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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You Part 2

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Summary: Your fiancé Marc experiences his first hangover in 2 years. Can he face you in the light of day, and admit to you and Steven what he knows about another alter?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader, though there is one optional fiancé(e) and muñeca(o). (Reader’s choice). No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, hangover (ish), cursing, cuddles in bed, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, brief reference to past trauma, self-worth probs (I mean, it’s Marc). Let me know if I missed a warning. Banter? If mild sarcasm bothers anyone... Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

Steven fell asleep right away - for that, you were grateful. But sleep did not come easily for you. As Steven nestled into the crook of your neck, arm slung across your torso, you could only hope he would sleep off that three-quarters bottle of whiskey.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you pressed your lips to his temple, waiting until his breathing slowed and steadied before confessing into the stillness of the night.

“Marc...I know you can’t hear me right now...” Your lip trembled as you pulled his body closer, gently twisting his soft strands around your fingers. “But we love you. We’re with you. Nothing will change that.”

You supposed it could be considered odd to be speaking to Marc even though it was Steven who fell asleep tangled up in you. And perhaps it was also presumptuous to speak on Steven’s behalf, to Marc. But you knew it was true.

The next morning, you woke up first, after a few, merciful hours of sleep. You hoped not to disturb the man beside you, carefully slipping away from his grasp. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, you clambered to the kitchen, cursing yourself for not grabbing your fluffy slippers or a thick pair of Steven’s fuzzy socks. Your damn, drafty flat was going to give you all pneumonia, you were certain of it.

To that end, you started preparing both coffee and tea, unsure of which handsome man would be enduring a hangover this morning. For Steven, you oscillated between a red and a golden tea - hibiscus or chamomile. Marc may have been born and raised in Chicago, but Steven Grant did not mess around about tea.

Finally deciding on the hibiscus, you grabbed the air tight canister of tea leaves - there would be no dreadful teabags (as your darling Brit quoted Dame Julie Andrews) in your flat.

Hopefully Marc would drink the tea, but, just in case, you put on the very impressively American coffee maker before finding the bread for some toast.

After everything was hot and ready to go, you crept back into the bedroom, figuring it all might go cold before your sleepy headed fiancé roused. No matter. You just wanted to be prepared.

You didn’t have to wait long because someone stirred just as you pulled on the fluffiest pair of socks with little goldfish (a Hanukkah present to Steven last year) and threw Marc’s favorite tan hoodie over your white t-shirt. Your legs were still bare and you decided that at least your grumpy, hungover boys might have a silly sight to wake up to, if nothing else.

Easing down beside your love, you gently raked your hand through his bedhead, probably your favorite way to (innocently) touch them.

With a groan, your fiancé squinted, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes, as if a thousand suns were burning them. (It was still dark in the bedroom).

“Oh, god,” Marc uttered, his arm flopping back on the mattress.

You adored Steven, but you were thrilled it was Marc. You needed to speak to him, or at least take care of him.

“Good morning,” you softly greeted, reaching to massage his temples before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Mm-mm, bad morning,” he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your stomach. His hands somehow conveniently slid right inside his hoodie and underneath your t-shirt, which sent you toppling over, giggling elatedly.

Marc was a very pouty but adorable puppy sometimes. Grumpiness just worked on him. You liked to joke with him that he would make the cutest grumpy old grandpa someday. Thankfully, he was more interested in using your tummy as a pillow at the moment than the heaping shame and anguish from last night.

“Thirsty,” he murmured, nuzzling against you. Damn, it was too bad he didn’t feel good, because he was unintentionally turning you on.

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, prying yourself from his grasp to get his breakfast.

“No, don’t go,” he protested, locking his arms around you, his hot breath falling on the exposed skin of your abdomen, where your shirt had bunched up. “You’re m’pillow.” His words came out all muffled and so, so cute.

God, he was distracting. “Are you calling me fluffy?” You teased. “I was just going to get you some water. And maybe some aspirin?”

“Wanna sleep,” came his mumbled reply. “You left me.”

“To make you some coffee, you baby,” you playfully shot back, finally climbing out of his grasp.

A few minutes later, you returned with a tray filled with tea, coffee, toast, water and painkillers, only to find Marc planted face first in the pillows. How he managed to look so damn good after downing a bottle of whiskey and sleeping five hours, you would never know. As his muscular back expanded with a deep breath, you almost tossed the tray full of remedies to the side and climbed on top of him.

Later, maybe.

After a little coaxing, he finally sat up, taking the prepared tray onto his lap. Simply seeing what you’d done to ease his pain this morning reminded him of his shameful display last night. His eyes flickered over to yours, dropping down to the gesture of care and love.

“You...” He exhaled shakily, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

There was no need to argue over breakfast. You gently smiled in return, rubbing his forearm comfortingly. “I made you coffee, but...maybe you’ll try the tea? Steven says the antioxidants--”

“I was an asshole.” His jaw clenched, his gaze now fixed on your hand. The tenderness of your touch burned him with shame.

“You were?” your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Hm...”

Marc was used to this from you. Just like you had taken a swig of his whiskey last night, your nonchalant reply should not have surprised him in the least.

You were a champion of the real. He had never met a soul like you, and that’s probably why he was insanely in love with you.

All that mattered to you was the reality of any given situation - what was right in front of you. You were so damn hard to fight with because ... well, you didn’t fight. And for someone as self-punishing as Marc, who spent his youth hearing what a miserable failure of a human being he was, it took him a long time to understand that your steady gentility and raw honesty were not dismissive of his trauma. No, you met it, and him, head on, accepting him and loving him exactly how he was.

You had never asked him to change, never expected him to be anyone other than exactly who he was. After years of self-sabotage, it was unimaginable to him to not have to live up to someone’s standard. He never had successfully lived up to anything, in his mind.

But you were different. The first time you “fought” had blown him away. He snapped at you, feeling inadequate over one thing or another and you simply said, “No.” He thought you were being dismissive of him, maybe even mocking him, but you were as earnest as ever, telling him, “You think that now. That’s okay. I simply disagree.” Then you kissed your thumb and pressed it to the grumpy crease between his downturned eyebrows. “I love you exactly how you are, Marc.”

It was the first time you’d said you loved him and he was just...speechless. You then kissed the corner of his mouth and carried on with the evening. That’s why it was so easy to tell you about Steven.

“I don’t remember you being an asshole,” you shrugged, bringing his mind back to the present. “But I do remember you being upset. And crying.” Scooting a little closer, you twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers. “You wanna tell me about that?”

He watched your hands, pouring a couple pain pills into your palm, picking up the glass of cool water to make him an offering. His eyes met yours and he knew you were there to ease his pain in every possible way.

Still, it was so hard for him. And anything too hard typically led to disassociation.

To gain an extra moment, he took the medicine, gulping down the entire glass of water.

“Now, what sounds best?” You sweetly asked, nodding to the tray, your gentle smile completely melting him.

“I-I don’t think Steven and I are alone...in the body,” he gulped, his eyes wide and worried.

Sitting up straighter, you slowly nodded, reaching to take the tray from his lap and set it safely on the night table, giving him time to say more, if he would.

That’s all he said.

Shit, you suddenly worried you didn’t know how to ask questions without sounding offensive, despite the library’s worth of research you had done on DID. But you weren’t an investigative journalist, you were this man’s fiancé(e). So you would start with him.

“And that scares you, Marc? Upsets you?”

He glared at you. “Obviously.” Then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, trying to proceed carefully. It was so, so good that he was opening up to you. Instead of playing a guessing game, you decided to be your normal, candid self.

“Do you know who it is?”

He sort of did. Another man.

“Does he have a name?”

Lockley. He was pretty sure.

“Have I met him?”

His dark eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t know. Have you?”

Well that certainly explained one reason he was so terrified.

“No, I don’t think so. Does Steven know?”

Marc reluctantly confessed how hard he’d tried to hide it from Steven.

“I knew this was all too good to be true,” he brokenly whispered, eyes downcast once more. “You, me, Steven, free...happy.”

“We are those things,” you agreed, keeping him focused on the here, now - the real. “A change doesn’t mean we weren’t those things, all this time.”

“You don’t understand...” Marc rubbed his eyes in frustration (with himself) and tried to ignore his growing headache. Maybe he really should eat and drink something. He tried to tell you about Khonshu. He was going to tell you everything, and Steven too. But it was too much at once, so you found yourself with Steven once more.

Steven was very impressed with your choice of “hangover tea” and made sure the body got the nourishment, rest and shower it so needed. He missed his morning classes at uni, but did manage to make it to his shift at the university library, which ran from mid-afternoon to early evening.

Since Steven seemed to determined to not miss a shift over a hangover, you decided to go ahead and work your shift at the hospital, as planned. The two of you would meet back at your flat for some supper and then, hopefully at least one of you could get some more information out of Marc.

Things didn’t go as planned.

You returned home, assuming your fiancé would be there, just the same as the previous, fateful, sobriety-breaking night, but no one was home.

You looked around the flat, texted, called. Started dinner. Texted.

Took a shower, called. Called the university library - no Steven.

Shit.

Dinner was cold, you had texted the boys a novel, likely filled up their mailbox with voicemails. It was a desperate look - you were aware, but the worst thing you could imagine, aside from the actual worst thing that could happen to a person, was that maybe Marc was on a bender somewhere? It wasn’t exactly his drinking style, even back in the day, but...

Your feet were going to wear holes in the goldfish socks from all the pacing. It was past bedtime, midnight, 1am...should you call the police?

You were now truly, deep-in-your-bones terrified. In four years, neither Steven or Marc had ever just disappeared like this, not without telling you. Sometimes they could be a little radio silent when Khonshu was involved, but...

Maybe they weren’t them. Maybe it was the other. The new alter. Well, new to your boys anyway. You didn’t know anything about him, but one of the first things you wanted to know was - did he possess the ability to reply to a damn text message?

You got your answer twenty minutes later when you heard the slightest thump come from your bedroom. Hoping you had imagined the sound in your intense worry, you engaged in stupid-horror-movie-behavior and went to check out the sound, in the dark.

The moonlit profile of your fiancé sent a dozen feelings through your mind and heart at once, but as usual, you went with the borderline comical response first.

“Did you just come in through the window?”

Dark eyes snapped over to you as...Marc? pulled a flat cap off his head, loosening his curls. Tossing it to the side, he reached for the fingers of dark leather gloves, pulling them loose one at a time, but saying nothing.

You gulped. “Marc?”

Once the fingers of his glove were loosened, he discarded it and reached to work on the other hand, his body language holding none of Marc’s sorrowful tension, nor Steven’s anxious hunching. He moved with ease, dropping his second glove before pulling off his leather jacket. One you’d never seen, actually. You could tell that even in the dark.

Then he eased toward you confidently, like a panther, reaching to pull loose the tie around his neck. Okay, not Marc.

Once the dark tie was free of his neck, he toyed with it in his hands, wrapping it around one fist as his head cocked to the side.

You forgot to breathe for a second.

He finally let the thin fabric drift down to the floor and reached for the buttons of his white shirt.

Okay, enough. “You’re not Marc,” you uttered desperately, taking one step back. “Are you?”

He matched your step backward with a step forward. Then he shook his head once.

Oh. What had Marc said this morning? “L-Lockley? Is that right?”

He froze.

You decided, in that fleeting moment, to deal with the reality in front of you. You drew a steadying breath, releasing the fear and worry that had plagued you all night. Clearly, he was right in front of you, so he was at least safe. And despite the very distracting sort of striptease thing he just did, he admitted he was another.

So you weren’t going to be afraid anymore and give in to bullshit stereotypes.

You stepped forward. “Do you know who I am? I live here, with you.”

He nodded.

He was frustrating, this one. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes. “Have we met before, Lockley?”

The slightest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth.

“Jake.”

He inched closer.

“But you can call me anything you want.”

Well, damn. Huffing out a laugh, you quickly regained your footing. “Smooth. Never heard that one before...Lockley.”

His smirk eased into the slightest smile, but his eyes remained dark, boring into yours before tracing down the shape of your body.

“I can see why they’re so taken with you, muñeca(o).”

You always knew the right thing to say with Marc and Steven like 100%, all the time, but damn if this window-crawling, stripteasing man with the velvety chocolate voice didn’t have you stumped.

Showing you a bit of pity, he extended his hand, offering a proper introduction. “Jake Lockley.”

But once you extended your own hand, he gently grasped your fingers, bending over slightly to lay a kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure,” you shot back, taking his hand and kissing it right back.

He chuckled lowly as you retreated.

“Listen, Jake,” you said his first name pointedly, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried tonight. Do you happen to know where my fiancé’s phone is?”

Eyeing you carefully, he reached down to grab his leather jacket, producing Marc and Steven’s phone from the pocket. Handing it over as a peace offering, you sighed, a little relieved it wasn’t lost, only to realize it was powered off.

“Do you always turn off their phone?” You challenged, attempting to turn it on when you realized...

“It’s dead,” he explained, seeming the slightest bit unsure for the first time this evening. “I was going to...I thought you would be asleep.”

You frowned, confused.

“When I got back,” he clarified, his accent clearly American, although from a different region than Marc’s, it seemed. “I thought you would be asleep, like usual, and when you woke up, one of them would be with you.”

“Like usual?” You gasped. “You come in through the window while I’m asleep...like usual?”

Shit, it kind of sounded creepy said aloud like that. Jake knew meeting you would be a disaster. He really should have paid attention to whether you were really sleeping before he ninja’d his way inside.

“Look, cariño, don’t worry about it,” he deflected, returning to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep.”

“No,” you protested, moving close to him - as close as you dared. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just met you.”

His confident, dark gaze softened, and he almost dared to hope...

“Look,” you tried again, “I just want to know why we haven’t met before. And why Marc is so upset. And why is he drinking again--”

“Marc was drinking? Shit,” he uttered, pacing away from you. Jake had always successfully evaded his alters, and made a point to do so as he continued their life in the service of Khonshu.

He should have seen this coming. Most of the scum he took care of in the dark of night didn’t even make him break a sweat, with or without the healing armor of an ancient god. But as word of a powerful nighttime avenger spread in the underworld of London, threats arose equal to the threat Jake posed.

Just a few days ago, some asshole with powers of his own got the better of him, knocking him out cold. Jake had assumed that Khonshu had intervened but now he wondered...

If Marc woke up in the Moon Knight suit, he would absolutely freak the hell out. Which...now that he thought about it, he had no memory of getting home that night.

This was just perfect. Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

#with you fic #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #gn reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac fic #mcu #moon knight #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you

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mkfluffluv · 2 years

Text

Keep The Secret?

MAINLY JAKE LOCKLEY X GN READER , SOME MARC SPECTOR AND STEVEN GRANT X GN READER

prompt : marc and steven had gotten themselves sick. luckily for them, they have a wonderful and loving partner who's willing to take care of them(you). unbeknownst to you, another person is taking care of them in their own way. (yes it's jake.)

i finally finished this and it ended up a lot longer than i had planned but i'm pretty okay with it, so, enjoy!

likes and reblogs appreciated, also leave me requests cause im running out of ideas!!

warnings(?) : fluff. maybe angst? but mostly fluff. my knowledge on DID is very limited but im hoping i didn't mess anything up and if i did, feel free to message me about it!!

word count : 2,705

masterlist

Here you are, preparing all of your boyfriends' pills for them cause they're too tired to get out of bed. Someone had coughed on Steven while on his way to the museum and now they're sick with a sweltering hot fever and a horrid cough. They were constantly switching with each other because neither of them wanted to deal with the sickness and while yes, being sick without fronting is still being sick, it is still much better than actually having to experience a sick body. Sometimes you wonder why or how you had fallen in love with these two idiots.

"Will you both please just stop arguing and drink your medicine?" You demand from your very sick boyfriends who are currently quarreling with each other. A mirror was placed beside the bed where Steven was laying down on, where he is coughing every few sentences that he says to presumably Marc, as he tells him, pretty much begs him to take over for a few minutes so that he can stop feeling so bad at least a little bit. You can't hear Marc but from the way Steven is getting more and more exasperated by the second, he's probably being very stubborn and refusing to switch.

A bunch of toddlers those two are.

You run a hand through your hair and drag it down your face, letting out a groan in irritation. You’ve been by their side for hours now, making sure they’re getting enough rest and drinking their medicine and honesly, If you didn't love these two dorks, you probably would have left hours ago. But if you'd left, they'd just be arguing all day and not resting and that is the opposite of what you want these two to be doing.

After giving up on trying to get the boys to drink their pills, you approach Steven on the bed, pushing him down by the shoulders, forcibly tucking him in, and shushing him when he tries to say something about you treating him like a baby. "Please, love, just go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." You tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Steven is quiet for a while but then sighs defeatedly and nods, knowing there's no point in arguing with you about it since he's already tired anyway. His head immediately sinks into the pillows as he relaxes and closes his eyes. You sit beside him, humming a soft tune while running your hands through his hair. His breathing slows in mere seconds.

Thank god. You were starting to get really tired of their bickering and if they were to go on any longer, you would seriously start contemplating using that neck pinch trick Marc taught you to get them to pass out already. Sighing in relief, you lift yourself from the bed and walk over to the small stove to start cooking up some soup for them to eat when they wake up.

However, as you were cutting up some carrots, you hear shuffling coming from the bed. Assuming that it's probably just Steven stirring in his sleep, you choose to ignore it and continue to cook.

But the shuffling continues and it isn't until you hear a creak on the floor that you turn your head to the other side of the room where possibly Steven is leaning against the wall trying to walk towards his desk.

Oh for the love of-

"Steven! I told you to rest, if you needed the pills you could've just-" Before you could finish your sentence, however, Steven had swiftly darted across the apartment towards you, as if he was never even sick. Suddenly there is a dagger that he had pulled out of who knows where threateningly close to your throat.

This is not Steven and you have a very good feeling that it isn't Marc either.

"Who are you?" A slight accent that isn't American nor British comes out of the man, his voice low and more gravelly than the others. Slowly, you place the knife back down on the cutting board and both of your hands come up to your chest, hopefully showing this stranger that you are now unarmed and not here to hurt anyone.

"I'm just here to take care of Marc and Steven. I'm their significant other." There is a pregnant pause after you say this like he's contemplating whether your words could be trusted or not. His eyes dart around the room. First, towards the soup on the stove, then the pills on the desk, and finally the small portraits of you and your boyfriends. He finally lets go of you, making you fall to the floor with how weak your knees felt after all that.

"God fucking damn it those idiots." The stranger says, the accent coming out of his mouth (your usually american and british lovers' mouth) is something that would probably take a while to get used to. It surely took you a while to get used to Marc’s accent. The man drags his hand across his face and takes one deep breath before dropping down to the floor right next to you. "I'm very sorry about that." He leans sideways against the kitchen counter, a charming smile making its way up to his face. You notice that it's different from the way the other boys smile.

There's still a bit of confusion floating around in your head, way too many questions that you just can't seem to form the words to ask him. So instead, you just nod. "I can't really forgive you for threatening my life like that." You can still feel the blade close to your neck, merely only centimeters away from cutting it open and bleeding to death. You rub at the spot to get rid of the phantom feeling and steady your breathing. It's fine. You're not in danger anymore. Plus, you have a feeling this new guy wouldn't hurt you. His posture is no longer tense, now relaxed, and frailer considering the body is still very sick and the dagger was thrown across the room a few seconds ago. Whether it's because he trusts you or if it's because he's too weak to start anything right now, he doesn't look like he would hurt you.

"Care to explain why you suddenly attacked me though?" You dare to ask, to which the man laughs and then coughs violently into his arm. Out of instinct, you reach out to him but stop yourself. He may have the face and the body of your boyfriends but he is still a potentially dangerous and untrusting stranger.

Eventually, the coughing does stop and now he looks as tired as Marc and Steven did before. You can't help the clenching feeling in your chest at the sight of him. As if he can feel your pitying gaze, he turns to you again, his smile now softer. "I'm very protective of them. Thought you were a stranger. Plus my mind was all bleary so I couldn't think straight. Sorry." He apologizes again, this time you can't help but feel bad for him. You don't know why you suddenly trust this man after he'd almost slit your throat open but the care and love were so evident in his tone of voice and it warmed your heart to know that there's someone else close to them to care about those two idiots.

So you return his smile and nod, before getting up to your feet and offering a hand to him. He looks at it incredulously as if he's never seen a hand before. It's adorable but also kinda stupid for him to be this untrusting of an empty hand.

"Come on, get up. You're still sick and in need of rest. Plus I still need to finish that soup." You tell him, waving the hand in front of him for him to take.

He eventually does and you help him up to his feet, letting him lean on you when he nearly falls at the sudden dizziness erupting in his head.

"What's your name by the way?" You ask him as you slowly guide him back towards the bed. He coughs once into his hand and his face turns to look at you, the smirk back on his face before he responds:

"Jake Lockley, a pleasure to meet you."

"Can you promise to keep this a secret?" Jake asks you as you were scooping up another spoonful of soup to feed him. He insisted he didn't need to be fed by you but when you saw him shake as he held the bowl, you pretty much forced it out of his hands and started feeding him. You just wouldn't want soup all over his sleeping pants, that's all.

He flinches at the glare that you give him for even asking that. Keeping something as big as this a secret from your boys? No, absolutely not. Why would he even dare suggest that?

You voice these thoughts to him as you place the bowl of soup on the bedside table and he shakes his head. Jake turns his body so that he's facing towards you, staring deep into your eyes. He moves forward and grabs your now empty hands, holding them tightly in his. The feeling of his calloused palm against yours makes your cheeks flush.

"Please. I swear I'm only doing this to protect them." He practically begs, your hands that are clutched tightly in his are starting to hurt with how tight he's holding them but not enough to be unbearable. You want to refuse. Marc and Steven deserve to know after all. They shouldn't be kept in the dark like this.

But when you open your mouth to tell him no, his head drops into your lap, his face now hidden in the fabric of your clothing, and his hands are still not letting go of their tight grip on yours as he lets out another quiet plea. "I just don't want them to know yet. Please." His voice is slightly muffled but sounds genuine enough for you to let out a defeated sigh. Damn him and his pleading voice.

"Fine." You respond. Jake's head immediately snaps up from its former position, his eyes that are staring into yours shine with adoration. You're taken aback by how that look makes you feel. Oh no. Not doing this again.

You shake the thoughts from your head and then clear your throat. The puppy eyes are simply only effective cause they're the same as your boyfriends'. That's all. There's nothing more to it.

Quickly, you take your hands away from Jake's, placing them back on your lap. "I promise to not tell them." His face beams up with joy and it reminds you a little bit of the way Steven would look whenever you pay attention to one of his ramblings and gosh does that make your heart go weak. You regain your composure though after mentally slapping yourself and focusing on the task at hand. "But you will tell them soon, right?" You ask him. "It just doesn't feel right to be lying about all of this."

"I know." Jake sighs, rubbing at his temples and massaging the area to ease the pain of his aching headache. "I know, it's just that I haven't figured out how to tell them without freaking them out." He rests his head against the headboard and closes his eyes. "I've done some things that they might not agree with."

Oh. You remember Marc and Steven telling you stories about them passing out in life-threatening situations and then waking up with people either dead or passed out around them, with their fists covered in blood. When asked, both of them refuse to admit who was at fault. It seems that they were both telling the truth. None of them did that. It was all just Jake. Somehow, this doesn't make you scared of him. He was only protecting the loves of your life, after all, even if you don’t agree with his way of doing it, you still appreciate it.

"I'm sure they'll understand." You say to him. You don't really want to give in to the voice that's telling you to hold him close. You don't. But right now Jake looks so much like a sad kicked puppy, with his head hung low and his fingers fiddle like he doesn't believe the words that you've said to him and you have this very strong and irresistible urge to pull him in for a long and comforting hug. You don't know if it's because the face you're looking at right now is the same one as your boyfriends' or if it's because of this stupid and conflicting feeling lying in your heart that you're sure to talk to Marc and Steven about soon cause there's no way you're not telling them about this.

Ah fuck it, it doesn't matter.

Giving in to your urges, you pull him into your embrace, holding him close to you and rubbing circles along his back to comfort him. You can feel Jake going tense for a second, definitely not expecting that from you, before he relaxes into your touch as he wraps his own arms around you. The hug might have looked awkward with the way you were both sitting on the bed but it's still pleasant, it feels safe, and it's everything Jake could've ever asked for.

The two of you hug for a while, settling into each other's arms without any conversation needing to be had. You stay like that until he falls asleep, probably exhausted after everything and you gently lay him down on the bed, tucking him in and by reflex, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

For the whole time that they were sick, Jake was the only one fronting. When asked about why that is, Jake's response was:

"Ask them when they remember the last time they were sick and were awake for more than half a day and they wouldn't know. That's cause I'm usually the one taking care of the body when we're sick." He had explained one night while downing the necessary pills for his recovery. Jake winced as he felt them go down his throat. "Once we're healthy enough, Marc or Steven are going to wake up and think they'd just slept through the days."

True to his word, when they've finally started to get better, Marc finally wakes up one bright morning, looking around at his surroundings and scratching at his head. You smile at the adorable sight and can’t help but to give him a quick kiss on his lips, morning breath be damned. He asked you what time and day it was as he always does when he wakes up, his eyes widened in shock. He faces the mirror beside the bed and asks Steven if he had been awake at all but by the look on Marc’s face, you can tell that Steven had told him that he wasn’t. Marc turns to you, clearly confused. "How did we even sleep for two whole days?"

When Marc asks this, you start to contemplate just telling him about Jake. You didn't want to lie to them. It wouldn't feel right for you to keep this all a secret from them cause Marc and Steven deserved to know. But it also wouldn’t be fair to Jake if you broke your promise.

Damn it.

It's real stupid of you to have grown so attached to Jake despite only meeting the man once and even knowing that you probably wouldn't be seeing him any time soon. It’s even stupider to lie to your boyfriends about this whole thing just because you wanted to keep a promise. But you had already promised and somehow, you trusted him with this.

So, you just press a kiss to Marc's temple and then hurry off to the kitchen, telling him that you’re getting him some soup. The thought of warm food in his belly is enough to make Marc forget about his question from before.

It’s fine.

Jake will explain it to them soon enough.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight imagine #jake lockley imagine #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #moon knight x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #gender neutral reader

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softlyspector · 1 year

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God, it's been a whirlwind of a week. (And a whirlwind of a fic series.) Sorry for getting this so late to you, I've really been taking my time with this, practically soaking in the story. I think that these last two chapters deserve that. (Not that the others didn't deserve it. But I got so swept up in all the emotions. I wanted to and knew I should sit with this and fully go through.)

I can't believe we made it this far. I feel somewhat sad that we're so close to the end (I absolutely have no idea how I'll be when we get to the final chapter), but I'm glad to have been here when this series was coming out by the chapter. I said it in the tags of my reblog, but this series is gonna stay with me forever. I'm glad this is happening. Thanks for writing, as always.

We come back to the aftermath of that day. Marc drank, which isn't great. What isn't great, also (honestly it might as well be worse), is the fact that he thinks he "takes" from the Reader, and that he thinks to things

1. That he "bothers" them

2. That he "doesn't deserve" to do so.

I love how well written this is, but hot damn do I feel stomach acid bubbling in my stomach from the way this is set up. This idea of "I don't deserve *insert person /thing here*, it's only a matter of time before I cause them to leave/it to end" is relatable. For me, it's only in the platonic/friendship sense. No matter what though, it's awful to see from the other side.

I think you knew what you were doing when you started this off with us seeing Marc first. You're still keeping us on the edge of our seats. Do I appreciate it? Yes and no. From a writing standpoint, it's brilliant, I love it. But as a reader, I'm absolutely upset because I don't know how long it'll be until we get to see the Reader's side of things.

Oh my god there are texts also. Why am I surprised? WAIT A MINUTE WHEN DID THAT PICTURE HAPPEN?? HUH?? This whole thing is strange, and I'm confused and also in pain. This is so painful. I'm glad he sent that text. But now it seems to be worse. "There's nothing to fix." is a loaded sentence. Because the Reader knows what they mean. But does Marc? Is the meaning displayed properly?

Now we have the Reader's pov, and their feelings and thoughts. We can't explore them too much before there are texts from Steven ( :,) was me when I saw he texted) I have a feeling, though, that this will get worse before getting better.

Anyway. Now there's a short call with Steven. You wrote that his voice was like a balm, and I can't help but think that's the perfect way to describe his voice at that moment.

When he does come to Tales Untold, it feels almost suspenseful, if that makes sense. Like Steven, I thought there was gonna be some sort of mess in the apartment.

Anyway, what we learn about the Reader's experience is a lot. But their mindset of "waiting until they could get it together" before seeing him again, at least to me, makes sense. I would've done that. (As a side note, I like how much this chapter has. It's good. I enjoy it very much.)

I wasn't expecting the Reader to meet Jake yet (I thought it would happen a little later on but 🤷‍♀️), but I enjoy how introduced him at this moment. I also loved the lines:

"You swallow, and Jake wonders what you see now.

You see the other two so clearly, but Jake lives in the shadows. You have no idea how hard he’d been rooting for you, how badly he wanted Marc to not fuck up."

I mean, god, isn't that the truth? That we never know what everyone is thinking? Anyway, this first interaction is tense, it feels like a weight pushing down. (And I found it almost funny that you wrote "So what?” Jake asks, his shoulders tense") Honestly, it feels like that after the Reader confides in Jake about how happy they were after the date.

Reading what you wrote for Jake, when the Reader looks at him...that line tore me in half, I felt like a piece of gum that just got spit out. "He's not meant to be known, that's not his role." That line will haunt me after this series ends, and when I read more Moon Knight fics. You always do this, you always write certain lines that mess with me in the best of ways. I'm sure somewhere, I have a little list of them.

Anyway, the way this interaction changes is really good. I don't feel tense anymore. I feel a sort of...I'm not sure what word there is to describe the way I feel. It's almost warm, but not fuzzy. Maybe admiration? But that seems too weak. Anyway, whatever it is, I feel it in the moment where the Reader asks how they can stop Marc from blaming himself for this. Something I actually thought would happen, did happen: the Reader saying how it was nice to meet Jake. Maybe it's because I've been reading your work for a while, or because by this point, I have a grip on who the Reader is as a person. But I'm glad it happened.

This is such a good chapter. I don't think I'll ever come across something like this. And yeah, maybe that's the point of writing, but at the same time....no one could write this like you. If this were someone else's idea....I don't know how it would've worked out.

Steven and the Reader's conversation about tea (and the subsequent background we get about it) is a nice reprieve from the situation. I don't know how strange it'll sound, but I like how you didn't make the Reader realize about the way Marc showing how he loves and cares until now. I think that's my favorite detail for this chapter.

And I love how Steven told the Reader that he and Jake thought the baseball game was a date. Absolutely loved this. And the little exchange about missing each other, even if it was just for a day....man I feel pain at 12:59 at night. I'm glad Steven went over there, and there was some sort of interaction between him and the Reader, as well as Jake and the Reader. It settles and soothes something inside me as I read on.

ALSO THE READER FINDING THE LITTLE AURA OF PEACE AND HAPPINESS MARC WANTED THEM TO FIND. UGHHHH My heart.

Now we have the POV of Steven. And I just. Oh man I like this. You were right, we are having stuff with Elias. It was just put on the back burner a little, you let it stew and now you've peaked my interest once again, making me wonder what you're cooking. (I have no idea why I'm using a cooking metaphor. Maybe because it's late.) Getting Steven to ask why Elias didn't get their mom help is actually what I was hoping for, though I don't know why. Some little voice in my head, way back when this series was starting, had put that idea out in the open and it just stuck.

Anyway back to the plot. The interaction between Steven and Elias is new (I believe.), but I like seeing this. Yet I'm also scrolling line by line out of fear for what's gonna go down. (In the best way possible, I promise.) The anxiety is there, I can practically taste it. This conversation needs to be had, and I'm glad it's happening. It's playing out in my head, like a scene from a show or movie, raw and real. Because there isn't an excuse for letting your partner abuse your kid, but as my mom put for my father, how he was "different before" I was born. But that's the thing. Change isn't always for the better, sometimes it can't be undone. This is one of those cases

Gotta say, this part of the chapter hurts alot more. Maybe it's because it resonates with me more. Nevertheless, I'm glad I get to read it.

Getting to see the aura of the house (from the Reader's pov) is so interesting to me. Because so far, we've seen Marc's perspective on it. But the way you've worded it is so interesting to me. Anyway, I'm worried about this interaction between the Reader and Marc, because I know there's gonna be some tough stuff talked about, and that the Reader said they wouldn't go in that house. But here they are.

And that's exactly what he brings up. Again, I love the communication between them. The Reader isn't forcing him to talk, they quite literally say "You can tell me no [..] I'll leave." This interaction is gentle, it has to be. If it were approached in any other way, I don't think things would go well.

The description of "the shame that sits on Marc's shoulders like a well loved scarf tightening around his throat" is such a vividly upsetting description. Stop being so good at this. (Please don't, I love how unique these descriptions are, and how the little movie that's in my head as I read gets to be detailed and well-written thanks to you.)

Like the Reader, I didn't expect Marc to realize this quickly what they're trying to say. But at least they're prepared. (Again with the description of how "Something jagged lodges itself between your ribs. It scrapes at your sternum, digs into your lungs." Good gravy, that is so gut-wrenching and real.) This conversation has turned to an upsetting swirl of emotions. But the Reader gets to explain. I was not, however, ready to learn that what the Reader saw was when his brother died. Holy shit.

I wish you could see the way this is playing out in my head. Maybe you saw it as you wrote this chapter. But I wish you could see it right now, as I read, and think alongside the little movie in my head. Words can't properly describe how I feel at the moment.

So I'll talk about when my feelings are describable again. I like that they're having dinner together. We get the scent descriptions back. They're one of my favorite characteristics of your writing. I won't tell you what fic I'm reminded of as I read a little part of this, but know there's a moment once they get back to the Reader's apartment that reminds me of one of your previous fics, that I go back to a bit. I like that, that (to me at least) there are pieces of you and your previous fics that leak through, just enough to be noticed.

The Reader's telling Marc about how they met Jake. I like the conversation they have here, and learning that the Reader likes moon phases and stars. That's ironic. Anyway, I like the reassurance when he says "I'm still sorry." Because reading "It's still not your fault." Just did something to me.

See now the thing is. I'm fucking sweating, and reading how the Reader turned off the air conditioning just makes it worse. I absolutely wish I had the a/c on rn, but also it just snowed here. My parents would think I'm nuts for using the a/c in February (technically March, as I write this part of my ramble).

The tiredness that ghosts around Marc is almost felt through his conversation with the Reader, but I like that. I like that it peaks through, just a teeny bit. And I like this openness between them, I like that it's back.

Reading that Marc wants the Reader to keep the piano...I knew this was coming, but I didn't at the same time.

Oh my god he's thinking about kissing them again. Oh my god and they're kissing ahhhhhdbfbfhfbfhhfhfhf

The line "I'd do anything you need me to. And anything you don't need.", made my heart melt. Furhrhf

You absolutely just.....wow. That's how this chapter was for me. Wow. I know this took much longer to write and send you, but oh my god did I enjoy getting to truly savor every moment of this. I'm so happy I get to read this, and that I get to see this as it continues. You're amazing, that will never change. Wow. Oh man. I'm glad it's 2:37 in the morning because I can't do anything besides sleep now. I wouldn't be able to function throughout my day if I read this when it came out, on Saturday. Oh man. Wow. Thanks for writing. (BTW, love your new theme)

💕💕💕💕

I said it in the tags of my reblog, but this series is gonna stay with me forever. I'm glad this is happening. Thanks for writing, as always.

Crying and screaming over this as always. This means so much to me ❤️

This idea of "I don't deserve *insert person /thing here*, it's only a matter of time before I cause them to leave/it to end" is relatable.

We definitely see the evolution of this in the next chapter.

WAIT A MINUTE WHEN DID THAT PICTURE HAPPEN?? HUH??

A little scene that got cut from the baseball chapter 😂

Stop it stop it stop, this is the kind of thing that's got me kicking my feet and giggling I can't stand it.

The funny thing about that is, I definitely couldn't have written this even a couple months ago. Without certain things happening to me, this idea would have never come to me.

Gotta say, this part of the chapter hurts alot more. Maybe it's because it resonates with me more. Nevertheless, I'm glad I get to read it.

It gave me a stress headache to write and I had to take a break before coming back to it after I wrote that part.

I won't tell you what fic I'm reminded of as I read a little part of this, but know there's a moment once they get back to the Reader's apartment that reminds me of one of your previous fics, that I go back to a bit.

Nooooo, please I need you to tell me!!!!!!

Once again, thank you for this very detailed review!!! I'm so glad you liked it and you took the time to savor it. It was a really hard chapter to write. 💕

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