loner, buried in books to learning that there was a woman who took the time to know him, love him and marry him.

Steven desperately begs her to take them to their flat, so he can explain everything that has been happening lately. It manages for her fury to ease down, though her harsh looks haunt him through the reflection.

_____

Steven cannot take his eyes off her, watching every small thing she does. Who was this mysterious, lovely woman who claimed to be nothing more than his wife?

Layla, ignorant of the stormy thoughts dwelling in his mind, stares at the goldfish. Marc's reflection appears in the diaphanous glass of the aquarium. It doesn't take long for the mercenary to berate Steven for letting her inside the flat, demanding him to get her out.

She wanders over the place, inspecting it. She insists on calling him for that bloody name.

"It's Steven," yet she doesn't listen to his plea.

"Are you living here with someone else?" Layla questions him, frowning at him after seeing the restraint.

"No, this is my mum's flat" he rushes to answer. Layla keeps checking the place, and a book gets her attention.

"Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?"

"Yep" Steven nods, and not caring if he embarrasses himself he starts reciting in perfect french:

"I am sad, I want my lights put out…" but something wonderful happens, relieving the tension between them: Layla joins him, reciting the rest in perfect french and unison.

"Summers in your absence are as dark… as a room."

"Oui, Oui" Steven says, amazed and quickly adds, "she's my favorite poet."

"Um… no," a puzzled Layla stutters after a few silent seconds, "she's my favorite."

Not letting speechlessness overcome his newly found interest.

"That 's mental".

She now leads her steps to the desk, noticing the amount of books. Her anger is still there, but Steven follows her despite it.

"So, you're learning French and hieroglyphics?"

"Yeah, well… that's not that impressive, really" and then again, he needs that awkward need to explain what he has learned in those insomniac nights. She knows about the topic and Steven sees the perfect opportunity to ease down her fire with his poised politeness, "it's not like hieroglyphics are a whole language, it's more like a…"

"Like an alphabet," she finishes. Steven's expression beams with interest. He's so dumbfounded that it takes a couple of seconds to answer.

"Yeah… and… well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it."

"Sure," she nods, coming closer to see the book Steven tries to teach her.

"Like this one here."

"Funeral rites," she asserted.

If Steven wasn't fascinated before, he's now. His impressed eyes stare at Layla, marveling at her intelligence and beauty. He cannot help but let a wide, happy smile enlighten his face.

"Well, someone knows their unilaterals" his playful comment tries to get a smile off her, "you."

He manages to, and he continues.

"That's amazing." She chuckles, hiding her face and the smile on Steven's face fades away, "sorry, I don't mean that in a creepy way–"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not buying this, Marc" she scoffs, exasperated, "use whatever accent you want."

Layla leaves his side.

"Let's just get this over with" she reaches for her bag and takes out a form, "you sent these papers but you never signed them."

"Did I? Uhh…" everything is so confusing. Layla hands him the papers.

"This is what you wanted. After everything, you told me that we needed to move on" He finally had a look at the papers with his reading glasses on.

"Divo… divorce?" He says it, not believing it.

"Yeah, we're doing this or not?" Layla asks him.

Steven eyes the documents to comment, flirting:

"I would never divorce you," Steven is dying to know more about her. He hears a frustrated, stressed out sight from Layla.

"What are you doing?"

Steven Grant takes off his glasses, cherishing her figure with his eyes. He looks utterly lovestruck, too stunned to speak.

"Look…" Layla is appalled by his gaze, staring at her as if she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life, "you seem absolutely lovely," his tender praise tries to soothe the evident pain Marc has put her through. He then turns to the small, circular mirror to face Spector and his abandonment.

Once again, his words widen the abysmal gap between them. He tries to explain everything to Layla, despite his fear to be seen as an insane, desperate man. He doesn't expect her to believe him, since Steven himself cannot believe it. Marc's plea to let her out of his fall on deaf ears. Steven intends to show her what's in the bag, until the mercenary screams in his head to stop it.

"You're gonna get her killed! You hear me?!"

The frustration in Layla grows even more when she sees the golden beetle. She spits at him, calling him out for his lies before the mild mannered man can form a reply.

"This whole one-man who is just what? So you can keep it for yourself?!"

"No, I swear…" Steven tries to explain himself but her anger corners him like a wounded animal.

"Just stop! I'm supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in a gym bag?"

"Take it! Take it! You can have it, I don't want it!" Steven opens his hands, so Layla can trust his words, "I don't want it, I swear… have it!

Layla keeps silent, not missing him out of her sight.

"I am not Marc Spector. I'm Steven Grant. I work in a gift shop… well… I used to work in s gift shop and I think I'm in real danger… and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help me!" Steven breaks down, scared.

She looks at the golden scarab, as if looking for rational explanation of that something he cannot understand wholly.

"Please" he whispered, to which she asks him if he really doesn't remember the reason of why they have been looking for the small treasure. Steven shakes his head, completely flabbergasted at the thought of not only being a husband, but having a whole story with her.

"Oh, God, I wish I could" he gasps, lost in her eyes.

_____

Things get crazier after meeting his wife. That night he would know how fucked up the situation was. Starting with a kidnapping, Steven learns about Spector's dark past.

"We've only got ourselves a full-blown international fugitive" were enough to spark panic in him. He wished he was committed to an asylum so he would never harm anyone again.

But it wasn't him.

Then the corpses. Covered corpses of people tied and shot in the back of the head. Steven huddles against the seat, feeling like a deer before a hunter. Being handcuffed just worsened his anxiety. But the horror just begins when he realizes not only was taken to an unknown alley, but it was inhabited by more of Harrow's cultists. Then the fugitive mirrors in the glass of the window.

"You don't need to fight me, Steven. Surrender control."

"N-no, no. I saw what you did to those people."

"It's not what you think–"

"I am never giving you control again. Ever. Do you hear me?" Steven hisses defiantly at the mirror.

But another voice comes out of the radio.

"I hear you loud and clear, Steven Grant from the gift shop."

Next, he is finally out of the car. It doesn't take long for Steven to learn that Ammit's avatar had orchestrated this. Harrow welcomes him, stating they needed a chance to better understand his situation. He mentions the scales, his chaos, voices in his head… everything feels so confusing.

"It must be very difficult having all those voices inside one head."

He introduces him to his creed, trying to persuade Steven to embrace it, defending the idea of what was, basically, mass genocide. It was dark and sinister. Harrow strikes back with a powerful argument, also mentioning his former servitude to Khonshu, who doesn't hesitate to manifest his wrath by throwing and pushing objects.

'Cutting evil from the root', is what Ammit intends. Harrow compares her sense of justice to Khonshu's. A comparison Steven knows too well the latter will lose, surprised at Harrow's boldness to mock the deity right in front of him. He then persuades Steven to give the scarab, so Ammit could be free to make humanity face her judgment. With his firm refusal to tell, both wanting to protect Layla, Harrow speaks to Marc but Steven defends his denial by pointing out what could turn into an innocent bloodshed, refusing to give the scarab no matter how much the crowd and the leader himself tried to intimidate him.

Much to his surprise, Layla showed up in the most unexpected moment, object in hand. She doesn't think twice to get him out of that place, though she insists he can fight back by summoning a suit. Layla doesn't hesitate to beat the hell out of the guys trying to prevent their escape. All Steven can do is stare at the man falling down, open-mouthed.

"That was awesome," he gasped, as Layla ran to grab his arm and drag him out of the place. But Harrow sends another hellish jackal to hound him. Steven feels his sanity slipping out, before Layla's insistence on calling him 'Marc', pushing him to fight, her voice echoing with Spector's own to surrender the body manages to break him.

But once the great, ebony door was opened, Layla saw nothing. Steven was panicked for something only he could see.

The beast doesn't have any mercy on him, throwing Steven from the window. Khonshu speaks then, in a last desperate attempt to make Grant abandon his usual passiveness.

"Summon the suit!"

Being a few inches away from becoming a corpse, Steven finally screams. He lands lavishly, now donning a fancy white suit, which frustrates Marc enormously.

"Oy, Steven. What the hell are we wearing?" But he doesn't know Spector meant the ceremonial armor from Khonshu's temple… Though he thinks the suit makes him look pretty sharp.

The jackal, of course, ruins his new appreciation for himself. Steven doesn't think twice to save Layla when it attacks her, even when his stubbornness cannot handle the danger. He lures the creature away from his wife, acting with a defying confidence that caught Layla unprepared.

"Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a 'V'!" He exclaimed, stepping back so the jackal would follow him… just to end in the floor again, now with people mistaking him for a drunk man. Marc knows he's right, and his proud, witty remark just convinces Steven to give him the body to finally end this fight.

_____

Steven doesn't like to be outside of his body. He can scarcely move. For his part, Spector is furious. The scarab was probably in Harrow's hands, closer now to doom mankind to Ammit's judgment. The panic can be felt in the air and the tension between the two just increases.

"The one who controls the body has become stronger."

Marc's futile words to appease his anxiety just cause uncertainty in Steven.

"The reflections help but most of the time, it takes all your willpower just to be a fly in the wall."

"You can't do this" Steven pants, horrified as he felt like a ghostly entity, "you have no right." Marc listens to his furious rant, pointing at him as the one to blame for all his misfortunes in his life. It doesn't seem to carve any guilt on him, limiting himself to hear everything he had to complain about.

Marc reassures him with the promise of never being seen or heard again once his debt is repaid with his servitude, the one that leaves him covered in blood.

"Everything you touch, you ruin. You hurt people, you abandoned your wife. You left her stranded!"

This last remark was enough to light the fury on the mercenary, who turns around to clarify the matter.

"I am protecting her. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you did. I saw–"

"Khonshu has his eyes on her. He wants her as my replacement. I'm never gonna let that happen, you hear me?" Marc hissed, upset.

"You're a liar. I don't believe you. I don't trust you. You hurt people!"

"I'm never letting him near her, just shut up!" but Steven's voice overlaps over his, rapping him out.

"I won't let you hurt anyone else ever again, I will never give you a moment of peace, I swear!" He promises, with avid vehemence. A bell tolls, almost as if wanting to go in tune with the mess in his head.

The noise becomes unbearable, sparking a violent reaction from Spector. His foot breaks the mirror where his reflection berates him, obtaining a few seconds of silence before Khonshu appears in the heights of the church nearby. A strong gust of wind serves as an ominous warning of his closeness.

Marc feels trapped. It wasn't wise to awaken the lunar deity's wrath in such a crucial moment, especially knowing that the scarab would point at Ammit's ushabti. The final battle would be unleashed not there, but in the cradle where his crusade had started: under the scorching Egyptian sun, a half naked Marc drank a bottle of whiskey, resigned to another bloodbath while a fearful Steven just beholds from the mirror the mess he had done in the room.

_____

Knowing how to get to the map that would lead to Ammit's ushabti, Marc goes against time. He fears he only has a few days left to avoid it. Harrow is restless and after an useless chase through the streets of Cairo. Marc doesn't remember the killing spree he carried on the top of a roof and near a cliff, away from the city.

How much time happened? He didn't know. He was horrified by the three men who were alive and fighting just seconds ago. Marc cannot bring himself to believe when he is more disgusted by the noise of blood squelching… and the uneasy sight of blood. But the mission is the same: to find Harrow.

His last resource for knowledge comes from a kid who barely made it alive. Despite Khonshu's order to take him to the ledge to scare him away, the kid just ends up killing himself, saying a final praise for Ammit.

Khonshu decides to send a message to the gods. One that they will not ignore. In order to delay Harrow, the deity manipulates the sky, astonishing everyone with an unexpected solar eclipse. Marc knew this was a bad idea, but deep down he had to give him credit for how bold the move was. The vulture is smart. It manages to summon Marc to the council, located in the Giza pyramid. Steven feels like a kid in a candy shop as he is privileged to see it from the inside. Whenever the Ennead should gather the avatars, from all around the world, a portal presents everywhere.

The last time Khonshu had spoken to the gods, it resulted in his banishment. The case against Harrow must be indisputable. Marc was unsettled, for he must respond for what Khonshu had done. The god doesn't even bother to explain how this would work, leaving him to his own devices. The attendance was concurred by Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Hathor and Osiris to hear Khonshu's account.

The open contempt from Osiris just bittered his antipathy for his garishness, threatening him to a petrous imprisonment if he dared to manipulate the sky one more time.

Marc then yells at him, shattering the silence.

"Spare me your self-righteous threats! I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you".

Osiris responds with polite calmness that the abandonment came from humanity's side, letting the avatars carry on with their purposes unnoticed. It wouldn't do, since the whole Ennead needed the might of other gods.

"Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm!" Khonshu furiously demanded, outraged by their indifference that could unchain an apocalipsis.

Just as Marc had finished screaming Khonshu's wrathful words, a tear fell down his cheek. He never thought that being used as a messenger through his body and voice could hurt so much.

"For the last time, Khonshu, the avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man."

The council then asks him to speak about his purpose. Khonshu points out Harrow, mentioning his conspiracy to release Ammit. Arthur then enters the room, already suspecting the nature of the meeting. Khonshu explodes against his former avatar, tired of him playing innocent.

But he goes straight to the point.

"Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?" Khonshu accuses him so violently that Spector's whole form shakes with its choleric roar.

"I was in the desert. But if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the Nile" he then accuses Khonshu of searching said tomb in the times he was his avatar, mentioning jealousy, paranoia and—"

"HE'S A DECEIVER!!!" Marc howls until his vocal cords are torn, but Harrow doesn't let his former master to mortify him.

"Khonshu is unhinged and his servant unwell," to which Hathor asks to explain it.

Harrow calmly replies:

"This is a man who literally does not know his own name."

Marc began to panic. He gulped, trying to fight the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability. But he doesn't stop there: Harrow also mentions his marriage certificate as Marc Spector and employment records under the name "Steven Grant"

"Liar!" Khonshu roars, then Marc pleads, "stop!"

"I've seen him speak to himself…"

"Shut up!"

"...threaten himself…" and then he chuckles, trying to deal with how twisted Spector's illness was, "I have no idea how many personalities he must possess. The man is clearly insane."

That last sentence fueled his fury, ready to tackle Harrow but he's immediately reduced by a psychic onslaught coming from Osiris. Marc shuts his mouth, trying to recover the strength.

"It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man."

Marc cannot defend himself, feeling his vocal cords bleeding at the least effort. Even breathing makes his chest hurt, as Harrow is speaking the truth about his servitude to Khonshu. He is then allowed to speak, being asked personally by Horus.

"I am. I am unwell. I need help… but that doesn't change the fact that this man is–" but he cannot bring himself to verbalize Harrow's intentions.

"This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu." But then Marc bursts out:

"This is not about my feelings! I'm not the one on trial here. He is! This is about how dangerous he is if you would listen for a second".

"He has committed no offense," Osiris sentences, "this matter is concluded."

Marc stays there, defeated, humiliated. But once everyone is out of the hall, Hathor's avatar comes closer to him and tells him another way to get into Ammit's tomb. The location was recorded by a Medjai called Senfu, whose sarcophagus was stolen and sold in the black market. The task was done in case the gods ever changed their minds, if they decided to show mercy.

_____

This was where the real adventure began.

Much to Spector's displeasure, Layla showed up in Egypt just in the moment when he was in the market, asking for Senfu's sarcophagus to merchants. Layla offers help, and both embark to meet Anton Mogart, an antiquities collector. Once Layla went with Marc undercover (using a fake identity), the map was recovered… but it requires an expert insight to decipher the location of the tomb.

However, Harrow has kept watching Spector. His disciples had told him the couple's plan to find the crypt, attempting to turn Mogart against them and if that wasn't bad enough, that maniac dares to reveal his involvement in the raid that killed Abdallah El-Faouly. Once out and with Mogart dead, Layla confronts Marc about Harrow's words about it. The mercenary gets nervous, and pretends he doesn't know. He tries to convince Layla that Harrow just looks to divide them.

"Every time I learn something new about you, I think that's it. There can be any secrets left between us. And then something else pops up and it's like I've not known you at all."

Marc tries to end the conversation bottling up.

"Yeah. You haven't" he looked at her in that cold way that shattered her heart, "you don't." Just as intended, Layla ceases the talk, driving in tense silence. Both leave their differences aside to put the pieces of the starry map back together to know the exact location of Ammit's tomb.

They had been like this for like an hour, and Marc is getting frustrated with the lack of results, slams his open palm violently over the bonnet. Layla pleads with Marc to let Steven front, since he might know how to handle this.

"Marc, we can't wait" she mutters sweetly, but it doesn't soften him a bit, "it's okay… just...let go."

Marc sighs and runs his hands over his hair to cope with the stress and snatches the mirror off the jeep, taking the tape and the pieces of the map. He walks a few feet away from his wife and looks at the reflection.

"All right. Go ahead, you're in."

And in a couple of seconds, Steven is back on his body.

"Cheers, thanks a lot" and sets his hands to solve the problem. Layla sees him, walking towards him with caution. Steven jolts and smiles at her. He has that look of pure love in his eyes. How is it possible for a man she has been married to for years, a man (she thinks) she's known for so long can look so different? Steven's skills finally recompose the map… just to realize the stars drift over time, making it impossible to find the exact location in the present.

But Khonshu doesn't stand there. As the god of the night sky, he had power over the celestial vault. He would do something way bolder than a simple eclipse in broad daylight. Steven wished to be prepared for the wonderful spectacle Khonshu conjured in order to locate the tomb. The deity doesn't take long to ask Steven for help, which causes that white, elegant suit to appear again. With the skies stirring in violent motion to catch the exact alignment of the stars, Layla finally obtains the location while Steven and Khonshu slowly begin to weaken.

He realizes the god is disintegrating, asking him to tell Marc to free him.

But he cannot act fast, since his own energy has been drained with Khonshu disappearing. Layla tries to wake him up with tender impatience. His eyes remain closed and Layla sees no other option than to take matters in her hands.

Or that was what Steven could deduct once he regained consciousness. She never ceases to amaze him. All those people… Layla took them down by herself.

"We can't lose more time. Harrow must be headed back to the tomb. Look, if he is, we're gonna need Marc, yeah?"

"Exactly. See, she gets it," Marc quips from the mirror. A few seconds of silence follow before Steven replies:

"No."

"No?" Layla turns around to look at him.

"No, see… the thing is… we made a deal, Marc and I" he swallows, "that when he was done with Khonshu, he would disappear for good–"

"But that deal didn't involve you getting Layla and us killed, did it? That's not gonna fly with me."

"You guys made a deal? That he would just disappear from my life?" She stared at him, with silent outrage, hot tears filling her eyes, "and you didn't think that maybe I should've been made aware of that?"

"Oh…well, hadn't he disappeared from your life already?"

"Yeah, I mean…" Layla shook her head, not taking her eyes off the road, "Whatever. His suit was his best feature, wasn't it? Didn't have that anymore."

The awkwardness boils Marc's patience.

"Steven. Give me the body right now. This is a suicide mission." Layla keeps complaining about him, and his loner nature.

"It's not happening. We're not gonna do that" she said, determinedly. Maybe expecting to piss off Marc.

"We are not," Steven also said with determination, "it's just you and me and the open road–" but Layla stopped the car abruptly.

"We're gonna go on foot from here."

*Yeah, all right."

It took them a long walk to arrive, but Harrow's men were already there. It was necessary to beat them to get to Ammit's tomb. Descending from the canyon, the couple find an empty camp, with cars left with open doors. Only camels were there to greet them. Both go for supplies, and Steven finds plenty of them in one. Marc insists on fronting, mentioning Steven's inexperience as a liability. He doesn't, though and takes a lantern, rummaging through documents like photos, reports and maps.

"Without Khonshu there is no more suit, no more healing, no more power–"

"Yeah, no more you, I thought. It's what you said, innit? But I guess… believing anything that comes out of your mouth just shows what a plonker I am."

Marc sighs, understanding his discontent.

"Look, I wish I could just disappear. I really do. But unfortunately, I'm still here. If you're gonna go through with this, you gotta be smart, for least for Layla's sake. I've in situations like this before—"

"So have I. It's the same body, innit? It's in there, somewhere. Muscle memory and that."

"I'm not sure it works that way. Just—"

"Whatever," Steven cuts him off, with an uncharacteristic sassiness that surprises Marc.

"I'm here. You're not alone" Marc calms him down. It finally snaps Steven's patient ways with him turning around with defiance against Spector's reflection.

"I know I'm not alone! I know I'm not bloody not alone, I've got Layla! She's got my back!" Steven spits, heading to walk off the place.

Hearing him talking about Layla with such vehemence fueled a choleric jealousy from Marc, who didn't think twice to growl at his alter for his affections:

"Are you in love? You're in love with my wife?!"

Steven turns over once last time.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, mate. I really do… but we've got it from here." He mutters, confidently despite Marc becoming more and more furious.

"You lay one finger on her… I swear to you– Steven!"

"If I need a recipe for a protein shake or something, I'll call you," Steven went out to find Layla, not caring about Marc's growing wrath. It made the situation even more hilarious.

"I'LL THROW US OFF A CLIFF!"

_____

Steven feels the thrill of closeness as Layla puts the harness on him. Having those hands on him, treating him gently had an hypnotizing, euphoric effect. The thoughts of her doing other things while kneeling caused an impish grin tracing his lips, fighting those naughty fantasies of his.

"I have to say, I feel like I've been waiting for this my whole life…" he then looked down at her, adding with a glint of guilt, "the adventure… I mean."

Layla gets up, smiling at the flirty grin Steven gives her. She doesn't keep her hands off him, concealing her wish for a greater closeness through "accidental" nuzzles, talking in breathy whispers. Steven shrugs, not knowing how to handle this heated tension boiling inside his chest. He cannot take his eyes off her lips as she becomes dangerously close to his ear, swearing she made a soft groan, which immediately sparked Steven to ask himself what he could cause Layla to make those sounds… he wonders things. He longs for contact.

For her contact.

From the first moment he had seen her, where he remembers the pleasant embrace riding the Vespa back in London, dark eyes shining like tourmalines.

Her tender expression reminisces of Marc at his warmest.

"You smell like him," she mutters, "I mean… why wouldn't you?" Layla stares at his mouth. Steven feels his heart racing when her lips attempt to crash with his mouth in an impulsive move, desperate to feel Marc, whether it was through Steven's skin… or whoever dwelled in there.

But his nobility is greater and before their mouth make contact, Steven rushes to say:

"Marc's trying to protect you from Khonshu" her warm expression faded, clearly upset.

"What?"

"That's why he's been pushing you away. He thinks Khonshu wants you for his avatar and he won't let that happen" Steven finished. As he sees it has no positive response from Layla, he rushes to explain further:

"It's all right… I just felt like you should know that." Layla grabs a glove, as Steven apologizes for being so imprudent with such delicate information.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I don't know. I.just thought you deserved to know." Layla puts on the glove to distract herself.

"It wasn't his call to make. I don't need protection", she muttered, "What I need is honesty."

"Yeah, I get that."

"That's more of a 'you' thing, isn't it?"

"What? Being honesty?" Layla laughed at his sweet clumsiness.

"Yeah. Being honesty" she nods, instead of laughing at him. It makes the love he feels for her to reach unthinkable dimensions.

Confidently and sure, Steven grabs her shoulders with gentleness, leaning with delicate precision to reach her lips. An astonished Layla shuts her eyes off at his daring gesture, doubtfully keeping up with the famished and impatient kiss Steven insisted to captivate her with. He's too bewitched by the full, warm lips he didn't know he had kissed in another life.

He first caught her upper lip for a few seconds, partially breaking the kiss to catch her lips with his, wishing to devour or at least, have a better taste of them, aroused by the sound of their mouths breaking their caress, which he delayed as much as he could.

Moved by the desire for more touches, Steven refuses to give her personal space after their impulsive kiss, smiling with genuine happiness with his forehead against hers. It warms and breaks her heart how grateful Steven was with a simple gesture. How deprived of touches had (Marc) Steven been? So many questions demanded so many answers that couldn't be solved at this moment.

Layla goes down the excavation, and doesn't get to see an absolutely enamored Steven looking at her completely in love, haunted by her kiss…

…Nor Marc punching Steven, to then throw him down the tomb, accomplishing his threat for touching his wife.

These were the things Steven remembered most fondly, before dying at Harrow's hands with two shots in the chest.

Until that night.

Until that fucking night.

_____

He never imagined that a trip to Egypt would change his life so drastically. He returned to London far from the meek, jumpy man he used to be before these incidents. But not even that prepared him for what fate had in store for him.

Steven didn't want to be impertinent in Marc's relationship. But during that night it was impossible. Steven didn't even remember how upset he was for missing a date because of that mercenary using his body to save the world from a genocidal maniac, knowing he was married to a lovely, intelligent wife. It was as if that failed date with Dylan had never taken place.

Even when Steven had been begotten to be better than Marc Spector, not even he could escape the searing feeling of envy when Spector got to be with Layla in that way.

Seeing her in all her nude glory, first imprisoned in Marc's arms, impaled relentlessly, and then above him, loving how Layla trusted him enough to lock her as if she was his and his only.

He then realizes a sad truth; Layla wanted to kiss him because he had the face of Marc Spector. Layla loved Spector, not Steven.

Steven now looks at her, elevated to a goddess, naked and sweating while her moans delight his ears. He feels like a pervert for spying on her through the aquarium reflection but he's just too marveled seeing Marc's body being ridden with raw, brutal fury. He felt as if he was witnessing a privileged mortal making love to a goddess.

Though he was happy to see them together once again, he cannot stop wondering how his name would sound if she'd screamed it with him beneath her.

As much as he struggles to keep his eyes and ears covered, curiosity overcomes his modesty and what a sight he gets. To Steven, Layla had ascended from crush to a reborn Aphrodite right in the moment he saw her getting up to place herself above him. How he wished to be Marc at that moment.

It wasn't the fact of sex itself, being naked or close to each other… It was the climax and its meaning what mesmerized Steven, the vestiges accusing their union, watching it ooze from her while she moans for more. He may not have the full satisfaction of it, but he's more than glad to see the body being loved and taken care of.

Steven diverted his gaze, ceasing the tortuous illusions of intimacy. He tried to focus on other things but those scandalous moans of hers made it impossible. Those things she was whispering, it was like a mermaid tempting a sailor to follow her. He'd give anything to experience what it was to be buried deep inside her, with nothing except him occupying her mind to cry his name. He had never felt so undesired and miserable in his life, especially when Marc howls his lungs out when the peak hits him. The moment was followed by a dead silence.

Suddenly a dizzy, incorporeal sensation numbed his muscles. His vision became blurred, just like when he regained…

Hearing how her calm breathing changed to a sharp cry aroused him to the point of insanity, not just the wet, tight flesh practically latching around him so abruptly, not just having that beautiful female nude still impaled on him. It wasn't the fact that Marc had surrendered the control to him. He couldn't understand why but he couldn't process everything that happened in that moment, not having time to ask her out loud about their situation. His sobs finally got Layla to look down at him. He felt cornered.

"Steven?" She whispered, just as mesmerized as he was. Steven writhed and shook while pleasure stuns his strength, trying to break the physical bond to avoid any more problems, but Layla insists on retaining his body underneath her. How was it possible to be like this now? When not too long ago he had been admiring her from afar, yearning silently for her body.

Why did Marc feel so vulnerable being with her?

Maybe it was the shock of seeing her, of feeling so helpless when she loved him like this. Steven tries to focus but his body speaks for him: he moans loudly as he watches several, thick threads of himself falling down their sexes, looking to adhere even more tightly to each other.

The explicit image does things to him. It is the physical reminder of how her body stirred under his touch. Wishing to see more of it percolating between her thighs, Steven thrusts up, shaking her whole body again, observing with respectful and immense fascination a pleasure-drunk Layla, who doesn't seem to care that Marc wasn't there to finish what he started.

Steven moans her name and smiles at the sight of her breasts and curls bouncing. They look so lovely, begging to be touched, kneaded, pampered.

He didn't decide what to do next, though he doesn't miss the chance to squeeze them to calm down his aroused enthusiasm. Layla starts straddling his hardened length once again, until Steven has an idea: He obeys his instinct to wrap his arms around her, to then roll over the bed sheets so he was above Layla, who latched at his neck, desirous to obtain more of him, not caring if she was on control. Steven never thought this loss of individuality would be so magnificent. And then, he sees that look in her eyes. Layla stares up at him.

Her gaze is nothing but fire.

His voice undoes itself in praises and desperate claims, melting each other's mouths in heated kisses that left their tongues tangled in a desperate dance.

Steven felt her hands running down his ribs, reaching his hips to scratch his back to then caress it. It made the mild mannered man push as deep as he could as a harsh response, breaking the kiss to moan while genuinely convinced he could feel every vein, every inch of hers melted with his.

He looks down her body by mere instinct, and finds more lustful evidence of their act between her legs, more pearly creeks gushing from their differences. It moves him to gather strength to drag himself out of her just to slam back inside, reviving the sensation of sweet captivity within her depths, feeling those pulsating walls hardly containing him, despite Layla seemingly wishing more of Steven inside of her.

Neither of them would get to see it, but the reflection showed a delirious Steven Grant taking an euphoric Layla with him over the bed, making their bodies move in perfect unison.

"Keep going! Fuck, Steven… just like that" he panted against her ear, groaning when he feels her thighs pressing his hips, "I want it dripping off me, Steven. Will you be good to me and give me that?"

"Yes! I will! I'll be good-- I'll be so good to you!" Steven pushes as deep as he can without thinking, making sure to comply her wish.

Layla liked that, sliding her hands down his chest, heart hammering with war-like fury. Steven was too desperate to repeat that deep feel of wholeness both experienced a few moments ago, too immersed in the pleasure the narrow, hot embrace gave him but also too stunned too form a coherent sentence. Layla tenderly caresses his hair, and Steven gently leans his head to bathe in those kind touches. She kisses his jawline, brushing her lips against his ear.

"Don't hold back," Layla lovingly whispered, knowing their climax was close. Steven looked down and saw that again between their legs, stopping for a moment before the glorious end. Layla reminds him that he was the one who stole a kiss from her back in the desert, enjoying to see Steven Grant turned into a sex crazed mess, so far from his fancy, polite manners, fighting against the constriction that he knew, would overcome him.

He had never been so happy to lose a battle as he did with this one, in particular. He increased the pace, making the bounce of her orbed parts even more intense. Steven weeps of pleasure when he cannot bring himself to resist it anymore, pouring all of his seed inside her, delighting in the falling strands accusing the violence of the orgasm that shuddered Layla's body.

He keeps completely still, loving the intimacy between him and Layla. All he can think about is never letting her go. He loves her. Steven loves her more than he loves his own life. This is how it feels to be seen, cherished, loved. He wishes this precious moment to never end. And there she stays, cradling his tired body. Steven hides his face in her neck, repeating that he could never leave her, much less after what happened between them.

Layla runs her fingers over his hair, caressing his back up and down, grateful to have her husband sleeping in her arms once again, away from danger and blood for good. She lovingly lulls him, despite Steven being asleep (or passed out, who knew?) so he could know in his slumber that she would be there to care for him… and love him.

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sessa23 · 2 years

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Desperate

Part one

@noforkingclue and I collaborated to bring this. Hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Drugging

Marc knocked on the door of your apartment, he was desperate for your help. Harrow had gotten away with the scarab, "What are we doing here?" Konshu asked, Marc heard footsteps approaching the door. "Im going to need help from an old friend." Just then your front door opened and you came face to face with Marc

Your eyes widened "Marc spector. It's been a long time since I've seen you" you replied as a small smile came on your face. "Hello Y/N, something has happened and I need your help" Marc stepped closer. You poked your head out the door and looked to the left and the right. "You'd better come in." You stated, Marc walked into your apartment as you closed the door.

He looked around your apartment, you had papers and books scattered on a table . "So Marc what can I do for you?" You asked, Marc looked at you "Y/N, I have lost an important artifact and I need your help. I need you to come to Egypt with me." Your face fell "im sorry Marc but I can't help you." You sighed as you walked over to put the papers on the table away. Marc turned, he was surprised at your answer

"I have too much to do here and besides I've left that life behind me Marc, i work at the university of London, in the Egyptology department" You stated as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from your cabinet. "Do you want a drink Marc?" You asked, Marc looked at you and shook his head "Y/N, please I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't desperate."

Marc looked at the breakfast bar and saw a piece of paper, it was a Police complaint form. "my apartment was broken into last night while I was out, I'm submitting a complaint about what happened when I reported it." Marc looked concerned "what do you mean, what happened when you reported it?" You sighed "basically I was told that because nothing was stolen, no crime was committed, which is BS."

You turned to Marc, "look please wait here I won't be long." You put your glass down on the breakfast bar and walked out the room. Once he was sure that you had gone, Marc pulled a small bottle out his jacket pocket, he knew that what he was about to do and he felt guilty but he had no choice. You were still out of the room and so he quickly poured some of the bottle's content into your glass. As he heard your footsteps coming back into the room, Marc quickly put the bottle back in his jacket pocket.

You came back into the room and grabbed your glass, "I'm sorry that i can't help you Marc." You replied as you drank the rest of your drink. "I do have the details of someone who may be able to as..sis..t" you trailed off before blinking, you didn't have a chance to put down your glass, it fell out of you hand and smashed onto the ground.

"Marc, why do I feel slee...." you trailed as you fell back, Marc caught you in his arms. "Marc what did you do?" Steven asked. Marc caressed you cheek. "I didn't have a choice." He stated as he looked away from steven,Your vision blurred, the last thing you saw was Marc caressing your cheek before your eyes closed

Marc closed his eyes and he pressed his forehead against yours. You looked so peaceful despite the fact that he knew you were going to be furious at him when you woke up. He forced himself to ignore the disappointed look that Steven was giving him as he lifted you into his arms. He longed to do this when you were awake but for now he’d settle with this

#oscar isaac moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #collaboration #marc spector #jake lockley #sessa20 fics #marvel

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elleluvshim · 2 years

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oscar isaac icons.

– like or reblog if you save.

#oscar isaac moon knight #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac icons #oscar isaac #oscar isaac edit #oscar isaac aesthetic #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight

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katarina-catalina · 2 years

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guys this is super important!! Why is there nothing on William Tell?? I mean have you seen handsome?? so please I beg you write imagines, heedcanons, fic anything about him!! it's starvation and he doesn't deserve it!!

#Oscar isaac #jonathan levy #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac x you #william tell x reader #oscar isaac moon knight #oscar isaac x y/n #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #william tell #the card counter #moon knight #moon knight x reader

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messylxve · 2 years

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20 seconds after meeting Jake

#jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight #marvel #marc and steven #marvel moon knight #oscaar isaac #oscar isaac moon knight #mister knight

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

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New kink unlocked; Oscar wearing necklaces ⛓

choke me with it please

#THOSE LAST TWO?!?!#daddy please 😩#oscar isaac #oscar isaac aesthetic #oscar isaac fandom #oscar isaac is amazing #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac icons #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac moon knight #oscar isaac moodboard #moon knight #moon knight fandom #moon knight moodboard #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marvel #marvel fandom

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loki-hargreeves · 2 years

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Steven Grant x fem!Reader - Let Her Go

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader but Marc also makes an appearance Warnings: idiots in love in the beginning so fluff, getting mugged, sexual harassment, injury, spitting on someone, angst, hurt/comfort, loads of mentions of blood Word Count: 3,8K Summary: You’ve been dating Steven Grant for a while and things are fantastic, until they’re not. You get mugged in an alleyway which forces Marc to make an appearance. [This is supposed to take place around the same time the series begin.] A/N: What can I say? I am a sucker for Oscar Isaac and angst. Enjoy!

YOUR POV

“I’m telling the truth, you must believe me!” Steven was playfully offended over the fact that you did not believe the facts he presented you with, or at least that’s what you claimed.

Not that you had a reason to believe he was lying since he was quite an expert on Egyptian mythology and he didn’t seem like the dishonest type. Sometimes it was just fun to goof with him. After all, Steven was the cutest man you knew of and you felt ever so lucky that he seemed to find you cute as well. The way his eyes sparkled when he was smiling absolutely enthralled you.

“And I’m telling you that I’m not convinced,” You took a daring step closer to him, pointing your finger at his nose and poking him, feeling the effects of the red wine you had drunk over dinner. Steven grinned like a schoolboy, overjoyed by the evening so far. It helped that he found your behaviour endearing. The two of you had been on yet another date and it had gone well, so well in fact that you were on your way to his flat for tea and board games. Things were getting more serious between the two of you, which you were happy about.

“What will it take to convince you?” He wondered with a genuine smile on his face, looking at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

Retracting your finger to now rest upon your jaw, you put on a thoughtful face and leaned closer to him, “I think you’ll have to keep talking. Maybe over tea, on your couch...I’m all ears,” You let him know what might’ve been just enough to convince you. Truly, you were just looking for an excuse to listen to him. Steven was passionate and when he talked about his interests, it melted your heart. If he was up to it, you would listen to him for hours.

“If that’s what it takes, then I’ll have to do it,” Steven couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t understand how his dorky enthusiasm had charmed you, the most wonderful person he knew. When he had first asked you out, he had hardly believed that he had done it. The words had simply slipped out of his mouth and before he had been given a chance to stumble over his words and take it back, you had said yes. A few weeks had passed and everything was going splendidly.

The clouds above you were hiding the stars and only a small parting allowed moonlight to pour down onto you, illuminating the London streets in a faint, silver hue. Traffic was surprisingly light, possibly because it was a Thursday night and it looked like it could begin to rain any second now. Nevertheless, you had decided to walk the short distance from the restaurant to Steven’s flat.

Steven offered his arm for support as you crossed the street and you were more than happy to hold onto him. Dating him was still a new thing. You had only been on a handful of dates together and Steven was a gentleman, never trying to push you into anything. He was respectful and kind, funny too. In a short period of time, you had fallen for him much harder than anticipated. Somehow it felt like you had been dating for much longer. Being around him made you feel safe.

Holding onto him and being so close, you could smell his cologne. It wasn’t overpowering, but it smelled so much of him and you wanted to get lost in that. Steven was slightly tense, because he was so focused on trying not to trip over his own feet while holding onto you. Accidentally hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. You tightened your grip on his sleeve and caught him glancing at your hand and then smiling.

“Would you like to grab something from Alma’s on our way? I heard the chocolate cupcakes are marvellous,” Steven wondered, leading you toward an alleyway you had walked through many times before.

Alma’s was a small bakery he had picked up baked goods from before and you recalled him telling you about the old lady who worked there. She was really nice to him and even gave Steven a discount when she heard he bought them for his date, aka you.

“I’d love to. Maybe Alma is there tonight,” You were curious to meet her. Steven made her sound lovely and besides, you couldn’t say no to baked good, could you?

Looking ahead of you in the alleyway that seemed much darker now than before, you noticed something - no, someone sitting on the ground next to an overflowing dumpster.

“Oh my god,” after blinking a few times, getting used to the dimness, you realized the man had blood on his t-shirt. The sight alarmed you and instantly, without hesitating, you let go of Steven and hurried to the injured man. “Are you okay?!”

Steven tried to grab your hand, but you were already on your way to the man. A gut feeling told him something wasn’t right, but everything happened so quickly. He couldn’t stop you, even if he had wanted to.

“Y/N!” Steven called after you and tried to catch up with you. The gut feeling grew stronger and fast, as if something was screaming at him to get you away from that man.

Before Steven could do as much as taking another hurried step toward you, two masked people emerged from the shadows and grabbed him forcefully by his arms. More of the swarmed seemingly out of nowhere and even the ‘injured’ man stood up as if nothing had ever bothered him at all. Steven watched in horror as the blood-covered man wrapped his arms around you, turning you so your back was pressed against his shirt and his arm wrapped dangerously around your throat, his other hand resting on top of your head.

“Hey!” Steven tried to break free from their hold, but froze instantly when a masked man pulled a gun from his coat. Seeing you like that was easily one of the most frightening things he had ever seen and it kick-started something within him he didn’t know existed until now. Steven was not going to let anything happen to you or else he wouldn’t know how to live with himself.

This can’t be happening...

“Woah, there’s no need for that,” Steven tried to stay calm, knowing that he couldn’t possibly let this escalate to a point where guns were needed. Right now, that was the last thing he wished for.

“Give me your wallet,” The armed man demanded, his voice muffled by the thick fabric of his mask. Steven didn’t know what was more terrifying, the lack of empathy in his eyes or the way the words came out so smoothly. The man seemed like he had done this many times before and he wasn’t afraid.

Steven nodded a few times, feeling helpless as he was let go. He knew he could try to reach you but that could cost him being shot. Instead, he decided to do what was asked of him.

“Alright, mate. Hold on,” Steven put his trembling hands in his pockets, searching for his wallet. After checking his pants and his jacket, he remembered that he had put his wallet in your purse when you had decided to walk, since he didn’t want to carry it in his pocket. Bloody hell.

“What’s taking so long?” The man was certainly not patient, waving his gun around threateningly, making Steven’s pulse skyrocket. His heartbeat was ringing in his ears by now. He looked at the gun and then at you, still being held by the throat. If the man wanted to, he could snap your neck like nothing.

“I don’t have it on me-”

“Bullshit! Don’t lie to me,” The man raised his voice, refusing to believe Steven didn’t carry his wallet with him.

“It’s not on me, i-it’s in her purse,” Steven quickly corrected. He didn’t want their attention on you, but right now it seemed like the only way to get out of this mess.

“Steven!”

What was that? Steven could’ve sworn he heard his own name being spoken, but he was sure he knew none of these people.

Deciding to ignore what he just heard, he focused on you instead. For a moment, the armed man just stared at Steven, trying to decide whether or not he trusted him. After making up his mind, he nodded to one of his friends and turned around to look at you. With every step they took approaching you, Steven’s worry grew. He shot you an apologetic look and prayed to whoever could hear him for things to go well.

“Down here, look at me!” The voice returned.

It sounded so much like Steven himself. As he dared to peek down, he saw his reflection in a dirty puddle, but it didn’t move in sync with him. The sight was startling. Was this how it would end? With you getting mugged in an alleyway as his reflection spoke to him? Was he losing it?

“I don’t have much time to explain things, you just have to trust me. These people are dangerous, you need to let me handle this,” The reflection explained with an accent that certainly didn’t belong to Steven.

“W-What?” That was all Steven could say, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. Was this a fever dream? Was any of this actually happening?

“Be quiet!” One of the muggers demanded, landing a punch in Steven’s gut, instantly making him double over in pain. It knocked the air out of his lungs and for an alarming moment, Steven was gasping for air. The man stepped back and let Steven hit the cold ground, face landing in the murky puddle. He groaned in pain and heard you screaming out his name with so much fear it made his heart ache.

“You need to give me control, I’ll get you out of here,” Puddle Steven spoke despite the disturbed surface of the water. The tiny ripples hadn’t warded him off.

Further away, you were fighting against your fear as you tried to put on a tough face. The man with the gun was standing in front of you now as one of his men was going through your purse. At this point, you didn’t care about a wallet or two, all you wanted was to walk away from this with Steven. Nothing else mattered.

“What do we have here?” The man looked you up and down, not shying away with his nasty glare. The way he looked at you made you feel dirty. If if wasn’t for the worry you felt for Steven, you wouldn’t be biting your tongue the way you were right now.

This felt like it was all your fault.

“Perhaps you have more to offer us than a wallet? What do you say, sweetheart?” The man tilted his head, talking to you as if you were stupid. Whatever he was suggesting, you weren’t having any of it.

“Take it, my purse and everything. Just let us go, please!” You attempted to strike some sort of agreement with them. Perhaps one of them had a heart? Maybe, just maybe they would be happy with your purse and its contents. Couldn’t that be enough? Things could be replaced. Sure, it would suck but at least you would live.

“You’re funny,” He chuckled at your desperation, treating it like a joke. The next thing that happened was vile, making you tense up like stone. He put his filthy hands on your body, patting you down in search of something valuable. What he was truly searching for was the look on your face when he traced your curves, touching you in ways that made you want to cut his hands off.

“Let her go!” Steven yelled as he saw what was going on, feeling sick to his stomach when he realized they were after more than just your purse. He tried to get up from the concrete ground, not fearing what they might do to him as his only concern was to help you. The man that had punched him before tried to hold him back, but Steven prevailed, surprising himself with his strength. Unfortunately, there were too many of them and he couldn’t fight them all. He could only hope that someone heard the uproar that was happening and called for help.

“Let her go you sick freaks!” Steven shouted again, his anger not reflecting his usual bubbly personality at all. Seconds later, someone’s fist collided with his jaw which knocked him out of his senses. The ringing in his ears was all Steven could hear for a second as he faltered to the ground, scraping his skin on the rough impact. The taste of blood filled his mouth, making it feel like he had dirty pennies on his tongue. Then the pain hit him, seconds after the collision. Whoever had punched him knew exactly what they were doing.

Seeing them hurting Steven was the last push you needed to defend yourself. These people didn’t care about you and they weren’t going to let you go even when you gave them what they wanted. You had to fight if you wanted a chance of survival.

It must’ve caught them off guard when you bit the man who was holding his arm around your throat because he let you go. The armed man didn’t have time to move his hands off your body when your elbow made contact with his face. It hurt him much more than it hurt you. As they both stepped back in shock and pain, you tried to leap past them toward Steven who was on the ground, receiving kicks all over his body.

“You bitch!” The armed man tried to yank you back to him, but you acted quickly and out of anger, spitting at him. It was repulsive, but it worked as he seemed more worried about wiping his face than grabbing you - his guys were already on it.

“Stop it!” You screamed at them, grabbing onto one of the empty glass bottles that had been resting on the ground next to one of the dumpsters. You swung it as hard as you could at one of the men’s heads, breaking the glass into a million little pieces on impact. The man was stunned, falling limp on the ground but two more took his place. You realized your odds of winning this fight were slim to none, but what else were you supposed to do?

A gunshot went off nearby, so close that it hurt your ears. Who had been shot, you had no idea until you struggled to move. It didn’t hurt at first, until something burned the skin around your stomach area, taking you by surprise. Perhaps shock was a blessing because you couldn’t feel much at all.

Everything after that happened so fast, it all blurred together into something hazy and unclear. You were overpowered and soon found yourself on the ground, clutching your abdomen as hot, crimson blood pooled around you. It flowed through your fingers, leaving them sticky and warm despite the cold weather. The oddest thing was, that you could hardly feel the pain of the wound you didn’t even recall getting. The only distress you felt was emotional misery, watching through blurred vision as these strangers abused the man you were certain you loved.

It felt like you just blinked, but the next thing you saw was Steven standing up. He was dressed differently and the people around him were dropping to the ground like flies. Was that really Steven? Whatever it was, that was the last thing you saw before you slipped into unconsciousness, allowing the numbness it offered to embrace you.

There were glimpses you caught of what happened afterwards, but they made no sense. It felt like a dream, created by your brain as an attempt to grasp what was happening. Were you dying?

You pried your weary eyes open and realized someone was carrying you in their arms. You couldn’t see their face, only a pair of white, glowing eyes. Was that a crescent moon on their chest?

The next moment of lucidity you had, you found yourself wrapped in a blanket of some sort. The person that had carried you before was still holding you, but you were resting on the ground. A warm feeling covered you from head to toe, slowly taking away your pain.

“Steven...” You moaned in agony, feeling a sharp sting in your chest which prevented you from saying anything else.

“Don’t move,” The person told you almost a little bluntly, although it seemed pretty clear he was helping you. Whatever it was he was doing, it was helping. This person sounded so familiar...

“Close your eyes, you will be fine.”

Steven didn’t know what happened and he certainly didn’t know how you were at his flat. One moment he had been on the ground, lying in a puddle as he was being kicked like a dog. His reflection had spoken to him and suddenly his entire reality seemed to glitch. Now he was standing in his living room with blood on his clothes and he didn’t even really know whose blood it was. His brown eyes were travelled from his bloody hands to you bleeding out on his couch.

“Oh no,” Worry spiked in his heart when he saw the condition you were in. “No no no...” Steven was afraid to touch you, but he had to find the source of all that blood. He should’ve called an ambulance and the police, but he didn’t have his phone and right now, he knew he needed to stop the bleeding.

When Steven tugged at your bloodstained shirt, he was surprised to see nothing but smooth skin. No wounds, no bruises, no nothing. There was just blood that had begun to dry, turning into a much darker shade. He had to touch you just to know it was real. As his fingers traced the soft skin of your stomach, nothing changed. You were somehow unharmed, at least as far as he could tell.

“How...” Steven didn’t understand anything. At that moment, he realized that he felt fine too. There was no way that he was supposed to feel fine after what had just happened, yet his jaw that had been dislocated was now perfectly fine. Even when he brought his hand to touch his jaw that had previously been tender, he couldn’t feel any pain. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

“Steven?” Your voice cut off all of his other thoughts. Hearing it felt like a blessing, because it meant you were alive and well enough to speak.

“Y/N! Thank goodness...” Steven felt so relieved to see those precious eyes of yours looking into his. “You’re okay, we’re alright. We’re safe, yeah?” He was kneeling beside the couch, his bloody hand reaching to hold yours. When he found your hand, he brought it to his lips and placed desperate kisses on your knuckles, needing to convince both of you of the fact you were safe. He just needed to feel you, to hear and see you moving, talking, breathing. After everything that happened, he didn’t know what senses to trust, but he couldn’t doubt you.

For a moment, he thought he had lost you.

And you had thought you’d lost him.

Scurrying off the couch as if you had never been hurt at all, you joined Steven on the floor and wrapped your arms around him, embracing him like never before. It surprised him, but you were happy when he hugged you back, clinging onto your bloodied clothes for dear life. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he finally believed you were okay.

Guilt was beginning to eat you alive. As you sat there, embracing him, all you could think of was how everything could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t run off like that. If you had stepped back for a moment and realized it was a trap all along. If Steven had died because of your mistake, you didn’t know what you would’ve done with yourself.

“I’m so sorry, Steven...” By now, the shock had begun to wear off and your feelings were overwhelming, causing tears to run down your cheeks and wash away the dirt and dry blood. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Steven pulled apart from you so he could face your sorrowful expression, absolutely bewildered when he heard you apologizing for what had happened. In what world was that your fault? The pained confusion must’ve been obvious on his face as his dark brows furrowed together when facing you. Steven brushed your face softly, wiping away your tears, too shocked to speak right away.

“I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have run to him like that,” You sniffled, feeling awful when you retraced your steps. Although it had happened not that long ago, it somehow already felt like days had passed.

“Don’t you say that,” Steven refused to let you blame yourself for simply being compassionate. It broke his heart to hear that. “You saw someone in pain and you didn’t hesitate to help, please never apologize for that,” the last plead came out as merely a whisper.

“You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t. You didn’t. We’re okay,” Steven reminded you, although he didn’t have the slightest clue of how you ended up at his flat, let alone how your injuries magically disappeared. What condition were the others in? Were they alive? The amount of blood he was covering him led Steven to believe something bizarre had happened.

In a moment as mysterious and overwhelming as that, you couldn’t find words to do it justice. Instead, you could only hold onto Steven and relish the fact you were miraculously saved from that nightmare. Nothing else mattered than the feeling of his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as the sweet scent of his cologne filled your lungs. Sure, it mixed with the foul and irony smell of blood, but after a while, you got used to it.

“What are we going to do?”

Steven had no answers for you. The wheels in his brain were turning, but he couldn’t think clearly. He fell silent, just holding you and rocking your bodies gently as he sought comfort in the midst of everything else. His eyes wandered around his apartment until he stared at the mirror nearby. Once again, his reflection was someone else.

Something told Steven that whoever that was had the answers you were seeking.

A/N: So that was my first Steven Grant one-shot! I haven’t written in a while because of my personal life, but watching Moon Knight has inspired me a lot. I hope this is alright.

Hearing your feedback would mean the world to me, especially since this is a new character I’m writing for. Thank you for reading! <3

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight x fem!reader #steven grant one-shot #steven grant imagine #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #oscar isaac moon knight #mcu fanfiction

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