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marcspectrr · 2 years

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Something that's interesting about the way Steven keeps his space in comparison to Marc's...

Throughout the show we were given a lot of instances where Marc and Steven are extremely dichotomous. In the beginning, it felt like the purpose was to demonstrate juxtaposition between them, where they define each other by mutual exclusion. So why would it stop at levels of organization, right? I like to read it as going deeper than just 'one's more cleaner than the other'. Idk why but I do so here lol.

Your physcial environment subconsciously acts as a reflection of yourself.

Everything from the lighting, the colors, noises, the people occupying the space with you. Warmer lights induce relaxation, pleasant aromas promote peace of mind, good company encourages positive mindsets, etc. Because of this, clutter is a strong source of anxiety for people; essentially, if there's a mess outside, than the inside can't be much better.

One of the first things we see in the show is Steven's flat, and it's...cluttered. But he doesn't seem bothered by it. He doesn't make his bed, his clothes are laying about, there are a million books stacked on pretty much every flat surface, a shameless hobby that indicates where he goes to seek comfort. There's a wall of maps and postcards that spread all the way to the fishtank, depicting an obvious adoration for the world and travel, little windows into places he feels intrigued by. Instead of the state of his flat inflicting unease, it seems to instead be a source of solace.

Then we look at Marc's space in the storage locker. It's nearly empty, which is him detaching himself from tangible things to add separation from the life he's convinced himself he doesn't deserve, a life he's disgusted with living in most of the time. (And even though it's safe to say most of his belongings are likely still with Layla, having his current space nearly empty hints at the amount of time he spends fronting, which is significantly less than Steven). It's organized, perhaps reflecting childhood discipline as well as habits picked up from his time as a Marine. And it's completely enclosed and reflective, no windows to let in the outside world and external stimuli, with walls that provide nothing but his reflection to look at. It's not only representative of the physical solitude that he forces himself in but the mental. He gives himself nothing to distract from his intrinsic guilt and shame, nothing else to look at besides, most torturously, himself.

But WAIT. Marc and Steven shared a space before...

And it was Steven who liked to keep a tidy room, with Marc who was on the messier side. When little!Steven fronts in ep 5, he immediately begins to clean up little!Marc's mess.

But as they get older, this obviously switches, and we even get ep 6, where Marc lightly jabs at Steven's flat ("I can't believe you live in this frickin' mess"). This is a full circle moment, imo. As if Marc loses the freedom that comes with simply making messes, whereas Steven gains enough autonomy that allows a more lived-in space, something that finally belongs to him.

Marc distances himself from the prospect of settling down and indulging in life while Steven attempts to immerse himself in it. Marc isolates himself from attachments and Steven surrounds himself with small pieces of the world. Both of them yearn for connection but show and mask it in different ways.

That's why I think the way their spaces were portrayed goes deeper than just illustrating their differences. It shows that even though they are separate, their lives were bleeding into each other long before Wendy's Shiva, (I adore the concept of Marc sharing his toys with Steven)

(But there's also parts of Marc overlapping into Steven's life within the flat, like the postcards, the sand around his bed, the shape of the roof reminiscing a pyramid, the platform above his bed reminiscing a tomb, the additional fish, etc). It's acknowledging that it's a journey of acceptance, that as their time together progresses, it turns more into a glimpse at potential harmony and embracing those distinctions. It's not just, 'they contrast so strongly, how will they ever even get along?', but also 'oh, this is how they learn to coexist despite their differences'. And if when we get s2, Jake will have to be apart of that journey as well, like adding little parts of himself throughout Steven's flat and allowing himself that physical space of a home.

I also can't help but think of the day that Marc or Steven go down to the storage locker to turn in the key. How strongly it translates to Marc that he no longer needs to hide anymore, that he's not alone in this and that maybe one day he can leave around a bit of a mess too.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely #moon knight meta #mk meta #feel like this all goes w/o say but im gonna say it anyway #and it still feels convoluted but #im ngl my heart dropped the first time we saw the storage locker #like marc couldve gotten a really shitty apt but no #its STEVEN who deserves the cozy flat not him #and it was the best he could do given how quickly he uprooted his life with layla and everything #and soon jake will get to leave his messes around too and he'll get to have things of his own #he wont have to hide anymore just like marc

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valkyrieace · 1 year

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Hey fam, can you believe it’s already been one year since the greatest episode of television ever witnessed came out?

#happy (?) Asylum day #when my soul was crushed forever in the best of ways #just everything about this episode was a perfect gut punch #oscar isaac you acted your heart out and I’ll never forget it #oscar deserved ALL the awards for this #steven grant my beloved #marc spector my beloved #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac #taweret #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight episode 5 #asylum #WHERE THE FUCK IS SEASON 2

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munknights · 2 years

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I don’t know if it was a narrative choice or a costuming thing, but throughout episode five (and the end of four and beginning of six), it looks like Marc isn’t wearing their necklace.

#moon knight #marc spector #is it because he doesn’t think he deserves to wear the Star of David after everything he’s done?#because that feels like a very marc thought

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blue-sadie · 6 months

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Broken Words

Moon System x Reader

How they apologize after fights

Steven Grant

You normally never had a argument or anything as bad as this, you guys had disagreements but you always talked it out but marc and jake have gotten on his nerves and he took it out on you, he grimaced as he thought back to the words he said to you and the look of hurt that was plastered on your face.

You were ignoring him and he hated it with a passion he'll try everything to get you to talk to him, he made you tea but all you said was 'thanks' you wouldn't come to bed you'd rather sleep in the couch and he couldn't fall asleep without you so he'd lay awake staring up at the ceiling.

"My love are you awake" he asked as he slowly raised himself off the bed 'mh" he heard you hum and slowly walked to the couch and took a seat on the ground beside you, you were angry with him but it didn't stop you from caring, "I'm sorry for the things I said.... I didn't mean any of it"

He breathing quickened as he tried to form words to help fix the mess he created, he flinched slightly as he felt your hand caress his cheek he leaned into it and took a deep breath before continuing "marc and jake have been at eachothers throats lately and they just won't shut up and I'm sorry that I took it out on you" he would grab your hand and hold it tightly and wait for you to speak "I accept your apology".

Marc Spector

He'd leave the flat to let himself cool off and give you space, his time away from the flat grew 30 minutes to an hour to 2, his guilt grew he would mutter to himself and didn't even look at the time intill it was 2 am he would curse at himself and slowly make his way home knowing that you would be asleep.

But you weren't, he opened the door to see you sitting on the couch staring at him with tears rolling down your face it made him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole, he'll take off his jacket and shoes while still maintaining eye contact with you and slowly make his way to sit beside you, he would nervously grab your hand and hold it between both of his while he two started to cry.

His body will shake with sadness as he stared into your eyes the flashes of the fight appearing in his mind, he clasped the couch cushion tightly as he tried to steady himself "forgive me" he would murmur quietly over and over he would get lost in his mind and was only brought back as you layed a gentle hand on his.

"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, I make you worry everyday day and I see that, I don't deserve you I don't deserve anything you give to me" he tears became more frequent as he spoke "I am trying to become the man you deserve, I am trying so fucking hard and it's scary I-I I'm trying ok and I'm sorry for all the shit I've done" you'd carefully pulled him to you letting him cry it out into your chest as you rub his back in comfort "I forgive you".

Jake Lockley

He would completely shut down and let one of the others front and let them console you, he wouldn't come out for weeks, marc and steven would try to get him to front and when they did he would just leave not saying a thing to you, when he came back you would be sleeping on the couch facing away from the door.

He would walk over to you, gently pick you up making sure he wouldn't wake you and carry you to the bed covering you with the duvet and blankets, he would lean down and lay a gentle kiss on your forehead before going to sleep on the couch himself.

He would wake up to you handing him a cup of coffee and he would try to get steven or marc to come out but they wouldn't saying that he need to fix this "trying to run away" you would smile trying to lighten the mood he would give a light hum and take the coffee out of your hand placing it on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry mi amor" he whispered and softly patted the space beside him which you hesitantly took "I've just been under a lot of stress" he would be to nervous to meet your gaze the guilt was eating him alive "I already had to protect marc and steven I think the thought of not being able to protect you as was getting to me" you grabbed his face between your hands and gently caressed his cheeks "it's ok I forgive you".

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spacecowboyhotch · 2 months

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Sprinkles

about this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC SPECTOR (aka the love of my life). gn!reader. contents: a birthday fic, illusions to abuse/mental health issues, canon typical mentions of DID, internal angst, fluff, kissing. wc: 738. not beta’d.

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Marc wakes to the smell of something distinctly sweet, though he isn’t sure what it is. He is hit with that deep sadness that has rooted itself inside of him since he was just a little boy. Another year has passed— he’s made another trip around the sun. Another year to remember and forget, to fight his demons, to look in the mirror and be nothing but a grim reminder of his broken family.

But, then he hears a familiar tune, a whistle floating through the air that makes him feel light. Your whistle. A new reminder that he has a new family. That in some ways he created a new family within himself, one that you readily accept.

He turns to bury himself in your pillow, smothering the goofy grin on his face. He’s still growing used to this feeling, of being happily and safely in love.

There is the patter of your feet, the chatter of dishes, the sound of a tea kettle. When he finally sits up, there’s a card with his name scrawled across it on his bedside table, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

He laughs as he reads the card, though your sentiment is sweet and means a lot to him, given his tumultuous childhood with little joy.

For the man who has a sweet tooth that rivals a 7-year-old. You deserve every confection on this earth— none are sweeter than you. All my love.

Marc tucks the card into his drawer, along with a few other things you’ve gotten him, a watch from his father, and his old wedding band. Things with meaning. He picks up the box of chocolates and heads out to the kitchen where he knows he’ll be met with the happiest sight on earth— you.

“Mornin’,” He calls out to you, his voice still rough from sleep.

You whirl around, fixing him with a smile so wide and genuine it makes his cheeks warm. “Good morning, lovey. Sit sit, it’s almost done,” You gesture to the kitchen table.

Marc sits as instructed, watching patiently as you start to get everything ready. You set down in front of him: coffee that he knows will be perfectly made, two different stacks of what both seem to be funfetti pancakes, extra sprinkles, whipped cream, and syrup.

“Did you know that most funfetti pancake recipes don’t call for any actual funfetti cake batter? Seems fraudulent don’t you think?” You ask as you fix a plate for yourself and sit beside him.

He hums in agreement. “Hence the two different kinds?”

“Well I wanted to see which you liked better, a traditional recipe or mine,” You reason, stabbing a candle into both of his stacks so that you can light them. Leaning close you, brush your lips against his cheek as the flames flicker.

At this moment, Marc feels like the only people that exist are you and him. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and tenderness before you even speak another word. Marc wants to be alive. He wants to live with you, year after year. He wants to know who could be with you by his side.

As if you’ve read his mind, you whisper to him, “Happy birthday, Marc Spector. I hope for you, more love, more growth, more happiness, and contentment.”

Marc inhales shakily, his eyes growing wet with tears. He nods, reaching out to grasp your hand and squeeze, hoping that the gratitude he’s feeling is clear. You raise his hand, kissing it gently before gesturing towards the candles.

“Make a wish, Marc.”

He could. He lets his eyes flit around the space, his mind flitting through ideas as he takes in his surroundings. A loving light in your eyes. The sweet scent of funfetti pancakes. Coffee the color of dark caramel. The perfect box of chocolates. This place that you both call home. Marc realizes he loves things just the way they are right now. He closes his eyes and wishes that every day will hold even a fraction of the warmth it does right now.

He guides a hand to your chin, pulling you close by it so he can press a grateful kiss to your mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart, all of this is great. More than I could’ve asked for.”

“Get used to it, Spector,” You laugh, mouth brushing his.

“I’m working on it, but for right now, I think it’s time for me to try some pancakes.”

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts , @rmoonstoner, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #moonknight fanfiction #x reader #arson writes

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You part 10

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Summary: Married, back in London, Jake comes crashing back into your life

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is married to the system.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/notables: A n g s t, complicated relationship stuff, cursing. Alcoholism, violence, injury, blood. Lmk if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Leaning down, he brushed his lips over your cheek in a tender kiss... the softness of you electrifying him utterly.

"I'll never let him near you," he vowed, his fingers reaching up to trace his lips where your skin had touched. "And I'll never let him take Marc away from you."

“Read to me, husband," you purred into Steven's ear, curling close to his side.

His eyes cut over to you and he grinned, reaching to lace his fingers with yours. You sighed, your heart overflowing as your fingertip traced over the gold band he now wore.

"Long flight, darling. You sure you don't want to rest a bit?" He suggested, gazing at you adoringly.

"Maybe I will if you read to me," you teased, pulling your intertwined fingers to your mouth, your lips grazing his ring.

You may have been on an airplane, but it still felt like your own little world.

After a few chapters about ancient Egypt, and a long nap, you awakened to your husband watching an 80's action film on the screen on the back of the chair in front of him.

Marc.

Latching on to his arm, your fingers found his again, just to toy with his wedding band.

"Hey, baby," he softly greeted, kissing your temple. "Steven bore you to death reading about the pyramids?"

"Absolutely not," you playfully defended, "I just find the sound of his voice soothing."

"You know what's soothing?" He pointed to his screen with a grin. "RoboCop."

You groaned. "How much longer till we land?"

"We're not even halfway," Marc replied, glancing at his watch.

"Maybe RoboCop will put me back to sleep."

Your honeymoon was magical.

All your hard work, saving and planning paid off, and you and your husband had the time of your lives. Sun-drenched days, passion-filled nights, nothing but relaxation in paradise. Playing games with Marc, reading with Steven, delicious food (and a delicious husband).

It was just the refreshing reset you needed to kick off married life.

Truthfully, you wondered about Jake - you missed him, and the tiniest part of you hoped nothing would interfere with your little bubble of temporary heaven.

Everything seemed fine - you made it back to London refreshed and ready to proudly sport your wedding band everywhere you went. You didn't care if it seemed a little old fashioned. You were proud and thrilled to have a wonderful, dreamy husband.

Steven transitioned into summer session classes at uni while you contemplated advancing your nursing career. Marc seemed steady, albeit a little quiet. Not brooding quiet - more like...observationally quiet.

The two of you had discussed what he might like to do. After all, he had spent years as a man of action. But he insisted he was content in his current role, making sure Steven got the education and credentials he deserved.

Still...something about him seemed a little off. There was no evidence of him drinking, and, even in his darkest times, drinking was never something he hid from you. It was a bit difficult to hide anyway, but he never even attempted to. So you didn't suspect alcohol as the culprit.

After insisting he was fine for a few weeks, he finally admitted how hard he had been trying to communicate with Jake. You were a little surprised at first, but only at first. After all, Marc had never enjoyed the feeling of not having control - whether over himself, his life, or just in general.

By now, an eternity had passed since you last saw or spoke to Jake. When Marc admitted that he had spoken to Jake quite a few times since your wedding, you had to bite your tongue to keep from asking, 'Did he ask about me?'

You already knew the answer. Jake was not interested in all things you. Besides, this wasn't about you anyway - it was about Marc as a system. Instead, you asked Marc why he didn't say something sooner to you about speaking to Jake.

"I didn't want to upset you," was his explanation. Fair enough.

Instead of starting an interrogation with questions like, 'Does he still work for Khonshu?' and the like, you kept your focus on your husband and asked, "Is that why you've been so quiet?"

Chewing on his lip, he waited a minute before replying, "Maybe. Just trying to figure some stuff out."

The look on your face clued him in to the fact that he was being vague at best. So he knelt down in front you as you sat in Steven's reading chair, took your hands and said, "I'll tell you more soon. I'm working really hard to figure out how we can all be happy - how we can all coexist and really be safe, and free of Khonshu for good."

Oh.

If Marc was working on something Khonshu-related, then his contemplativeness tracked. He was so earnest in trying to confess this little piece to you, that you decided to believe him and not prod too much right now. Just for now.

The very next night, you came home from work a little late - a night quite reminiscent of the one when you had found Marc drinking - to find your flat dark and mysteriously quiet.

Calling your husband's names, you headed to the bedroom to get changed when you heard a thump and a groan from inside the bathroom. Panic shot through your body as you bolted through the door, shoving it open to find...Marc? slumped over the closed toilet, shirtless, clutching his side and groaning in pain.

"Baby - what happened?" You gasped, kneeling down and switching into triage mode. That's when you saw blood pooling around his hand, oozing through his fingers.

What the hell...

"Shit, you're bleeding," you cried, stating the obvious while jerking the nearest towel off the rack to press to his side.

He grunted, reluctantly dragging his crimson-coated fingers away, hissing as you pressed the cloth into his side to staunch the bleeding.

Tears burned your eyes at the sight of your wounded husband, but only for a second, as your medical training kicked in. You noticed right away that his knuckles were bloodied, as if he'd punched a wall. His lip was split, his eyebrow was cut and there were even a few angry scrapes across his cheek.

"Hold this here for me, baby, I need to get the first aid kit," you sniffed, pulling his hand back over the towel covering his bleeding side. Most of what you needed was in the bathroom with you, so as soon as you were ready, you sat down and reached for his fingers.

"Here, let me see," you instructed. You gasped at the deep, angry gash in his flesh. "Okay...okay, I need to stitch this up, honey, it's deep." Pausing for a moment, you realized it was a horrible idea to tend to your husband, especially with tears stinging your eyes.

"Actually, here," you pushed the cloth back over his wound, making him groan in agony. "Come on. We need to get to A&E - "

"No," he firmly protested. "You do it."

You shook your head. "Marc, listen, I really should-"

"No," he repeated, his eyes finding yours. "Too many questions. No police."

Shaking your head in frustration, you grabbed your first aid kit, which was really a small medical bag, containing enough supplies to be useful in an emergency.

You would do anything for Marc, but right now, you were confused and growing more worried by the moment. "What were you even doing? How did you get hurt?" You huffed, gathering the supplies to mend his wound.

He didn't answer, and that pissed you right off.

Pausing just for a moment, you glared at him, before gathering some clean towels. Without a word, you hurried to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil, just in case you needed to sterilize anything the old fashioned way.

When you returned to your husband, you had calmed down a little.

Pulling the bloody towel away from his side once more, you started to clean the angry gash, attempting to get ready to close the wound.

A few minutes later, you instructed Marc to move to the bed. You certainly weren't going to stitch him up on the bathroom floor.

Pausing for a moment, you granted him a reluctantly sympathetic smile, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead.

"This is going to hurt. I don't have anything to give you - anything to numb the pain," you carefully explained. "Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?"

He nodded once, but still wouldn't speak to you.

"How did you get hurt, Marc? I thought you still had...healing armor or whatever. From Khonshu." And why was he acting so weird?

The instant you had the thought that Marc really didn't seem himself was the moment you knew.

Staring into his eyes challengingly, you whispered his name. "Marc?"

Swallowing hard, he drew a trembling breath. "Not Marc."

All the blood drained from your face. You blinked rapidly, completely blindsided and so confused.

"Jake?"

Averting his gaze, he gave you another nod.

Despite all your medical training, you froze. Lips trembling, you reached up to his face, carefully minding his scrapes and cuts as your fingers traced his jaw. It had been so, so long...

"You're hurt," you whispered, as if it were new information. In a way, it was. Because a moment ago, in your mind, Marc was the one hurt. That was bad enough, but now, after weeks on end of hearing nothing...

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed at your touch. "Please help me."

Releasing his jaw, you covered his hand with yours, squeezing gently before nodding.

"This will hurt, Jake," you reminded him, as if he wasn't there a minute ago to hear your warning.

"'S okay. I deserve it." Closing his eyes, he laid his head down and waited for the pain.

You were going to fucking kill someone. Either Jake, for asking you to stitch him up rather than go to A&E while you were reeling, having not seen him for so long. Or Khonshu for honestly being a giant pile of dicks. Maybe even Marc. You weren't sure why you were mad at Marc, but you had a feeling he was involved in this steaming pile of shit somehow. The only one who might get a pass was Steven, unless he was in on this Khonshu bullshit too.

Jake could feel your anger. It was rolling off of you, electrifying the whole bedroom. But your hands remained steady, tender and professional, dancing over his wounded flesh. The dichotomy of your righteous anger and your healing mercy made him burn for you.

Each stab with your needle felt like a consequence for how he'd failed you. Failed Marc.

It was silent torture, but finally you finished, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You had thought he might pass out from exhaustion or pain, but he simply stared at the ceiling and said nothing.

Not one fucking word of explanation, or even a cry of pain.

With a sigh, you left the room to wash up and get rid of some of the bloody dressings and instruments. The sutures were not your best work - after all, you didn't stitch people up on a daily basis. But it would have to do.

Feeling exhausted in every way, you readied yourself to tend to the rest of Jake's injuries, bracing yourself for stone cold silence. It fucking hurt, but he was more than clear on the matter of not communicating with you.

Returning to Jake's beside, you said nothing. You simply lifted his hand into your own, carefully cleaning his bloody knuckles. You thought about making a joke along the lines of 'I should see the other guy, right?' but ultimately decided against it. It seemed pointless to even try.

Grabbing a couple extra pillows from your side of the bed, you handed them to Jake, who had been watching you warily.

"I need you to prop up so I can take a look at the cuts on your lip and over your eye," you explained.

He obeyed, shifting the pillows into position before protesting. "You've done enough, cariño, you don't have to - "

"Like hell I don't," you snapped. "My husband's body is hurt..." you exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "You're hurt, Jake. I'm doing this."

At first, he wouldn't look at you. You tended to the cut over his eye first - it was the worst one. "You'll need a bandage here...and it might even leave a scar through your eyebrow."

"I'm sorry," he repeated his apology from earlier. He didn't know what else to say.

"For what exactly?" You questioned, cleaning the scrapes along his cheek. You were close to him now, fingers brushing, eyes flickering, gazes locking. His breath ghosted over your hand.

"For everything," he offered, his own hand stretching out to grasp your elbow.

You jerked away. "That's really fucking specific, Jake. Thanks."

"Mi vida -" he started.

"Don't!" You bit out, glaring at him, your chest heaving. "Don't call me that. Just...just tell me how you got hurt. Tell me why you're not healing. Is Khonshu gone?"

Jake shook his head. "No. But our armor is."

"Why?" you gasped. "How can you...do your job if he doesn't protect you? I thought that was all part of the avatar package."

Jake didn't exactly feel comfortable with this line of questioning but he honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

"I think..." he started, clearing his throat. "I think it's...punishment."

Every negative and intense emotion coursing through your body narrowed to one. Terror.

"What?" You cried, placing your hands on his bare chest. "Khonshu did this to you?"

"No. He did this to Marc."

If there was anything Jake hated, it was causing you pain. He had made a sort of strange peace about staying out of your daily life, to protect you and Marc. He viewed returning your unopened letters as a mercy - as a way to let you off the hook.

But as you lay your head down on his chest, grasping his hand desperately, your warm tears flowing onto his bare skin, he knew he had utterly failed and completely misunderstood what you needed. After endless weeks of silence, it took one choked sob and desperate plea from you for him to break.

"Why would he hurt Marc?" You pleaded, clinging to Jake like a child would to a parent after a bad dream. "Please...please tell me what he did to my husband."

Jake smoothed his hand over your shoulder, rubbing your arm in a small attempt to comfort you, electrified by the nearness of you.

"I...um," releasing a shuddering breath, he decided you deserved to know. "Marc has been...talking to me. And Khonshu."

Jake went on to explain how Marc had been staying up late, attempting to maintain control of the body. How he had even gone out at night and summoned the suit -several times, in fact.

"Why?" You sniffled, leaning into Jake's embrace.

"I think he's trying to negotiate our freedom," Jake explained. "But...I don't want him to."

"Because it's your job," you spat, accusingly.

"No, mi amor," he gently corrected you. "Because the first night he put on the suit, he completely panicked, and almost bought some liquor."

You cried harder. What the hell was going on with them?

"He didn't drink," Jake clarified. "I was able to take the body after he started walking home. And the reason I don't want him doing all this is because I can't protect him if I'm not Moon Knight. If I'm not in control. If Marc is out there, and gets hurt, Khonshu doesn't care. He doesn't care if Marc drinks - in fact, he probably prefers it that way."

Easing his arms around you, Jake hissed at the stretch he felt in his stitched injury.

"Khonshu doesn't want me distracted," Jake explained. "By Marc or by you. He wants someone completely devoted to being his fist - to watching over the travelers of the night."

"That's bullshit," you argued, though most of your ire had given way to a form of despair. "If he was protecting people, he wouldn't have done this to Marc. He wouldn't have hurt him."

You and Jake lay on your bed, completely wrapped up in one another. He had tried to stay away for your sake, but if you needed this from him, he would gladly give it.

"He didn't hurt Marc directly," Jake went on. "He just..." blowing out a sigh, he mustered the courage to tell you. "He told Marc he was a worthless weakling and that he would pay for interfering. So..." Jake couldn't go on for a moment.

"What?" you whimpered, nuzzling your face into his neck as if you could hide from the horrible ancient deity.

"Khonshu waited until Marc was in the middle of a fight - he was trying to save a woman from...it was three men. Assholes..." His jaw clenched in fury. "Khonshu decided then to take away his armor. So...they beat the hell out of Marc and...they stabbed him. Cut him with a piece of glass. That's when I took the body." Too fucking late, as it turned out.

You broke down. You couldn't take it anymore. When would your husband ever be free of this torment?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jake said mournfully. "I tried so hard to protect him. To protect you from exactly a moment like this. I'm so sorry, mi vida."

He held you for a while, soothingly rubbing your back, thrilled and bewildered by the chance to hold you like this. To be able to give you some measure of comfort. To bear the injury Marc had sustained.

"Why do you call me that?" You softly questioned after your sobs had quieted. "Mi vida? Mi amor? I'm not."

Ouch. Jake's heart splintered.

But you went on to explain. "I've respected your choices, Jake, and your life on your own. But why do you call me those things if you don't even want to know me?"

"I told you - I do know you," he reminded you, his voice filled with conviction. "I think about you every day."

Propping up on one elbow, you peered down at him. "Then why won't you let me know you? Why did you return my letters?"

"To protect you," he insisted, wincing as you rolled your eyes. "From Khonshu. From everything. It was my fault Marc was drinking again. All of this pain, everything was because I wasn't doing enough - "

"Then let us help you, Jake," you pleaded. "Let's figure this out together."

"Marc tried and look what happened!" Jake fired back, flinching away from you. "He got hurt. He could have gotten us killed!"

Trying to sit up, Jake hissed in pain, his skin burning as your hands fussed over him, trying to help him.

"What happened tonight is exactly what I've been trying to prevent. No one is listening to me!"

"Because you don't fucking say anything!" You cried, climbing off the bed, scrambling around to stand in front of him. "All you do is play the martyr - lay down every piece of your existence on this sacrificial altar to a spiteful god! You don't talk to anyone, you don't know anyone, you don't do anything here but sleep!"

Tears streaked down your face as your lip trembled. "No one can listen to you because you've made yourself a ghost! You can't hear a ghost, Jake. You can't see or know a ghost. You can't love a ghost..."

Wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, you whispered woefully. "But I love you anyway. I'm here and I'll listen to you. You just don't say anything. And I know it's because of me. I know you can't stand to be around me - I guess you despise me - but you could at least try harder with Marc and Steven - "

"What did you say?" Jake breathed, his voice cold. With tremendous effort, he pushed himself off the bed and stood before you, eyes wet with fresh tears. "You think I despise you? How can you..." He trailed off, raking his fingers through his curls. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Shaking your head mutely, you stared up at him, so sweetly broken.

"You're right," he finally said, his head dropping in shame.

With a small whimper, you started to sniffle again, thinking you were right about how he couldn't stand to be around you.

"I haven't said anything to you. I've tried so fucking hard not to."

"Why?" you whispered. "What did I do wrong?"

He completely melted, reaching out for you. "Nothing, mi alma. Not one thing, ever."

Still confused, you shook your head mournfully. "Then why don't you..."

Murmuring your name, he brushed tender fingers over your cheek. "I was trying to keep you out of this - to keep you safe - to set you free - but I can see now - I only made everything worse."

Touching his forehead to yours, he wrapped one arm around your waist. "De verdad lo siento, mi amor. Por favor perdóname. Te amo."

He normally only spoke English with you, simply because that's what you spoke with Marc and Steven. But in his overflow of emotion, that's what came out.

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I understand," you whispered, your eyes wide, with a sliver of hope. "But you can say it again."

Tracing your lips with his thumb, he tried to show you everything inside his heart. He didn't deserve you, but he couldn't live without you anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he translated, brushing his lips over yours. "My love... please forgive me." Rubbing his nose against yours tenderly, he breathed against your mouth. "I love you."

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @spxctor @flyesvenustrap @spxctors @cicithemes2000

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romanarose · 4 months

Text

Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me <3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

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softlyspector · 2 years

Text

Deserve

Summary: Marc never stays with you after he fucks you. You are better left in the hands of Steven. This time, he doesn't leave you.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader)

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: smut, some references to rough sex, angst (with a happy ending) - don't let me fool you this is just touch starved marc struggling with being loved

A/N: im fine im just really out here with nothing else to do but think about moon knight

Marc was an intense person.

He was like the patter of rain against the roof, against an open window pane. He was like the shock and flash of lightning during a storm.

The grim set of his mouth and shoulders, the unending weight of the world that made his brows dip into that hard line. Marc felt more than he let on, was affected by things people said and did, let the blows rain like ash against his skin and said nothing.

You had learned long ago that Marc did not welcome comfort, that he felt it was something he did not deserve to receive. Soft, shaded mornings were for his alter. Everything squishy and warm, hazed in the breathy glow of a sunrise, was for you and Steven, not him.

Maybe it wasn’t that Marc didn’t welcome comfort.

He craved it, wanted it, longed for it.

And he should not long for it, want it, crave it.

He’d told you as much, over and over, the weight of your gentle hands against his skin like burning embers.

He wanted it. He so badly wanted to sink into that flame, but he was worried it would burn him alive, melt him down into something unrecognizable.

It was only when something went particularly badly that he allowed some comfort.

He loves you, this you know.

You see it in the heaviness of his stare, in the intensity of his worry, in the way he hugged you, held your hand, worried after you like you had not survived for years on your own.

But if you ever dared to hold his hand, hug him, drag your fingers down the length of his spine, it was too much for him. These were things he could offer you, but that you should not give him in return. These were not things he deserved, these were things better reserved to his alter, who was deserving of everything he was not.

Marc is intense.

He’s hard and wild and something close to broken some days, when reality drifts in and out of focus, when the world is best left in the hands of Steven.

There’s always a beating heart of anxiety behind everything he does, that this time he will not be enough, that this time he will not be fast enough, that this time the universe would get the last laugh again.

So when Marc fucks you, he is intense, he is like the weight of the all consuming world poured out. Salt water in wounds.

You don’t mind.

The times he’s gentle with you, you get the sense that he’s mourning, like the act is grief, something lost that he’s stealing back from the gods. Something that is temporary and definitely not for him.

This night, he had come to you like the storm he bred inside him, the hatred of self and fear of a future he could not control, of a tentative reality of things only he could see.

Marc was rough with you.

His fingers in your mouth, his hand hard against your cunt, against your ass. He had buried himself inside you, set a punishing pace. When his mouth was on yours, his kiss had been more like an effort to consume you. When his hand wrapped around your throat, his eyes had snapped to the mirror, and you had known Steven had been cautioning him, that you were in fact breakable, no matter what you said, that he should be careful of you.

But you’d covered his hand with your own and tightened his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in whatever bit of himself he would give you.

A last stuttering breath passes your lips, eyes screwed closed, pleasure lighting up the insides of your veins, molten, like a river of fire that never ends.

You clutch the sheets beneath your fingers and turn your face into a pillow as the last waves of your orgasam shutter through you. You bite off the moan that bubbles to the back of your throat when you feel Marc shift inside you, so full it's almost painful.

Your thighs tremble, the insistent pressure of Marc’s hand against the back of your neck keeping you in place. His other hand kneads the flesh of your hip, and you know a bruise has already formed there.

Marc pulls back, and thrusts into you one last time, a pleasant satisfied ache beginning between your legs.

The firm fingers at your waist finally let you drop your hips to the mattress.

You feel weightless and warm, content, like you’re floating through a cloud. Marc presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, before the heavy bulk of his body surrounds yours.

Disappointment darts through you in a brief little flash, because this is Marc’s parting gift to you always.

The kiss between your shoulders, the all consuming fire of the warmth of him against you, before he hands the reigns to Steven.

Marc never stays with you, after. The kiss against your spine is all you get from him. Whether because he can’t be bothered with taking care of you or because he feels he doesn’t deserve to, you aren’t sure.

Steven is always there though, to kiss you back to life, to smile at you, make love to you so slowly and sweetly it was like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

His fingers slide up your arms, massaging as he goes, until he reaches your clenched hands, gently uncurling them from the fabric of the sheets until he can twist his fingers with yours.

You feel him squeeze carefully, his nose dipping to the crook of your neck.

A stillness falls over you both, silence, peace, creating a warm little bubble.

You don’t mind his weight against you, it settles the frantic beating of your heart, drenches you in warmth.

Normally, Steven would say something to you when he fronted, a kiss against your cheek and a softly spoken hello, love.

Today, he’s silent, arms tight and grounding around you.

But it's Steven, you know it must be.

Because Marc never stays.

You turn your head, nuzzling your nose against his arm, feeling his damp skin against your cheek. You want to open your eyes, reach up and touch the little black curl of hair you know must be stuck to his forehead at that moment.

You’re content to stay like that with him, content to feel the gentle drift of his nose along the curve of your jaw. So you keep your eyes closed and let your mushy, sex-addled brain drift, as lips press along your jaw, behind the curve of your ear.

And you’re happy to stay in the gentle warmth being offered to you, the glow of being loved so well.

But then, he does something inexplicable.

Steven pulls away from you.

He gets up.

And he leaves.

An empty feeling that you don’t like crawls up from the pit of your belly. A feeling that’s suspiciously like abandonment, that you know is not grounded in reality.

Steven never left the bed, not without saying something to you first, not before checking in with you to ask what you needed or wanted. Especially not when Marc had been so rough with you.

It was a routine that was being broken, a sacred step you didn’t know needed spoken out loud.

You swallow thickly, peeling your eyes open.

You don’t like the dirty, used feeling that’s overwhelming you, like you did not matter.

Pushing yourself up is a monumental task, the ache of your bones like the grinding of cinder blocks against your flesh. You glance over your shoulder at the door.

Then there’s a clatter from the bathroom and the door swings open, Steven emerging in only a pair of briefs. He still doesn’t say anything as he approaches and encourages you with gentle hands to roll over, the brief warmth of a washcloth between your legs.

Which is odd.

Because Steven would normally lie with you and talk with you, until you were coherent again, until you were secure enough for him to move away without feeling the sting of abandonment.

Steven also talked almost non-stop to you, never without something to say.

Normally, you would throw on a shirt and play cards in bed, watch something on your laptop. Sometimes, Steven would just hold you and talk. Sometimes, he would make love to you again.

But none of that happened until you were ready.

Steven still doesn’t speak to you as he climbs back into bed, handing you Marc’s discarded shirt, which he gingerly helps you sit up and slip on.

Steven’s head twitches toward the mirror, and you watch him watch his reflection for a moment. You frown, wondering what Marc could be saying to him. Marc, who always and without fail disappeared and walled himself off from both of you.

And then it dawns on you.

In your post-orgasm haze, and without the sound of his voice, you hadn’t noticed the signs that this was very clearly Marc still fronting, not Steven.

Marc never stayed with you, never.

Your throat is tight when he doesn’t say anything, his head is still swiveled toward the mirror, brows drawing tighter together with each passing minute.

“Hey,” you clear your throat, “c’mere.”

You snuggle down and hold out your arms.

You half expect him to huff out an exasperated breath and lay back but avoid your touch.

But he doesn’t.

He curls into your arms, nudging his nose into the hollow at the base of your throat. He cradles you close, inhaling gently.

But to your utter surprise, he lets you smooth your hands over his shoulders, through his unruly curls. The motion of it soothes you, comforts you.

You glance toward the mirror and wish that you could see Steven there too, so you could ask what was going on in Marc’s head, why he was pretending to be Steven.

“You okay?” You say as he lets you run a hand down his face, over the ridge of scar above his brow.

It takes Marc a long time to respond, buried in your skin as he is, breathing you in, tracing rough hands along your hips and over your thighs, massaging where he knows you must be sore.

You kiss the top of his head, blearily giving him all the love he was usually too prickly to receive.

He nods against you, so you slip hands down his back, over his hair. You aren’t sure why he’s pretending, but you find you don’t mind. It’s the kind of love you always want to shower Marc with but that he rarely allows.

You want to ask him why, why he didn’t let Steven front. But you worry he might think you’re asking to see Steven, that you don’t want him there with you.

Emotionally, Marc was a fortress, impenetrable and soldily quiet. Things simmered down in his gut, pushed away and down down down, until they overwhelmed him, until they burst to the surface in a violent torrent.

Most often, it was when someone he loved was in danger, when the past became something he could no longer stare down, when the things he avoided were impossible to ignore.

And you’re terribly afraid that if you say anything now, he’ll clam up, shut down, pull away from you, leave the flat and take your heart with him.

Gently, you slide down, until you’re eyelevel with him, one hand against his neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw carefully.

You feel Marc’s hands go to the small of your back, big hands gingerly tugging you closer, until your nose is touching his, until you share the same air.

And you can hardly believe that the man who had smacked your pussy, held you down and fucked you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, whispered filthy things in your ear that you can hardly remember, that your brain fuzzes out when you think about too much - is now holding you so gently you may as well be made of delicate glass, is now allowing you to stroke your hands through his hair, pet his broad shoulders. His eyes are closed, trust you didn’t think Marc possessed pouring over you in waves.

You know why.

You know why he’s doing this.

Marc would rather accept love in the guise of his alter than ever believe he was worthy of it himself.

You think about the hatred that lives inside Marc, about the self-hatred that loomed always at the back of his mind. The hatred that ran so deep, that he felt so potently, that even his alter had thought the worst of him at first.

Killer, mercenary, cold-blooded.

Things that Marc accepted into the folds of who he was without question.

Marc never let you hold him like this, and so you do so for as long as you can bear, tilting your chin into his so you can kiss him softly, feeling the slow drift of his hands down your sides to the curve of your ass, over the bruised skin of your hips and thighs. He hooks his fingers behind your knee and tugs your leg over his hip.

You finger a curl at the back of his neck, the glow of brown skin molten in the low light of the flat.

You swallow and hope that you don’t drive him away, but you can’t stand it any longer - his thinking that this is softness you would only grace Steven with.

“Marc,” you whisper. “I know it's you.”

Even the way they hold you is different. Of course, you can always tell. You did not need their voices to tell you who was fronting.

Marc’s eyes flash open and you’re surprised to see fear there.

You hold fast to him, though he doesn’t try to pull away. You raise a questioning brow and resume your gentle ministrations, trying to show him without words that you did not treat him carefully because you thought he was Steven.

“How’d you know?”

You shake your head and press your thumb against the center of his chin, “I can always tell. It’s not something you can really hide.”

He tries to tug his face away from your hand but you don’t let him, stubbornly making him look into your eyes.

“Baby,” you say, “You know that you are just as deserving-,”

“Don’t,” he says sharply. “Don’t do that.”

“But you are, Marc. I always want to do this but you always leave me,” you stoke a hand through his hair. “I know Steven has talked to you about it, too. Told you that you don’t have to go.”

Marc is stiff against you and you consider for a moment letting him go.

But you don’t.

You hold on, and murmur, “It’s okay to want this. It’s okay.” You keep feathering your hand through his hair, your touch as gentle as you can make it. “I love you, you know.” You touch the gold chain around his neck and finally glance away from his eyes, staring at the hollow of his throat instead as you say, “You don’t always have to have your walls up. I’m not - I won’t -,” you stop and consider your next words. “I love you exactly as you are.”

There’s a long moment of silence after that, one in which your heart beats painfully fast and you wait for Marc to push you away.

But it doesn’t come, his body slowly relaxes against yours again, your fingers continuing their careful press against his skin.

His head tips toward the mirror on the wall, and he nods after a few long minutes, carefully plucking up one of your hands, to kiss each of your fingers, the flat of your palm, and then to curl them closed again, hold your hand against his chest.

You can feel the steady thrum of his heart, and Marc doesn’t look at you when he says. “I want it too.”

You wait a moment but he doesn’t say more.

“I’m happy to give it to you, Marc.”

“You - you give too much as it is.” He pauses for a long moment, before pushing you onto your back, hovering over you, his eyes darting over your face.

And you’re amazed, wondering, at the love struck expression he wears, like you were the pinnacle of a universe that barely made sense, that was barely held together.

“Steven deserves this,” he nods down at you. “He’s never-,”

You hear the unspoken words - that is why Steven was born after all, to be all the things Marc thought he wasn’t, to shield himself.

“Stop it. Marc, you are not your past. You are not bad. You carry around the weight of the world and these sins you think are yours alone. They aren’t.” You tip your head up to nudge your nose against his, Marc’s hands pinning both of yours to the space beside your shoulders.

Marc is looking at you in that intense way of his, brows furrowed, mouth tilted in that overly-serious line.

“And what if I don’t think I deserve it, huh? To get you like this?”

“Don’t listen to you, then. Listen to me.” You hitch your knees up to frame his hips, holding him against you, levering pressure into the backs of his thighs until he drops down fully against you. “You deserve it. More than most.”

You know everything he’s ever done is flashing through his mind. His brother’s death and his mother’s wrath. His time as a mercenary, his time in the military. The way he thinks he breaks and folds and isn’t strong enough, never strong enough, not enough. The mistake of Khonshu. The way he thinks he failed Layla and Steven, and that he will do it all over again.

“Hey,” you nudge his jaw again. “Quit that.”

Marc nods slowly, intense stare pinning you down. “I deserve it.” He says it like he expects you to disagree with him, to laugh.

“Yes,” you breathe. “I’ll remind you of that.” He releases your wrists, burying his nose in your neck, the breath he sucks in is shaky and wild, the drum beat of a storm he stored inside the stoic stone that surrounded his heart.

You cup a hand against the back of his neck, your other hand sliding down his side, tracing the violent scars that dot his ribs. Carefully, you slide his boxers down his thighs. Your touch is soft against him, your body already welcoming to him, and he slides into you with a quiet groan.

It’s not like making love with Steven, who was sillier and goofier than Marc would ever be.

It’s different to how Marc normally fucks you, when the mood strikes him to give it to you slow.

This time, it's sweet, it's like the smoky burn of incense, like the homecoming he’d been waiting for for years. Marc kisses you softly, groans into your mouth when he was normally quiet aside to talk to you, demand things from you.

You tighten your legs around him, encourage him to move slower, push deeper.

“Fuck,” he whispers against the delicate skin of your neck.

Sweat beads on his forehead, the glow of him against you like the sun. When you push the curls back from his forehead to look into his eyes, you catch something vulnerable in your heart, like the knife of everything Marc was storming into you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs again.

He ducks his head to kiss a path along your throat, where earlier his palm had circled the flesh.

You drag your nails along his back, rub a hand through his hair, rock the cradle of your hips along with his.

Marc reaches for one of your hands, kisses your fingers before guiding your hand to your cunt, “Sorry baby, I’m not gonna last. Need you to touch yourself for me.”

You’re only a little bit shocked, but you tip his chin up to kiss him. Marc normally had a stamina that could win awards.

Not now, it seemed. Not when you had given him permission to be slow and gentle and soft.

Your breath is squeezed from your lungs, the heavy drag of him inside you almost enough to make you come.

Marc doesn’t let you breathe, his mouth an insistent press against yours until you pull away with a gasp and you hear the sound of a quiet laugh against your throat, teeth digging into your jaw.

You come unexpectedly, hips jerking up to meet him as Marc gives a harder thrust, looping an arm beneath one of your knees to open you up more, to slide that much deeper.

The spot he hits within you makes your toes curl, makes it hard to catch a breath.

“I can destroy you like this too, huh?” Marc asks, grinding against you, hips swirling as you groan from the breathless pleasure darting up your spine.

“Don’t ruin this, Spector,” you huff, nipping at his jaw, only laughing a little.

“Keep touching yourself. I didn’t say to stop,” he answers.

Your eyes roll back when his tongue curls against the hollow of your throat. “I want you to come again,” his voice is a husky rasp in your ear.

You’re still wearing Marc’s shirt, but when he releases your leg to palm your breasts through the fabric, you regret ever letting him partially dress you.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, “You’re so tense. Come for me again, hm? Come for me.” When he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his fingers, you do. White hot pleasure courses up your spine, makes your mind go blank. “Fuck, are you coming?”

“Yes,” you moan, “I’m coming for you.”

“For me,” he repeats. “For me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, pleasure making your vision go fuzzy, your exhausted body trembling. “Marc, I love you.”

His hand goes to your ass, angles your hips, before he thrusts so deep you see stars and he spills inside you.

You make sure to wrap your arms around his head, tightening your grip until he wiggles. “Can’t breathe, baby.” But you don’t want him to go anywhere, you don’t want the idea to even occur to him.

You loosen your grip but say, “Don’t leave.”

Marc’s jaw tightens, “Sorry about that.”

“S’ok. Just don’t go.”

“Not going anywhere tonight, honey.”

You nod, nuzzling your nose against his cheek when Marc takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your fingers and wrist, your forearm, the crease of your elbow.

“Stop that,” you grouse, a giggle at the tip of your tongue.

“I’m obsessed with you. I can’t.”

You do laugh then, and he rolls you onto your side. He slips free from you and you feel the emptiness immediately, but then Marc is kissing you again, insistent and demanding, and it's forgotten. His fingers dance up the column of your spine, tracing the delicate vertebrae of bone with soft fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he whispers. It's so rare to see him without that stoic facade, the burned in self-hatred, that your heart gives a painful thump.

You kiss his sweaty brow and think to remind him of something. “You’re so good, Marc. You deserve good things. You deserve kindness.”

He doesn’t answer and you know he’s fighting down that automatic response, so ingrained into him it was almost a part of his DNA.

“I deserve it,” he murmurs eventually and you figure it's as close as you’ll get to agreement.

Marc lets you hold him, and he doesn’t try to move once.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight

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mahalshairyballs · 2 years

Text

I still can't get over how nice Marc was to Steven, almost throughout the show.

He tries to support him, encourage him, calm him down, reassure him, help him

He's just never explained how this works to anyone before, especially not an alter who is moving between fear, panic and outrage every time he's trying to explain things to him.

I give you that, Marc's patience is very short. Every time Steven was getting not nice to him Marc was quick to follow. He's not the king of deescalation. But he's never been mean first ? Always in reply to Steven.

Imagine, someone you've tried to look after all your life now knows you exist and, scared and not understanding what is happening, lashes out at you the moment you first get to talk.

And Steven, the guy who is nice to everybody, even to the bad guys because he's intimated by them. But you're Marc Spector, the only person Steven is able to speak back to and be mean to.

I know it was a very difficult time for Steven too. His life turned upside down in more than one way.

But it's still heartbreaking

Marc really tried okay

So happy Steven learned to get to know Marc. Hope they're communicating more easily now, I know they are.

That's also why Marc should have let Steven know he exists and have a relationship with him way before the show. But there's lots of reasons why he didn't.

#i know I make a lot of posts about this specific thing #but every rewatch I think about this and I'm sad for Marc #so much heartbreak in this show #gev watches moon knight reactions #marc spector tries his best #marc spector is not an asshole #marc spector deserves everything #marc spector #marc spector meta #*hugging the marc system forever*#we love our neuroatypical british nerd angel here #even when he's not so cinnamon of a roll

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

ooo hi!! can i request something with marc where he tells the reader a secret (any secret) while they're laying in bed together? just something cute and sweet and maybe a lil vulnerable, thank you!!

Forever Feels Like… (Marc Spector x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: Heya lovely! Thanks for the ask, this is so pure ughhh. I added a little change but I hope you like this huhu <33 THIS GIF OF MARC LORD I WILL SIN HES SO BEAUTIFUL!! also THIS SONG UGH TAYLORRRRR

Word count: 1.4 k

One of your favourite things in the world was coming back home to a soft warm bed where no secrets are kept. It was a promise you made with the love of your life and he had intended to keep that promise, no matter how much the truth hurt. It was a difficult process, trying to get Marc to open up, but when he started doing it, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realized that if he ever had secrets he wouldn’t mind sharing them with you.

Today was a particularly cold night. The city below was exceptionally silent and it wasn’t hard to get cosy in bed. You had a book in your hands, mouthing the words as Marc dried his hair off from his late shower, lighting one of your favourite scented candles before climbing into bed. He crawled towards you and settled his head on your tummy, wordlessly placing your hand in his hair and you smiled down at him, letting your fingers lazily twist his damp locks.

The silence between the both of you was something of a luxury, rich and comfortable, a silence that made you feel like everything was going to be alright whenever he was by your side. Sometimes, one of you would punctuate the silence with something that the both of you would giggle about and when your peripheral caught Marc staring up at you, you knew it was his turn today.

“Do you ever just pretend like you are in a music video when you’re listening to music?” Marc whispered.

“Huh?” you were caught off guard with his statement and you sat up a little, confused.

“Uhhh, nevermind…” Marc reeled back and your heart almost stopped.

“No, no, wait, do you?” you stutter out before you could lose your husband to his own dilemmas.

After a long pause, you finally got an answer from Marc.

“Yes…”

Your mouth twisted into a grin as Marc hides his face in his hands. You caught a blush creeping up his face and your heart fluttered at his cuteness.

“Tell me how.” you whispered, letting your hands curl around his wrist, gently tugging his hands to expose his beautiful face.

“No.” he mumbled.

“Baby, come on, you can’t spring a secret on me like that and not dwell into it. You know I will never ever judge.” you felt Marc’s vulnerability pulling at your heartstrings.

Marc takes a deep breath as you lace your fingers with his, kissing his knuckles gently. He gets up from where he is laying down and changes his position, so that now he was facing you.

“Sometimes, I just close my eyes and let the music soothe everything and it means that I eventually forget all my troubles and fall into a dream world.” he whispers, his breath fanning your face with how close he was.

You nod, egging him on.

“It’s just me alone, in a world without people and it feels safe and comfortable.”

Marc used a lot of things to cope over the years. He had believed in himself and therapy had been slowly taking the edge off things. You were glad that your husband was getting all of the help that he needed. Often you would find him doing things that would make you smile.

He’d like to seem tough around you but in reality, he was a real softy who deserved the world. Sometimes you would catch him fast asleep with his headphones on, and when you leaned down to press a kiss onto his cheek, you would catch Taylor Swift’s beautiful voice, making you giggle at his choice of music. It was endearing, the way he would smile softly in his sleep and snuggle his nose into the pillow.

“Then when I met you, you kinda changed everything, because then, all the songs had you in it.”

His statement caught you way off guard now and your heart thudded in your chest furiously.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He smiled softly and you swore in that moment, you will literally do anything for him.

“Oh Marc…” you whispered, tracing your fingertips on the lines on his face.

“Winters here are cold and miserable but you make me feel warm and loved.” He whispers, his lips meeting yours softly.

Healing was something that was hard for Marc. The idea of mortality was so confusing for a man that had died and come back to life. When the songs started to sound like they had been written about you and him, Marc choose to believe that he needed to cherish his mortality, choosing to hand it to you instead because he knew that you were the only one he could trust it with.

“Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about you and I hate being a romantic but I guess it's ok since it’s you.” He sighs and you giggle.

“Says the man who lets me steal his favourite cookies.” you boop his nose and his face scrunches.

“You and me both know that the missing cookies are the work of elves.” Marc grumbles and you barked out a laugh before kissing his forehead. “Very sexy wifey elves.”

You used to dream of a man like this, one who would give you everything without a single question. You knew his love was genuine and he had so much love to give, so much so that it exhausted him. You searched hard for years but he turned up when you least expected him to and now here he was, this beautiful man, barring his secrets to you.

“I guess it’s my turn now huh, Spector?” you say, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself.

Marc nodded encouragingly into your chest where he had settled his head in. You gently wrapped your arms around him and held him close, twisting his hair between your fingers.

“Okay, mine has been a little thing I’ve been doing for the past few weeks. I’ve stopped wearing setting spray.” You sighed and Marc brought his head out of your chest and glared at you.

“Wait! Before you say anything, hear me out.” You say before Marc could berate you about that not being a real secret.

He nodded, snuggling back into your chest.

Marc had always been a big fan of the blush you wear. Everyday you thank the goddess called Selena Gomez and slowly press the cream foundation over your foundation. Marc always noticed when you wore it and would watch you with his head perched on his palms as you skipped around the kitchen making breakfast.

One day, you had forgotten to spray your setting spray and Marc kissed your cheek before you could say anything. When he pulled away, you noticed that the blush had transferred onto his lips, the light tinge of colour making your heart swell with happiness. He left to work like that before you could say a thing and from that day on, you decided to skip out on your setting spray.

“So yea, you’ve been going to work with my blush on your lips, babe.” you say finally and almost jumped when Marc began to laugh in your arms.

“I know.” Marc stuttered out between laughs.

“Huh?”

“Yea, I know, I’ve been doing it on purpose.” He raised his head to kiss your cheek with a big ‘MUAH!’

“You looked so cute the first time I did that to you, there was a small imprint of my lips on your cheek and I pretended not to notice, but I loved it. It just gave me a reason to come back and kiss you again and again.” he said, kissing you between sentences as you writhed and giggled under him.

“What god brought you to me?” You sighed, pressing your forehead to his.

“Weirdly, an Egyptian one.” Marc murmured.

“Ok, let’s not talk about big bird and summon him here.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of your husband’s ex employer.

“Mmhm, I’d most definitely wish to be alone now with my sweetheart.” Marc mumbled as his lips dropped to yours again and his arms curl around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

You relaxed into his touch, accepting every single path you had taken to get to this single moment. Your heart swooned as Marc hooked your legs behind him, his nose dragging gently along your neck.

Secrets had never tasted so good.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

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

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dailyreverie · 7 months

Text

In the morning light

@flufftober - Day 3 “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

Pairing: Marc Spector x reader (+ a brief Steven mention)

Word count: 933

CW: friends with benefits to lovers and everything that comes with it - implied sexy times.

Flufftober masterlist

Every time Marc and you met, every single night that you spent together, made the friends-with-benefits situation that you agreed to much more challenging for him. It seemed like the perfect scenario back then: Marc could not do a relationship as of right now - with the whole Egyptian god that loomed over him and the issues that came with it - and you were in for just a good time, that was enough for you. Surely the feelings you had for each other, so clear and obvious and always out on the table, could hold for a little bit, or maybe die out with the passing nights.

Of course Marc thought that, and of course it backfired.

You woke up in his apartment after what was supposed to be just a casual lunch which evolved into going for drinks, which eventually became dinner, and, for the looks of it, had extended over breakfast. It kept happening time and time again, the need to be together so consuming that you couldn’t be away from each other; a shopping trip, a coffee run, going to the movies… it was all mushing together unto, basically, dating.

What kind of an idiot he was. It was the ground rule and, as he rose from the bed to see you cooking breakfast, he knew he had broken the agreement in the worst way possible. He had battled against it long enough that seeing you there, wearing his cozy sweatshirt to ward off the chilly London morning, it felt like a simple spill that broke the dam.

“I think I fucked up.” Marc sneaked up on you.

“Good morning to you too.” You kept on your food prep, acknowledging him with a quick glance over your shoulder and a smile. “What did you fuck up?”

There really was no easy way to tell you the daunting realization that came upon him, not when he could lose you, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself, much less to you. When he didn’t speak you turned around to see him, leaving on the counter the fruits you were cutting. “Are you okay?” Marc stood in the middle of the kitchen as if someone had dropped him there without telling him why or what to say.

After a deep sigh, Marc finally spoke. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh,” You whispered, almost just to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for him to elaborate; something he apparently was not going to do. “Well… we said at first that the moment we want out then it’s done, so-”

“It’s just-” Marc seemed exasperated with himself, scrunching his face trying to find the words that wouldn’t break your heart. But when he looked at you, the words came to him with ease. “Steven’s got a crush on you.”

“Does he?” Your eyes opened with delight, a huff of laughter coming out of your lips. You knew Steven was nagging at him in his head.

“He does, and he’s been really annoying about it lately.” In Marc’s head, if he blamed Steven maybe this would be easier.

“Why is Steven not telling me, then?” You knew there was more about it than he was saying, something in his hesitant stance told you so. You approached him, holding his hands to unclasp them from his sides to try and help him relax. “You can’t tell me.”

“We said no feelings, and I’m doing a terrible job at that.” he chuckled at himself. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but whatever we are doing is not what friends with benefits do. We are going on dates, you’re cooking breakfast. This is the complete opposite of what we agreed on, and all this is messing me up.”

“Marc Spector, you sap dork.” You could see right through him, right through his ramblings about feelings and agreements that happened months ago. Your hands clasped behind his neck, holding onto the base of his head. You smiled up at him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life, a smile he never thought he would deserve, let alone be responsible for.

You pulled him in, shutting his brain off for a few seconds as you sank into his hold, melting in the kiss, letting it say everything Marc was not able to. His hands stayed on the small of your back when you parted, though your noses were still touching.

The truth is, it was everything you felt too; every word he said you had said it to yourself too. Except for you it was clear. For you, the turmoil you felt came together in a simple word.

“I love you, Marc.” You said softly, gazing up to his eyes so he knew you meant it.

A hint of surprise danced across his face, prompting him to pull back slightly while maintaining his smile. "Wait… You love me?"

“I guess I always have, at least for a few months now.” You cheeks turned red and he held you tighter. He didn’t have to ask why you didn’t say anything before, he knew exactly why, since it was the reason he didn’t speak up sooner too.

“I love you too, baby.” You hummed against his lips at the sound of the nickname, as if you could feel this new love you just exchanged for each other in his kiss. As you kissed again, it felt as though the stars had finally aligned to bring you two together, sealing your bond with a love that had been there all along, just waiting to be acknowledged.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober2023 #flufftober #day 3 #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector fanfic #marc spector imagine #marc spector blurb #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction

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vintagegirl01 · 1 month

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Loving you is a losing game

Marc Spector x fem! reader (Steven and Jake are mentioned briefly)

Summary: Marc meeting you was one of the best things to have happen to him. However, the demons of his past make him feel otherwise. You help him see that the love you share is one that should be fought for.

A/N: This is what I thought while listening to the song Arcade by Duncan Laurence. Of course with a happier twist.

A/N 2: Purely for entertainment purposes, so please don’t come after me. As I said, I'm still getting used to writing pieces like this.

Marc Spector’s life has never been easy. From the trauma of his young brother’s death to everything he’s during his time as Khonshu’s avatar, he’s felt like a ticking time bomb. Though he’s tried to use his time as Moon Knight to right his wrongs, it never feels like it’s enough.

When he meets you, he begins to see that there is more to life than vengeance. Marc begins to let himself enjoy your presence when he and you hit it off at the gym.

You weren’t a gym rat by any means but you had started a membership in the hopes of getting in shape and learning self-defense by using their punching bag. Seeing you hit the bag by yourself catches his attention and he begins to give you some pointers on how to improve your stance. Over time, this leads to you becoming sparring partners and eventually exchanging phone numbers. Although,this leads to you all regularly hanging out outside your sparring hours.

The day he asked you out was a shock for him because not only did he actually let himself be brave enough to ask the question but you eagerly accepted his invitation. It’s even more surprising to find out that one date led to another. Then another until you both have officially unofficially started dating.

Despite everything going well, he knew that there were things he needed to tell you. About his DID. His past. Being the avatar to an Egyptian deity in exchange to right the wrongs from his ugly past.

This then leads him to begin feeling self conscious about himself. His inner dialogue begins to consist of questions such as: What if he didn’t deserve this chance at happiness? What if she thinks I’m crazy or thinks I’m making this up?

Marc then begins to hear his mother’s voice. Telling him that he is unworthy of receiving love and will only continue to destroy all the lives that he surrounds himself with. Steven and Jake try to snap him out of this but Marc is paralyzed. At this moment, Marc only thinks one thing.

“I have to break up with her before I hurt her”, Marc thought.

_____________________________________

“Marc, this isn’t funny. Stop joking, you say.

“I’m not joking. I think we should break up,” said Marc.

“But why, Marc? Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’ve been the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Then why are you doing this?” You take your hand in his, looking at him sadly. “Please, tell me why you’re acting as if I’m a disease.”

“Imthedisease.” He says as if he’s trying to rip off a bandage.

“What, baby?”

“I said, I'm the disease. I seep into innocent lives and destroy them.” He looks at you tearfully.

“Marc, that’s silly. What are you talking about?”

Marc then begins to explain everything. From the death of his younger brother to the lives he took during his time as a mercenary. He also makes sure to mention that he is the vigilante, Moon Knight, and has two other individuals living within his head. He concludes all of this by saying, “Loving me is a losing game.”

Once he’s done explaining all of this, Marc is waiting to see your reaction to all this. Will you call him crazy? Run away from him? Scream?

Instead, you take his hands in your own.

“Loving you isn’t a losing game, Marc,” you tell him. I love you and long as we have each other, we can face whatever life throws at us.”

At this, Marc pulls you into a big hug. He lets himself break down because he knows that you’re here to stay and love him. For his strengths and weaknesses, through good and bad times. He knows you will be there for him.

As you two are still embracing, he starts to believe that he is worth loving after all.

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jakecockley · 2 years

Text

- your smile, you're everything -

✧ pairing: jake lockley x f!reader (main) , marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

✧ summary: you're in the kitchen cooking something up for your boyfriend, jake. when you turn to look at him and he looks back at you, your heart swells. jake feels the exact same way, maybe even more.

✧ genre: fluff/soft comfort

✧ warnings: none at all, this is pure adorbs ! ♥︎

✧ word count: 374

✧ author's note: i'm still not over moon knight and i never will be, ok. this show is everything to me and frankly, i'm still fascinated with it. i absolutely love the moonboys and i might post drabbles of them in the future depending on how this one goes. (tagging @marc-spectorr n @slenderclaw because i love them and they share their love of oscar isaac and mk with me-) this one's short !

do i have a favorite? noooo, ofc not- (jake mi amorcito 🫠🖤)

"You smile a lot more since we've met." You told your lover, brushing the soft, ebony curls away from the frame of his face.

Jake didn't answer you right away. As corny as it sounded to him, he was losing himself in your eyes. God, he was starting to become like Steven, when he'd stare at you like some lovesick teenager, but Jake didn't care.

He could care less at this point, especially when you looked at him the way you did, as if he was the prettiest damn thing on Earth.

"I think my magic is working," you grinned, "you have a really pretty smile, you know. Really makes my day to see you like this, baby."

Ooh, no, no, after that, he knew he didn't deserve you. If he told you that, you'd spend hours giving him a whole lecture on why you disagree with him.

His smile grew a bit more at the thought.

When you cradled his face in your hands and softly rubbed your thumbs across his cheeks, he felt weak in the knees. It was a loving and kind gesture that Jake absolutely fell for.

"Really, huh?" He chuckled.

And it was funny to him, how he came to love your touches, cuddles, and everything in between. To think how before he hated physical touch, wasn't used to it at all but, to his surprise, you were patient enough with him, and as time passed, he became addicted to the feeling of your hands on him.

He fell in love with you each passing day, like a love-drunk fool. Marc would make fun of him for it, Steven too, even while they acted the exact same way when they were around you.

They all loved you.

"Yes, really really." You leaned forward to kiss his nose, then his lips.

"Now come on, food's about to get cold," you told him before pulling away to walk to the table, which had Jake almost let out a whine.

"One more kiss, amor?"

He heard your laughter in the dining room, the sound of it making him feel all bubbly inside.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll think about it, Lockley, hm?"

He smiled.

Who was he to refuse you?

liked this fic ? check out my current and future ones on my moon knight masterlist !!

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ivonhart · 1 month

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the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter six

| next (WIP)

| previous

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

a/n: !! chapter warnings !! PTSD, unintentional s*lf-harm It is NOT gonna get better for her XD!!!!

You woke the next morning to Layla scurrying around the room you slept in. You weren’t surprised to see the woman here. You knew she would’ve been hot on your tail the moment you left London. “Layla?”

You noted how hoarse your throat felt as you slowly sat up with a groan. The woman stopped in her tracks and quickly made her way over to you with a soft call of your name. “How are you feeling? I started to get nervous about whether you were going to wake up or not.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you shook the drowsiness away.

Memories of what happened the previous day came flooding back and you looked down at your bandaged hand. It was clear it had been cleaned and rewrapped but there was still confusion floating within your mind. “What do you mean you were nervous? I just slept through the night.” Layla sat at the end of the bed with a look of pity. “You’ve been asleep for almost two days.”

A few beats of silence followed before you shot to your feet…almost pushing Layla off the bed in the process. “TWO DAYS?!” And as quickly as you got up…you fell down. All the blood rushing to your head, causing black dots to encase your vision. If it weren’t for Layla catching you, you would’ve fallen to the floor.

The woman hissed out your name with worry as she slowly sat you back on the bed. “The Scarab? Harrow? Marc?” His name left a bitter taste in your mouth as you dropped your head into your hands. You remembered what you said…what you did. Layla rubbed your arm silently. “I’m guessing Marc told you what happened?” You asked without lifting your head.

A small hum of confirmation left the woman’s mouth before she spoke. “He was lucky we were in the middle of a market, otherwise I would’ve punched him.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips before you raised your head. “I can’t believe I snapped like that. J-Just Marc simply saying ‘sorry’ and thinking that would fix everything sent me over the edge. And Steven.”

A wave of shame washed over you as you sighed. “I can’t even imagine what he must think about me now.” You turned to Layla with tear-filled eyes. “He probably thinks I’m an animal.” Layla slightly shook her head and allowed yours to fall against her shoulder as she began to speak.

“I can tell you one thing, Marc deserved everything you gave to him. What he said was disgusting and shameful. We know that man is not easy and I’m surprised it took you so long to finally snap at him…but I am surprised he said sorry. I mean…Marc never took accountability for his actions like that.” As Layla continued to speak, you had moved your hands to wrap around her arm. “But he did it with you.” You felt her shake her head.

“I am not saying that what Marc did was okay, but it is clear that he does regret it. He regrets it because he cares about you.” A small grumble passed your lips as you snuggled closer to Layla. “What has he been doing while I was asleep?” You questioned. “Mostly running around trying to find leads. He just left this morning chasing after another. He’ll probably be back later.”

A few seconds of silence followed before you whispered. “Also…I may have confessed to him.” Another pregnant pause filled the air as Layla took your words in. “WHAT!?” Now, it was Layla’s turn to almost knock you over as she shot to her feet. There was always an unspoken thing between the two of you about how you felt.

She never got confirmation about your feelings towards the man, but she always knew something was there. And she knew it went both ways even if you didn’t. Now, that once unspoken thing was gone as you spent the rest of the morning talking to her about everything.

“KHONSHU MAKE IT STOP!” Your pleas meant nothing to the god as he gazed up towards the moon. The full moon. “You know this is your punishment for what you did all those years ago.” He spat the words out with hatred. “You are nothing but a disgusting dog.”

Then he vanished, leaving you pushed up against a wall as you buried your head into your knees. You could hear them…calling you…cursing you. “–YOU MONSTER–HOW COULD YOU DO THIS–YOU KILLED US–IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT–”

You tried to scream back at them, but each time they grew louder and louder until you eventually found a spot curled against the wall. Knees to your chest whilst your hands covered your ears in a futile attempt to drown them out. It didn’t work.

“–YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF DEAD–BEAST–MONSTER–MURDER–” Wails tumbled from your mouth as you rocked back and forth. Mouth wide, spewing apologies that would never be heard…eyes snapped shut but still seeing what Khonshu forced you to see.

You slid along the wall until your head pushed into the ground. Now, fully on your knees you began to smash your forehead against the floor. “stop…please stop…” was all that left your mouth with each hit. That’s when Marc finally made it back.

The moment he stepped out from within the pyramid and saw the full moon he was quick to make his way back to the hotel. Unfortunately, he was too late. By the time he got there you had already busted your head open, causing a small puddle of blood to pool against the floor. Your cries came out low and cracked as your throat grew weaker and weaker.

“stop…please stop…” A lump lodged itself within his throat as he made his way over to you. He wasn’t going to abandon you…not again. Slowly, Marc bent down and said your name. His hand ever so lightly brushed against your shoulder as he spoke.

With one final smack you went still and the room went silent once more. “A-Are they here?” Your words dripped from your mouth in the smallest tone Marc has ever heard. He muttered your name once more. “No…no one is here. You’re okay.” Steven watched from inside and his heart never felt so heavy. You carried so much. Suffered so much.

Steven could feel the guilt growing in Marc’s chest but he didn’t know it was because Marc blamed himself for being so late. If he got here quicker the night would’ve been easier. You wouldn’t have slipped so far to the point you believed what Khonshu made you see was real.

He watched as you slowly lifted your head to look at him…and when you did a fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes. Tears of relief. In a blink of an eye you had launched yourself into the man’s arms with sobs. “You came back!” You wailed. Despite the blood, tears and snot that began covering his shirt he held you as if you would disappear with the wind. “I got you. I got you.” And he did.

With effortless movements, the man pulled you into his arms and led you to the bathroom where he cleaned your head. Then he moved to the bed where he pulled the covers over your heads like a child would in an attempt to hide from a monster. All while you clung to him. “Don’t leave me, Marc.”

The warmth from your breath crashed against his skin and created goosebumps. Your head was tucked into his neck as you curled yourself into his body. Hands clasping handfuls of his shirt. His chest burned as he placed a feather-like kiss upon your head. “I’ll never leave you again.” Was the last words you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

The warmth he offered melted away the cold that seeped through your bones with each passing second. As you lay tangled within his arms, Marc heard Steven softly speak. “You love her…don’t you?”

You woke up during the early hours of the morning. The sun barley began peaking over the horizon, slowly changing the dark sky into one filled with hues of yellow and orange. With lazy blinks your vision steadied as you sat up, careful of the arm that fell across your stomach.

The day after a full moon always left you in a strange state. A state in which you almost weren’t in your body. Like bits of your being floated around…desperate to return to you. The pain along your head didn’t help with the feeling either. The only thing grounding you was him.

You looked over your shoulder to look at Marc…and Steven. Quickly, you shut your eyes to combat the sting of tears. You were embarrassed…ashamed at what Steven saw. Marc was used to the full moons. He helped you through them so many times…but not Steven. Because of your internal struggle you didn’t notice the bed sheets move until you heard his voice call out your name.

You kept your back towards Marc as he sat up, the warmth provided by his arm disappearing as he moved it away. “H-How are you feeling?” His tone was lighter than a feather, almost as if he was afraid to spook you with anything louder. Your mouth opened to say something but the only thing that came out was a soft sob.

Marc sat straighter and hesitantly brushed his hand across your forearm. Then he said your name again, causing you to slowly look at him. The moment your eyes locked he watched tears pool over your puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, Marc.” His eyes saddened as he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” That’s when his gaze dropped. “I should’ve been there sooner. If I had, it might've not gotten so bad.”

That’s when he started telling you about the meeting with the gods. “I know you’re upset with me right now, but you have to know that I would never leave you alone during a full moon.” And you believed him. You believed him, because since your first full moon together he never left you alone. Marc watched as you wiped your tears away and slightly moved so you could face him better before replying. “I can never stay upset with you, Marc.”

The man took note of the new look that swirled in your eyes. You inhaled deeply before you gently cupped the man’s cheeks. Your eyes never leaving his as your thumbs lightly stroked his five o’clock shadow. “I could never stay upset with you because…” A soft gasp left your mouth when you felt his large hand graze your thigh as he leaned closer.

His scent made your head spin as your mouth ran dry, making it almost impossible to say what your heart burned to say. “I know.” Marc’s words kissed your lips with how close he had gotten. Both his and your breathing grew heavy with each passing second. Then, in the blink of an eye, the tension snapped and your lips crashed into one another.

The kiss was different from the one you shared with Steven to save him from a panic attack. While that kiss was gentle, this one was rough and hungry. Teeth clashed together while hands wandered. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands gripped your thigh and cupped your chin.

Your bodies were so close it was as if you would mold together. Despite the words going unspoken, both you and him knew just how much you meant to one another in that moment.

a/n: Sometimes I find it hard to write romance because I've never really felt it before so forgive me if it's kinda bad. Also finished writing and posted this around one in the morning sO.

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