#Marc spector fluff

[the-offside-rule]

S.G, M.S, J.L (Moonknight) - The Three of You & Me

Requested: gotta love the moonknight ppl

Warnings: not really no

Steven Grant fumbled with his keys at the door of the flat, the heavy thunk of the lock finally giving way as the door creaked open. His face showed a mixture of exhaustion and that unmistakable, endearing Steven charm; hair a bit tousled and his shirt wrinkled from a long day at the museum. He stepped inside with a weary sigh, tossing his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes, not caring where they landed. “Ridiculously tired doesn’t even cover it.” He muttered as he spotted his girlfriend, Y/n, sat on the couch with a blanket draped over her legs. He trudged over and collapsed next to her with a gentle thud, head immediately falling onto her lap. Y/n chuckled, her fingers tussling through his hair as his eyes shuttered shut, his body relaxing into the comfort of her presence.

“Love, you wouldn’t believe the day I��ve had.” Steven groaned, his voice tired yet animated as he began to recount the day’s events. His hand traced absentminded patterns on her arm, seeking comfort as much as he was giving it. “So, yeah, Donna’s been on me all day. She goes, ‘Steven, I need you to catalog all these artifacts before lunch,’ right? And I’m thinking, that’s impossible. She’s giving me-" He paused dramatically, lifting his head slightly to make his point. "Mummified cats! Actual ancient felines, Y/n. Who just tosses that at someone before lunch?” He shook his head in disbelief before lowering it back against her shoulder. “And the tourists, don’t get me started. Asking me questions like I run the whole museum. I’ve had to tell people ‘I'm not a bloody tour guide’ at least six times today, because Donna like, freaks out when I go about 'nattering' on about Egypt.”

Y/n smiled softly, letting him rant, knowing he needed this space to unwind. She ran her fingers through his hair as he spoke, his voice growing softer with each complaint, the day clearly catching up with him. His eyelids drooped, his words becoming slower and less coherent. “I don’t know how you put up with me.” He mumbled sleepily, already half-asleep in her arms. She kissed the top of his head gently. “Because I love you, Steven.” He muttered something unintelligible, trailing off as sleep finally claimed him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

But after a minute, Y/n felt the subtle shift she had come to recognize. Steven’s body tensed slightly, his muscles twitching in a way that was different from the usual sleep movements. His breathing changed, becoming deeper, more controlled. When his eyes fluttered open again, they no longer carried the soft, dreamy expression she knew from Steven.

Marc Spector was awake now.

Y/n smiled knowingly as his gaze met hers, his expression focused and alert. Marc gave her a small, almost apologetic smile as he stretched, cracking his neck with a quiet sigh. “Hello, Marc.” She greeted him softly. Marc’s lips tugged into a brief smile. “Hey.” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Steven was exhausted.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell.” Y/n said with a chuckle, watching him stand up from the couch and head to the kitchen. “You hungry?” Marc asked, already rummaging through the fridge, pulling out ingredients without much thought. “I can make something.”

“Sure, I could eat.” She replied, leaning back into the couch, content to watch him move around the kitchen with the ease of someone used to taking over when needed. In a matter of minutes, Marc had whipped up a plate of grilled cheese. He sighed as he plopped down beside her, handing her the plate and grabbing the control for the TV. "I expected some alfredo or something." Y/n joked. "You said you were starved, pasta takes too long to make." Marc replied, the quiet hum of the television filling the space. "How righteous. You sure it's not because you can't cook?" He scoffed. "Steven can't cook, I made our food before you came along." He said, putting the control down and grabbing a half.

After dinner, Marc flipped through the channels yet again, landing on something mindless, and sat back down, pulling Y/n close as they watched TV. But even Marc couldn’t stave off sleep forever. He yawned, stretching as he set the remote down and leaned back into the couch. “Guess it’s my turn to knock out.” He murmured, his voice rough with fatigue. Y/n smiled, brushing her hand through his hair. “Goodnight, Marc.” He mumbled something in response, already slipping into sleep. But it didn’t last long before that familiar shift happened again—his body changing, his posture becoming more relaxed yet somehow more confident. When his eyes opened this time, they held a sharp, mischievous gleam.

Jake Lockley was awake.

Y/n couldn’t help but smirk at the sudden change in his demeanor. “Buenos días, Jake.” she said with a teasing smile, despite the fact that it was still very much night-time. “Buenos días.” Jake replied with a chuckle, heading straight for the coffee machine. He moved with a smooth, confident ease that was completely distinct from either Steven or Marc. “Coffee? At this hour?” Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup, the rich aroma filling the room. “I’ve got a job to do.” Jake said, taking a sip and leaning casually against the counter, his dark eyes focused on her. "Cab driving or cab driving." He chuckled. “Don't worry about it, cariño. Won’t be long.” He said finishing the cup of coffee and placing it in the sink. "Marc will clean this later, right?" She chuckled. "He won't like it but probably." He nodded along, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "Vale, hasta luego, cariño." He was about to reach for the door handle when he felt a delicate hand on his arm. “Be careful, okay?” Jake’s grin softened just a bit, his rough exterior giving way as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. “Siempre tengo cuidado. No te preocupes por esa carita bonita.” He murmured, his voice low and full of quiet reassurance. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She nodded, watching as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He gave her one last glance, his expression full of unspoken promises, before slipping out into the night. The flat felt a little quieter with him gone, but Y/n knew better than to worry. Jake always came back, and she’d be waiting for him.

[jks1uv]

𝑌𝑜𝑢 & 𝐼 (𝑝𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 & 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑗𝑎𝑘𝑒) ; marc spector / steven grant | one-shot |

summary: marc notices steven’s lingering gaze on you when he thinks he’s hidden away.

pairing: fem!wife!reader x husband!marc spector.

trope: established relationship + husband who doesn’t play about his wife.

genre: fluff + some comedic relief + mild angst.

warnings‼️: jealous!marc + mean!marc (he’s a bit of a bully to steven) + jake makes his first appearance!

word count: 2,454.

random disclaimerrr: reader’s last name is l/n-spector. i was inspired by an edit that had the clip of marc saying “you’re in love with my wife?!” & steven was like “if i need, like, a recipe for a protein shake or something, i’ll call ya.” 😭 ts was so hilarious. happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

Marc Spector has a natural talent in terms of observation. He’s perceptive, sharp.

You never know when he’s there simply because he chooses not to make his presence known.

It’s kind of scary, actually. You’ve had your fair share of panicked frights that almost brought you a heart attack.

He’s toned it down a lot ever since you’ve settled down and made a place in his heart.

You know him, truly see him for who he is.

You know his rough and calloused hands are in that image because of the hard work he puts in. You know his tired eyes harbor an ache that paints his soul a deep blue. You know there are some things he won’t tell you despite marrying you but you don’t mind.

You’ve been nothing but patient with him so you’ll wait as long as you need to.

Currently, you can’t wait for too long because you need something from the bathroom but it’s occupied.

He and the man in the mirror are having a heated discussion of which you’re the topic of.

“I’ve been in control this whole time-”

“Exactly! You’ve been in control of the body this whole time! When will it be my turn?!”

Marc shuts his eyes and rubs the sides of his forehead.

Steven has a point, he knows that.

However, he also knows the way the British man looks at you. His gaze is filled with longing, something Marc has familiarized himself with.

He wants to speak to you so badly but is shoved away inside like a haphazardly packed suitcase.

Steven has developed a romantic fondness for you and it grows stronger every time Marc intervenes.

“Why won’t you let me talk to her?”

It’s pitiful, how dejected Steven sounds.

Pathetic is really the word Marc wants to use but it’s not about the words. It’s about Marc’s jealousy.

“It’s not that.”

Your husband denies it like he’s been doing but Steven knows better.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Marc. I know why you won’t give me the body.”

If looks can kill, the ex-mercenary would’ve been the world’s most wanted serial killer.

“This conversation is over.” His tone is grave and cold.

“Finally.” Your muffled voice sounds.

Marc can see Steven’s face visibly brighten and there’s a hint of hope sparkling in his eyes. It almost makes Marc break his possessive streak.

Almost.

He sighs as he twists the knob revealing you standing in the doorway.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” You pry with your weight shifted on one hip and your arms crossed.

Marc stares at you and takes you in like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Your red and black plaid pajama pants grown soft over the years from the laundry, the faded logo of a graphic tee hanging off your shoulder.

Your hair is damp from your shower earlier and he can still smell the products you’ve incorporated into your shower and skincare routine.

He subconsciously stops himself and allows Steven to really see you as well. Or maybe it’s the effect your love has on your husband that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

Either way, it’s you.

“Marc? Are you okay?”

Your eyebrows furrow a bit in concern and your hands reach out to him.

Marc doesn’t respond. He just stares at you with his deer-like eyes, like widening them would encompass your image.

His body shifts slightly but you clock it immediately.

His feet shuffle as he closes in on himself, his posture isn’t as upright as Marc’s and his face. His face is the biggest giveaway.

Those eyes that you’ve stared into for the longest seem like a different pair. They are foreign yet seem familiar.

You have an idea of who this newfound man is.

“Steven?” You murmur hesitantly.

Steven ignores you and goes to sit down on your shared kingsize bed.

You note his shaky hands and wandering eyes, he’s clearly lost and doesn’t know what to do.

“I dunno how this happened.” He blurts out.

You nod, though you’re as confused as he is because you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

Steven watches you carefully as you sit down next to him, deliberately putting space between you two.

He admires your face and is deep in thought when you speak up again.

“So.”

“Pardon?”

You blink and can’t help the smile that paints your face. He’s endearing you think.

“What were you and Marc gossiping about in there?”

You would never pry like this, in fact it’s the first time you’re putting pressure on the man— well, in this case; men.

But you’ve never formally met Steven before. You saw glimpses of him when he’d be reading a book on a sleepless night or making tea for comfort.

Fragments of himself would be left behind like pieces of a puzzle you were meant to solve.

You talked about it with Marc but he always seemed uncomfortable with the idea of letting you meet them.

You never forced Marc to show Steven or Jake but it was taking a bit of a toll on your marriage.

Steven saw it from the inside and wished so desperately to front himself but Marc was stronger.

Apparently not this time.

“You.” He whispers.

“Me?”

He nods slightly, his soft eyes filled with adoration for you.

You chuckle lightly in surprise.

“All good things I hope?”

Steven’s gaze shifts down to the carpet, visibly faltering in his movement.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no, no! You could never make me uncomfortable.”

There’s a warmth that spreads across the apples of your cheeks and it seeps into the skin. It makes you smile and Steven swears he can see the sun.

“Oh, bollocks. Marc’s gonna chew me out later for that.”

“And why is that?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Before Steven can take another breath in his name, Marc comes out and banishes him back inside.

“Marc! You missed it! Steven and I were having a wonderful conversation.” You exclaim with excitement.

Marc is not impressed nor interested.

“Yeah, I bet.” He grumbles.

He stands up and walks out of the bedroom, not necessarily having a set destination in mind.

“What’s wrong?” You follow him outside and into the living room.

Marc heaves out an exasperated sigh, his hands rub at his face and you can feel the tension rising from his body.

You gulp in fear of doing something wrong but is it wrong to speak of the elephant in the room? Literally.

Is it really wrong to address the man who’s technically the third man in y’all’s relationship?

“Did I do something?”

Marc looks at your nervous form.

It’s quiet for a few moments and the way his eyes dart from and to you seems as though there’s something you’re missing.

“No.” He softly sighs. “You didn’t.”

You take that as a sign to step close and he lets his body fall back on the couch behind him.

You follow in pursuit.

“It’s… complicated.”

He finally gives you something.

“More complicated than you being the vessel of an Egyptian God?”

The soft lilt of your voice gives away your teasing and he huffs out a laugh.

“No. No I suppose not.” The corners of his lips turn upward slightly.

He holds your hand in his and rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

“Steven has a crush on you.”

He confesses this with such seriousness that you can’t help but giggle a little.

“Wait, what?” You tilt your head a bit.

“Don’t.” He groans.

Your eyebrows jump a bit and your eyes widen with realization.

“Oh wow.” You gasp.

He doesn’t say anything but you know he’s thinking.

“Are you jealous?” You muse.

He snaps his head at you mid-conversation with Steven.

“What.”

The baritone in his voice has become even deeper if possible and it lowkey sends shivers down your spine.

But you don’t back down. “You heard me.”

He scoffs indignantly but you know it’s not towards you.

“I’m not… jealous.”

He says it like it’s a disease. (it is! get well soon marc!)

You roll your eyes at his poor display of a stern disagreement.

“You literally sound like you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Okay, whatever. I’m not jealous.”

You shrug and prop your head on your hand, your elbow resting on a pillow nearby.

The look on your face is that of a shit-eating grin and eyes that narrow when you know you’ve caught him in a lie.

Marc shakes his head and rolls his tongue over his teeth.

You take it upon yourself and shift to being on your knees. You lean over and take his face in your hands and squish his cheeks to make his lips protrude.

“Let me talk to him.”

You’re gentle yet firm and he can’t resist it when you take charge.

He’d call it unfair but you’d say it how it is: strategic.

He reluctantly rolls his eyes back and you let go of his face, leaning back to rest on your knees.

You know it’s Steven when his eyes are doe-like and he looks at you with uncertainty.

“Welcome back.” You greet cheerily.

“Why do you want to talk to me?”

His tone makes you feel bad, like it’s an inconvenience for you to speak to him.

His hands are in his lap and his eyes land on the coffee table in his line of sight.

“Well, I’ve never met you in all my time of being Mrs. L/n-Spector.”

He nods but still refuses to make eye contact.

“Steven?” You murmur.

Said man tentatively meets your eyes and you offer a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep and make you upset but I don’t believe Marc means to be so…”

You don’t want to call him jealous and risk never seeing this delightful man again.

“Possessive?” He tries.

You give him a pointed look and smile, letting him know that you feel the same.

“You said it, not me.” You chuckle.

A smile of his own grows and he feels himself growing fond of you by the second.

“It’s embarrassing.” He says.

“What is?”

He gulps. “Well, I think you’re quite lovely but saying I ‘have a crush’ on you seems a bit childish.”

Steven fiddles with the hem of his shirt and you nod.

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute.”

You’re not entertaining him and you’re not saying you’re in love with him.

You’ve thought about it before and even brought it up to Marc.

Being married to him is a commitment you’re making to him.

What about the other two boys he hides inside? It’s not like you and him can ignore them, they’re a part of his life and were there way before you.

Marc thought you were joking but he also thought about introducing you to them. Well, until Steven showed interest. Then, it became all too real.

Steven looks at you with hope and you can’t help but find him adorable.

“Marc says to stop flirting or he’ll banish me forever.”

You guffaw at that, not believing he’d go against your wishes.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Steven’s eyebrows jump up slightly, truly questioning how much influence you have over a man like Marc Spector.

But then again, you are his wife.

The next morning is quiet. Too quiet.

Your arm stretches over to feel Marc’s body but you don’t. The sheets are cold and serve as a stark contrast to the warmth you felt prior.

Maybe he has some urgent work.

You freshen up and pad to the kitchen when you see a kettle and smell an aroma that excites you.

There’s a yellow sticky note on the side of the kettle that reads, It’s my favorite, as well with a smiley face drawn on the bottom.

You look inside and aren’t disappointed to find your favorite tea inside.

“Ugh. He’s so sweet.” You gush quietly to yourself.

Later that night, you’re waiting up on Marc to come to bed.

You’ve done your nighttime routine and are snug in bed when you hear the door creak open.

“Babe?” You call out.

You don’t get an answer and so, you stand up to turn the light off and are alert with a metal bat.

You hear the footsteps pad to your direction and are met with a familiar silhouette.

“You scared me, you asshole.”

Annoyed, you put the bat up and turn on the lamp light on your bedside but pause when you see the partially illuminated figure.

Your breath is caught in your throat at the sight of his eyes.

The eyes, you notice, are the one part of his body that will always betray him.

His body language and facial expressions are calculated, along with his mind. But the eyes show what he’s really thinking inside.

“You’re not Marc.” You observe.

You hear the man before you sigh and he slides his cap off.

His knuckles turn white from how tight he’s gripping it but it doesn’t reveal what he’s thinking.

It’s the first time you don’t know.

“Go to sleep.” His gruff voice sounds.

You’re taken aback by the roughness in it but by using context clues, you know this is Jake.

Your lips part from surprise at how you so easily follow his instructions.

Is this how Marc feels?

You have your eye on him as you lift up the blanket and step inside, letting the bat rest against the wall and bed frame.

He’s scarily still, you’d think he’s a standing corpse if it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He’s stiff yet swift in his movements, ready to leave you be.

“Jake?”

He stops with his feet outside the door, turning his head to where you can see his side profile.

You take his silence and side profile as a sign to continue.

“Good night.”

He tips his head down once as a silent nod to your farewell.

He mutedly says it back, you almost don’t hear it.

He shuts the door and you take the silence to yourself to let this experience settle down.

You just met Jake. Without any begging, without any coaxing. He allowed himself to be shown to you and even bid you good night.

You giggle to yourself unbeknownst to the fact that Jake is listening.

A ghost of a smile is on the tip of his lips and he holds the amusement in as he walks to the couch, preparing to rest for the night.

He dreams of you and it’s slow, lasting and blue.

[spctrsgf]

morning banter

summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)

a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy

Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.

Don’t worry about it.

“Jake.”

Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”

Yeah you do.

“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”

Don’t bring me into this. 

C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.

“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”

Go to sleep, puta.

“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”

You deserved it.

“You wanna know what you deserve?”

Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?

“A fucking pun–”

His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears. 

But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in. 

Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses. 

Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.

“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.

HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.

“Sure, whatever.”

Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.

Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.

Or, he tried to.

“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold. 

Marc freezes. “Baby?”

“Mmmmm?” 

“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”

“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”

He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.

“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”

“Do we?”

“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”

“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”

You giggle softly. “That’s true.”

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”

“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again. 

“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.

“Nope.”

His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.” You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”

“Not even because I’m asking you?”

“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”

“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise. 

You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”

“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”

“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”

Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”

“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”

“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”

“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.

He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.

“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”

“You can't leave me hanging like that!”

You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”

For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.

“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”

You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”

He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”

“You manipulated me! I hate you.”

“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”

“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”

“Hey, let’s calm down–”

“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”

Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.

“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”

He nods frantically. “Of course–”

“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.

The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?

It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl. 

translations (HELP I FORGOT):

es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit

puta - bitch

i felt very fancy using these

[midniqhtt]

steven grant / marc spector / jake lockley

masterlist • oscar isaac characters • 03/27/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs four

one I two I three

𑣲 help me remember you I @brokebonewritings

You are given a second chance at life after dying. After waking up in the hospital, you find that Marc has no recollection of you or your relationship.

𑣲 make it worth it I @mysecretlittlelibrary

The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had

𑣲 marc doesn’t like reader I @halfmoonshines

Marc doesn’t like reader, at all, and isn’t afraid to let her know it. Eventually, he starts warming up to her. One day she gets injured and Marc can’t help his worry

𑣲 the kiss scene I @nghtwngs

with a severe case of writer’s block, kiss scenes are hard to write, but steven is always happy to help.

𑣲 late night talking I @messrmoonyy

𑣲 the mediator and the instigator I @little-miss-dilf-lover

you and marc have been casually dating for a while now, though he finds it hard to admit his feelings. steven fronts to comfort you after a tiny argument, and he finds it hard to contain his own feelings towards you

𑣲 limo sex I @/little-miss-dilf-lover

𑣲 swimsuit shopping I @ivystoryweaver

You're absolutely dreading swimsuit shopping for your upcoming trip. The Moon boys bravely weigh in.

𑣲 i never knew I @/ivystoryweaver

You meet up with all 3 Moon Boys one fateful night

𑣲 gamer!reader I @melodygatesauthor

𑣲 fair play steven I @silvernight-m

You've got your hands on a new video game and been hyperfixating over it. Moonboys aren't taking it well at how they've been neglected.

𑣲 cocktails I @runa-falls

you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend

𑣲 the d pic I @reallyrallyauthor

Your friend Steven accidentally sends you a dick pic, but it’s not exactly unsolicited.

𑣲 sneaky I @missdictatorme

Jake is your cabbie, and idk he ends up between your legs thanks to your cat

𑣲 ribbon I @st4rymoon

putting a ribbon on Steven’s bicep

𑣲 the best for him part 2 I @starryevermore

things have changed, and you must let him go. it’s for the best.

𑣲 the other sarcophagus I @/starryevermore

you can’t help yourself when you see the other sarcophagus

𑣲 do not chastise the dove I @/starryevermore

you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

𑣲 crush I @vi-sinner

Steven works up his courage to ask you, one of the museums tour guides and his crush, out on a date. Even if it’s so hard to get the words out 

𑣲 meet me at our spot I @astreamofcolors

𑣲 venus, planet of love I @peterthepark

art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?

𑣲 not saying 'i love you' back prank I @wysteria-clad

𑣲 two days too late I @harrysweasleys

after being stood up by steven on your date, he starts acting slightly odd. he’s always been a little quirky, but this seems like cause for concern. 

𑣲 illusion I @nathanbatemanfucker

𑣲 six stops I @lcvenderblues

It only takes six stops on the bus for Jake to become completely smitten with you (and then a seventh for him to notice).

𑣲 first times a charm I @babyboibucky

Steven’s about to lose his virginity to you.

𑣲 stranger in my house I @primosworld

snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

[mylittledelulucorner]

Unspoken Words - Marc Spector

Marc Spector x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Marc doesn't know how to express his feelings

Word count: 755

A/N: This is my first Moon Knight / Marc Spector fic

Warnings: English is not my first, second or third language, so sorry for any mistakes

Marc went through a lot, so when he met you, he decided that maybe, just maybe this time everything would work out for him, a chance to breathe, to live and not just survive. You had been together for a while now, but he never uttered the three words you always hoped to hear. He had been hurt by the world and by those who should’ve cared for him. He built a massive brick wall around his heart, walls that you are trying to tear down each day that passes. You gave him grace, you gave him time and space.

Today is beach day. No thoughts, no worries. Just you, your lover and the gentle waves of the sea. The beach was quiet, almost empty. What else would you expect on a Tuesday morning? You had it all to yourselves, a little piece of heaven just for you two.

As peaceful as the scenery looked, Marc didn’t quite know what to do with himself. The truth was, he had never experienced simple days like this. Days where there is no tension, no anxiety. Days where the demons of the past weren’t consuming his thoughts.

You made him want to open up, but he was still learning how. The relationship was in his opinion still new, still fragile. How much of himself could he show you? How much of his darkness would you accept? His mind clouded with insecurity until he looked up and saw you walking toward him, two ice creams in hand.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he shot back, but the look on his face betrayed him.

You gave him a knowing look. “Marc, I can literally see the gears turning. Love, relax. We are at the beach, let the sea carry your worries away. Let’s just enjoy today, okay?”

He exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. Took his ice cream and sat down beside you on the towel. Quietly watching the waves, breathing, simply existing in the now, in the present. Slowly, his head found its way onto your lap, and sleep took over. One of your hands held a book, while the other gently caressed his soft curls.

Finally, he rests, you thought.

The day passes by quietly. When the sun dipped low, you woke him up, gathered your things and headed back toward town.

“I’m sorry,” Marc murmured.

“For what?”

“Well… we came for a fun day at the beach and I ended up falling asleep. I should’ve stayed awa-”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss.

“We came to the beach to relax and for the first time in forever, you actually did. That’s all that matters to me.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

As you walked back home, you passed a little flower shop. Marc paused. “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing inside the small shop. When he came back, he was holding a small bouquet of red tulips.

“Marc? What’s the meaning of this?” you asked smiling.

He hesitantly handed them to you. “I might not say it out loud just yet, but I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Eum… well yeah…you can google the meaning of it.”

He stood there, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Watching how your fingers tapped the screen of your phone. Seeing the page load made his heart pound even faster in his chest. What if you are not impressed? What if this is not the right way to tell you… Stealing quick glances, waiting and hoping…

*Google search: Meaning of red tulips:

Result: Passion, love -> Their deep red hues evoke feelings of passion, love, and lust — making them an especially popular choice for new, younger couples. They can also mean “believe me” or “my feelings are true.” So, the next time you're trying to woo the person you admire, send them an alluring bouquet of red tulips.*

Your smile softened. There it is, the smile that calms the storm within him. The one that chases the cloudy days away.

“Love, come here,” you whispered, pulling him into the deepest hug you could give.

He might not have uttered the three words you longed to hear or translated his love into tangible, spoken words yet, but they were there. Lingering on the tip of his tongue and when he’s ready, you know he will repeat them every single day. You are his, and he loves you dearly.

_____________________

Posted this in this fun tag game and decided to post it as a stand alone fiction. Hope you enjoyed it!

@quiet-night-sky-writers-blog

[phantomspiderr]

Always

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰

a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?

(not my gif)

The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.

“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.

“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.

“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.

“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.

“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.

“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”

For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.

Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.

The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.

Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.

“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.

[jake-g-lockley]

Gentle Sutures (Marc Spector x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: This story is for my dearest @softieekay thank you for being there for me <3 Warnings: slight hints of past abuse, but the rest is fluffly fluff flufffff

Word count: 1.4k ☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc Spector was head over heels in love. He had been standing in one spot for god knows how long, staring at you while you worked. Never in his life was he accustomed to so much calm. If his alter did not sign him up for volunteering, he would have just been sitting at home, sulking as usual. Now all he wanted to do is walk over to you and tuck the beautiful coil of hair that frames your face behind your ear, not that it bothered him, he just wanted to touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips. "It’ll only take a second, auntie." you said, the biggest, most purest smile gracing your face.

Marc grew to love that smile in the past few months travelling around with you. You are a junior resident, always keeping to yourself but you lit up the whole woom whenever you interacted with patients. In the times that he spoke to you, or gained the courage to approach you, he found out that all you wanted in this world was to help people in need. He knew from the way you would treat them, you would definitely become a world class doctor.

Marc watched as your dexterous hands drew blood as quick as ever, even before the patient got a chance to wince.

"Are you a nurse, my dear, your blood drawing technique is excellent! '' the patient exclaimed.

"Oh no, auntie, I am merely a doctor. "You smiled shyly.

"Well, coming from a former nurse, you make an amazing doctor, my dear!" the patient said, taking ahold of your hand.

Marc could tell that you had a faraway look in your eyes, just for a few seconds before snapping out of it and squeezing the patient's hand back. Your eyes suddenly met Marc's as if you knew he was watching and Marc swore his heart nearly stopped when you gave him a small smile.

"Marc, I think it's time for you to walk away and stop gawking at her like a lost pigeon, mate." Steven suddenly said, making Marc blink and turn on his heel comically, almost running into another volunteer.

“That one’s handsome.” your patient tells you as you snickered at the confused army man.

Your eyes widened and you covered it with a gentle scoff.

“I don't date who I work with, auntie." you say sticking a plaster on the patient's arm.

"But you're thinking about it." the patient says with a sing-songy voice. as she gets up and you roll your eyes playfully.

Truth be told, you thought Marc Spector was one of the most interesting human beings you're met. Whenever you had the chance to look into his eyes, you knew he had been through a lot. You felt like you wanted to unlock every single secret behind those eyes but at the same time you wanted to help him forget all of them.

You watched as Marc stumbled around for a while, mumbling to himself. You watched as a little boy toddled up to him and started pulling on his housers. Marc turned and startled himself but knelt down next to the boy and smiled.

You felt something pull at your heartstrings as you watched Marc interact with the boy. Your hand immediately found your necklace as your thoughts dived into your past. You strained hard to keep the thoughts at bay but it only made you tremble. you pulled the chair behind you and slumped on it, the horrible yelling filling your head and ears.

You didn't realise you had your head in your hands and that you were not breathing until you heard your name. You lifted your head and your eyes met big brown ones which were full of concern and worry.

Marc tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your face in his hands. You found yourself mimicking the breathing he was making you do and soon your heart slowed and you calmed down. You closed your eyes and leaned into Marc's touch as his thumb stocked your cheekbone.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me. '' You whispered, but Marc was already shaking his head gently.

"You have nothing," Marc's thumb wipes the tear dripping out of your eyes, " to be sorry about.

You sighed and nodded, your hand caressing Marc's hand  that was so ever gently cupping your face.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You looked up at the sky and sighed as you placed your kindle aside. You felt better now, but you kept imagining Marc's beautiful brown eyes calming you down. You breathed in, the salt in the air filling your lungs with warmth. The rhythmic cadence of the waves echoed like gentle sutures, delicately mending the fractures in your tender heart.

"You don't look like the beach kind of person, you know. "A deep Chicago drawl suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You gasped as you turned to your left, big brown eyes and tanned skin meeting your sight. The eyes widened slightly and the person moved back slightly.

“Sorry, sorry, you scared me for a second. Too stealthy dude!” you chuckled, clutching your chest.

"Force of habit." the army man gives you a gentle smile and scooches closer.

The both of you sit in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the waves and watching the sky print its own masterpiece as the sun sets over the horizon. The silence was comforting, and Marc's presence was more than a warm blanket that you had been expecting all your life.

You were the first to look away from the sunset.

Marc was absolutely stunning in the evening glow. You found yourself smiling at the way the corners of his eyes pinched as he gazed at the view before him. The hook of his nose and his plump lips made the blood rush to your face.

“You done gawking yet, doctor?” Marc smiled and turned to you.

“I was not gawking” you scoff, which made Marc belt out a laugh.

Suddenly, Marc’s hand was on your face. He plucks something from your face and shows it to you.

“Eyelash.” Marc turns his whole body towards you and looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to just have peace and quiet. Your life has been loud and scary, a little quiet would be all you need to heal. Peace would mend your heart and god knows where you would ever find it, but you wished with all your heart.

With that, you blew and felt warmth fill your heart.

“Hey.” Marc whispered .

You slowly open your eyes to see Marc looking at you with a dopey, boyish look on his face.

“You are an amazing door, you know that?” He says, cupping your face with his left hand, his right reaching for yours that were on your lap. 

“And you're gorgeous.” you swoon, your brain misfiring the second you leaned into his touch.

“Woah, where did that come from?” you say, pulling slightly back, but Marc held you in place.

“You are exceptionally gorgeous too, sweetheart.” Marc quips and gives you the most dazzling smile.

Nothing could have prepared you or Marc for how you reacted next. You leaned in and placed the softest kiss you've given anyone on Marc's lips. You pulled yourself back almost immediately, your hand flying to your lips as you watched a bewildered expression creep up Marc's face. “Oh god Marc, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that, don’t know what’s happening-”

“Shut up and let me do that again” Marc cut your jabbering off instantly.

With a lurch, Marc pressed his lips to yours and you felt your body give way as your hands gripped at his shirt, falling and pulling him down with you. You deepened the kiss and Marc groaned into your mouth. When you both finally broke apart, you were out of breath and Marc pressed soft kisses on your neck until you came to.

“That was …” “Absolutely amazing, just like you.” Marc gazes down at you, admiring the way your hair is splayed around you like a halo and the light of the sunset making your skin glow. Marc lays down next to you pulling you closer to him as the both of you stare into each other’s eyes as if you were searching for something. “What now?” you whispered, your heart preparing itself to hear the worse from Marc. “You don’t need to worry about what is next, my angel, just be in the moment.” Marc’s words curled around your scared heart, encasing it in peace like no other. “I’m glad I found you.” you say, tears forming in your eyes.” “I’m glad I found you too sweetheart.” Reblogs are appreciated ~~ Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas  @euphoricosmo  @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @britishscum @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @pimosworld @thewintervalkyrie @anonymously35 @nerdreader @marylovesdilfs @jakelockleysdoll @pigeonmama @sarveshishwarishsuta

[boredzillenial]

Sick-fic Drabble

Themes: just some sick times fluff (def not a draft that’s been sitting too long), Marc taking care of reader, reader gender not specified

A.N: couldn’t find a gif I wanted to use so stole this from @my-secret-shame 😅, feelin in my flop era pls be patient 🥺

Sleep came in waves the last couple of days, fevers came and broke and came again. Inconclusive tests at the clinic had frustratingly sent you home with a “rest and drink lots of water” prescription. Finally you took your health in your own hands and decided if a prescription wasn’t an option then you’d hibernate through whatever the fuck this was while the boys were away.

You’d found a strong dose of over the counter meds to help you sleep, though exhaustion had you flopping onto the recliner before you could make it it to bed. The last thing you remembered was the pile of tissues in the tiny trash can beside you, the cold half eaten soup and the room temp pedialyte you failed to choke down. Finally, sweet dark relief washed through you as you lost consciousness. The sound of your favorite series a distant murmur in your congested ears.

Warmth surrounded you as you shift, and something snaked around you, arms? You feel heavy as you lean against a firm chest. Your eyes open for a moment to see Steven’s blurry face turn stern.

“Stevenstopit.” You groan. “ ‘m fine. Putme down.” You fidget a bit but the heaviness wrapped around you held you firm. A blanket? “Steve-“

“Not Steven. How long have you been like this.” His soft but short clipped tone furrows your brows as you try to focus on his face.

The slight downturn of his mouth, the lack of a snarky comment, “Marc?”

“Come on, how long?” He sets you down on the bed and presses his hand across your forehead.

“Since Monday?” You groan.

“Fucksake it’s Thursday baby, why didn’t you call me.” He gently brushed your mess of hair out of your face.

“Thought missions were important.” You rub your eyes and look up at him. As he came into focus you can finally see the full array of concern etched across his features.

“Not more important than you.” He sighs, “come on sit up. I could smell you when I walked in.” He pulls your wrinkled shirt over your head and tucks you back under the blanket.

You give him a halfhearted glare as a cough wracks your sore throat.

“You don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.” Your grumble turns more into a croak as he pulls your bottoms off and tucks you back into bed.

He pauses, looks around the messy flat, then pins you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Yeah?”

You pull the blanket up to your chin and turn, “yeah…” you snuffle.

“Alright, I guess I just *won’t* run a bath then.” He shrugs and turns.

“Wait-“ you croak and tug on his hand. “Please I…” your scratchy throat didn’t make it any easier to swallow the last shred of pride you clung to. “That sounds nice…”

“No more sass?” His brow lowers but he looks to be fighting back a smirk.

“F-fine…” you nod and let go of his hand as you sniffle.

His lips quickly met your forehead before he went off to the bathroom. For a moment you worried about transmitting whatever you had to him till you remember Khonshu’s “gift” makes him not only heal fast and give him strength and speed. But it also means he never falls ill when the normal bugs everyone catches arrive in the spring and fall. “Must be nice.” You grumble as another bout of coughing shakes you.

“Say something?” He calls from the bathroom, his voice rising above the noise of the water.

“N-o.” You cough and roll your eyes. Sickness for days has stripped you of most patience and humor.

Time seemed to slow for the next hour or so as you fought to stay awake. The comfort of the mattress, the warmth of the blanket, Marc’s soft voice as he encourages you to stand and helps you to the bath. The heat from the water sank into your aching body as you settle in.

As the water cooled Marc lifts you from the tub, shivering and wet. “Just hang on-“ he wrapped your arms around his neck as he grabs his robe and draped it over your shoulders “- good enough come on.”

By the time you made it back to bed your teeth were chattering and body aching again. “T-thank you-“ you murmur, not looking forward to the cold sheets.

“Scoot, all the way-“ he encouraged softly before slipping in beside you and tugging you to his chest. Warmth radiated from him and sank into your feverish skin. “I’m not leavin’ till you feel better, promise-“ his voice rumbled in his chest as you laid against it.

Though doting wasn’t his strong suit, Marc stayed true to his word. Quietly one step ahead of your needs til the sickness left your body and you could show him just how grateful you were for it.

————-

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar @queerponcho @for-a-longlongtime @silvernight-m @ierofrnkk @ingoldthewizard

[clazaries]

Just a Neighbour Thing

(MarcSpector! x f!reader)

Summary: Your neighbour Marc Spector is a pain in your ass. Until he saves your life. w/c: 3.9k Warnings: a lil bit of violence but nothing too graphic. Fluff! a/n: I'll be posting a masterlist soon because I think I've got about three or four fics out now and a few to come!

Marc Spector is an elusive character. A man of very few words and an enigmatic personality - not that you know him well enough to judge his character - but from the rare occasions where your paths crossed in your apartment building, it can be summed up with a small smile from you and a smouldering glare from him. Often aloof, the opportunity to get to know him better as a neighbour never seems to present itself and it leaves you struggling to understand who’s to blame. It’s obvious personal defects are the cause; but his or yours? 

There’s been many occasions where you’ve had to confront his brick-wall disposition, mostly due to the fact that his ringer on the main lobby doesn’t work, so naturally people go for the next best option which is to press the ringer directly below it: yours. You deliberately leave his mail to accumulate at your door until it becomes an unavoidable mound of tax letters, local advertisements and rent notifications and only then do you brave the trip to the apartment above to deliver his post. 

It’s always the same. You knock on the door in a rhythmic pattern that’s become yours. Within seconds he answers the door with the same cold expression, wordlessly takes his mail no matter how hard you try to start up a conversation and before long, you’re staring face to face with the shabby wooden surface of his door. The only thing that changes with each encounter are the clothes that he wears. Different but fairly relative to his style. Purely functional and never dressed for any occasion.

You didn’t mind it for a while. There was some satisfaction and fulfilment to be found while doing your neighbourly duties and despite the fact that there was every possibility he wouldn’t do it for you, you weren’t someone who held a grudge or felt like they had ever been owed a favour. But the mailman had happened upon you on a very bad day and you didn’t feel like accepting his parcel. You had recently been made redundant after the company you worked for did a reshuffling of working positions and yours wasn’t to be included in the new phase they had turned over. So you wallowed at home, watched numerous brain-rotting films, ate a load of junk food and drank lots of wine. 

It was nothing personal towards the mailman when he chapped on your door and demanded a signature for Marc’s parcel, but you couldn’t pretend to be the ‘lovely-neighbour-from-downstairs’ any longer. 

“This is for 8B upstairs. Says there.”

“I know. I can read,” the mailman grumbles, “but I tried knocking on his door but there wasn’t an answer. The parcel needs to be left with someone and you’re the nominated designee.” 

“Can’t you just leave it with another neighbour?” 

“No, says it needs to be left with you.” 

You look at the large rectangular box and consider it. Aside from Marc’s address scribbled on the top, the box is littered with numerous stamps from various international postal services, few you recognize. It looks to be well travelled and handled with very little care yet there’s nothing to suggest what’s inside. With a sigh, you take it from the mailman. It could be important, especially if it’s gone through so many countries to get here and the fact that you would be to blame if it got stolen or damaged. “Fine, I’ll take it.” 

The mailman looks to his feet where a growing pile of letters addressed to Marc starts to spill over into the threshold of your apartment, judgement washing over his features. “Do you…do you normally take all of his mail as well?” 

“Do me a favour? If you ever see the guy from 8B, tell him to come collect his fucking mail.” 

There’s a part of you that feels slightly bad for the mailman when you slammed the door in his face, but then you remember that if Marc stopped being so fucking immature about answering his own door to receive his mail, then you wouldn’t need to feel bad about anything. You leave the parcel sitting on your hallway table, waiting for the day Marc grows some responsibility and asks you for it. 

~~~~

When you placed the parcel on the hallway table, you didn’t expect that it would be sitting there for over a week collecting dust, nor did you expect the curiosity of what’s inside to completely consume you. You walked past it every time you left or entered your apartment. It was in the corner of your eye every time you sat in the living room. It practically radiated temptation every time you took notice of it, screamed at you like it was begging to be opened and you had to force your grubby hands to keep still and not reach for it. But you so desperately wanted to know what was inside. Why was it so conspicuous? Why has it suddenly become the most interesting thing in your apartment?

Perhaps Marc was testing you, sending you a little something of no importance to experiment with your curiosity and test whether or not he could trust to leave you with his personal belongings like he does with his letters. That’s certainly what it felt like by the turn of day eight of the parcel being there and you simply refused to be a rat in his experiment. 

That determination lasted for two whole days before it started to truly pester you. It was starting to get in the way and it felt as though it was getting impossibly bigger and bigger. On day nine you were ready to break it, smash it against every wall, rip every piece of cardboard that keeps it together and deliver it in that state to Marc yourself. From your sofa you stood, eyeing the parcel as if it was taunting you and with adrenaline thrumming through your veins, you stomped towards it. Hands outstretched, you were ready to throw it in any direction but something stopped you at the very last second. Something peculiar and completely out of the ordinary. You halted just centimetres out of reach from the parcel, centimetres out of reach from your door where you could hear the whispers of two or three men right outside. You could see the moulds of their bodies through the peephole. 

“Look, I’m telling you he lives here-”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. All his mail is sitting here. It’s definitely the right apartment. The parcel is in there.” 

The parcel. They’re here for the parcel. 

“C’mon let’s get this over with. He’ll be back soon. Where’s the crowbar?” 

In the very few heart-stopping, crucial seconds you have before anything happens, you quickly banish all hysteria and muster all rationality and flip over the keyless lock and quietly shuffle away from the door with the parcel in hand. You estimate you have about 15 seconds before they make any headway of getting into your apartment, not enough time for you to hide, but enough time to hide Marc’s parcel. After all, that’s what they are here for. With your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes scan over every nook and cranny of your apartment, quickly assessing each spot based on how likely the intruders are to find it and with the seconds dwindling into single digits, you make a snappy, slightly reckless decision. There’s a ledge just outside your kitchen window where you occasionally leave out some seeds for the birds and you think it’s just low enough that the parcel won’t be seen from the window. It’s risky but you’re running out of time, you have to move. 

Scrambling over counter tops and at the sacrifice of knocking over a few utensils, you manage to wrestle the window open and precariously place the box on the window ledge. It’s risky. The ledge isn’t wide and it’s windy, but whatever is in the parcel is just heavy enough that it stays rooted to the spot. 

Pulling back, your hand grazes the handle of a kitchen knife which, now that the intruders have made their way into your apartment, seems like a good idea to have. 

They round the corner into your living room and immediately start looking for the parcel, noticing you only a few seconds into their search. You point the knife in their direction standing courageously but your wavering breath tells a different story.

The three of them turn towards you from where they stand, and given their expressions, they are just as shocked to see you here than you are to see them. You weren’t supposed to be a variable in their plan. They were supposed to be burglarizing Marc’s empty apartment. Not yours. 

The two taller brown-haired men have similar features and builds, almost identical and you begin to wonder if they are twins. Brothers at the very least. But it’s the ageing stout man standing where the living room and kitchen divide who stares you down. He’s dressed smartly in a tweed suit with a golden pocket watch hanging from his waist coat, the type of man who doesn't like to get his hands dirty, because of course, that job belongs to the bulky twins behind him. This is a man who loves to watch it as it happens. He’s more business than manual labour. 

His facial features morph from shock to something sinister, his lips twisting into a smile that’s as greasy as the hair on his head as if the cruellest of ideas just crossed his mind. 

“I didn’t know Marc had a girlfriend,” he sneers. 

“He doesn’t,” you snarl, aiming the knife directly at him with two hands. “He doesn’t even live here either.”

“Oh, so his mail just gets delivered here on a daily basis?” The man hovers over to your coffee table and picks up multiple letters addressed to Marc, the ones that were delivered last week and remained there because of your stubborn nature. 

Okay, not off to a great start. “He doesn’t live here.”

He grins but it falls flat a split second later. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now where is he?”

“I don’t know because he doesn’t live here.”

“Bullshit. Where. Is. He?”  

“Not here. I’m not afraid to use this knife.”

“Oh, not from there you won’t. Let me help you with that.” The man crosses the space between you in three long strides until you’re pressed flat against the counter and the point of the knife grazes the tip of his waist coat. The audacity of this man is staggering. “Save yourself the hassle and tell me where Marc is.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where he is! Now get the fuck out of my apartment. Whatever it is you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“And have you call the cops on us? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out to grab you, and he almost does, but with your quick reflex swinging the knife around, you knick the palm of his hand. The man stumbles backwards with a pained yelp, watching the blood seep from his hand and drip onto your kitchen tiles, enraged that you would even do such a thing. Despite your heart racing and the slightly dizzy feeling of adrenaline raging through your veins, you stand strong, holding the knife even higher in warning. 

“You bitch. Boys!” He shouts and the two brothers come running to his side, sizing you up. “Tie her up. We’re not leaving without that package and I’m certain she knows where it is.” 

It was easy enough to defend yourself against this puny man with a knife, but against two brutes who manhandle you as if you are lamb for slaughter, you don’t stand a chance. Relentless, you squirm and wriggle and fight to get out of their grasp, and while you had accepted that you were fighting a losing battle, there’s still some pride to be had about how hard you made it for them. Rather than tying you up unscathed, Thing 1 ties your hands with a bloody, swollen nose and Thing 2 ties your ankle with a forming black eye and a bruise developing on his ribs. 

With you strapped to the chair, they stuff a gag in your mouth to dim your screams while they scramble to ransack your apartment, turning it upside down to find the fucking parcel Marc left you with. After 15 minutes passes by, your home is a riot; furniture broken, plates, mugs and bowls smashed, everything you own on the floor. 

“Boss, it ain’t here. We’re searched everywhere.”

“It has to be!” The stout man shouts, eyes glaring at you enraged. He crouches down, fiery ageing eyes level with yours. He rips the gag out of your mouth and presents a new threat. A razor sharp knife, gleaning in the light as he holds it directly in front of your face. “For the last time. Where is the parcel?!” 

“I am telling you. I don’t know,” you spit, trying with all your might to sound as convincing as possible. “I don’t know what parcel you’re talking about. I don’t know where Marc is--I don’t even know the guy! And he sure as shit doesn’t live here. And if any of you had half a brain to actually read the letters will realise that his address is the floor above me. He never answers his fucking door and that’s why I have all his mess at my door.” 

The guy jabs the point of his knife underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. A nauseous feeling stirs in your stomach, raising your body temperature and conjuring a little bead of sweat to drip from your hairline. Your teeth clamp down onto the inner lining of your cheek, hoping, praying, pleading for someone to burst through your door and save you.

You can’t see anything change within the man in front of you, not taking your word for gospel and the more frustrated he becomes, the more danger faces you. Temperament rising, the man grunts and knicks the skin of your chin, splicing the skin open. “Argh, fuck!” 

“Marc might not live here, but we know the parcel was delivered! And if you do end up with all his mail then it should be here. Now stop lying to me, you little bitch, and tell me where the fucking parcel is or you are going end up with a lot worse than a cut to your chin.” 

You watch in horror as he presses the edge of the knife over your wrist tied to the armrest of the chair and no amount of squirming can break the ties. Fuck, please tell me that I’m not going to lose a limb over a fucking parcel…

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes, your brave facade failing. You’re absolutely terrified

“I’ll give you some context then. That parcel contains something I want, an ancient Egyptian artefact that contains unimaginable power and would bring me a lot of wealth, and Marc Spector has no business taking it from me--” So that’s Marc’s surname. “And unless you want to keep your thieving hands, you’ll tell me where it is.” 

As he begins to press the knife’s sharp edge down onto your skin, you start to consider the depravity of the situation, the truth finding its way to your lips. There’s nothing more you want than for this to all be over, to be wrapped up warm and safe in your bed but you can’t shake the arrogance of this guy and his stooges, busting in here like he is entitled to, making a mess of your home, harming you, all to take something that was clearly meant for Marc, all because he thought it would be better with him than with Marc. 

No. Fuck that.

“I. Don’t. Know.” A glob of saliva gathers on your tongue and you spit it into the face of your capture, because if your words can’t send the message, hopefully that will. 

“You should believe her, by the way.” A voice emerges from behind you and simultaneously, all three men turn towards your front door in stupor. You try to twist your head over your shoulder as far as you can to catch a glance but he’s just out of your sight, however you don’t need to wait long before you get confirmation of who is standing at your door. 

“Marc Spector,” your captur states. “Finally.”

“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my neighbour’s apartment?”

“For the very same reason why you’re here, Marc. The parcel. Our parcel. The one you stole.” 

Marc snickers. Having gone so long without seeing what a smile looks like on his face, you’re itching to turn around and see him, but you only get as far as Thing 2 who stands with your back to you, blocking your view. “Torturing women for information? Tsk, tsk, that’s a little beneath your remit Donald, is it not? You’re wasting your time. I have the parcel locked up in storage.” An obvious lie, but not obvious enough to them. “She’s got nothing to do with it. In fact, I don’t even know her.” 

“I don’t care who I have to go through to get what is mine, whether it’s her or you, I will have it by the time the day is up. Boys!”

“Your mistake.”

In the space of a second, the three men in front of you disappear and you’re left to stare at the vast emptiness of your white walls as chaos erupts behind you. Grunts and groans of pain are spliced in between the sounds of punches and kicks being thrown, furniture breaking, bones crunching and bodies thumping to the ground, all of which you try to drown out by hunching your shoulders over your ears and closing your eyes. 

After suspenseful minutes of fighting, it’s clear one man stands victorious. Who? You don’t know. Aside from worrying about what kind of state of your apartment would be left in, you have no idea who you’ve been left in the apartment with and the likelihood of Marc succeeding against three men is slim and the anticipation is killing you.

At last, when a fully mummified figure with white glowing eyes kneels in front of you, you’re taken aback. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” His hand comes to tilt your head gently, inspecting the small cut to your chin with a small tut.

“...Marc?”

The mask that covers his face dissipates to reveal the Marc you recognise, looking more worried than you had ever thought he was capable of. He begins to make quick work of your bounds, easily ripping through them with a single fingertip where all the strength in your arms couldn’t. 

“What the…”

“It’s a lot to explain. I promise, I’ll explain later. Are you hurt? Are you alright? They didn’t do anything terrible to you, did they? Fuck. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry-”

“Marc, hey, I’m okay. Just a little shaken up I think.” Now free, you come to stand in front of Marc who, weirdly enough, seems to don this mummified Egyptian regalia as a suit of armour. You remember this ‘Donald’ guy mentioning something about an ancient Egyptian artefact and you assume it has to be related to whatever Marc is wearing. You even try to mention it, but you can’t seem to get a word in with Marc fussing over your safety and blaming himself for any harm that Donald and his men have caused you as he gently dabs the blood away from your chin. After futile attempts, you decide to leave it be, marvelling over the new Marc as he carefully handles you with care despite having treated you with such indifference up until a few minutes ago. 

Donald and his two bodyguards lie unconscious (...or dead?) on your apartment floor and you look over them with satisfaction, Marc’s unparalleled strength no match for them. Marc quietly lingers behind you, observing them over your shoulder with a similar resolve until he notices the complete disarray surrounding them. 

“Sorry about the mess.” 

You chuckle lightheartedly. “I’m just glad you came when you did. They got what they deserved.”

“Look,” he pulls you away from them to lock eyes, sincerity twinkling in his irises, “I really am sorry. I thought I was careful enough to not get anyone involved in my mess, but I guess I was wrong.” 

You crunch your eyebrows together, recollecting every instance of Marc giving you the cold shoulder. You always thought he was just an unfriendly neighbour, someone who had no interest in anyone but himself, who viewed everyone as an inconvenience. But it was his safeguard, his way of not letting anyone he knew or cared about come into harm. “So you being an asshole was on purpose?” 

“Completely. It was nothing personal.”

“I see,” you sigh, but with a gentle bump of shoulders, you add “I could’ve helped you, you know. You just needed to ask.” 

He shakes his head dejectedly. “It would’ve been too much of a risk.” 

“More of a risk than not asking me? I still got caught up in the crossfire anyway, if I had known why, or at least expected it, I could’ve been better prepared. I don’t need to know what trouble you got yourself into or what shady business you run, but I’m not just your neighbour, I could’ve been a friend if you had allowed me.” 

“It had never worked out for me in the past. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.” 

“Okay, I get it. You’re forgiven. But Marc? A word of advice for the future? Just answer your fucking mail then maybe, just maybe, I won’t need to be dragged into all of this again, yeah? They thought you lived here.” You pick up a handful of unopened letters addressed to him and bluntly shove them against his chest with an appointed look and smirk. 

He reciprocates the smile with less enthusiasm and turns his attention to your door. “Speaking of, I’ve got a very important parcel I need to track down. I actually have no idea where it is. I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

“About that.” You don’t say another word as you lead him to your kitchen window, awkwardly mounting your counter to reach for the parcel lying just outside your window. As soon as you bring it into view, Marc’s face lights up like you’ve never seen before. 

“You had it?! This whole time?! I heard you tell them you didn’t have it!” 

“I’ve had it for weeks, actually. Those clowns didn’t exactly take the quiet approach when breaking into my flat so I knew what they were here for. I just had enough time to hide it before they came in. And I can be quite the convincing liar when I need to be.” 

Marc quickly discards the parcel, throwing it onto the kitchen counter before throwing his arms around you, knocking the air out of you and squeezing tightly like his life depended on it. “You…are an angel. I can’t thank you enough.”

The two of you embrace for longer than what’s normal between two neighbours, partly in Marc’s resounding appreciation and partly because it feels nice. 

“In all honesty, I was two seconds from opening the parcel myself. The curiosity was killing me.” Marc’s laughter shakes his body, his warmth slowly leaving you as he draws back. 

“I can show you if you want. I figure you’ll be needing a place to stay while we get your apartment cleaned up. It’s the least I can offer for all the trouble I’ve put you through.” 

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

[the-offside-rule]

S.G, M.S, J.L (Moonknight) - Caught in the Chaos

Requested: yes

Warnings: arguing ig

Y/n juggled the weight of grocery bags, struggling to open the door with her elbow. She finally managed to push it open, stepping into the apartment with a sigh of relief. “Marc, I’m back!” She called, nudging the door shut with her foot. But the sight that greeted her caused her to freeze. The apartment was a wreck. Furniture overturned, shelves knocked down, papers scattered across the floor. And right in the middle of the chaos stood Marc Spector, clad in his Moon Knight suit, his chest heaving as though he'd just been in a battle. “What the—" The bags slipped from her grasp, thudding to the floor, their contents spilling out.

Before she could even process what was happening, the glowing white suit vanished. Gone was Marc's imposing presence, replaced by Steven, wide-eyed and blinking nervously. “Y/n!” He stammered, his British accent unmistakable. “I- um- this looks bad, yeah?” Her jaw clenched in fury. “Where.....is.....Marc?” Steven’s eyes darted around, flustered. “Well, he’s here but- he's not really, uh, interested in coming out right now.”

“Marc!” Y/n yelled, frustration bubbling over. “Get out here right now!” There was silence. Marc didn’t surface. Instead, the familiar smirk of Jake Lockley flickered across Steven’s face. “Mi vida, let’s take it easy, yeah?” Jake said smoothly, his voice dripping with charm as he tried to calm her down. “No need to be so angry, we’ll clean it all up, I swear.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her nostrils flared. “Don’t you even try that with me, Jake.” The smile faded quickly. His attempt at smooth-talking had only made things worse. "Estas solo en esta, amigo." He vanished just as swiftly as he had appeared, leaving Steven back in control. “I’ll, uh... I’ll help you clean up, yeah?” Steven offered, his voice soft and apologetic. “Let’s just start there. Marc’ll come out when he’s ready.” Y/n glared at him for a moment longer before letting out an exasperated breath. “Fine.”

They worked side by side in tense silence, picking up the overturned furniture, gathering the scattered papers. Steven kept casting her nervous glances, clearly unsure how to handle the situation. He offered the occasional soft word of reassurance, but Y/n’s simmering anger made him retreat each time. Eventually, though, as they put the last chair back in place and swept the last bit of glass into a dustpan, Y/n felt herself calming down. She still wasn’t happy, but the initial surge of fury had ebbed, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She slumped onto the couch, rubbing her temples. “This is ridiculous.”

Steven stood there awkwardly for a moment before sitting beside her, hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. Marc, he- he’s just, well- he’s not good with these sorts of things.” Y/n sighed. “Yeah, I figured.” There was a beat of silence before Steven’s gaze unfocused for a moment. Then, Marc was back. His face was tense, guilt etched into his features. “Y/n... I’m sorry,” he muttered, finally meeting her eyes. “I should’ve come out sooner, I just-” She cut him off, her voice tired but firm. “Marc, you always do this. Something happens, and you just disappear. You leave me to deal with the aftermath. I can’t keep doing this.”

Marc’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m trying, but it’s hard.” She softened, her anger ebbing as she looked at him. She knew he was struggling, that this life he lived wasn’t easy. But that didn’t mean she had to be okay with it all the time. “I just need you to be here.” She said quietly. “With me.” Marc nodded, taking her hand.

“I’m here now. I’ll do better.”

[jks1uv]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑀𝑒 ; marc spector / steven grant | one-shot |

summary: in which you believe your boyfriend is perfect (and the one for you).

pairing: gf!fem!reader x bf!marc spector + gf!fem!reader x bf!steven grant.

trope: established relationship.

genre: fluff + romance.

warnings‼️: crude language + an implication of sex.

word count: 1,858.

random disclaimerrr: my oscar isaac phase started 3 years ago & moon knight literally changed my life. happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

He’s reading on the sofa with a velvet blanket draped across his legs.

A classic literature book in his hands, reading glasses sitting on the edge his nose; his face is relaxed.

No unnecessary creases in his forehead, no frown stitched onto this lips. Just cool, calm and collected.

The sun peeks out from the blinds and shines its rays on his side profile, adding a soft glow to his already gentle face.

His cocoa eyes look like pools of honey now, you can almost taste the sweetness swirling around in them.

His skin looks cleared from any blemishes, only the creases along his eyes and smile lines remain.

It adds to his personality, you think.

His face is shaped by the turmoils of life and are visible by those whose trials and tribulations leave a similar mark.

His nose is Greek-like and you understand the appeal of bigger than average noses.

He’s just reading but the atmosphere he’s created adds to his essence. He’s just reading and yet, he’s so handsome.

How did you get here? So down bad, I mean.

Maybe it’s his intelligence that does it for you.

You love a guy who knows his stuff and nobody reads classic literature anymore, let alone read.

Steven has always been a curious mind. His thirst for knowledge could only be quenched by more.

He loves learning and sharing what he’s acquired with you, no matter you know the concepts of the topic or not.

He’s passionate, eloquent, and just so fucking brilliant. He just happens to know… everything.

You think he’s the modern day Library of Alexandria.

“Did you need somethin’, love?”

Steven blinks up at you, his last page bookmarked.

He uses the bookmark you made him with the perfume you wore to your first date spritzed on top before laminating it.

You’re a deer in headlights, nervous you’d been caught drooling over how good he looked just sitting there all comfortable and indulging in what he loves.

“Hm? Oh- uhh, nope. Nothing! I’m good, everything’s good.”

You smile brightly and hope he believes it.

He nods once, a bit skeptical but drops it.

“Alright.”

You and Marc are grocery shopping.

He decided to drive so you let him, but then as you went to grab the cart; he beat you to that as well.

You don’t question it because you secretly admire how he wants to do everything for you. You want to see how far he’s willing to go.

Is that toxic?

You’re in the spices aisle, trying to remember if you need to stock up or just replace some items altogether.

“We need paprika and cinnamon, and we should also buy another can of salt since we’re about three quarters down.”

Your lips are parted in awe and your eyebrows are drawn together at his admirable eye for detail.

“How did you..?”

He pulls out a crumpled up little piece of paper, visibly torn out of a small journal or something.

He gives it you and you skim through. Sure enough, you find the 3 items he stated with little anecdotes among other items.

“Did you memorize this?” You ask with your mouth forming a slight smile.

He’s checking out the prices on paprika.

“Yeah.”

He’s so nonchalant dreadhead with his response but it means everything to you.

He finds a couple of small containers at a reasonable price and drops them into the cart.

You see 15 different things on there and he has them all memorized. For you.

“Take my breath away~”

That he has.

You’re having a movie-moment right now. Granted, at a Walmart, but their speakers are doing you so much justice.

It’s the perfect song to play in the background during the perfect moment.

It’s like he’s in slow-motion with his hand sweeping back some of his inky, shiny curls.

His eyes blink towards you and you see his lips moving but you can’t hear anything. It’s muffled, like you’re underwater.

But like all great things, it comes to an end quite abruptly.

He calls your name with a wave of his hand in front of your face to catch your attention.

*record scratch*

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

“Uh- what, huh?” You blink profusely as you blabber.

Marc takes in your stunned expression but continues.

“I was asking if we should get that juice you really like. It’s not on the list, but you ran out of it a while ago.”

Your dry mouth and shameless staring becomes apparent to you. You clear your throat in an to speak.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” You mumble before coughing lightly.

You turn away and fly speed-walk to the juice, not daring to turn around and see your man glancing at your peculiarity.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

You're currently painting your nails after not indulging in the art for a while. You’re cure them under the UV light while your lover asks for your opinion.

“Which one looks better.”

You look up at Steven’s ask and almost drop your jaw.

He’s wearing a black button up with the first few buttons open, revealing the smooth, tan skin on his built body.

He wears a lot of loose clothing but this button up was more fitted. The material stretched slightly around his biceps when he went close the two buttons at the cuff of the sleeves.

“Mhm.” You don’t trust your voice right now.

“Just ‘mhm’?”

You nod your head and gulp harshly when you see him turn to examine himself in the mirror.

The back.

His broad, firm, muscly back is hidden under the taut, cotton material and you can’t look away when he fixes a tie to compliment the shirt.

He’s muttering something you can’t bring yourself to focus on and don’t realize it was a question.

“Love? Hello?”

“Huh-? What happened?”

His brows are furrowed in a quizzical manner.

“Oh! Uhh, yeah. This is good, looks uh… nice. Great! Wear that one.” You smile hoping you haven’t given yourself away.

Steven frowns and comes towards you. He caps the nail polish and sets it aside along with the UV light.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“Yeah! I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?”

He tilts his head slightly and maintains eye contact with you.

You’re still aware of him wearing the shirt and the revealing skin atop his torso, creating space for something better beyond imagination.

The sight is too much, it makes you want to kiss him till you can’t, and then some.

His hands engulf yours and you have no choice but to look at him, nervous yet giddy inside.

“You can tell me, Y/n. Have I done something-?”

You go against your mind and kiss him.

It’s a clash of tongue and teeth, a messy fight for lips and the desperate result of fighting temptation.

Steven is surprised and while he does love kissing you, he’s completely befuddled.

“Love, wait-”

“No.”

You go back to indulging yourself and almost squeal in excitement when he grabs your waist to pull you closer when you feel him change.

The nervous yet giddy feeling comes back tenfold when the man you see is the constant object of your desires.

His eyes are so expressive, they have a language of their own.

You’re a bit breathless from a few moments ago.

“What’s gotten into you?” He’s amused but intrigued.

You shrug, a bit annoyed with the interruptions.

“I can’t just kiss my man whenever I want to?”

Marc’s eyebrows jump a bit at this and he feels a sense of pride in his heart when you remind him of being your man.

“You can.” He says simply.

You don’t know what he’s playing at when he’s the best at having a poker face.

“But..?”

He stares at you for a moment and sighs.

“You’re acting… different.”

Busted.

“Ever since that time Steven caught you staring at him-”

Fuck.

You really thought you nailed that, huh.

“-you’ve been off. I clocked it at Walmart when you were staring at me all Disney princess-like.”

That makes you feel threatened and touched.

“Aww wait that’s so cute- wait. Did you just use ‘clocked’ in a sentence unironically?”

He gets whiplash from your undivided attention switching sides due to his discovery.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on? Seriously?”

To be fair, you do have a bit (a lot) of brain rot.

“We need to ban you from TikTok.” He’s decides.

“They already tried that, silly.”

It’s fun sidetracking but anything to distract him for as long as possible before he forgets the true purpose of the conversation.

Unfortunately, he’s a smart cookie.

Marc narrows his eyes at you suspiciously. “I know what you’re doing.”

Okay, just stay calm.

“What, talking?”

A lazy smirk drapes over his features and he’s confident in himself.

“You know what.”

His deep, baritone voice makes an appearance in the form of a murmur and you’re weak.

He tilts his head in that way which makes you wonder what’s really going on in his head and it’s all mind games!

You’re stuck between the cycle of admitting what’s up or lying and waiting to be caught again.

The suspense is killing you and you can’t take the embarrassment anymore.

Shamefully, you come clean.

You sigh with your head down, your eyes land on your painted and now dry nails.

“It’s you.”

“What’s me?”

You look at him and explain.

“It’s just, you’re too…”

You try to find the right word to best describe your explanation but fall short when you realize there’s really no other way around it.

“Perfect.”

Marc is yet again amused, but confused.

“I’m... too perfect?”

You groan in frustration.

“Yes! You and Steven are too perfect. Like, the other day, he was literally just reading and I thought he was the most smart, and sexy, beautiful person ever.”

Steven makes a short-lived appearance to show his thanks.

“You really think that?” He shyly asks.

You smile. “Of course I do.”

“And what about me?” Marc chimes.

“I think you’re cocky. I give you full marks for that.” You muse.

He rolls his eyes and you hold the urge to say ‘sassy’.

“I thought you were the man for me when you made a list and memorized it just for me.”

Your confession is heartfelt and doesn’t fall upon deaf ears.

Marc’s lip part in awe and his eyes shine with appreciation.

“I also thought it was hot when you grabbed the keys and cart before I could even think about it.”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“It was hot?”

You shrug, not knowing he’s just trying to boost his own ego.

“Yeah. I like it when you take initiative.”

He nods to himself, pondering about what else he takes charge in that attracts you.

“So, what about in the bedroom?”

You look up at the ceiling and can’t believe you walked into that.

“You really know how to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you laugh at the stupid notion.

Yeah, you deem he’s the one for you.

[thesecretwriter]

how each moon boy would react to an argument with you – part 2. 

summary: what the title says!

warning: fluff – like I said in part 1!

word count:

a/n: okayyyy, i saw the impact of part 1, i’m sorry for the angst! so here is some fluff to make it all better

minors/ageless blogs dni.

Masterlists

part 1

Steven Grant:

It was a sleepless night for him without you.

He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling aimlessly as he though back to the argument.

You were right, he shouldn’t be going to his ex-wife about issues in a private relationship.

He looked over to his nightstand and saw that his alarm clock read 2:35am.

He groaned in frustration and got out of bed to get dressed.

He had to make things right, tonight.

The corner store on your street was thankfully opened and he went into the store with the determination to get your favourite snacks.

The store had flowers, which he of course bought and in the corner of his eye he saw something shiny and knew he had to get it too.

You awoke from your sleep groggily when you heard constant knocking at your front door.

Upon opening it, you saw Steven standing there with his hands full and his hands full.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask feeling the emotions from hours ago resurfacing.

“Uh… well I came to apologize,” he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped aside to let him in.

He walked in with a small smile, behind him were helium balloons which said, ‘happy birthday’ and ‘congratulations’.

You couldn’t help the small smile that made its way to your lips, but you maintained a neutral expression and locked the front door to join him in your living room.

His posture was tense as you watched him leave the contents in his hands on the nearby table. He still held the flowers in his hands as he walked to you.

“I’m sorry for everything I said and previously did. You’re absolutely right in being upset,” he said and looked at you with sincere eyes.

You knew he meant the apology, but his words and actions still tugged at your heart.

“Steven… “ you said tiredly, “I don’t know if I can-“

“No, please don’t say that,” he knew the words that were waiting to be said.

He couldn’t bare to hear them.

“I hurt you, and I shouldn’t have an I know asking you to stay with me is a lot. I just… for the first time in my life I have something I’m genuinely happy with,” he said with that all too familiar smile.

You understood his reasoning, but you needed him to understand yours as well.

“Communication in this relationship isn’t the strongest, and we need to work on that,” you said to him.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

“Tell me what I can do, and I’ll do it,”

“Layla… “ you said her name softly.

“She’s gone, I-I realised that it was extremely wrong of me to talk about you to her. I feel as though I had an obligation to compensate for the sadness I brought her previously, but i cant do it at the expense of you. it also not my place to do so,” he said truthfully.

You listened to him intently.

“Doing all of that made me blind to the fact that I was hurting you. I’m sorry, darling, so so sorry,” he made his way to you and grasped your hand with his free one whilst the other held the flowers.

“I can’t say that it’s okay, but I hope you don’t repeat this,” you said looking at him with unshed tears.

“Of course, I would never hurt you like this again,” he said honestly.

“You better not,” you say sternly but with a hint of humour.

With that being said, Steven held you close to him and didn’t want to ever let go.

Marc Spector:

He waited a few days, watching you from afar to make sure you were okay.

You were functioning well and doing things you’d usually do, but Marc could see through the front you were putting for everyone to see.

Pushing you away seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but having you away was like living without the sun in his dark world.

He needed you.

Which is why he found himself sitting in your apartment and waiting for you to come home. He’d entered your apartment by using his spare key.

It had since been 2 hours since you were supposed to be home.

Marc knew your schedule by heart.

He was about to go out and look for you when he heard the keys being put into your front door along with your muffled voice.

“Thanks for the chat, I really needed it,” you bid goodbye to whoever was outside and locked the door behind you.

Your apartment was still dark as you move around to leave your daily belongings in their respective places.

Upon turning the lights on, you saw Marc’s figure out of the corner in your eyes sitting on the couch.

You turned to him with a frown.

“If you’re here for your things, they’re in that box on the kitchen counter,” you said in a monotone, wanting to speech through the process of this one last meeting.

Marc wordlessly awoke from where he was and walked to you, the entire time he maintained eye contact with you.

He stopped walking till he was right in front of you, a hairs width away.

“What makes you think I came here for my things?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“What else would you be here for?” you said to him challengingly.

He smirked and looked to the side before looking back at you.

“You think I’d let you go that easily?” he said with a raised brow.

“You did that night,” you scoffed and folded your hands, causing him to step back.

He nodded with a clenched jaw.

“You know I didn’t mean anything I said,” he stated with sincerity.

“Sure you didn’t,” you breathed a sigh and walked away from him to the box on the counter.

He followed behind and trapped you between him and the counter before you could reach for the box and hand it to him.

“You wasted no time in gathering my things,” he said with a humourless chuckle.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t want you to deal with me any longer,” you used his words from that night.

“Y/n… “ he said trying to make you understand.

“No Marc, I can’t keep playing this game of push and pull,” you admitted, sounding tired.

“I’m not playing games,” he said offended.

You turn to face him, his body still trapping you between him and the counter.

You raised a brow at him.

“Okay. I admit, I’ve made mistakes and I’m sorry for that. Very sorry. But you’re the one thing that grounds me. I know what I said that night was out of line,” he finally apologizes.

You look at his expression intently. You can tell that he means his words.

“I need more than an apology from you,” you stated.

“Name what you want and I’ll do it,”

“I want you to be careful and take care of yourself. I know in that mind of yours you don’t care about your wellbeing, but if you care for me then you’ll take care of yourself,” you move your gaze to your hands as you talk to him.

“Of course I care about you, and if that is what you want, consider it done,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and brought you in for a hug.

Jake Lockley:

“Mi corazón…”

“Go away Jake,” you said as you exited the grocery store.

He had been trying to make you speak with him for the passed week and all you’ve been doing is ignoring him.

Serves him right for what he did.

What you didn’t understand was why he was trying to talk to you.

“Just one moment, please,” he said sounding exhausted.

“Go bother one of your many girlfriends,” you said bitterly.

“You’re the only one,” he grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards you and hindered you from walking away.

“Jake,” you say in a warning tone.

He looks up and down the street before pulling you down an alley way. You try to protest, but he puts a hand over your mouth.

“You will listen to me,” he snapped.

You nodded tiredly and his hold on you loosened but it remained there.

“I was on Khonshu’s orders to get important information the night you came into the bar,” he said with annoyance.

Even though Jake had been the most easy to work with when it came to Khonshu, he maintained hostility when it came to you and Khonshu.

He knew you wouldn’t like Khonshu’s request, but he had to comply since it was part of the deal.

“That woman who was with me is the daughter to a man who is an avatar,” he explained further, hoping you would understand.

You studied his stoic expression. He was being truthful.

“Why didn’t you tell me before doing it?” you asked feeling hurt that he didn’t seem to trust you.

“It was too dangerous to tell you and I needed you to be safe, mi luz,”

“Well, look at the outcome of you not telling me,” you said with sadness.

Jake looked at you with equal sad eyes. The week spent without you was torture, he had an argument with Khonshu and wanted nothing more than to seek comfort from you.

“I know, mi corazón. I’m so sorry,” he said and pulled hugged you tightly.

It was rare to see Jake be so affectionate, but you know your time apart had affected him. It did the same to you.

You melted into the hug and wrapped your arms around him.

tagging those that commented on part 1:

@milkypompon @hellomynameisells @brighterthanlonelywords @the-witheredroses @secretdazeobservation @stressed-cherry

[midniqhtt]

steven grant / marc spector / jake lockley

masterlist • oscar isaac characters • 05/26/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

one three

𑣲 building love I @laaundromat

Steven has unconsciously set himself up on a date with his crush.

𑣲 how things are I @storiesforallfandoms

now that they’ve learned how to share the body, they must come to terms with the fact that they also have to share their wife

𑣲 uncomplicated I @little-worm-grant

Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.

𑣲 just a touch of your hand part 2 part 3 I @mccn-bcys

when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.

𑣲 sensual pleasure? I @/mccn-bcys

your friends take you to the museum but you never were interested in the history. Until your friend introduces you to a cute gift-shoppist who gives you little history lessons. Suddenly, a ring sparks becomes a little more than a cool item he showed you.

𑣲 open my eyes I @missdictatorme

Jake and Steven were more than happy when you agreed to be in a relationship with them, but Marc barely fronts when you're near. Will he warm up to you over time?

𑣲 third ones the charm part 2 I @/missdictatrome

Jake Lockley was fine. Really. Marc and Steven are happy with their girlfriend and he's okay staying in the shadows. He's used to staying in the shadows. He managed to stay hidden from the boys for years, but lately something makes him take control more and more. Or rather, someone makes him take control more and more.

𑣲 the thin line I @/missdictatrome

Steven and Marc are literally glowing with happiness since they were in a relationship with you. Jake is mostly annoyed and is constantly trying to make you leave. Marc and Steven are having none of it.

𑣲 forget me not I @/missdictatrome

You and the boys (uhm…) decided to break up after the fights became more and more frequent in your relationship. Marc was mostly disappointed, Steven was sad and Jake… Jake was bitter. And angry. So when you send them a text weeks after the break up to ask them to collect their remaining stuff from your apartment, maybe Jake isn’t happy when he sees you might have moved on.

𑣲 our little thing I @wysteria-clad

you have a specific thing with each of them. It's not like you don't do it with other two, but you do enjoy a little act of intimacy that is special to each of them.

𑣲 the already over series I @m00nsbaby

𑣲 weightless I @/m00nsbaby

The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed.

𑣲 canonic jar I @bruhstories

marc is exasperated by you, but he needs to behave because you're steven's girlfriend.

𑣲 formal wear I @eyelessfaces

𑣲 the jake problem part 2 I @bensolosbluesaber

Jake hates you. Like really hates you, which wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t dating Steven and Marc. But maybe, just maybe, Jake doesn’t hate you.

𑣲 talk deity to me I @starryeyedstories

You’re an Egyptologist invited to the museum to give a talk to a group of school kids, and Steven might have a bit of a crush on you.

𑣲 dozing I @juneknight

A man falls asleep on you during your bus ride to work. 

𑣲 i should have been there I @januaryembrs

Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realizes he should have saved her.

𑣲 sleeping beauty I @redeyerhaenyra

After having sex with Jake, you both fall asleep in your flat. Only, it's not Jake that wakes up, it's Steven.

𑣲 shadow of a doubt I @writefightandflightclub

marc was first. steven was second. khonshu’s never going to love you. …and you’re wondering if jake will ever get there at all.

𑣲 no fish were harmed in the making of this meet cute I @/writefightandflightclub

You have a dilemma. You don’t want to sell the man any more fish. But you do want him to keep coming back to your shop

𑣲 chocolate I @bits-and-babs

After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly.

𑣲 bumpy ride I @/bits-and-babs

The handsome man who you see on your commute to work every day is always on your mind.

𑣲 cake I @spctrsgf

𑣲 a night at the museum I @thatsthewrongwallcraig

After asking you out, Steven invites you to a private tour of the National Art Gallery.

𑣲 on the mat I @thatredheadwriter

You’re Marc and Steven’s ‘guy in the chair’ for lack of a better term, helping them with all things techy. When you get injured trying to help on a mission, Marc decides you need to learn how to take care of yourself so it doesn’t happen again. Gym training with Marc turns into something else entirely.

𑣲 mine I @/thatredheadwriter

The suit, the suit is amazing. Honestly it is. But you can’t help but be the slightest bit annoyed when it erases the marks you leave all over him. Lucky for you, Steven’s more than happy to let you have another go.

𑣲 outnumbered I @/thatredheadwriter

You’re Layla’s adoptive sister, and Marc’s former lover. Being reunited with both of them stirs up some old feelings, but that gets pushed to the backburner when you’re severely injured during a fight. But things tend to boil over when they’re left too long, so what happens when you have some time alone with Marc.

𑣲 spectre series I @ivystoryweaver

Marc Spector and his alters Steven and Jake have lost the love of their lives. They each try to move on, in their own way, but getting over you is the hardest thing they've ever faced. Marc starts to see you everywhere - he's haunted by your memory. No, literally, why are you sitting on the end of his bed? He believes in ancient deities, seeing how Jake still serves one as Moon Knight. But ghosts?

𑣲 first kiss I @asimplearchivist

there was no possible way that you could have romantic feelings for steven. right?

𑣲 sad ending I @/asimplearchivist

you and jake enjoy having movie nights, but he has the habit of spoiling the endings for you. this time is different, though.

𑣲 speed dating I @/asimplearchivist

you're down in the dumps about the disheartening lack of prospective romantic partners interested in initiating a long-term relationship with you. your ever-helpful coworker amy decides to give you (and a highly interested would-be suitor) a nudge in the right direction—just not in the way you might expect.

𑣲 is that my shirt? I @/asimplearchivist

you and the boys have a set of rules. jake doesn’t like it when you break them.

𑣲 stop looking at me like that part 2 I @luc-k-y

𑣲 anything for you I @/luc-k-y

𑣲 insomnia I @campingwiththecharmings

Steven can't sleep and you, uh, help him out.

𑣲 each time you fall in love I @peterthepark

you play mercenaries with marc. you play lovers with jake. you play house with steven. you suppose romance comes in all forms of their differing love for you.

𑣲 to the rescue I @ofstarsandvibranium

showing up on Stevens date from the first episode

𑣲 unexpected addition I @oddballwriter

Steven and Marc know about Jake's existence and they have been trying to get used to him and get to know him, and during a mission where they need help they found out Jake has been having like a long term relationship with the reader (who is Sekhmet's avatar)

𑣲 hospital bed confessions I @sailorkamino

As long as Jake can remember he's only had Marc and Steven to protect - then you came into the picture. Jake is scared to admit just how much you mean to him until you're injured, then he can no longer hide his feelings.

𑣲 a rose under the moon I @angel-of-the-moons

You've waited your whole life to meet your soulmate. You just didn't know your soulmate was so close by, all this time. But...How the hell can you handle being thrown into a world full of gods and magic? You're just a shopkeeper! Why is your heart being tugged by three different threads?

𑣲 stuck I @psithurista

You stop by Steven’s place one night after work. Somebody else answers his door.

𑣲 the coffee incident part 2 part 3 I @reallyrallyauthor

No coffee in the morning leads to a mystery for Marc, an apology from Jake, and guilt from Steven.

𑣲 paying your debt I @/reallyrallyauthor

Moon Knight saved your life, and now you're Marc Spector's glorified assistant. But when you pick him up one night after a fight, you get to feel the suit first hand, and what he keeps underneath it.

𑣲 free lunch I @/reallyrallyauthor

You're teaching Steven how to drive, but he’s so tense that you absolutely have to get him to relax first

𑣲 cupcake man I @/reallyrallyauthor

Jake helps his favorite bartender out w/ a problem they can’t solve themselves (which I like to imagine is Jake’s #1 all-time favorite hobby)

𑣲 bad girl I @/reallyrallyauthor

Jake has a smoking kink, and a way for you to indulge him without consequences.

𑣲 a friend I @/reallyrallyauthor

You and Marc Spector have a purely physical relationship. Both operating in society’s gray area, you try to avoid conflicts of interest. But when you’re hired to steal an artifact from a London museum, you wonder if even Marc himself knows all of his secrets.

𑣲 museum date I @/reallyrallyauthor

Marc gets set up on a blind date at an art museum

𑣲 slow songs I @/reallyrallyauthor

Your friend, Marc, pretends to be your boyfriend at a wedding, but is it pretend?

𑣲 here we go series I @/reallyrallyauthor

𑣲 the shape of youniverse I @bit-dodgy-innit

A full blown AU of forging a life and family with a post-Khonshu Moon Boys that’s as heartfelt as it is filth.

𑣲 tilt part 2 part 3 part 4 I @the-little-ewok

Steven Grant wants to tell you the truth about why he missed your date, but it isn't Steven you meet... 

[mylittledelulucorner]

Marc Spector forgot about Valentine’s Day

(He totally forgot, so no fancy restaurant for you guys. But don’t worry he’ll cook your favourite meal and buy you roses. It will be a cozy date night at home)

[blue-sadie]

Flick Of A Paint Brush

Moon System

You being a artist while dating them

Steven Grant

He gets you specific things like bowls, mugs, plates, vases etc just so when he sees them or uses them he thinks of you, definitely not so if in the future they find it they'll know how much of a great artist you are.

When he finally gets the courage his asks you to teach him how to paint his curiosity sparked by watching you paint and how you get so involved with each swipe of the paint brush.

If you ask to paint him, he'll become a babblering mess, his breath catching in his throat while his cheeks turn dark red, if he agrees he'll be fidgeting with his hands the entire time.

His most prized possession from you was a vase you brought from Walmart it was plane white intill you had a free afternoon, you painted some of his favorite gods onto it even wrote a little message in hieroglyphics which he stares at everytime he misses you.

Marc Spector

He let's you doodle all over, when watching a movie he gives you his arm to doodle on when your bored, he stares at each thing you've drawn in the mirror when you have fallen asleep, he takes a photo of each one compiling a album of all of them.

He'd rather watch then join and if you 'convince' him he'll begrudgingly join in but he'll get distracted easily and just stare at you instead.

He'll be all bashful if you ask to paint him he'll joke about being naked while posing dramatically but he gets more intrigued and curious as he sees you go into great detail capturing his every detail.

His favorite was a little doodle you did while he was sleeping his naked chest was just a blank canvas waiting to be doodled on it was a little moon with a fox sitting on it with his tail hanging down you have to make him not tattoo it on so he was a photo printed out next to your guys bed.

Jake Lockley

He's more of a classical person and buys you different size canvas so he can hang them around the apartment to make it more homey and so the apartment will feel like you even if your not there but also staring at the paintings calms him down.

He's a brave man no one can deny that but never in a million years will he get enough courage to ask you if he could join he's to scared he'll ruin the paints or break the paint brushes.

He'll refuse at first but as he sees the more effort you put in into asking him he'll cave but you'll have to tell him to smile or remind him to stay still.

He loves the big canvas painting you did of your guys first date it was in a coffee shop by the ocean he finds just by looking at it he gets the fuzzy feeling again he felt on the date.

[milkypompon]

Chapter 1 | Midnight Musings

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, innuendo (thanks to Jake), poor shy and tired Marc who just needs his drink

wc: 1.2k

a/n: HELLO Moon Knight luvers!! I'm sweeping out this fic since I've had it around for some bit!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

—

Working the closing shift has its disadvantages… and occasional perks. 

People weave in and out of the café from the crack of dawn, then scurry away when the moon is at its highest. Rarely did they stay to settle down on the rickety chairs late into the night, ever so eager to drag themselves home after a long day.

You hardly remember the customers’ faces, usually down-turned with a sour look of annoyance on their phones who impatiently tap their shoe on the wooden floors. 

The man in front of you with waves of hair swept back to reveal his gruff demeanor, albeit a ruggedly handsome one, wasn’t any different from the others. Yet, you try to catch his eye as he sends a text. 

“You work the late hours like me?” You ask and crack a smile, immediately regretting it after realizing how wry it must’ve appeared from your exhaustion. 

He merely grunts in confirmation.

You clear your throat and idly tap your fingers on the granite countertop. “What can I get for you then?”

“Just a cup of coffee. Make it black.” He retrieves a leather wallet from his jacket pocket and pulls out a few quid in exchange for the kick of energy he desperately needs. 

“Your name?”

“Marc.” 

You whisper his name to yourself before reaching beside you to grab a paper cup and scrawling it on there.

Marc watches you catch your bottom lip between your teeth in fierce concentration as you doodle a smiley face next to his name. He wonders if you did this for every customer or if it was a way to keep yourself awake.

Before you made your last mark, you saw him through your peripheral vision staring at you intently. Usually, customers appreciate the little pick-me-up from the drawings you made. You inwardly wince for holding him up. “Sorry, you must be in a hurry”. You quickly cap the pink Sharpie and toss it into a small ceramic pot filled with other writing utensils. 

Marc notes how some were more appropriate or journaling, like the bright glitter pens, than for work. But it was well-loved all the same since it was nearly flatlining from use. 

“I’ll have it out for you in a minute.”

He shook his head, the black locks of curls bouncing slightly. “No rush, really.”

You situate yourself behind the coffee machine, tinkering with the buttons and opening the wrinkled bag of coffee beans. The warm scent permeates the air, even more so when the brown liquid dribbles into the cup. You quietly sigh in relief at the simplicity of the process. You’ve had a fair share of blended and iced drinks often brought back to the counter by unamused customers, claiming that it didn’t taste the same as last week even though there was a clear-cut recipe list plastered in front of your face when you made their orders. 

You carefully fiddle the cap over the cup and hand it to Marc with a tired smile. 

Marc felt your fingers brush along his. It was warm, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from the coffee. Regardless, he nodded in thanks and was soon swallowed by the darkness as he left to sip his coffee at nearly 1 a.m.

The London weather constantly nipped at his fingertips. 

He curses under his breath and shoved his free hand into his jacket pocket. He longed to settle back into his flat and curl up into layers of blankets, which was truthfully a sorry excuse for warmth because of the godawful heater he just couldn’t find the time to fix. His mind drifted to your touch, it was light, brief if anything. But it sparked a warmth that a blanket or a cup of coffee couldn’t quite satiate. 

A snarky voice filled his headspace, Fuckin’ touch starved.

Marc rolled his eyes. Shut your damn mouth, Lockley. 

He crosses the road, not bothering to look left or right, there’s only him, the moon, and some bloke smoking a dying cig by a closed convenience store. When he squints he saw Steven picking at the loose threads of his shirt in the window. 

Quite a looker with a pretty voice. 

Marc sighs in response, Not you too. 

He takes one last gulp at the bitter drink before raising it over the tin can filled with other rubbish. The streetlamp’s yellowish light caught your handiwork on the cup, his name with half a smiley face messily written with your pink Sharpie. He chuckled at the unfinished doodle, remembering how your eyes widened when you realized he was watching you closely. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Steven remarked.

Marc chuckles at his words.

–

It was another closing shift. 

You begrudgingly accepted it from your coworker who reminded you with a smirk that the pastries behind the glass was up for grabs the moment you flipped the “closed” sign by the window. Anyone with half a mind would have sticky hands for the chocolate croissant dusted with powdered sugar. Just the thought of warming it up in the oven toaster as you wipe the counters and stocked the shelves with mugs made you a little hungry. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be eating sweet treats considering the time, but said sweet treats were going straight into the rubbish-bin if you didn’t house them in your stomach. 

You happily hum a familiar tune you heard on the tube while sliding the glass door separating you and your beloved reward for the hard work.

A pleasant jingle of a bell rang over the front door abruptly ending your monotonous tasks.

You toss your head over your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re closed—” 

The same man (Marc, was it?) nods down in apology for entering after hours. He truly was a man of few words.

“Oh! It’s you. I was afraid you were a customer with a complicated drink coming in at the last second.” You dusted your fingers down the seams of your apron and beckoned him inside. “But, it’s the same as last night?”

Marc runs his fingers through the tufts of his curls, the strands wrapping around each finger. You wondered what it felt like. The thought in passing rises to the forefront of your mind. It left as quickly as it came when you hear him call your name after reading it across the embroidered stitching of your apron.

The corners of his mouth turn up in amusement, hardly an exchange for pleasantries, but it was more than what he’d given before. He slides a few quid on the counter. “Yeah, coffee. Black.” 

You pluck your pink Sharpie and begin to write his name on it. After a few quiet moments of gurgling from the machine, you hand the cup to him. 

He furrows his eyebrows.

You quip with a grin. “Did I manage to mess up the easiest order known to man?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You didn’t draw on it this time.”

You almost laugh but the serious crease on his face was a testament to his genuine disappointment. “Well it wouldn’t be very good service if I didn’t complete my job, eh?”

His eyes shift to the glass covering the pastries as if seeing something you couldn't. “You wanna talk about good service?” A playful lilt tugs at his voice, almost unfamiliar. 

Before you can respond, he mumbles a thank you and scurries out of the cafe. 

Did he just flirt? And… get embarrassed?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!