#jake lockley x reader fluff

[blue-sadie]

Flashing Light

Them comforting you during a storm

The bang and clap of thunder is what stirred him from his sleep but it didn't fully wake him what did was the small whimper that left you when a lightning hit close by causing the hall light to flicker.

He would wrap his arms around you pulling into your chest, he'd pull the blankets tightly around you as you held onto him with fear, his chest vibrating as he softly hummed your favorite song.

Your body would shake with each flicker and clap of lightning and he would tighten his hold on you and bringing you further into him if possible, his eyes staring into the darkness as he leaned his chin onto your head.

He wouldn't try to move to much he knows that he should just stay still and be there to comfort you, if the lightning got closer and louder he slowly move his hands to press them over your ears as he pressed his forehead to yours.

When the storm finally passed and your shaking figure finally calmed down he would stay awake for a few more hours coming up with a way he could sound proof the place or have something you could wear so it wouldn't bother you further.

Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen

[softieekayy]

Illicit Feelings

Marc spector x fem!reader.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: reader is 19 years old. Some questionable morals from Marc’s side. she can consent, not a toxic relationship, they know what they’re doing. Reader can consent. Marc is 37. Also reader is slight oc! She’s characterized with skin, eye and hair. She is implied to be desi.

Authors note: writing and posting this specific story has taken a lot out of me. It’s wrong morals and everything but please, do not hate and if you don’t like what you see then please scroll away. Leaving hate is unnecessary. I know that the age gap is controversial but I wrote this for myself and something that I’d like to share with you.

Cairo was a timeless city. Correction, Cairo will always be a timeless city with ancient temples buried under its sand dunes and secrets carried in the wind, there was nothing to not like about the Egyptian city. Marc Spector was not immune to the charm of Cairo, it’s where his life ended and began. It is also the city where Marc spector met the young woman that would alter his life forever, integrating herself so far into his life that everywhere Marc turned she was there.

Their meeting was odd, like anything in Marc’s life, she was sought out by Khonshu, the old bird claming that she would be of help in defeating Ammit. As the avatar of Anubis, she was helpful, with eyes that saw sharp and ears that could hear as well as a dog, she was exactly what Marc needed. Now, he would be okay with whatever this was if it weren’t for the fact that she was 19. Just barely starting her life and already a mercenary and an avatar. If anything, she was too much like Marc and perhaps that is exactly why he liked her so much.

Their first meeting was eventful, Marc had finally hunted her down after three weeks of searching and he was glad that this time she didn’t disappear on him like a ghost. He watched her from above, sat atop the building across her hotel room, eyes glowing as he donned his suit. Khonshu told Marc to beware of the young girl, claiming that she was just as dangerous as Anubis himself. Marc ignored the old bird, chalking it up to his dislike for the latter god but he wished he listened to him. Mac wished he kept his guard up a little bcause as soon as he saw her, he knew she was dangerous.

“Marc Spector, avatar of Khonshu, Moon Knight and former mercenary, what a pleasure to meet you.” She spoke, her lips turning up into a cat-like grin as she ran her tongue over her teeth. Her eyes through, that is what captivated Marc. Big brown doe eyes that peered into his own in a way that Marc thought she was judging his soul. She moved and Marc watched as she went from leaning on her dresser to walking to the mini kitchenette, he watched as she pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Even though he was watching her, his thoughts drifted to how the cropped tank top she wore was a little too tight and how the shorts showed off her legs and tanned skin, no doubt from being in the Cairo sun for too long.

“Blimey mate, you’ve just met her and are already thinking about her. Slow down a little, yeah.” Steven told Marc with an underlying tone of scolding and for a moment, just a brief moment, Marc suspected Steven was talking to himself too.

She watched him carefully, Anubis had told her that Marc would come find her and she was prepared. Everyone in the Ennead and their Avatars had brushed off Spector’s call for help, not Anubis though, no. He would help but only after a game of chase. To be honest, she was surprised that Marc found her only after three weeks of hunting but then again, they are both trained mercenaries and it was their job. Locating missing things for a price.

“You’re Anubis’ avatar?” Marc asked her, giving her a once over. Even though she is 19, her face held youth and innocence. She smiled at him, walking forward and handing him a glass of scotch, Marc accepted it from her before muttering a small thanks under his breath.

“You’d be right. I am the avatar of Anubis, his own personal hit woman and his Soul Sentinel. Guardian of souls, protector of the afterlife.” She grinned as she told the older man in front of her her duties. When Anubis told her that Khonshu’s avatar would come seeking her aid, the man in front of her is not what she expected. Marc Spector was beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than any of her past lovers. His tan skin gleamed under the mom light and curls laid loosely on his forehead from sweat. He was beautiful and she wasn’t immune to his beauty, no, she was attracted to him. Marc was also quite a bit older than her, she was 19 and there he was, probably in his late thirties.

Marc just stared at her for a second, not knowing what to say or do. The young girl in front of him took a seat on the chair and gestured for him to do the same.

“So, what is it that you need from me?” She asked Marc, the grin never leaving her face. Marc sighed, not wanting to drag the young girl into his mess. He was not good for her, even if she was an avatar like him, she was too young. Instead of being here, drinking scotch and sitting across from him.

“I need you to help me. Harrow is looking for Ammit’s tomb.” Marc tells her, his voice hardening at the mention of Harrow. (Y/n) of course picks up on this, tucking a stray piece of star behind her ear as she leaned forward slightly.

“Of course. What do you need me to do?” She asked him and Marc looked at her before Steven caught his attention in the silver tray.

“Mate, you sure it’s a good idea. I mean, she’s 19, a good bit younger than us yeah? Don’t you think Layla’s help would be enough?” Steven babbled on and Marc sighed, contemplating if he should ask the young girl to help.

“She’s our only chance Marc!” Khonshu’s voice boomed in his head as the god demanded he ask for her help. If Marc didn’t know any better, he’d think that Khonshu was pushing him to ask for her support on purpose, just to entrance her in his life.

“Marc, are you alright?” She asked, leaning forward to touch his hand. Marc looked at her, big doe eyes that stared back into his own. He sighed and nodded, pushing back into the chair, hoping that it would somehow open up and engulf him.

“I need your help to hunt down Harrow.” and kill his men. Marc thought. The brunette nodded, taking another sip of her scotch, letting it sit in her mouth before swallowing. Marc took in her appearance fully now. Long wavy black hair that cascaded down her back to her waist, tan skin sharp eyes, she was beautiful. Very beautiful. Her skin seemed to glow in the warm yellow light of her room, making her tan skin have a slight sparkle to it. Marc noticed the necklace she wore, a gold chain with an ankh, it sat high on her neck, almost like a choker but not nearly.

“Alright.”

Who knew one simple word could change so much in such little time.

“-arc! Marc, are you even listening to me?” Marc jerked his head towards (y/n) who was standing beside him, an exasperated look on her face and arms crossed over her chest.

“Sorry. What were you saying?” He grimaced, asking her as she sighed. Despite being young, she acted older than she was, then again, she did kill people for a living. Hitwoman for hire. Steven often wondered where Anubis found her and while Marc did too, he didn’t want to ask. He didn't want to know what hell she went through to work for the god of death.

“They only have one room, said we could take it for tonight and they’d clear something up in the mornin” she spoke, her slight accent popping through at the end of her sentence. Marc ran his hand down his face, muttering a small fuck under his breath.

“What are our other options.” He asked, looking at her, hoping she’d say that there is another hotel nearby they could stay at.

“Right now? It’s either this or the sand outside and as much as I like Cairo, I’m not fond of sand in my hair.” She says, tugging her baseball cap lower, covering her eyes. Nightfall had taken over Cairo a while ago and the night stars gleamed brightly.

“It’s fine, we’ll just take the one room.” (Y/n) grumbled as she let out a deep breath. Marc looked at her from his peripheral vision. Even though they’d been working together for 2 weeks, they had never shared a room and not once did Marc seek her out in the middle of the night, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay? I can take the car for tonight if you want the room.” Marc asked, following behind her as they both made their way to the elevator.

“Yeah Marc. We’re both adults, I don’t think sharing a room should put us off from each other.” She laughed and Marc swore it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, he wanted to drown in it.

Marc didn’t speak, he just let out what could be counted in as a small laugh. Despite spending time together, (y/n) had heard of Steven but she hadn’t met him yet. The rest of the ride up was silent apart from the stupid elevator music.

Their room was big, a whole area for couches and a tv and then the small kitchenette. This is the nicest room Marc has ever stayed in. It was big and spacious, very similar to a small, fancy flat.

“There’s one bed.” (Y/n) yelled from inside the room, not wasting any time exploring the room.

“Of course there is.” Marc stated, tiredness lacing his voice.

Marc entered the room only to see the duffel bag that (y/n) was carrying thrown carelessly on the floor along with her jacket and gun set on the dresser, she jumped on the bed, sighing in content.

“Marc, come lay next to me.” She beckoned him over with her hand, eyes closed as she tried to burrow herself deeper into the bed.

“I’ll take the couch, thanks.” Marc mummered, setting down his own bag next to hers.

“Maaarrccc. Don’t be fucking rude, come lay next to me, I don’t bite. Unless you want to.” She drawled, now propped up on one arm, the other calling him over. Marc looked at her and she just looked so appealing. Dark wavy hair sprawled invitingly on the bed and red lips pulled up in a lazy smile, her tank top rising up just a little, exposing a sliver of skin. He thought about it for a moment and it took him one moment before he trudged forward and sat down next to her on the bed.

“Happy?” He asked and she just nodded, Marc laughed, running his hand through his hair, curls loosened from the humid Cairo air. He turned his head slightly to look at the young woman next to him, her eyes still closed and in that moment alone, she looked the most content.

“Yeah.” She said, opening one eye to look up at Marc slightly before falling back down, arms flailing over her head.

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.” Marc said motioning to get up before a soft hand pulled him down. For being 5’3, she was stronger than she looked, then again, the power of Anubis flowed through her soul and body.

“Marc, we’re not 14. We can share a bed together not to mention the stab wound on your rib that’s still healing.” Marc cringed a little when she mentioned the wound, he’d hoped that he hid it well enough from her. Despite the suit being able to heal, the wound was a little too deep.

“Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I can take the couch.” The young girl told him, getting up and off the bag as she looked through her bag.

“What are you doing?” He asked and she looked up at him, smiling a little.

“Showering. Feel free to join me.” Marc could feel the warmth in his ears and cheeks, no doubt blushing at the young girl's comment. He watched her walk into the washroom, pulling her hair up into a bun as she did so.

Throughout the two weeks that he’s gotten to know (y/n), he came to understand that she was flirty, very flirty. She used her sex to charm into getting what she wanted and she was very comfortable with it. It was the least violent way to do things, however she never hesitated to bring out her gun or suit if needed. He also learned that she was never shy in spending the blood money she earned. Marc’s was hidden away in a storage locker in London, only taken out if he or Steven ever needed it. Her money though, she used it however she pleased, claiming that it was her work and her money. Marc won’t lie and say that her nonchalance to the mercenary business wasn’t scaring him a little because it did. She’s so young and already so sought after by so many, he worried for her. He didn’t have to, he knew that Anubis would never let anything happen to her but he still worried.

Getting lost in his own thoughts was easy and it didn’t help that he was laying in the most comfortable bed under yellow lighting with the sound of wind blowing as background noise. The sound of the door closing snapped him from his thoughts and Marc turned his head just a bit. (Y/n) had finished her shower, now wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, cheeks flushed from the heat of the hot shower she took.

“You okay, Marc?” She asked, coming to sit next to him, tentatively raising her hand to run it through his hair. Marc relaxed a bit, silently telling her it was okay and he almost groaned when she did so.

“Just lost in my thoughts. Gonna go shower now.” Marc told her, getting up to get his own clothes and headed towards the washroom.

“Seriously mate? You’re letting her run her hands through our hair now?” Steven asked from within the mirror.

“Steven, now is not the time.” Marc ignored Steven’s protests and hopped in the shower, lathering the jasmine scented soap onto his body.

The brunette sat outside as she listened to Anubis whisper in her ear. Long before Marc came tumbling into her life, she knew everything about him. She knew of his ex-wife Layla, his DID, Steven and Jake. She knew him but she didn’t really know him. The clock on the wall from across the bed glared 11:24 pm in bright red numbers and she sighed, deciding that it was time for bed now. The young girl had already chosen which side of the bed she’d sleep on and quickly made herself comfortable under the covers; it didn’t take long for her to doze off to sleep in the slightly chilled room under a warm linen blanket.

Marc stepped out of the washroom, a pair of sleep pants that without a doubt belonged to Steven and no shirt, he made his way over to the bed only to see a small head of black hair peeking from under the covers. Marc let out a small smile at the sight and moved over to his side of the bed, sitting down, making sure to not awake the sleeping girl. Marc pulled himself into bed, leaving an ample amount of space between the two of them. With the dark of the night, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep.

The morning Egyptian sun shone brightly into the room through orange curtains, hitting Steven right in the face and the man groaned, turning around to fall back asleep when he jerked up quickly. He scanned his surroundings before realizing that he was in the hotel room with a body laying next to his own.

“Marc? Marc!” Steven whispered for his head mate, not moving his eyes from the sleeping girl next to him and when she began to stir in her sleep, Steven panicked a bit more. He had no clue as to why Marc wasn’t fronting. Two weeks with her and Marc was the only one fronting until now. See now, it’s not that Steven didn’t like the girl, no, he was rather fond of her. The matter is that she scared him. It’s quite funny, a man almost in his forties being scared by a woman who hasn’t even hit 20 yet. She stirred awake, one hand came out from under her pillow as she patted Marc's side of the bed, when she couldn’t feel him there, she got up, pure panic in her eyes. And when her eyes landed on a skittish Steven, she relaxed.

“You must be Steven, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” And as soon as those words left her mouth, Steven was a goner. His head felt fuzzy and all he could think about was the sugary sweet voice with a honeyed smile.

“Are you okay?” She asked, getting up to check if Steven was alright and not having a panic attack.

“Hm. Oh yeah! Quite alright.” Steven explained in a frenzy as if he’d offended the younger woman.

“Where’s Marc? I have some hits I need to get done and he needs to be there with me.” The brunette told Steven as she made her way over to the dresser, pulling out a cotton tank top and some pants and head scarf, Steven gave her an awkward smile before his eyes rolled back into his head. Marc was fronting now with a hardened look on his face.

“What hits?” He asked, arms crossed in a defensive position.

“Some hits, nothing that will bother you but I still need you there, Anubis insists.” She told him without looking at him, too engrossed in the clothing as she walked to the washroom to change. Marc stood there with a frown etched deep into his face, not liking this.

2 hours later and they were roaming the streets of Cairo, the sun glaring down harshly on Marc’s golden skin, he looked at the girl beside him, dressed in a linen t shirt and some linen pants with a head scarf covering her hair, the gun and daggers she carried hidden easily in her lose clothes. Although they were out looking for two men with a stolen artifact that belonged to Anubis, she looked relaxed, almost serene.

“What are you staring at?” She asked, not looking up at Marc but rather examining a small ankh closely. Marc didn’t say anything, continuing to simply look at her.

“Marc, what is it?” This time turning around and looking up at him, her doe eyes peering into his own brown ones. For a moment, just a brief moment, Marc forgot who they were and where they were. The way she looked at him with so much care and concern made Marc want to melt directly into the ground, he didn’t deserve her kindness.

“Nothing. Are you gonna get that?” He gestured to the necklace she was looking at.

“No, why should I when I have the real one on my neck.” She told him, bringing out the ankh that Anubis had oh so kindly gifted her. Marc grinned at her smile and continued walking as she bid the salesman goodbye and followed behind Marc, hooking his arm in hers.

“What are we looking for?” Marc asked her, keeping an eye out for anyone who looked suspicious.

“Two men, they should be here trading items. We need a small gold esophagus, one that belonged to a pharaoh a long time ago.” She told him a small frown on her face. As a mercenary, she killed people who deserved it and she stole things that were already stolen, in some ways, she reminded Marc so much of Layla and maybe that’s why he’s stuck around for so long.

In a swift moment two hands grabbed the brunette from behind, effectively covering her mouth and a knife pointed at Marc’s back, ordering them to walk. A bag was put over their heads and while the two of them could fight off the men with ease, Anubis and (Y/n) told Marc and Khonshu to hold off. They weren’t in the van for long, she could tell it was less than 20 minutes and the scent of water and salt filled her nostrils.

“Well, well, well, it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it, little star.” She could recognize that condescending voice anywhere, afterall, it plagued her nightmares constantly. Her breath hitched, nothing noticeable but it didn’t go past Marc. He turned his head in her direction, even with the bag on, his focus was on her breathing, making sure that she’s alright. That nothing has happened to her.

“Tahir. It has been a while.” She greeted, her voice a double sword.

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to survive, especially not in the condition we’d left you in.” The man, Tahir, mocked her and Marc could hear him getting up and circling them, like a hawk.

“Yet I can see you’re still hunting for items. Killing people. You haven’t changed, have you now, little star?” The man continued and Marc’s blood boiled by the second, he aches to get out of these restraints.

“Not now Marc! Be patient.” Khonshu’s voice boomed in his head, ordering him to keep patient.

“I have changed, but I can still see that you haven’t. Still a coward, killing people with bags over their heads.” She reiterated and something in Marc told him that this conversation went beyond just stolen items and bounty hunts.

“Why do you want the esophagus, it’s no use to you.” Tahir asked.

“It’s more useful to me than it will ever be to you.” Marc could hear the smirk in her voice, with the way she was edging the man on. In a soft moment, the bags over their heads were taken off and Marc’s eyes began to adjust to the light, observing his surroundings and already counting possible escape routes. His eyes landed lastly on the brunette who was looking up at the man, blood running down from her nose as the smirk on her face never wavered.

“You conniving bitch. We should’ve killed you when we had the chance to.” Tahir told her and Marc swore he could steam coming out from his ears.

“Yet you didn’t. You’re a coward, like you’ve always been.” She sneered at him, teeth baring like a feral wolf.

“Yet we killed André. You quite liked him, did you not, little star?” Tahir smirked at her and she snapped at this moment. Brown eyes beginning to tint with red

“You piece of scum, good for nothing really. No wonder your mother didn’t love you.” Marc choked on his spit at the last sentence, but then again, she was being fair.

“Now Marc!” Khonshu told him, his staff lightly hitting his back. Marc took his signal and broke free from the restraints, calling on his suit. The white bandages begin to cover every inch of his body just as (y/n) called upon her own suit. Black bandages with a gold trim began to cover her arms, and calves as loose black pants with the same gold trim formed, the chest plate made from gold and decorated with Anubis’s symbols and stones. All in all, she looked like Anubis, a female version of his that roamed the earth.

“You’ve really fucked up now, Tahir. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? How long I’ve waited for this moment.” She asked, an Estoc in her hand as she pointed it to his neck, teeth baring, ready to rip his throat out. Marc pulled the half crescent from his chest, taking care of the other men while she focused on the one.

“You’re a monster.” Tahir spit out and the girl only smiled.

“I may be a monster but at least I’m not afraid to admit it.” She growled at him.

The dark haired man stood up, lunging at her as she dodged it. He lunged again but this she had him pinned to a wall, face smushed up against the concrete as she banged his head into it a couple of times.

“When will you realize that you’re not leaving here alive, hm?” She whispered in his ear, choking him, inching him closer to death.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, for everything I put you through. You were a child.” Tahir babbled incoherently but she didn’t care for his apologies, what was done was done, now all she wanted was revenge. For her and for André. In a swift moment, he was let go and before he could take a breath, her sword impaled him, from his jaw to his brain. The body drops dread on the ground and nothing but silence surrounds them.

And before Marc knows it, she’s on the ground, sobbing her heart out, clutching her chest.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay!” Marc asks, dropping down on the ground next to her as she continues to sob, clutching over her heart as if it hurts.

“It hurts Marc, it hurts so much.” She told him, barely wheezing and for a moment, Marc thought that she’d been hit. In the moment, he realized the pain was emotional, pain from killing Tahir, from the reminder of her friend or lover or whoever André was to her. There was nothing Marc could do, simply taking the younger girl in his arms and consoling her as she cried her heart out into his chest.

“Marc, Marc! Give me the body.” Steven demanded the man and Marc complied, clearly Steven was better suited for this than he was.

“Hey there lovey, how are you feeling?” Steven asked, still caressing her gently.

“Do you know he was the first person ever loved?”(y/n) told Steven, pulling herself off from his chest and wiping her tears away as she smiled a watery smile.

Steven didn’t say anything, only letting her speak.

“He was the stars and my universe and I loved him so much. He was so beautiful, you know. The type whose eyes would glimmer when he spoke about something he liked, the way he would just immerse himself into something he loved. I loved seeing him do that. He was so perfect and I loved him so much. From the first time I saw him, my old heart was his, yet I never told him how much I loved him.” She told Steven, a small sparkle in her eyes as she remembered her past love.

“Oh love, I’m so so sorry.” Steven said, his hand resting on top of hers.

“Unfortunately, he died in the worst way possible. Got a death that no one deserved. It was a hit with Tahir, he said it would be an in and out job, and it was. I was perched on the building across, sniping people in the other building, giving my team the go ahead. When we were done, we were on our way home when he stopped at a temple. I realized later that it was Anubis’s temple. He bagged André over the head and shot him, point blank execution style. The way I kill people. I was tossed out after being shot in the stomach, left for the dead, beside the body of my lover. 18 years old and dying alone, I thought that’s what I deserved, after everything I’ve done. In my dying moment, Anubis came to me, asking me to be his avatar, his soul keeper and tamer of the underworld. I agreed, I was desperate and this gave me a reason to live.” Steven was in tears by the end of her story, so young to have lived a life not meant for her. Steven was forcefully shoved back when Marc fronted.

“Oh baby.” He said as he pulled the girl into his chest, tugging her close, as if he was trying to shove her into his chest, keep her protected.

She got up, pushing Marc away as she wiped away the fallen tears and sighed.

“What’s happened has happened and we cannot change that.” She told him, her armour going back to her old clothes.

“We can mourn.” Marc told her.

“I’ve mourned enough.” She replied, tugging her head scarf back in place as she extended a hand towards Marc who accepted it greatly. Her hand was soft and warm, like a blanket.

“Let’s go home.” She said and Marc agreed, hooking her arm in his, they began walking home, but not before getting some food. The fight took the most out of them and by the time they reached the hotel they called home, it was nightfall.

(Y/n) had showered and washed the day off her body and Marc did the same. His eyes followed her movement, watching as she sat on the balcony of their room, watching the moon and stars as he drank, sitting on the floor, back against the bed.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough.” She teased, walking into the room, wearing those tiny fucking shorts and cotton tank top. Marc couldn’t stop looking at her legs, the tan skin of her thoughts was inviting him to touch them. She sat down next to him, taking the bottle from his hands as she drank a generous amount.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked her, referring to the day and her breakdown.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve come to terms that he’s gone. I’ve let myself heal.” She told Marc, looking at him and smiling a little and putting her head on Marc’s shoulder. They say like that for a while, drinking out of the bottle and speaking of nothing. Small quips and laughs shared in the middle of the night. This moment that they shared, it was intimate. It was meant for them and them only.

Marc didn’t know what time it was when they fell asleep talking on the floor but he knew that it was far too early to be awake. He looked at the sleeping girl on his chest, cheek smushed up against him as she slept soundly, not wanting to awake her, he sat there in silence, eventually drifting back to sleep.

The second time Marc woke up, he was alone with the smell of pancakes and eggs filling his nose.

“Oh Marc! You’re awake, good. I was ready to get you.” She told him, a positive glow on her face as she smiled.

“I’ve made breakfast so why don’t you get up and brush your teeth. I’ll make some coffee, yeah?” Marc nodded at her offer before pulling himself up. He could feel the aftermath of falling asleep on the floor, a telltale sign that he was getting old.

Breakfast was chatty, she told him about her favorite places and things and he listened, feeding in the information as he told her his favourite things. Steven pitched in too, ranting about Egyptology to her as she listened intently, all wide eyed and curious. While she knew the things like the back of her hand, Steven added a deeper level of knowledge to it.

Their days merged together as they spent every waking moment drowning in each other's presence. Holding her hand in his bigger one as they walked through the Cairo market or at home as she slept on top of his chest. Marc didn’t know when their relationship became more, he didn’t want to know. Sometimes he felt guilty for being in love with a girl so young. She was 19 yes, just days from turning 20. Yet she was more than a decade younger, nearly two decades younger.

“You’re staring again.” She told him, bringing him back to reality. Marc looked at her, sitting across from him, black hair flying in the breeze lightly and red lips curled up as she took a sip from her lemonade.

“Was I?” He asked, being cheeky.

“Yeah, wanna share with the class about what was on your mind.” She said, leaning forward just a bit, the sun hitting her ankh necklace and making her skin glow in the sunlight.

“I’d prefer not to.” Marc told her, replicating her movement and leaned forward.

“You’re not fun.” She sighed, crossing her arms up on her chest. Marc laughed at the pout on her face and she did too.

“We should head home.” This time, home was an apartment in the outskirts of Cairo. In a quaint little area with little noise. It’d been two months since the whole ordeal and 3 since she’d met Marc. The two teetering the line between friends and something more. The apartment, it was their safe haven. Steven’s books strewn across the shelves and floor, Marc’s clothes hanging off the back of chairs and her makeup scattered in the bathroom and dresser. It was theirs, littered with their things and touches. It was home. Anika, a black feline that they’d adopted, slept on top of Marc’s head in the bed and Gus II and III swam happily in their tank.

Egypt was home now. It was home with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, with the sun shining down, with the girl that they lived with. Their home was home. Steven working as a tour guide in a museum and (y/n) working as a mercenary, Marc taking the odd job here and there, it was normality. Of course, they were still on Harrow’s tail, inching closer to stopping him from unleashing ammit. The feelings between the two though, that was left unsaid. They both felt it, the burning desire that lit a fire deep inside them, the aching for one another. Although one fate filled night changed the course of their life.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Marc yelled at her, arms thrown up in the air, dressed in his suit and her in her own. Marc and her and found some of Harrow’s men in a nearby excavation site, causing chaos and making their way there. Effectively stopping the men from doing too much damage.

“I was thinking about you! That could’ve hit you Marc!” She yelled back, jaw clenched and arms crossed over her chest.

“You could’ve been injured!” He yelled at her, anger and worry lacing his voice. He inched closer to her until her back hit the temple wall, his face inches from her.

“Hm? You didn’t answer me?” She could feel his breath mix in with her own, their noses almost bumping.

“I was thinking about you. Saving you.” She said and as soon as those words left her mouth, Marc’s lips were on hers. Hard and passionate, just like him. She reciprocated the kiss with just as much passion, her hand shaking around his neck, tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. Marc was the first one to pull back, touching his head against hers exhaling in relief.

“What was that hm?” She giggled, her hands still in Marc’s hair and he let out a small laugh too.

“That is what I’ve been meaning to do for a while.” Marc tells her, nipping small kisses on her jaw.

“I’m kind of upset you didn’t do it before. Are you telling me we could’ve been doing that the entire time?” She asked, bringing Marc’s head up to her eye vision. Marc started at her and pulled back.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked her, standing up straight in proper military fashion.

“I’ve been sure since I saw you.” She told Marc, holding his hand gently.

“I’m 18 years older than you.” Marc deadpanned and she laughed.

“Older then better.” She shrugged and Marc kissed her again, like he wanted to imprint this moment into his brain.

“Okay.” He said, nose touching her own and foreheads touching.

“Okay.” She hums, kissing Marc softly before pulling back and walking out, pulling Marc with her.

Marc never thanked Khonshu for anything, but he did thank him for forcing him to work with (Y/n). He will forever thank Khonshu for letting him meet the girl who forever changed his destiny, the girl who makes his heart burst at the seams with a simple smile. He is forever grateful for her.

Tagging: @jake-g-lockley @shawty-writes-a-little @stuckinaf4nfiction

[theshamelesssimp]

Me when I get to the part of a fanfic that has me giggling and kicking my feet

[lockleysfav]

My Little Flower

Miguel O’Hara x AFAB virgin!Reader

summary: You had just met the spider society and Miguel a few days ago, You and Miguel had been quite chatty with eachother for a while before be was called out to a mission. A few hours later when you’re asleep in the lab, a high Miguel stumbles in.

warnings: NSFW, sex pollen, drugged Miguel, loss of virginity, rough sex, non con, somnophilia, creampie, reader soon loves it.

A/N: From the last post, the poll, i will be doing the top 3 voted smut ideas. If you want to be in a taglist just comment on this post ❤️. Enjoy!!

To say you were tired was an understatement, you had been working on your new costume a few minutes after Miguel was called out to a mission. It was lonely sometimes without him despite the hundreds of spider people around. You knew that you and Miguel were a little closer than others, and his company had always lightened your mood.

You begged him to let you come with him on this mission but he immediately shut you down, rushing off after telling you it’s too dangerous, plus, your suit isnt finished. It was whatever, you scoffed and sat back down to carry on with the designs. “Asshole” you muttered to yourself, mimicking his facial expressions only to make yourself laugh but once you calmed down and looked to the clock and saw it was 10:34pm, you decided to work a little on your laptop in miguels chair (he had the comfiest chair of course).

The door and slammed wide open and yet you didnt flinch for a second, Miguel stumbled in onto his knees, panting and clawing at his neck “fuck what is this” he heaved as he continued to squirm. His fangs had retracted and he felt his body growing warmer and warmer at a certain smell, he didnt realise that smell was you until he forced himself up onto his feet and saw you asleep in his chair, your body hunched over on the desk with your laptop still open, the white light lighting up your face. Miguel almost purred at the sight of you drooling on his desk.

“te necesito” he muttered breathlessly before scrunching up his face in frustration. He couldnt do that to you? right? You were new, still young. You’d hate him but god he couldnt stop his legs from moving towards you. He growled and so desperately tried to hold himself back, his cock straining against his suit.

You were whining ever so slightly in your sleep, Miguel wasnt aware if you were having a nightmare but its what he assumed and it only drove him even crazier “poor bebita” he whispered as he ran his long fingers through your hair before letting the bottom half of his suit fade away, his cock resting against your cheek. His tip was almost gushing with precum, he gripped the back of your hair and growled before pushing the tip into your drooling mouth “oh fuck, thats it good girl” he whimpered as his body grew hotter, his hips suddenly bucking harder into your mouth. Your head twitched and pulled back a little but Miguel gripped your hair tighter holding you in place “im sorry bebita im so sorr- f-fuck” his dick hit the back of your throat and he doubled over emptying his cum on your tongue.

He pulled out panting, he stared down at you expecting you to jolt awake but you were still fast asleep. You were more of a deep sleeper than he thought. Initially he thought he was okay, but the sight of his warm cum dribbling out of your mouth only hardened his cock again. He didnt waste another second, he lifted you up from the desk, the cum from his mouth smearing onto his shoulder causing him to groan. He carried you to his bed and layed you on your stomach, your feet dangling off the edge of the bed. He pulled down your leggings along with your socks and shirt, you stirred for a moment and Miguel stopped, looking at your face until it relaxed again “so good for me, you love it dont you? you want me just as much as i want you” his eyes had turned a deep red, he felt feral.

He straddled your thighs and ran his fingers down your spine before gripping your ass cheeks tight, putting his weight down and spreading you wide open, your puffy pussy exposed to him. He heaved again, saliva spitting from his mouth before spitting directly onto your pussy. This time, you jolted.

“M-Miguel?” you lifted your head realising it was planted down on soft sheets. You feel a pair of large hands on your ass and you quickly realised the situation, the head of his cock pressed against your hole and you immediately thrashed against him to get away “no no! stay!” Miguel had tears in his eyes he was so desperate. He grabbed your arms and pinned them behind your back. “Miguel stop! Im a virgin please please dont do this” you were almost sobbing and Miguel let go of your hands.

“Virgin?” he asked as he looked down again, spreading your pussy lips before looking at the back of your head. “I wont…i wont hurt you okay? please bebita” he leaned down, his body weight completely pinning you down as he kissed behind your ear. “need you so bad, just don’t fight it and it wont hurt i promise” you were panting and whining, you were so scared but also full of adrenaline. You were crushing on Miguel the minute you laid eyes on him. But you were just scared.

Miguel nipped your earlobe making you yelp, he growled and sat back up on his knees, he let you have control over your arms as he started rubbing his thick tip along your slit. He used his thighs to pin your legs together, making sure you wouldnt be able to squirm so much. He pushed in a little and sighed in relief at your loud whining “it hurts! miguel w-wait” but he didnt, he forced himself deeper and deeper, he knew it wouldve been easier for you if his dick was any smaller. He felt guilty in his gut as he continued and struggled to force his cock all the way inside you “shh relax, take me all in baby come on” he pulled back before pushing in again and this time your pussy opened up for him, letting him slide right in making you cry out loudly “miguel!” you were frantic, trying to get away from the pain but Miguel only held you in place, hushing you and kissing your shoulder as he refused to stop his movements.

“Shh it’s alright, dont be scared it’s over j…just stay still and oh- everything will be fine!” he stuttered as sweat dripped from his face. His gut was burning with desire and he couldnt stop, he so desperately wanted to pull out and hold you, tell you hes sorry but he couldn’t.

Miguel had shown a little mercy by flipping you onto your back and spreading your legs before slipping his hands behind your knees and pinning your legs to your chest, folding you together. He saw the fear in your face when you looked down at the size of him “no dont look mi amor, look at me thats it…you’re okay this is gonna feel so good trust me” you shook your head but he only nodded his before sliding his dick back into your pussy. You gasped and pressed your palm’s against his chest a poor attempt to keep him from going any further, he moaned and only slid deeper, hitting your cervix. “too deep” you told him shakily and he ignored you, lifting your legs higher onto his shoulders and pounding into you “fuck you’re so tight, leaking everywhere you little slut you love it, stop being so fucking dramatic and take it” the moment he said this, he slammed against your g-spot and your eyes rolled back “o-oh my god” you bucked your hips up and he smiled against your neck “good girl there we go…” he pulled away to look at you, taking in your beautiful features while pounding you.

You were moaning at each thrust, it was music to Miguels ears and as soon as you started panicking, unknown to what was coming he almost exploded. “mmm fuck dont fight it, let it happen bebita come on let it all out” his encouragement had you crying, your pussy squeezing his cock as you came, making it difficult for him to keep thrusting but it didnt matter, he grabbed your throat tightly and kissed you, pushing his tongue deep in your mouth as he rammed his warm sticky cum into your womb.

Miguel laid his head on your chest, he felt a weight lift off him and he came back to his senses when he heard you crying. He immediately shot up and looked down at you with a frown “oh no…oh im so sorry i..i didnt..i dont know what to say” he cupped your cheeks desperate to hear you say something.

You shook your head in his hands “please dont leave” Miguel was stunned for a moment at your plea, your body was shaking and his heart broke “hey..hey look at me im not going anywhere” he looked into your reddening eyes “im not going anywhere…im so sorry this wasnt how i wanted this to go” he sighed and laid his head back onto your chest “i was hit with some powder i dont know what came over me when i saw you, please babygirl believe me when i say i didnt wanna hurt you i-i never want to hurt you” you were looking up at him, smiling weakly “it’s okay Miguel..i understand” you nuzzle into him and he clung to you tightly “i wont let anyone hurt you..you’re mine” he was gentle with words, it almost felt normal.

You really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💕

likes and reposts are so appreciated <3

[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.

[wysteria-clad]

sweetly & softly.

pairing: moon boys x fem! reader; established relationship

a/n: a drabble or whatever this is considered as of some of the ways the moon boys show their love for you. sweet little things ♡

genre: fluff, slice of life, sappy/cheesy stuff.

warnings: none

-------

♡ Steven has a pinterest board multiple boards actually dedicated to you. Anything that reminds him of you, he pins it to the board titled 'My Love.' So simple, yet so sweet.

Occasionally Jake adds a couple of pins too, it ranges from a very specific absolutely ridiculous meme picture, to a picture of a beautiful sunset or a random yellow flower.

You absolutely melted when you found out about it. The board is messy, but super sweet and it captures how your beloveds see you.

♡ Jake memorized your favourite food and drink orders wherever you go. He remembers every single detail. If you hate something, he will causally remove it from your plate. If you love something, he will quietly add more to your plate from his.

♡ Marc is not usually good with his words. He is a man of action, and *so* good with his hands. He massages your feet without you having to ask or mention it. He reads your tells, he *knows* when you are tired, you don't even have to say anything. He reads your micro facial expressions and movements—a little frown on your lips, eyebrows narrowing, a tired smile, mischievous glint, Marc has a masters degree on it.

When you plop down on the couch or bed tiredly, he pulls your legs and places them on his lap and massages your legs and feet. His hard, calloused hands are ever so gentle with your feet. And then he kisses your toes tenderly, making you giggle and smile, "Stop it, that tickles!" You shouldn't have said that, it encourages him to do it more, leaving you in a fit of giggles and laughter.

♡ That time when Steven made a little care package for you when you had to leave and stay away from them for two weeks—your favourite snacks, copies of your two favourite books, scented candles. He also added handwritten love notes for each day from all three of them, and couple of their shirts sprayed with their perfume. This man goes above and beyond from you <3

Urgh. All three of them adore you, bestie <3

[jks1uv]

𝑌𝑜𝑢 & 𝐼 (𝑝𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 & 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑗𝑎𝑘𝑒) ; all 3 moon boys | 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 machines, 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 men 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.

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.

[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.”

[pimosworld]

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”

Jake -he has a name

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better

[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

[ryniswright]

ᯓ★ THE MOON BOYS AFTER AN ARGUMENT WITH THEIR PARTNER

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

(soft headcanons) (giving and receiving care)

| g!n reader | sfw | steven grant | marc spector | jake lockley |



STEVEN GRANT

✶⋆.˚ Steven isn’t the type to start arguments; he will almost always discuss things openly enough to avoid them. Although, when you do argue it’ll usually be from misinterpretations you’ll only laugh about together after. Like you doing something different that he takes as a sign of ill intent. Or him doing something that you feel is abandonment. None of the threats you’d perceive between each other would be true.

✶⋆.˚ Throughout the argument he would make sure to gently reassure you. He’d sprinkle in “I love you’s” and “we’re getting through this” to make sure you feel safe. He knows that you take things hard and wouldn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t love you. Even when he’s frustrated with you.

‎✶⋆.˚ He would definitely want to cuddle after an argument and he’d try to bury himself into you while you stroke his hair. You’d do a lot of reassuring him, making sure he knows that you don’t hate him just because you two had a disagreement. He is brave, but he trusts you enough to show this kind of vulnerability. “So you’re sure you don’t hate me?” He’d ask while practically sitting in your lap with your hands running through his hair.

✶⋆.˚ He never wants to see you upset. So knowing that he upset you, even when you upset him too, would be devastating. He’d do everything he can to make it up for you, then when you tell him he doesn’t have to he’d do things sneakily. You’d wake up to a clean kitchen and a packed lunch that he claims was a “spontaneous decision.”

MARC SPECTOR

✶⋆.˚ Marc suppresses a lot of emotions. He’s working on it, for you, but there would be points where things he failed to bring up boil over and cause him to start arguments. The ones he starts himself would typically be because he’s worried about you, jealous, or self destructing.

✶⋆.˚ You’d always know when he’s trying to self-destruct. You’d know he’s only attempting to hurt you because he feels that that’s who he is. It would often be in an effort to “show you his true colors” or “harm you before you can harm him.” You’d listen and gently reassure him the entire time he masks his fear with anger because you know his real true colors. On the inside he is a lover boy with a heart of gold.

✶⋆.˚ Arguments are very triggering for him because of his childhood. He wouldn’t say or show it to you, of course, but you’d see the way that he shakes a bit even when you’re having regular disagreements. He’d probably try to distance himself from you while arguing because he feels like he’s only harming you. You’d always find him and reassure him, even when he’s still pissed. “Marc I will always love you even when we’re frustrated with each other.”

✶⋆.˚ He’d eventually come back to you and silently initiate physical contact. He’d massage your hands and gently kiss them, like an apology from him and an acceptance of yours all in one. It’s hard for him not to distance himself, so this contact is a big deal for him and something he can only do with someone he truly trusts and loves. “I’m sorry” he’d eventually say verbally. “I’m sorry too.” and he’d take you into his arms.

damn i made him bpd coded

JAKE LOCKLEY

✶⋆.˚ Yes, Jake is an intense person, but he would never pick petty fights with someone he loves as much as you. Play fights are excluded from this of course, he’d love to tease you, but real fights would almost always be rooted in fear about your wellbeing. He wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t feel you were safe or taking proper care of yourself. So, he tends to get pushy with those things.

✶⋆.˚ The second you communicate an issue you’re having or a boundary you need he’d immediately apologize and fix it. He’d make sure that he’s respecting you and giving you all of the admiration that you deserve. Afterall, you are his love. You mean the world to him and slight changes are nothing if they make you more comfortable.

✶⋆.˚ After arguments he would go over the top with apologies. He’d constantly say things like “Lo siento, mi vida” and “let me make it up to you, mi querido.” (even after you’ve assured him a hundred times that he has nothing to make up to you). He’d massage you, bring you drinks, and dote on you for the rest of the day. He can’t bear to see the love of his life hurt and he loves doing acts of service for you. You’d tell him he doesn’t need to do all of this, but it would only strengthen his resolve.

✶⋆.˚ Just like when he’s excited, when he gets really angry he starts slipping into Spanish more and more. Even mid argument you love hearing him in his native language. You’d pick up on the broad strokes of what he’s saying from your studying- you’re learning for him, of course. It’s the least you can do for someone who means the world to you.

[eyelessfaces]

pov: you're dating firefighter poe dameron<3

check this if you're interested in reading this<3

[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

[brokebonewritings]

The Moon’s Petal

Steven Grant x Fem! Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Falling in Love, Regency Era

Summary: The most interesting match of the season has caught the eye of the ton. The story of Steven Grant falling in love with the Diamond of the Season.

Word Count: 8.2K

A/N: You may notice of shift in writing styles in this piece and it's because I initially wrote this almost 3 years ago haha this is just a warning for that. Also, I think this might be my longest piece to date...I hope you all enjoy! xx

Navigation | Masterlist

Dearest Readers,

Even my most dedicated readers will know that this author is prompt to deliver the latest news of society. For those wondering what is in store for this edition, I have the most delightful surprise for you.

Mr. Grant has finally sparked a conversation with several ladies of the ton. One, in which this author believes would be a most auspicious match, was none other than the Diamond of the Season. Although this gentleman has failed to spark any sort of conversation in the past, the laughter heard from the crowd was a delight to any matchmaking mama.

This author wonders if this social season will be much different for the gentleman. One can only assume that Mr. Steven Grant has had a change of mind, and is finally in need of companionship. For now, I shall watch closely to see if any relationship shall develop between this gentleman and one of our most beautiful ladies.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

30 March 1815

“My God,” Steven gawked as he read the rest of the paper. He was never one for such gossip, however this edition made the man more interested than most. It seemed that one conversation had sparked so much gossip between the ladies of the ton.

Looking over at his reflection, he sees Marc shake his head.

You’re an absolute idiot for reading that shit. He could hear Marc say. 

“Well I think it is absolutely interesting how we could be the spark of any sort of scandal.” Steven quipped back.

Scandal? Talking to a lady is hardly a scandal. How about when they find out there are three of us in one body. Marc’s comment made Steven sit back in his chair. He never considered having to actually tell someone of their predicament. Not even the most lovely lady he met at the ball the night before.

Her eyes dazzled as he spoke to her about his travels, and his silly nonsense. When she had finally asked him to dance, he happily gave her his arm. Though, their walk through the garden that same evening ended with hushed goodbyes.

Steven dazed about the rest of the day, wondering if he would ever see his lady again. As interested as he was in her, he never quite asked for her name. A mistake he regretted instantly.

Only a few blocks down, you sat in your drawing room with your family and chatted happily about the night before. Your mama seemed most pleased with the amount of calls you were receiving. However, there was one you wanted most of all.

“Darling, you mustn’t stare off like that. It could be seen as impolite.” Your mother stated as she took another sip of her tea.

“Yes, mama.” You replied, though you couldn't help but wonder if that was something he would find impolite. Even as the both of you spoke the prior evening he often stared into the night sky as if he was in a trance.

You could never forget it though, surely he would find you at the next event, and surely he would be the one to ask you to dance. Of course it was never a guarantee, but the feeling in your stomach told you otherwise.

Continuing on with your day, you attended to the gentlemen calls that intrigued your mother. Most of these men just spoke of their interests and what they would want to see in you. This bored you to death. Of course you were a fantastic listener, but it was feeling just a bit tedious at this point.

Toward midday, when there were no more calls, you made your way to the center of town to enjoy the sights of the people passing by. You were escorted by your family, however it was nice to get some fresh air. You often brought your notebook to study other people’s characteristics. Knowing every sort by name.

While strolling with your family, you notice a man on the other side of the street walking briskly. It wasn’t that you were intentionally staring, but you were a bit curious at the hurried behavior of this gentleman. At closer glance you notice it was him. The man you had been swooning and dreaming about the night before.

As he disappears into a small shop, you tug at your father’s sleeve.

“Papa, What is that shop over there?” You ask, with the motive of manipulating your father to go inside and see. He turns his head in the direction you are pointing and chuckles a bit.

“My darling, that is just a stationary shop. I believe it had just opened up about a week ago. Are you in need of new quills?” He asked.

You nod your head when, in fact, you do not need any more stationary items. All you wanted was to see and perhaps speak to the man you strolled with the night before. Your father tasked your oldest brother to escort you into the shop. 

Marc hurried into the shop, checking his whereabouts before stepping inside. They had just received word earlier that day that a special visitor would be arriving later that week. Not that his parents were that special of visitors, it was just that he hated having to share his home with others. Even if it was for an afternoon.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears the bells on the door chime. Usually he’s not too curious about who comes in and out, but something compelled him to look around the stand he was staring at. A gentleman and a young woman step inside the shop. He knew the man, but he couldn’t quite remember where he saw the woman.

Turning his head, he catches a glimpse of Steven in the glass. He’s gawking at her in awe. Oh shit. 

“Steven, is that the girl from last night?” Marc said quietly.

She’s a Benette?

Marc looks back quickly to confirm she was indeed standing with Lord Howard Benette, the oldest son of the Benette family.

“What’s the big problem? You’ve hunted with Howard multiple times.”

Yes, but…  I didn’t know that was his sister

“I’m gonna go talk to him” Marc said, quickly turning his attention towards the man and his supposed sister. Steven did have a point. He danced with the girl all night anyways. There should be no problem talking him up to the brother. 

The two were looking at quills when Marc approached them, the girl seemed surprised but the man was delighted to see the other gentleman.

“Mr. Grant! How delightful to see you. What are you doing here in town?” Howard shook his hand as Marc tried to collect his thoughts.

“I could ask you the same, Benette. It’s not everyday you see the Lord walking around.” Marc tried to mimic Steven’s accent, but it was not very good.

“Yes, well, a family outing is long overdue. Speaking of, Mr. Grant, please meet my sister, y/n.” He brings his attention to the girl standing on his side. When Marc looks over he notices you staring at him with the most wonderstruck eyes.

“Good Afternoon Miss Benette.” Marc smiles softly at you, taking a small bow. You giggle and nod back at him.

“Hello Mr. Grant. Lovely to make your acquaintance.” As you spoke, Marc realized what Steven had seen in you. Why he had fallen head over heels. You really were a lovely sight to behold. Your skin looked soft, your hair was long and pinned up in curls, and you had the sweetest smile.

I know what you’re thinking, and I will accept an apology later. 

This comment made Marc smirk. There were times he wished he couldn’t hear Steven (Or Jake for that matter) rambling in their head.

“Lord Benette, I do believe I met your sister last night at the ball. I must insist on a call tomorrow.” Marc said with a smile on his face.

Wait. What? He heard Steven scream in his head. He did exactly what he knew Steven wouldn’t, and now the other had to deal with that.

“Oh that would be a wonderful thing, don’t you agree?” Howard turned his attention towards you and Marc saw the smile spread across your face widen.

“That sounds like a wonderful time. I look forward to your call, Mr. Grant.” With that last comment, you turned and walked out the store. Howard said his goodbye and followed behind you. 

A warning would have been nice, yeah? Steven grunted

Marc rushed to buy the stationary he needed and left the store. He couldn’t help giving Steven that small nudge. He needed it anyway. Hopefully, Steven doesn’t fuck it up this time.

Dearest Readers,

It has come to my attention that a flame has been set ablaze. Mister Steven Grant may have begun his courtship with our beloved diamond! How exhilarating this romance must seem, however to the other suitors this will be a very sad moment. It seems that this match, in which I predicted to be the very best, has been the gossip of almost every household of the ton. May we be seeing the bloom of a beautiful proposal, or the raging of a fire that will be sadly blown out by a storm? The answer, dear reader, may surprise you. My watchful eye has been and will always be trained to spot each rise and downfall. That being said, I will continue to watch this romance and update you with the latest thread.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

1 April, 1815

“Ugh, that woman makes me want to tear my hair out!” You hear your mother say as she sets the paper on the table in front of her.

“What do you mean, Mama?” You hear your older sister say. Looking up from your tea you see your mother waving the paper around.

“This Whistledown woman is exasperating! She either loves this match or she doesn’t! She must make up her mind.” Hearing this comment makes you stand up immediately. Doing so makes everyone in the room turn in your direction.

“I- I must be getting ready. I do believe Mr. Grant said he would call on me around noon.” You turn and leave the room. Once you turned the corner of the hall, you backed against the wall taking a deep breath.

You couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. All thanks to your brother officially introducing him to you. The butterflies you felt in your stomach were very much real. However, you could only hope that he would court you properly.

Making it to your room finally, your lady maid, Emma, helped you pick out a very pretty lavender dress. Your hair was done in curls and pinned up to the latest fashion. When you were fully ready, you had to do the hardest thing of all. Wait.

Not that you were an impatient girl, you were just too excited for Mr. Grant to call on you. Dancing with him at the Masquerade had been the highlight of your evening, and you didn’t want to dance with anyone else after.

You walked back down to the parlor room to show your mother the dress you and Emma had picked out for the gentleman’s call. She looked absolutely delighted when you did a full turn.

“Oh blessed, You truly are the Diamond of the Season.” She raved. “Look how beautiful you are.”

“I truly cannot wait another minute, mama.” You said.

“Patience, my dear, He shall be here soon.” She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Your brother shall also be here any minute to chaperone you both.”

You blushed lightly, the rose dusting on your cheeks only enhanced this. This was actually about to happen. You really couldn’t believe it. Sitting down, you waited quietly until your brother came and gave you a talk of what was about to happen.

On the other side of town, Steven paced his office in nervousness. He had never courted a woman before, let alone talked to the most beautiful person he has seen in his life. 

Would you stop with the pacing for five minutes? It was Marc, and he sounded very annoyed.

“I just don’t think I can do this” He quivered. “Why did you get me into this mess?” 

Because you need to find a wife before we die alone. Marc spat. Or would you rather we never find love?

Steven shook his head. Of course he didn’t want to die alone, without any kids or family of his own.

“What if she doesn’t take the news of all of us well though?” Steven looked in the mirror. He could see Marc’s reflection looking back at him. It wasn’t his usual hard look. Steven could tell he was deep in thought.

He took a look at the golden plate sitting on the shelf and saw Jake staring back at him.

How about we take turns courting her? Jake stated. This made Steven perk up a bit. That could actually work, and Jake never really stepped in unless both he and Marc were having trouble with their thoughts.

Looking back at the plate, Steven saw Marc shrug and nod his head.

“Yeah alright, then, that sounds like it could actually work!” Steven said excitedly. “I could go first and Marc could give it a go, and Jake can if he really feels like it!”

Steven. The time. Marc got his attention.

Steven looked at his pocket watch and realized he needed to get going. He took a deep breath, and left his office. He alerted the staff that he was going out and he would be back later that evening.

As he approached the Benette residence, he could feel the pit of his stomach be set ablaze by the pure excitement of officially courting you.

Once the carriage stopped, he stepped out into the crisp spring air, and made his way towards the door. Stopping to take a deep breath, he knocked three times and waited for the butler to answer. 

The door opened and there stood a stout older gentleman awaiting his arrival.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant. I believe Lord and Lady Benette have been expecting you.” The old man stepped aside to let Steven in.

Once inside, the older man led him to the entrance of the parlor where everyone had been waiting for his arrival.

“May I introduce, Mr. Steven Grant, here for Miss Benette.” He announced to the room and left hurriedly.

Steven stepped into the door and bowed to everyone in the room.

“Good Morning, Lord and Lady Benette.” He stutterd lightly. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Benette stood from his seat and walked over to Steven extending his hand. Steven took and shook his hand firmly.

“Very nice! Very nice handshake, young man!” The gray haired man said. “I admire that about another man, a nice firm handshake shows promise!”

Then Lady Benette stood and walked over to Steven. She smiled at him as he bowed to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“What a gentleman indeed.” She quipped. “You must tell me where you learned such excellent manners.”

“My Governess was one of a kind, my lady.” He chuckled. 

Great charm, Steven. Keep it up. Steven could hear Marc say. This really began to boost his confidence. 

“Let me go fetch our daughter, she has been waiting all morning for you.” She laughed.

As she left the room, Howard entered and his face brightened at the sight of Steven.

“Grant! Good to see you this morning!” He said then turned to his father. “Father, Steven Grant and I were schoolmates in Brighton!”

“Is that so? Tell me, young man, what did you study and what do you do?” Lord Benette inquired.

“I studied Archaeology, My Lord. I find it absolutely fascinating discovering ancient relics and cities.” He said truthfully. “I am currently a curator at the British Museum in London, sir”

Lord Benette seemed pleased by his answer. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They all continued to talk while they awaited the young lady to arrive.

Once you had entered the room, Steven noticed immediately. He turned fully to face and bowed to you. You curtsied back to him as he made his way towards you. Extending your hand to him and he happily took it and kissed your knuckles.

“Good Afternoon, Miss Benette.” Steven said awfully quiet. He was just taken aback by your beauty.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Grant.” You replied, a light blush spreading across your face.

After a brief moment of staring at each other. Howard stepped in and cleared his throat.

“We should probably get a move on if we want to catch the Hot Air Balloons taking off.” He stated.

“Ah yes, we probably shall then.” Steven agreed and turned to Lord Benette once more. “It was an honor to meet you sir.”

“Please, this was a pleasure! I shall see you soon, my boy!” He chuckled happily.

Steven held his hand out to you, which you happily took. He helped her into the carriage following after your brother. This was turning out to be an excellent call. Something he never thought once would happen.

The carriage pulled up to the airfield and once Steven had exited the car, he helped you out onto the grassy area. It wasn’t too hot outside, but you definitely feel the sun blazing your skin. Though seeing all the large balloons getting ready to fly took your mind off of the heat.

Your brother and Steven chatted for a bit, and then Howard left to chat with another one of his friends leaving both you and Steven alone for a brief moment.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, were you excited for this visit today?” Steven asked bluntly. You were honestly a little surprised by the question.

“Yes, very. I did rather fancy being able to see you again after the last ball.” You blushed. You could see him smile at your comment. 

“I was eager to see you again, but not knowing your name put me in a very hard predicament.” He replied. What an idiot you were. Of course you forgot to tell this man your name. However, no sense of dwelling on that now.

“Now let me ask you something, Mr. Grant.” You started. “What are things you like to do for fun?”

Now it was finally your turn to learn about him and his background. This excited you. Learning how he was an archaeologist, and how he talked about the ancient Egyptians and Egyptian gods. He was very fascinating.

Once he was done, he asked about you in return. You told him of your hobbies, how many languages you spoke, and how you had always wanted to travel. When the conversation seemed to falter, you saw the gleam in his eyes change slightly.

“Do you speak any other languages?” You ask out of curiosity.

He nodded and cleared his throat.

“I know Spanish, French, and Arabic. It is something I am passionate about.” He said, though you noticed his accent had changed just a bit. It wasn’t enough to concern you though. 

You both talked more about his travels and education. You even learned that he had been to Africa on an expedition to find an ancient temple.

“Would you ever take me on an expedition, Mr. Grant?” You asked him and grabbed onto his arm. Once again, his eyes changed at a moment's notice.

“If it is not too dangerous, we can discuss the option to.” He stared and smiled slightly at you.

This was exhilarating to talk about. The potential to travel the world with someone who could very much fall in love with and marry. You glance over and notice that he is staring at you intensely. When he notices you looking back, he smiles and holds out his arm.

You both begin to walk around the field, speaking to the pilots of the Hot Air Balloons. This was the highlight of your day. After a few hours, you both head back to the viewing area to watch them lift off. Howard is there waiting for the both of you, with a big smile spread across his face.

He and Steven spoke about the mechanics on the Balloons and you stood and listened to their conversation. All you could feel at the moment was absolute joy. When it was finally time to go you all headed back to the carriage and went on your way.

You all made it back to your residence, and you began to realize this was the end of your visit. It made you sad to think about. When you all had exited the carriage, it was time to say goodbye. Steven chatted with your brother a bit before turning to you.

“Miss Benette, if I may ask, would you accompany me to the next ball?” He asked. “If that is acceptable with your older brother?”

Howard smiled brightly, “Indeed it is! What do you say to Mr. Grant’s request?” Your brother turned to you questioningly.

“It would be an absolute pleasure, Mr. Grant.” You say as you smile at him. He smiles warmly back at you. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone. It was sad watching him leave, however, now you were truly excited for the ball coming in two days time. 

Once you and your brother got back inside, he began to question how the visit went while he was away.

“So! Tell me! You like him, do you not?” He asked playfully.

“Howard! Shh!” You giggled. “It is true. I do have quite a fondness for him.”

“Then it is settled. I will not allow any other man to come between the two of you.” He stated. “I will go speak with him tomorrow about it.”

You smile.”And what of mama and papa?”

“I believe that they already approve of this match.” He said matter of factly.

“Is that so?” You wondered.

You walk back to the parlor, daydreaming of your future with Mr. Steven Grant.

The next few days flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it Steven was standing in a crowded room of people he had barely met, waiting for you to arrive. To say that he was excited was very much an understatement.

Everything was going smoothly. He had spoken to a few of his colleagues and dodged hopeless mamas in search of any man to hand their daughters off to.

Then you finally arrived. Your brother was the one who found him first. Giving Steven a firm pat on the back.

“Good to see you again, Old Friend!” He shouted happily. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“A bit nervous, but I am excited to see where tonight takes us.” Steven replied. “I’m glad we spoke the other day.”

Howard bowed his head. Steven knew that his old friend wanted nothing but the best for them. His sister finally joined them as they were speaking in hushed voices.

“Mr. Grant, lovely to see you again.” You curtsied at him and he bowed back in response.

“Miss Benette, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said in awe, earning a blush that was slowly creeping onto the apples of your cheeks. “Would you care for a dance?”

“I would be delighted.” You reply quickly.

The music started to play softly as Steven took you to the dance floor. In a moment, Marc took over since he was the more coordinating dancer of the lot. He tried to keep their expression soft to mimic Stevens. He concentrated on you as they waltzed around the dance floor with the other patrons of the ball.

He was indeed having fun with you. For the first time, in a very long time, he genuinely smiled. This sparked a flame within Marc as such as the first time you danced with Steven. Now there were two of them falling deeply in love with the woman in front of them.

Once the song ended, they both bowed to each other and smiled. There was definitely a connection between the two people. Marc extended his hand and took you to the balcony. It was quiet and there were barely any people around. She rested her head against his shoulder as they stared at the stars together.

Are you ready for this, mate?  Marc heard Steven ask. He took a deep breath and nodded slightly before letting Steven take back over.

Don’t fuck this up.  Marc said before Steven began to talk.

“Miss Benette?” Steven asked before pulling away from you. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

She turned to look at him, a bit confused. 

“You can tell me anything, Mr. Grant.” She smiled.

“Well, the truth is, I came out here with you to propose.” He stated. He saw her face light up instantly. “But I do need to tell you the truth about something rather serious.”

He could tell you were confused by the way your eyebrows knitted together. Marc did the same thing when he was confused.

“It’s not the easiest thing to speak of, but I have been going through this ever since I was a child.”

“Steven.” You said softly. This made him look up at you. “Please tell me everything.”

So that’s where he began. He told you about his brother, and his mother. The trauma that he had experienced as a child. And now the moment of truth.

“Oh Steven, that sounds awful, I am so sorry.” You rubbed his arm.

“I just, there is one more thing about it all.” He took a deep breath. “I have two other separate personalities inside of me.”

Now you definitely looked confused.

“I do not understand, what do you mean by that?” You asked.

“I mean, There are two other people inside of this one mind.” He explained softly. “There are technically three of us.”

“You must be jesting.” You giggled.

“Miss Benette, I am being quite serious.” It was Marc who took over. You saw the gleam change in his eyes and then you finally understood.

“Wait, so then if there are three of you in one mind, then are they all called Steven Grant?” You asked quite seriously. You were trying to understand the whole situation, which they understood completely. 

“No, Steven Grant is just the main one.” Marc spoke, turning towards you. “My name is Marc, Marc Spector. We just danced in the ballroom together.”

Your mouth was gaped open. You really couldn’t believe what you were witnessing.

“I knew there was something off about your dancing.” You stated. “It didn’t seem like Steven at all.”

“You would be correct about that statement, mi corazón.” The sudden change of voice made you jump.

“And now are you the third one?” You looked at him puzzled.

“Si, the third and final one. Jake Lockely, at your service, princesa.” He bowed at you.

This was all so much for you to take in. You didn’t know where to begin. 

“Can I.. Can I speak to Steven?” You asked softly. He nodded and then in a flash you saw Steven’s eyes brighten back into himself.

As he looked into your eyes, he saw the glimpse of tears beginning to form. Without thinking, he brought a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Hey there, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but you needed to know.” He tried soothing you. “I didn’t want you to say yes and it be hidden for our entire lives.”

You sniffled as he explained. It did make a lot more sense. Something you always valued was honesty, just like you saw between your own mother and father.

“I accept then.” You announce.

“Pardon?” Steven looked to you in confusion.

“I accept your proposal.” You respond a little more clearly.

“You do?” He asks and you nod. “You do! Oh blessed!”

He takes you by the waist and lifts you into a spin. You giggle in delight as he sets you down.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” He agrees.

“This must be kept between only us, and you must announce who is speaking until I can figure you all out”

“We accept this condition.”

Dearest Readers,

It seems that my trained eyes were correct. An engagement between this season’s Diamond and Mr. Steven Grant has been officially announced. Though this news comes two weeks later, I am delighted to say this marriage will be held tomorrow in the beautiful garden of the Benette Residency. Those with invitations will be sure to witness a beautiful ceremony, and reception.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

4 May, 1815

You stood on the pedestal as the seamstress added the finishing touches to your wedding dress. The day you had waited for finally arrived. As you took in the intricate details of your gown, a knock on the door interrupted the quiet room. It swung open to reveal your brother, Howard, with a warm smile on his face.

"You look radiant, dear sister," Howard praised as he stepped into the room. "Are you ready for this momentous occasion?"

Turning to him, your eyes glistened with joyful tears. “It still feels like a dream.”

Your brother chuckled softly and approached you, adjusting a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, this dream is about to become a beautiful reality. Steven is a good man, and I have no doubt that he will make you happy.”

As Howard's words sank in, a sense of calm washed over you. You were grateful for your brother's support and understanding. The journey to this moment had been filled with unexpected twists and turns, but here you were, on the brink of a new chapter in your life.

"Yes, he is a good man," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. "And I am ready to embark on this new adventure with him."

Howard's eyes gleamed with pride as he took your hands in his. "Remember, no matter what challenges may come your way, you have the strength and resilience to overcome them. And you will always have family who loves you unconditionally."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced your brother. His unwavering support meant the world to you, especially on a day as significant as this. As you pulled away, a knock at the door. You both look up to see your mother standing there.

With a soft smile, your mother entered the room, her eyes filled with tears of joy at the sight of her daughter in her wedding dress. She walked towards you, her steps deliberate yet filled with love and pride.

"My dearest child," she began, her voice trembling. "You look absolutely stunning. I cannot believe how quickly time has passed, and now you are about to start this new chapter of your life."

You embraced your mother, feeling her warmth and love enveloping you. The three of you stood there in a moment of shared happiness and anticipation for the future.

"Mama, Howard," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. "I am so thankful to have both of you by my side today. Your love and support mean everything to me."

As the three of you shared a tender embrace, the sound of distant music and muffled chatter reached your ears. The realization that the ceremony was about to begin spread a wave of excitement through the room.

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture and met the loving gazes of your mother and brother. They offered you reassuring smiles, filling you with a sense of calm.

"It's time," your mother said softly. "Let's make our way to the garden.”

Taking your brother’s arm, you made your way through the corridors of your home. The soft rustle of your gown against the marble floors seemed to echo your heartbeat as it quickened with each step.

As you approached the double doors leading to the garden, they swung open, revealing a breathtaking scene. 

The garden was transformed into a fairytale setting, with an array of colorful flowers adorning every corner. The soft scent of roses and lilies mingled in the air, creating an ambiance of pure enchantment. Guests were seated in white chairs, their eyes eagerly awaiting the arrival of the bride.

As you stepped out into the sunlight, a hush fell over the audience. All eyes were on you, the vision of beauty and grace walking down the aisle. Your heart swelled as you locked eyes with Steven at the altar. His eyes filled with love, and for the first time you knew for sure it was Steven.

The gentle melody of a string quartet filled the air as you made your way towards your beloved. Every step felt like a dream, and time seemed to stand still as you reached the end of the aisle.

He looked at you with such tenderness and adoration that tears welled up in your eyes.

Steven extended his hand towards you, a wide smile spreading across his face. Taking his hand in yours, you could barely hear his whisper over the pounding of your heart. “You look absolutely stunning.” His soft voice reaching your ears. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my bride.”

You smile gently to him and whisper back, “And I am the luckiest bride in the world to have you become my husband.”

The officiant began the ceremony, the sounds of nature seemed to join in as well. Birds sang in harmony as you both exchanged vows. The words spoken were filled with love and promises for a future together, a future you and Steven both dreamed of.

When the time came to exchange rings, Steven took your hand in his, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you. The ring slid easily onto your finger, a symbol of his commitment and love for you. Then came your turn to place the ring on his finger, sealing your own vows with a promise of forever.

As the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, cheers erupted from your guests, filling the garden with jubilant energy. Steven pulled you close, his lips meeting yours in a sweet and tender kiss. The electricity of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine. You were disappointed when he finally pulled away.

“Later, my love.” The change in his voice didn’t startle you. Just like you had recognized Steven earlier, you knew this was Marc. You smiled shyly at your husband and nodded.

The reception was a celebration of love and joy, with guests laughing and dancing under the twinkling lights that adorned the garden. You and Steven danced together, your heart overflowing with happiness at the realization of your love for each other.

Nearby, Howard raised his glass for a toast, his voice clear and filled with emotion. "To my dear sister and her charming husband, Steven. May your love continue to grow stronger with each passing day, and may your days be filled with laughter and joy."

The guests echoed their approval with heartfelt cheers, and you felt a surge of gratitude for the love and support that surrounded you. As the evening progressed, you found yourself stealing glances at Steven who seemed to navigate the crowd effortlessly.

He caught your eye from across the room and smiled warmly at you. Making your way through the throng of well-wishers, you finally stood face to face with your new husband.

“We should announce our leave, darling.” He said softly.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a tinge of nervousness about what the future of the night held. As Steven led you through the crowd towards the center of the garden, the guests gradually quieted down, turning their attention towards you both.

Steven raised his glass, the tinkling sound cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Friends and family," he began, his voice carrying with warmth. "We want to thank each and every one of you for being here today to witness our union. Your presence has made this day even more special, and we are truly grateful."

You watched as Steven's eyes nervously scanned the faces before him, his gaze finally settling on you with a look that spoke volumes. Clearing his throat lightly, he continued, "As we embark on this journey together as husband and wife, we are filled with hope for a future filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. We are incredibly blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives.”

There was a round of applause from the guests, their faces beaming with happiness for you and Steven. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest, overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding you on this magical day.

Within those few short moments of saying goodbye to your family, you felt the nerves of traveling across town to your new home to melt away as you and Steven climbed into the carriage.

The carriage ride was a quiet one, with only the sounds of the horses' hooves against the cobblestone streets breaking the silence. You sat close to Steven, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as if to reassure you.

You couldn't help but steal glances at your husband. The dim light of the lanterns cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face. Steven caught your gaze and offered you a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the love and affection he held for you.

“Is there something on my face, love?” He asks as you continued to stare.

“Oh!” You blush, and look away quickly. “No, nothing of the sort.”

“Were you just admiring?” His voice changed slightly causing you to look back.

You smile, “Of course.”

This caused Marc to chuckle, and reach out to take your hand. Bringing your knuckles to his lips he kisses them softly. There is a small gap of your lips as he does so.

“Will I be spending our first night with you, Marc?”

He seemed a bit surprised that you said his name. However his shock was replaced with a hint of a dark tint in his eyes. “No, my dear, not unless that is your request.”

You giggle, “Maybe another time. I would very much like Steven to be the consummator of this marriage.”

“As you wish.” He smiles, and the softness returns to Steven’s eyes.

“There you are, darling.” You say softly.

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of an elegant townhouse adorned with ivy climbing up its brick exterior. As you step out onto the cobblestone path, Steven's hand reaches out and you take it instinctively.

The door opens, revealing a warmly lit foyer with flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls. Steven guides you inside, his presence a comforting anchor to your oncoming nerves. In the hallway of the home, a few servants stand and Steven introduces you to each of them. Your new lady’s maid is a small older woman with a gentle smile.

After the brief introductions, he leads you up the staircase to the bedroom you both will be sharing. You felt a slight shake in your hands as you realized what was about to happen. Your mother had explained how the marriage will be sealed on your first night alone. You didn’t want to admit how nervous it made you feel.

As you entered the bedroom, you saw the warm glow of the fireplace. The soft colors and flowers on the bedside table put a bit of ease over you. Steven led you to the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with tenderness and understanding. He could sense your apprehension and paused, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Darling, there is no need to rush anything tonight,” he said softly, his voice soothing you. “We have all the time in the world to explore this new chapter of our lives.”

His words eased some of your tension, and you felt a sense of gratitude for his patience and understanding. Steven moved to stand in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as he looked into your eyes with unwavering affection.

“You are my partner in every sense of the word,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “I want nothing more than for us to build our relationship on a foundation of love and trust.”

“I…” You begin, but your words fall short.

“What is it, my love?”

“I want to…”

“You want to have me tonight?”

You blush and nod as he finishes what you had been wanting to say. Steven's eyes softened with understanding as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Then it shall be as you wish,” he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

He takes your hand and helps you stand. Slowly removing his jacket and vest. You watch as his eyes darkened with lust as he stares at you. A blush forming on your cheeks.

Once he removes his vest, he steps towards you and kisses you softly. Gently cupping your cheeks as if to ground you into the kiss. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, easing the last of your reservations.

The kiss deepens, igniting a fire within you as Steven’s hands roam your body with a gentle yet possessive urgency. Your heart races as you feel his fingers begin to unbutton the top layer of your dress. As he unbuttons the last part, the soft fabric of your dress falls and pools around your feet.

Steven’s lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. With each layer of clothing shed between you, you feel the urgency of wanting to be closer to him.

Finally, in the flickering light of the fireplace, you stand before each other in all your vulnerability and desire. He stares at you, his eyes roaming your now naked form.

“So beautiful.” He whispers. “A goddess amongst men, and she is in my wake.”

The blush on your cheeks deepen, and he steps closer to you. His hands grab onto your waist and lift you onto the edge of the bed.

“Lay back against the pillows, my love.” He instructs softly.

As you lay back against the soft pillows, Steven’s gaze never leaves yours. His eyes are dark with desire, it was nothing like you had seen before. He leans in to press a trail of kisses along your collarbone, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Steven’s hands move with purpose, exploring every curve and dip of your body as if committing it to memory. His lips find yours once more in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

The heat between the both of you is intoxicating. You feel something hard against your thigh and you look down. A blush begins to creep up his face.

“Sorry, I’m a bit too excited.” He mumbles and you smile softly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach down to run your hand along his length.

Steven’s breath hitches at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as he slowly thrusts against your hand. His eyes search yours, seeking permission and reassurance. You meet his gaze with unwavering trust and desire, silently giving him the consent he seeks.

Without breaking eye contact, Steven positions himself above you and presses the tip of his member against your entrance.

“This might feel a bit uncomfortable, love. I promise to stop if you do not like it.”

You nod and look deep into his eyes. He slowly guides himself inside you, the heat and tightness wrapping around him like a warm embrace. A gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of being joined so intimately with him, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washing over you.

Steven’s movements are slow and gentle, his hands holding onto yours as if to anchor himself in this moment. He whispers sweet words of adoration and reassurance, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves with a careful rhythm that soon becomes a dance of shared passion.

As the initial discomfort fades, waves of pleasure begin to build within you, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

“Such a good girl.” He praises, causing you to let out a soft moan.

You had never been spoken to like this. It sent waves of pleasure down your spine as he continued to whisper praises into your ear. In this intimate moment, there is only you and Steven, bodies moving together in a sacred union of love and desire.

As the intensity builds, you arch your back and wrap your legs around Steven, pulling him closer. His eyes meet yours, filled with passion and devotion.

"I love you," he hisses, and the words send a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Each word, each thrust, brings you closer to the edge. The pleasure builds and builds until it's almost too much to bear.

“I feel funny.” You moan out.

“I know, darling, let go for me.” He responds quickly.

You don’t understand what he means until the pressure in your lower stomach explodes. You grip Steven’s shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you cry out his name. Your body shaking with intense pleasure. Steven groans and thrusts one last time as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth and completing the bond between you.

His breath is ragged and heavy against your skin. You are still pulsing around his semi-hard length, causing him to groan. As he pulls out, you gasp at the sudden emptiness within you.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, concern in his voice.

You smile weakly and nod. “Yes, I am. That was… more intense than I anticipated.”

Steven smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad.” He gently kisses your forehead.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow, Steven's hand strokes your hair while his other arm holds you close to him. For a moment, all is still and calm.

“This is… different.” you murmur, thinking about all that just happened.

“Different” He repeats “A good different, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Silence envelopes the both of you.

“I have never felt this way before.” He admits. “I never thought I would find love like this.”

You turn your head to look up at him. “Because of… your condition?”

He nods, and kisses your forehead. You snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his arms.

“Marc and I were always too scared, too cautious…but then I saw you.” He says softly, ”And you changed our entire perspective.”

You smile, feeling warmed by his words. "I'm glad I could do that for you."

"I love you," Steven whispers into your ear, holding you tighter.

You smile and whisper back, "I love you too."

Both of you doze off to sleep, cradled in each other's arms, content in the knowledge that no matter what the world throws your way, you have each other to lean on. And with that comforting thought, sleep claims you both.

Epilogue

You sit in the large garden of your family’s summer home and watch as your brother and husband play cricket with the rest of the young men on your side of the family. Your hand rests on the swell of your pregnant belly, your first child, which Steven was delighted to find out about.

The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the scene. Your thoughts drifted back to the night you first shared together. The feelings of love and vulnerability still lingered in your heart, wrapping you in a cocoon of cherished memories. But more than that, you felt a sense of gratitude for finding someone who understood and accepted you just as you were.

Steven looked up and caught your gaze, his eyes locking onto yours across the distance. A smile spread across his face as he raised his hand in a silent greeting. You returned the gesture with a warm smile of your own, feeling an intense surge of love for him.

As the men finished up, you waited for Steven to run over to you and help you out of your seat. You both walked back to the house slowly.

“Did you ever think life would come to be like this?” you ask softly.

“Never in a million years, my darling.”

You both stop walking and turn towards each other. “I am excited for the future.” you say.

“So are we.” He says gently and places a hand on your bump. You place your hand gently on top of his, smiling up at him.

Steven leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I will love you till the end of time, love.”

“My moon.”

“My star.”

And with those sweet words, you both continue walking back to the house. The sun set behind you, casting long shadows on the path ahead as your shared journey continued filled with love and hope.

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[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.”

[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. SHARING FOOD : 1.1K WRDS

A/N : Here’s something to hold you guys over for the week! School has been a pain in the ass, so it’s been kind of hard to keep up with classes, homework, social, etc. Hope you guys enjoy these little scenarios where you ask the boys for a bite of their food, even though you told them you weren’t hungry! ALSO SORRY TO THE MARC FANS MY MIND WAS BLANK ON THINKING OF SOMETHING FOR HIM 💔💔💔

STEVEN GRANT .

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, love? Anything at all?” Steven asks you while preparing to order something in the drive-through for the two of you. “Mhm! I’m sure,” you reassure him with a nod for what feels like the millionth time in a row. He exhales deeply and nods in acceptance. He hates it when you insist on not ordering something for yourself. It’s not because he hates sharing his food, but because he wants you to treat yourself. You deserve it!

Your footsteps pad against the hardwood floor of you and Steven’s flat. You rub your eyes from the exhaustion of today. Your senses heighten a bit as you spot Steven on the couch. He’s watching a new documentary. You smile when you realize it’s the one you won’t stop telling him about. Your heart practically melts at the fact that he remembered.

“Steven,” you say in a sing-song voice as you walk up behind the couch. “Mm,” he hums as an absent-minded reply. You lean forward and slip an arm on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. “I’m hungry,” you complain. Your eyes drift to the screen, and for only a moment, you and Steven are indulged heavily in the documentary. Your boyfriend let out a breath and winced softly. “Sorry, hun. Did you say something? I was a little focused on my documentary,” he told you with a nervous chuckle. His words pull you out of your own trance, and you nod your head. “Yeah! I said I’m hungry,” you exclaimed.

Steven chuckles softly and releases a hum of acknowledgment. "Well, how about we solve that problem?” he asks with a soft smile. “But I’d really like it if you sat with me first,” he requested as a form of compromise. You smile and roll your eyes at him. He’s always known exactly how to make you agree to do something with him or for him. You walk around the back of the couch and flop down right next to him. Without asking, you reach over to the side table and grab a bite of his food. He swats at your hand with a stupid pout on his face before the two of you exchange snickers and laughs.

MARC SPECTOR .

“Whatever you say, baby,” Marc says in a tone that asks if you’re really sure. You laugh at the way he dramatically raises his eyebrows, throws up his hands, and widens his eyes. “Whatever I say,” you repeat while giving him a playful look. On the way home, though, you keep eyeing his bag of food as stubtly as your attempts can.

Marc sighs when he hears you approach the dinner table. “Marc! Hey,” you drag out awkwardly. He looks up at you from his phone and gives you the same look he always does—the one that tells you he’s always right. “Hungry?” he asks before you get the chance to spit it out. You drop your head in defeat and nod. “Yep,” you agree sheepishly while glancing at his food.

He nods while taking another bite. He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out food for you. You get butterflies in your stomach as he hands you the packaged meal. “Your usual. With everything you always ask for and nothing of what you don’t ask for,” he says with a knowing smirk. You stand there silently, embarrassed that he knew you’d ask for his food but blushing at how he knew your exact order.

“My kiss?” he asks while giving you a side eye. You put your hands up in defense before leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you, Marc,” you chirp sweetly. “Thank you for the kiss, baby,” he says in a similar tone.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

“Dios mío,” Jake groans over the phone. “I know you’re going to beg me for a little bite of my food later, cariño. Tell me what you want me to get you,” the man urges, like his life depends on it. “Jake, I told you I’m not hungry! If I do get hungry later, I’ll heat up some leftovers or something,” you insist while laying sprawled out on your shared bed. Another noise of annoyance comes from your phone before your boyfriend speaks again. “Okay, mi sol. Whatever you say, don’t come begging for food later. You know I’ll make you do something for it,” he says with a soft chuckle. The two of you say your goodbyes before he hangs up.

“I’m home, chiquito,” he calls to you as he enters the flat, holding his bag of food in one hand while the other holds a flower. He struggles to shut the door with his hands full, but manages to get it done. “Jake! I missed you,” you exclaimed with excitement from the couch. “I know you did. You always do,” he says cheekily. You give him a look that says, ‘Really?’ “Okay, sorry! I missed you too,” he says in a dramatically sweet voice. You both share a laugh. He comes and sits down by you, the couch squeaking a bit once he does. “I got you a flower. Es muy bonito. Just like you,” he says before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He gently gets a hold of your jaw, then tucks the flower behind your ear. He smiles wider because, damn, you are just too much for him to handle. He loves how you look adorning his little gifts.

Jake lets out a grunt as he gets comfortable on the couch. He snatches the remote from your hand with a smirk. He begins to browse through the channels and starts to eat. As your boyfriend is focused on finding something interesting to watch, you carefully reach your hand into the bag of food. “Aye. Don’t,” he tells you with a stern tone. He’s always so good at noticing little details and catching things; likely from being a cabby for a living. You groan as your hand retreats. “Please? Pretty please? I just want a bite,” you ask with a slightly annoyed tone. “I told you earlier that you’d have to do something for me if you wanted some, cariño,” he reminds you. You huff softly and give him a look that prompts him to tell you what he wants you to do. He hums in thought, then makes eye contact with you once he thinks of something. He leans close to you and takes your jaw in his hand once more. “Say please again,” he purrs while looking at you. “Please,” you hesitantly beg. He smiles and pulls back, causing you to yearn for a kiss. He laughs and gives you a bite of his food before you steal the kiss you rightfully deserve.