#steven grant will be here too

[graveswithnames]

Is the Game Over? - Part 1

[Content: Moon Knight - Hurt/Comfort + Enemies - Gender Neutral POV - Possibly non-universal experiences with passing out but that's how it's happened for me so shhhh, blood loss, injury implied to be dealt by Moon Knight, will add if I think of anything.] A/N: Did not intend for this to be a multi-parter, but its already at 1,328 and I wanted this out before the end of the week lol, xoxo

I slump against the wall, paled hand gripping tight over the wound at my side. My vision spins, but I have to get away. The Moon Knight – The Fist of Khonshu – spared no one, and I don’t delude myself into believing I’d be any different. I hear something. That familiar sound of wind catching on a thick fabric. I push myself off the wall, stumbling forward before regaining my footing. I stagger on forward, I know my pace is not quite fast enough. The sinking dread of the knowledge that our game of cat and mouse was coming to a close – quickly. Still, I’d draw it out as long as I could. I keep moving forward, despite my pounding heart, despite my dizzying vision, in spite of all the things begging me to just lay down and take whatever death he deals to me, I keep moving. I don’t miss the now foreboding sound of his boots meeting the ground behind me, he wanted me to hear him, I learned early on in our meetings. 

I come to a clumsy halt, turning to look at him. I grip my knife in my free hand, the other still keeping hold on my wound. He says something – or I think he does, at least, his mask doesn’t let me make out the movement of his mouth – but it doesn’t process. I take a swaying step towards him, my vision seemingly turning sideways as I do. I take another step to be met with more of the same, before my vision goes out. I feel myself hit the pavement, I hear him walk casually over, I hear him say something. It’s fuzzy, but a little more clear this time. 

“Gotta say, I was expecting smarter choices from you,”

I can taste the smugness in his tone and it's infuriating, but I’m trapped in my body, tied to its will, and right now, it’s will is to fall asleep. I surrender to the darkness I was stuck in, and the coolness which seems to permeate my body now. 

Bleeding out felt like a coward’s way to die. No final hurrah, no fight to be revered, just the fleeing, then, the cold, dark, loneliness. The shallow breaths and the fatigue. The overwhelming, consuming fatigue that eats you whole and refuses to let you go. Everything is still, I feel conscious even now but I know I’m not. I’m aware that the darkness surrounding me wasn’t that deep winter night I grew to love so much, it was what was waiting for me, just beyond. I always thought death would bring me some warm, comforting peace, but all I feel now is hollow. 

I’m ripped from my internal sulking by bright, artificial light blanketing my closed eyes. My brows furrow and I let out a groan as I open my eyes, the overhead light burning at my sensitive eyes. I throw my arm over my face and turn my head, turning onto my side. I hiss out the shooting pain and the dull, aching surrounding it. I’m flooded by the memory of the past night and I shuffle my arms below me to sit up. 

I see the Moon Knight, sitting at a couch across from the one I once laid against, now dressed down, though his face was still obscured by a mask. He was silent, staring down at me, his hands clasped out in front of him. 

“You’re a creepy motherfucker,”

I groan out, rubbing my temple. I roll my neck in a stretch and focus my gaze on him again for a moment, then down to my torso. I could feel something over my stomach, compressive and reassuring. I tug my shirt up just enough to see, my suspicions confirmed as my eyes meet the bandages coiling around me. My eyes flick back up to the masked face in front of me, a confused, incredulous look on my face. My eyes remain on him as he stands wordlessly, wandering off to a kitchen attached to the living room and foyer. I stare at him as he grabs something from his fridge, walking back out. He sets down a glass of some juice on the coffee table between the two couches. I look down at it thoughtfully before picking up the glass.

I can tell it’s meant to be apple juice, but it tastes dull – like all the vibrancy was sucked from it – but all my senses feel dull right now. It doesn’t feel quite as cold as it should, the colors around me feel just a touch too grey, except for the eyes of his mask, which feel piercing in comparison. I sink back on the couch, eyes on his warily, like an animal backed into a corner. I know I don’t keep watch of him for long, but it makes the seconds drag on. I set the juice back down on the table.

Reluctantly, I pull my eyes away to study the apartment I was in. It felt too… clean. The man I knew to be chaotic and messy in a fight lived in an, albeit obviously occupied, organized apartment, a far cry from the Moon Knight image of strongarming and force. He seemed to have some sort of notepad out on the kitchen counter, the only thing that occupied the otherwise barren surface. To the opposite side of the kitchen there’s a dim hallway, walls just as sparse there as they are in the main room. My eyes settle ahead again, this time over his shoulder, out the windows behind him. The shutters are drawn, but I can barely make out the rich golden hue of some just-past-sunrise time. I look back down at him as I hear him shift, elbows resting out on the back of the couch, back leaned back. It looks like he was trying to look relaxed, but there was a stiffness in his shoulders.

“You didn’t kill me?”

I question, tone suspicious and low. I hear him scoff as a hand comes up to his chin. He speaks in return. 

“What do you mean? I got more important people to kill than you, doll,”

His voice sounded different, though soft, his Chicago accent had rung through before. Now, he sounded almost as if from Brooklyn, maybe a few years removed from the area. My face scrunches in confusion, but I opt not to comment on it. 

“First of all, rude,”

I start, huffing out between statements. 

“Secondly, since when was I your doll?”

I press, eyes narrowed at the man. He draws out a sigh and stands, stretching his back. 

“Think the bloodloss gave you brain damage,”

He grumbles out. I roll my eyes in response, standing after he does. I sway on my feet as I approach him. 

“Yeah I fuckin’ wish, be better than trying to get an answer out of you,”

He doesn’t respond, but rests a hand on my back to steady me, then push me back towards the couch, before he speaks again.

“Now where d’you think you’re going?

He questions incredulously, I try to stay standing where I am, but I’m still feeling the effects of the blood loss. I let out a huff as I hit the couch again, crossing my arms. I look up at him, and I can feel the self-satisfaction emanating off him. I let out a peeved sigh, head falling back. 

“Ideally, home,”

I respond, voice low and laced with annoyance, which only grows as he lets out a laugh.

“And how do you plan on getting home?”

I can’t summon a rebuttal, so instead I roll my eyes and groan, sinking back to lay down on the couch, turning to face the back of it. He hums out approvingly, and I can hear his footsteps as he walks into the dark hallway, opens a door, then shuts it soon after. I hear him return before feeling the blanket draped over me lazily. 

[age-of-moonknight]

“Systemic Approach (Part Two),” Avengers Unlimited (Vol. 1/2022), Infinity Comic, #64.

Writer: Mat Groom; Penciler and Inker: Caio Majado; Colorist: Pete Pantazis; Letterer: Joe Sabino

[nikscaps]

dumb doodle

[soft-girl-musings]

a l s o the way I RAN outside to get this delivery ahhh 🥰

@guruan I have been pumped for these the last couple of weeks, they look so good and I'm obsessed 😭

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

“i’m never more at peace than i am in your arms.” with Steven Grant

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Word Count: 887

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, poorly-edited

The service had been a lovely one. The reception even lovelier. 

The reception is even lovelier. 

Having stepped outside of the venue and into the cooled heat of the summer night for a moment’s rest from the festivities, you feel as if it was all a memory, a misfiring of neurons that made you believe that the day had truly happened. 

You’re tired, tuckered out. The type that only comes from not eating enough and feeling too much. 

Your bones ache, there’s a film of something stuck to your skin and inside your lungs. You’ve spent too much of the day outside, with too many people you’d spend at most an hour with. 

A grating static is littered like chalk dust inside your mind. The more you try to wipe it away the worse it gets. 

A rumble of laughter flows out from the open window, and it goes straight to your head in the worst of ways. 

It’s a horrid combination of too many things that, each one in moderation, would be alright to handle but put together like this are too much at once. 

You’re oversaturated. 

There’s an increase and decrease in noise as the door opens and closes, the bit of a drag on the second step that lets you know that everything is going to be alright, that you no longer need to struggle to keep the cracking mask on. 

“Hiya love,” his voice is warm, like the sun. “Everything alright? Lost each other in there, didn’t we? For a bit.” His arm comes to curl around your waist, he pulls you close to him. 

Everything is alright now. 

Guilt crawls up your throat at the poorly-hidden worry in his voice, “Sorry about that.” He’s wearing the cologne you got him for Valentine’s three years ago. He’s on his second bottle now. “Didn’t mean to run off.” 

“Well you didn’t go very far,” Steven shrugs. The movement against your own body is a redemption in itself. There’s a purr of laughter around his voice, “If anything I’d say it was a piss-poor attempt at running off.” 

You smile and laugh, breathing coming to you a little bit easier now that his body is warming yours up, now that it’s just the two of you again. “Didn’t take you long to find me.” 

He shrugs again. You suppose there isn’t an answer to that anyways, the pull between you and Steven inexplicable, though entirely tangible to the both of you. 

“You feelin’ alright, though, dearie? Somethin’ on your mind?” His free hand presses against your forehead, the side of your face. There’s a dimple between his eyebrows. 

You turn and look up at him, pressing the length of your body into his side. Even the rub of the fabric of his pants against your skin is enough, the truth of his own skin underneath shining through it all like seaglass. 

You know for a fact there’s a dopey grin on your face. Your arms come to circle around his neck like Saturn’s rings, your fingers come to play with the ends of his hair, “Just you.” 

“You wanna go home? Really, I wouldn’t mind, the band was gettin’ a bit on my nerves if I’m being honest,” he turns away for a moment, his voice dropping to a grumbling tone like it always does when he complains. “Don’t know what kinda stick that trumpeter's got up his arse but he’d be doing us all a good favour if he took it out and threw it far, far-.” 

“Steven,” your voice isn’t harsh, a gentle callback to the moment between you two that existed free of any trumpets. “I’m alright now,” you cup his cheek, gaze into the coffee cups of his eyes. He’s more concerned than you initially took it for, his light-hearted teasing a paper-thin veil. “Just needed a breather.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna go? It’ll be much nicer at home, Gus’ll be there n’all.” 

Steven loves live music, despite his complaints. He’s notorious for being the life of the dance floor whenever you two go out, and his eyes are still twinkling, the need to dance still present in his soul like a blossoming tulip. 

“I'm never more at peace than when I’m in your arms…when I’m with you,” you smile, trace the ridges and grooves of his nose, press your thumb into the prominent pockmark on his left cheek, right above his mouth. “Thanks for coming and finding me.” 

“‘Course honey, ‘course,” he swallows, tightens his grip on you a little. “You really wanna stay?” 

You nod, “I think I’ve got an hour or two left in me.”

He doesn’t stray from your side once after that, sweat dampening his forehead as he spins and spins to the music he seemingly hated. In something beyond your soul, his presence is steady and quiet like a rusted anchor.  

Steven’s hand is warm and soothing in yours, his voice hoarse and scratched an hour later, after you’ve said your goodbyes and are heading out. 

Your feet ache a little. For some reason, the nails of your hands are throbbing. Your soul is calm, soothed. 

As always, all you really needed was Steven. 

And Steven always came to you.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Front Stuck

Summary: Steven plans for a check up. Jake and Marc have issues with these plans. Sometimes you have to do what you don't want to do and then have to deal with it later. Sometimes you feel like all you do is fuck up and you just need a reminder of how useful you are.

Pairings: General fic

Warnings: Dealing with fear of medical facilities, a feeling of failure/uselessness, and D.I.D issues.

Word Count: 8,051

--

The forms had been sent to them a week in advance. 

It was a good thing, too, because it was midnight and their appointment was in the morning and they still had not filled them out. 

It had taken two days for Steven to find the forms online and then print them. He had then pinned them to the task board and then waited. 

Now he sat at his desk staring down at the forms and feeling the anxiety settling in. Not just into him, but spreading slowly across the three of them for wildly different reasons. 

Steven stared down at the very first question on the paper and kept his pen hovering just above the line. 

It had seemed so easy at first glance. He could have filled this thing out in minutes. How many had he filled out before all of this? 

His vision blurred. How many had he filled out? He didn’t know. He had no memory of filling out forms. Things had just come and he had just accepted them by the grace of Marc and his connections. 

He started to feel a pang of panic. He read the question again. Three words. He didn’t so much as read them as he recognized the words and they processed somewhere in his brain with a meaning and answer. 

“First name. Middle name. Last name.” He licked his lips and stabbed the pen on the paper, prepared to sweep it down into the familiar curve of an ‘S’. 

His hand stuttered and he pulled the pen back, leaving behind a spatter of ink. He rubbed his finger over the ink frantically, smudging it into a blur in an effort to extract it back from the paper. 

“What are you doing?” Marc muttered, tired and grumpy. He had been grumpy all week since they had made the appointment. 

“They want a name.” Steven looked at the ink on his fingers and rubbed them together till the ink dissipated into a faint darkness on his fingers. 

“Yeah.” Marc sighed. “So put down a name.” 

“What name?” Steven sighed loudly. “Legally, everything is in your name.” 

Marc made a sound that reminded Steven of an upset cat. “You have all the paperwork. You exist legally.” 

“Legally.” Steven huffed. “So long as they don’t look into it. I don’t exactly have anything backing the name. What if they look me up?” 

“Fine!” Marc grumbled. “Put my name down.” 

Steven put the pen back on the paper and was about to slant the pen into a firm ‘M’ when he paused. “Are you still on some sort of international criminal list?” 

There was a moment of silence and Steven wondered if Marc had heard him. “Marc?” 

“Give them your name.” Marc sounded tired. 

“But what if-” He started. 

“Then give them Jake’s name!” Marc snapped. 

There was a very sharp and quick wave of dizziness that washed over Steven, a sign that Jake was not only listening but that he was deeply displeased by this suggestion. 

Jake had also been in a mood all week. Not nearly as grumpy as Marc had been, but he had kept his distance, not even taking his usual morning cup of coffee like he had grown accustomed to doing in the past few months. 

“Right.” Steven swept the pen back up and quickly wrote his name in full across the top before he could think of any other reasons not to. 

Next question. Birthday. Steven stared at the line and drew a blank. “Uh….” 

“March ninth of eighty seven.” Marc answered quickly before Steven could start to distress over if they had the same birthday or not. “It’s when the body was born. Let’s just keep it simple.” 

Steven nodded. He liked simple. He wrote it down and moved to the next few questions. Easy. Address. He knew that one. Hair and eye color? Easy. Height? There was some disagreement there between the three on that one, but it was mostly because of their different postures. He wrote down a number, ignoring the way Marc made sounds of disapproval at him. 

Ethnicity. Steven paused and stared at the little tick boxes. He knew what he would have marked before. Now he had an angry American in his head that lied on all his forms and someone else in his head that cursed people out in spanish. 

He marked yes to the ‘Hispanic/Latino’ box. He hesitated then moved on to the next question. If it came up, he’d make sure proper direction was given on the rest of his ethnicity, but there was still some internal contention and disagreements about it that wasn’t worth the fight. 

“Okay. Not that bad. I think this is going well.” He turned the page and froze, pen mid twirl in his fingers. 

Medical history. Steven had thought the simple act of writing his name was difficult. He was suddenly faced with the fact that he didn’t know their medical history. If someone asked him personally, he’d say he was fit as a fiddle aside from his slight insomnia. 

Never hospitalized, never broke a bone in his body, and never suffered from depression or mental breaks. 

Now he stared into the blank void that was his memory and felt the gaps creeping in. The time that had passed in the blink of an eye suddenly stretched out into years and the aches and pains of his body pulled up questions he didn’t know the answers to. 

He blinked hard and felt himself start to grow fuzzy as he slipped up and away into himself. 

“Fuck.” Marc felt Steven dissociate so hard that he came to the front with a killer headache. “Hey, buddy. It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. I got this part. Mostly.” 

Marc was able to tick off the family medical history parts easily enough. He had vague memories of his grandparents, but he was fairly certain he knew how they had eventually died. 

When it came time for his own medical history he breezed through the questions of current ailments. No transplants, no cancers, no diabetes, no chronic illnesses. No allergies despite what Steven claimed. 

He decided he wouldn’t count anything supernatural so any injuries during his Khonshu days were brushed aside, including his death and near death experiences. 

He paused when it came to other issues. Broken bones? Yes. More than a few. He paused as he remembered his broken arm, broken rib, broken nose, broken finger… He felt the blows, the bullets, the snap, the fall, the fear. 

He shook his head and focused back in on the questions.  No clotting disorders, no liver issues despite his best efforts, no kidney disease, no heart problems if he overlooked the many times it had stopped. 

Next was the fun part. The part where he got to decide how much was truly needed. Did they really need to know about his mental health? Did the questions apply to him personally or to the whole system or do the body as a whole? 

‘Do you drink and if so, how many drinks a day?’ Marc did drink. He drank a lot. But only in binges. He was not a casual drinker. He could go months without a drop of alcohol and then the darkness would swallow him whole and he would down a whole bottle of whiskey. 

Did that qualify him as an alcoholic or something else? Steven called it self destruction. Marc ticked off the ‘no’ line. This wasn’t that sort of visit. 

‘Do you smoke?’ Steven certainly didn’t. Marc had enjoyed a casual cigar now and then in his mercenary days. In the military he had been known to suck down a cigarette in the hopes that he might seem normal to the other men or that it might bring him some calm. He didn’t smoke anymore. 

Jake did. About once a week Jake would casually nurse a cigarette through the night. Something he marked as his own, and perhaps he needed it. Did it affect the body? None of them seemed to have an addiction. 

Steven hated it. He deeply disliked the smell and the way the taste lingered. He had been not so subtly leaving nicotine patches out in the hopes to get Jake to stop. When he found the cigarettes he would immediately toss them in the trash. Jake was hardly deterred. He had been hiding things far longer than Marc and always seemed to have spares. 

He marked yes. He could claim to be quitting if asked. 

‘Do you take recreational drugs?’ That one was at least easy enough to answer. Steven would never touch the stuff, Jake wouldn’t touch it either. Marc could remember one severely bad experience back in the day when he had tried to find another way to escape and it was enough to assure he never tried it again. 

Now for the list of mental health issues. Marc hated that list. How truthful did he need to be? If he marked depression did that mean that they would have to talk about it? It wasn’t a problem that he felt needed to be talked about. At least not in this capacity. He certainly didn’t want to take any medications. 

So what would happen? “Oh hey, I see you marked depression. Do you want drugs? No? Okay.” And then move on? Would they think him a danger to himself? Would they recommend he see someone? Would they-

“Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuuuck.” Marc scrunched his eyes closed as he fought off the flashbacks. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could just mark no. No depression. No anxiety. No PTSD. No ‘other’ where he wouldn’t be forced to write down D.I.D on the little blank line. No no no no no. 

“What the hell is this, Hermano?” Jake stared at the form. He shoved it aside for a moment and tapped the pen on the desktop. “I’m not going.” He dropped the pen and crossed his arms. “We don’t need to go. There is nothing wrong. Why the hell does any of this matter? We aren’t dying.” 

“Jake, please.” Steven’s voice whispered up to him. “We have to go. I’ll go. Neither of you have to do anything. I just… I don’t know how to fill this out. Please?” 

Jake glared down at the form. “What does it matter? They don’t need this stuff. They probably don’t even know what D.I.D is! They’ll just call us liars. Think we’re making it up. Just mark no on everything.” 

He picked up the pen and quickly drew a line down the ‘no’ column angrily. He looked back up at some of the things Marc had filled in. He scoffed and debated on changing some of the answers. 

Allergies? Yes. Of course they had allergies. Hay Fever was a real issue for them. Steven couldn’t see half the spring because his eyes were so swollen. Not to mention medication allergies. If they took a sulfa they might die. Probably something he should remind Marc about and alert Steven to. It just had not come up.

He changed the allergies and wrote in the appropriate information. Steven argued about the food allergies but Jake waved a dismissive hand. He had yet to have any issues with milk despite what Steven claimed. Steven could keep his oatmilk to himself. 

Medication list? Allergy meds were written out neatly. So were the pain medications that they all slammed back when the headaches hit. Antacids when the anxiety caused the stomach upset to hit. Steven slammed the tums like they were candy. 

He was tempted to write in caffeine considering how much he drank, but he didn’t want to give Steven another reason to get after him. He was going to enjoy his single cigarette on occasion. It made him feel like the body was his for just a little while. 

Alcohol? Yes. Marc’s denial was likely to show up on the bloodwork eventually. Might as well get it out there in the open. At least he could mark occasional in that line, since it was nearly impossible to track when Marc would melt down and stumble into the nearest bar to drink it dry. 

Jake also didn’t want to let Steven know that he took in an occasional drink when he slipped out to his own favorite activities. 

“There.” Jake sat back and tapped the corrected form. 

Steven fumbled the twirling pen and looked the form over. “Oh wow. Good to know about the medications.” 

He stared at the mental health part and sighed. “Jake…” He muttered and moved to correct it. 

“What?” Jake grumbled. “Is it important? No. It will cause more trouble than needed. We aren’t going there to look for help on these issues. Who cares if it’s wrong?” 

“What if we do want help? Or what if we go for help later?” Steven marked yes to the depression. 

“Are you depressed?” Jake countered. 

“No… I suppose I’m not.” He frowned. 

“I’m not depressed.” Jake continued. “The body isn’t depressed. The body feels just fine.” 

Steven sighed loudly. “What about Marc?” 

“What about me?” Marc growled. “I’m not going. They don’t need to know about my depression. I feel fine.” 

Steven crossed out his correction and left it as ‘no.’ 

“We have anxiety.” He marked yes. 

“No we don’t.” Marc and Jake argued. 

“I could sit here and argue with you two and give you examples all day and night. You don’t get to correct me on this one.” He scowled and marked a dark ‘yes’ check mark. 

Steven continued to correct the lies. He wrote in PTSD. Perhaps he was not affected, he wasn’t really sure, but he had done enough research to know that PTSD and D.I.D tended to walk hand in hand. Marc certainly was affected by it enough to ripple out to all three of them at the very least. Jake denied it, but Steven knew better. As the emotional protector, Steven had been forced to front in far more random situations than was normal. 

Autism? It was not confirmed. Not as far as he was aware. He suspected that Jake knew something he didn’t know on the matter. Perhaps one day he would find a way to get his early medical records from Chicago. Marc and Jake would be unhappy about it, but Steven was tired of situations like this. Situations where he didn’t know what medications might kill him. 

He left it alone. He was exhausted and getting into that argument with Jake and Marc right now was not worth it. 

Their appointment was early enough that Steven decided the form was filled in enough. He got up and stretched, his back popping and snapping in ways that made him eye the ‘broken bone’ section of the form again suspiciously. 

“I’m not going.” Jake reaffirmed. 

“You don’t have to go further than the parking lot.” Steven shrugged. “Just get us there.” 

They got ready for bed, the nightly routine coming easy to them as they each took care of their own chosen task. 

It wasn’t needed to share tasks like this, but it was something Steven had come up with to help each of them feel more like the body belonged to them. 

The dreams that night were filled with long hallways and swinging doors. A sense of dread and sadness drifted around them until Steven woke up, sweat beaded across his forehead. 

“Whose dream was that?” He sighed and got dressed. He pulled on his usual clothes, planning for his own comfort considering that the visit was going to be handled by him. 

Marc was lurking just to the back, doing his best to convince Steven to stay home. “We really don’t need this. It’s fine. We’ve gone how long without this? I mean, nothing’s wrong. We feel fine.” 

“Nope.” Steven pulled on his coat and headed down to the car. “You can hide if you like. We’re going. I’ll tell you how it went when it’s over.” Steven let Jake slip into the driver’s seat. 

“Not past the parking lot.” Jake pulled his cap on and started the car. Normally relaxed and carefree when he drove, Jake kept his grip on the wheel tight and he drove five under the speed limit. 

He pulled his cap down low over his eyes and kept the radio quiet. His mind wandered, slipping down a tile hall with white walls and swinging doors. A time when security and safety felt too far away. 

He parked and got out of the car. There was no safety or comfort in places like this. Places that did not listen to you. They did not have the time to care. They had preconceived notions on your standing and sorted you into a corner that you were expected to stay in. 

“Jake?” Steven felt their heart rate flutter to a pounding race. “That’s good, mate. I’ll take it from here.” 

Jake clenched his fist and tried to will away the memory. To close the door on the sensation of helplessness. 

“Yeah. I just… Give me a second.” He took off his cap and tossed it back into the car in an effort to step out of the body. He could feel Steven’s sweater hanging down around him, heavy and blanketing over them. It felt suffocating and far too heavy against his skin. 

“Jake. Switch out with me.” Steven reached and found the normal position of front and center shifting away from him. 

Jake felt the papers that they had filled out folded up in his pocket. He could even hear the ticking of his watch, advancing them closer and closer to their check in time. 

“I’m stuck.” Jake started to breathe hard as he realized that he was front stuck. He had never been stuck before. That didn’t happen to him. He was the gatekeeper, for crying out loud. He was the one that got the other two unstuck when needed. He could kick them out of the front seat at any time. It was part of his job. 

“Hey, it’s okay!” Steven tried to calm him. “I’m sure I’ll take over when it’s time. Just go in and we’ll get through this. Okay?” 

Jake stared up at the building. It was brick brown and looming. The many windows solid and glaring at him. He could see the automatic doors, larger than normal and equipped with emergency buttons and other features not normally found on your everyday door. 

The building looked nothing like the one from his memory. He had been in hospitals since then. This wasn’t even a hospital. It was a glorified office building turned into a ‘specialty center’. The sign out front spoke of physical therapy, dentists, dermatologists, and gastrology. 

“What floor?” Jake hunched his shoulders, missing his usual coat and collar, as he walked inside. 

“If it’s too much we can reschedule. Tell them we had car trouble or have a fever or something.” Steven could feel their heart rate still racing and pounding. 

“What floor?” Jake snapped and walked up to the directory sign, trying to remember the name he had seen on the forms last night. 

“Fourth.” Steven sighed as he continued to try to take back the body. “412. They said it was to the right of the elevator.” 

“Am I supposed to be British?” Jake got in the elevator and jabbed his finger into the button harder than needed. “You gave them your name, right?” 

“I don’t think they will care what you sound like.” Steven did not want to hear Jake imitate an English accent. Jake could pull off a very good Marc voice, but it was close enough to his own rough grumble. “Just give them my name and the papers.” 

Steven felt Marc shift and peek out at the world around them. “Uh, Steven? What’s Jake doing? I thought this was your rodeo?” 

Jake jammed his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot, not keeping pace with the melancholy elevator music in the slightest as they went up one floor at a time. 

“He’s having a bloody panic attack is what he’s doing.” Steven sighed. 

“I’m fine.” Jake shifted as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slowly opened. “Just get this over with.” 

They all watched as Jake navigated to the correct door and walked into the office. He glanced around, taking in the old lumpy chairs, the coffee tables with frayed magazines, the water cooler in the corner with paper cups shaped so that you couldn’t set them down without spilling, and a sliding glass window at the front counter. 

“Oh my god, is he going to fight the doctor? Marc? We’re supposed to get our blood done today. Is he going to punch the doctor?” Steven started to panic, struggling harder to take back the body. 

Steven had been front stuck before. It didn’t bother him. He was out most of the time and only felt terrible that he was taking up someone else’s time. It had never been a problem. 

Marc had gotten front stuck more than a few times. He had smiled awkwardly as he went to work and avoided talking at all costs. He had been in charge of the body for so long. It was only annoying to him. 

Jake was not used to holding front for longer than needed. Jake didn’t like holding front. Jake did what needed to be done then tossed it back to one of them. 

The stress was building as the glass window slid open and a lady in scrubs smiled up at them expectantly. 

“No…” Marc tried to reassure Steven. “He’ll be fine. We’ll just uh… Maybe I can try to take the body. Jake, give me the body.” 

Jake stared at the woman from across the room. “Shut up. Just fucking shut up.” He hissed under his voice and put on what he hoped was a confident smile. 

“I have an appointment.” Jake walked to the counter and pulled out the folded papers, slapping them down on the counter. “Grant. Steven.” 

She looked down at the papers then up at Jake before taking the papers, unfolding them. “Right.” She flipped through them then nodded and handed him a clipboard with more papers and a pen. “Consent forms to fill out. They’ll call you back in just a moment.” 

Jake stiffly walked to a chair and sat down, glancing down at the papers. He didn’t read them. They were blocks and blocks of text with lines highlighted now and then to show where to initial and sign. 

He stiffly wrote SG in all the small lines then scratched a signature on each page. It looked nothing like Steven’s neat handwriting and had the situation been different, Steven would have said something. 

“Jake? Please don’t fight the doctor. They’re going to take blood today. Are you okay with needles?” Steven tried to sound patient and like everything was fine. 

“I can tell you right now that I would not be sitting there.” Marc mumbled. “If I was out there, I’d be climbing out the window. No one’s getting blood from me unless I bleed on them.” 

“Not helping!” Steven snapped. “Try relaxing. Just close your eyes and breathe with me. Okay? In and out. Nice and slow.” 

Jake closed his eyes and took a deep slow breath in. He held it a moment then pushed it out forcefully. 

They wouldn’t listen. They never listened. Even as an adult. He saw the horrible puke green and brown fatigues as the military doctor looked at the clipboard then up at him with a frown. “You’re being discharged.”

“Steven Grant?” A voice called. “Mr. Grant?” 

Jake jolted back to the present and stared up at the woman for a moment before he jumped up and held up the clipboard. “Here.”

She smiled and held out a hand for the clipboard. She was in light lilac colored scrubs. Far from the horrible grays and white of his childhood. 

Jake lingered for a moment, suddenly feeling more comfortable out in the waiting room than the prospect of seeing what lay hidden behind the door. 

“Right this way please.” She held the door open for him. 

“Steven?” Jake called out internally. He was met with silence. His panic started to rise. He had shut them out. 

Jake swallowed hard and tried to pretend it was a mission. He was doing this for Steven. He had to pretend to be Steven. He wasn’t Jake Lockley, a man terrified and lost in a memory. He was Steven Grant, a man with no rational fear. 

“Right.” Jake stepped through the door and glanced around. There was a scale immediately to his right and he stepped onto it, watching as the nurse balanced the metal bar. 

He was next ushered into an exam room and sat down while she pulled up his chart and started to type. “Name and birthday? Just to confirm things.” She smiled at him again. 

“Uh… Steven Grant. Steven with a V.” Jake knew how to play the part. It was easy to get lost in Steven. It was like a well polished script. “March ninth, nineteen eighty seven.” 

She nodded then looked at his chart. “You aren’t on any medications?” 

He knew what she was talking about. She had gotten to the anxiety and depression part of the form. 

“None. Just what’s listed there.” He tapped a finger on his knee and tried to hold onto the imagination of being Steven. Steven doing his everyday things. Steven chatting and answering questions. 

She pulled out a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. “Roll up your sleeve and relax your arm, please.” 

He looked down at his arm then at the cuff. He fumbled with the sleeves for a moment, struggling to get the stretched material to stay in place. 

He flinched as she put the cuff on then looked away. He didn’t want to be here. She would find something wrong. She’d sense something was off. It was only a matter of time before she looked at him with that look. 

He closed his eyes as she pumped up the cuff. He felt a pull and realized that he was starting to dissociate. Normally he would lean into it and hope that Steven or Marc stepped in. 

But the wall was up. They were locked out. It was just him and this situation. Even if they managed to switch out now, the wall was there and that meant any communication about the situation was shut down. Whoever slipped in now would not know what was going on. 

Jake felt a jolt like he was falling and he jolted back to the present. The cuff was off and the nurse was typing at the computer again. She was saying something…. 

“Good numbers. The doctor should be in to do their exam in just a minute.” She stood up and went to the door, giving him a smile before walking out. 

Jake sank back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. A stained drop tile that looked like it had seen better days stared back at him. There was an exam table to the side with what looked like white butcher paper on it. He wondered if he was supposed to sit on it. He hated the sound it made. How it bunched under him. How he felt like he would tear it if he moved wrong. 

Jake felt himself starting to slip. Maybe Steven was hacking away at the barrier. He had never been happier to feel anyone pulling control from him. 

There was a fuzzy moment then he came to, sitting on the table with crinkle paper and staring at an older man with glasses and a white coat who had a stethoscope pressed to his back. 

“Breathe normally now.” The man commanded. 

Jake sucked in a breath and tried to focus, searching for any trail of communication left behind. Someone was switching in and out with him. He really hoped it was Steven and not Marc. Marc was not going to handle this any better than he was. If it was at least Steven, maybe they would get through this without looking like they needed to be locked up. 

“You can breathe normally.” The man repeated and Jake realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, struggling to slow his heartbeat. 

The man moved the device around a bit then sat back. “Nervous?” 

Jake managed to nod. “I don’t like doctors.” 

“A common issue.” The man held up a finger. “Follow the tip of my finger with your eyes please.” He moved his finger, watching Jake’s reaction closely. 

Jake locked onto the finger like it was the only thing in the world and followed it despite his disorientation. 

“You have nothing to worry about.” The doctor felt Jake’s neck, checking his lymph nodes. “So far everything is looking pretty good. Stick out your tongue.” 

The world blurred and Jake felt a slip again. He blinked in time to feel a reflex hammer jolt his left knee into a kick. “Fuck.” He clenched his hands and hoped he wasn’t fucking up anything. 

“Good reflexes.” The doctor moved to the computer and typed rapidly. “You wrote in PTSD under concerns. Have you seen anyone about your PTSD?” 

“No.” Jake mumbled. 

“Were you properly diagnosed?” Now that was a loaded question and Jake looked up at the doctor suspiciously for a moment before he realized the doctor was asking about medical history and not for details. 

“Yes. Military doctor.” It wasn’t really a lie, so much as an embellishment. It was also a good way to shut down the line of questions. Military induced PTSD was expected, after all. 

“I see. Would you like some recommendations? I can have the front staff print you out a list of therapists and psychiatrists in the area.” He typed away, not looking up. 

“No.” Jake crossed his arms. He hoped that was the right answer. If it wasn’t, Steven could figure it out. He would schedule it just like he did this appointment. Despite the protests and arguments, it would happen. Jake just hoped that if it did happen that he wouldn’t be the one forced into it. 

“Do you feel like it is affecting your normal daily activities?” A fishing question. Jake glared at the doctor, on high alert now.

“No. We manage it just fine.” He winced at the wrong use of identification. Steven was getting to him with his inclusion tactics. “My wife and I, I mean. I have support.” That was the correct answer. He wasn’t alone. He had support. It was no longer the problem of the medical provider. 

The doctor nodded. “Good. Good. It’s important to talk to someone.” 

“Yup.” Jake looked away. “Before you ask, I’m working on the smoking too. Down to one a week.” It wasn’t an outright lie. After this little incident he was probably going to cut back to one every other week for a while. 

The answer seemed to please the doctor who nodded. “Excellent. I like to hear it.” 

Jake felt the familiar pull and slip start to happen. Just take it. Take it Steven. Get us out of here.

Blinking back in, he felt utterly frustrated and disoriented. They were standing now and walking down a hall. He put the brakes on and looked around frantically. They were not walking towards the waiting room. They were going further into the den of the beast. 

A memory stirred and Jake fought it off, angry now at the whole situation. 

“Just to your right.” The nurse from before urged him to keep going. 

Jake looked back at her quickly then looked at the room to his right. It didn’t look like the kind of room that you put the trouble makers in to lock up. 

In fact, there was a simple chair with an armrest in it and a lot of lab equipment and tubes all over the counters. 

“Oh fuck no.” Jake froze in the doorway. “No no. I’m not doing that. I don’t…. This wasn’t what I agreed to.” 

“I know, not everyone likes needles.” The nurse tried to sound comforting. “The phlebotomist is really good. You’ll barely feel a thing.” 

STEVEN. Jake didn’t move. His panic started to swirl as he stared at the chair. 

He started to feel dizzy. For a split second he wondered if it was Marc. Was he forcing Marc into his worst nightmare? Marc sitting in the chair, strapped down as they poked him with a needle? 

Marc clenching his fists as he sank into a flashback of being drugged and tied down? Nightmares waiting to surface for the next three weeks? 

Jake reluctantly took a slow breath and shook his head to clear it before he sat down in the chair, moving an arm to lay across the armrest. 

The nurse stepped out of the way as another person entered the room. “Hello. Looks like I’ll be getting a few tubes of blood from you. Should be real quick. Are you alright with needles?” 

Jake looked up at them, unable to focus on any part of the person. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to point them out in a line up later. Jake shook his head firmly. 

“Are you likely to pass out?” The person was collecting some supplies and sat down across from him. 

Jake stared blankly, trying to process the question. “I don’t… think so?” 

“Alright. We’ll take this as it comes. If you think you’re going to pass out, tell me or try to lean back. I’d rather you not hit the floor if we can avoid it.” The person was now tying a tourniquet around Jake’s arm and checking his veins. 

Jake nodded slightly and looked away, clenching his free fist in his lap tightly. He wasn’t going to let Marc have the option of slipping into their chair. He could do this. He wasn’t afraid of needles. At least he didn’t think so. He couldn’t recall if their blood had ever been taken before. 

He did recall IV lines. Being hooked up to cold saline drips and drugs that made him sleepy and nauseous. He felt a pinch then the tight band around his arm released. There was pressure and some fidgeting as the person switched out some tubes. 

The pinch shifted and was gone, replaced by a gentle pressure of a cotton ball then the tight pull of pressure wrap. 

“All done!” The person proclaimed. “We should have the results back by the end of the week.”  

Jake nodded and looked down at the dark blue wrap around his arm now. He still felt vulnerable and like his arm was now compromised. He bent his arm and held it protectively as he rolled the sleeve back down. 

So this was why Steven wore these sleeves. The comfort of them over his arm was a little soothing now. Warm and sheltering. 

“Exit is just down the hall back the way you came. Wave to the front desk on your way out and you’re all good to go!” The person was labeling the tubes, putting them on rockers that gently tilted and mixed the blood in the tubes. 

Jake nodded and stood up, backing out into the hall. “Thanks.” He managed to mumble before looking up and seeing an exit sign with an arrow. 

He turned a corner and saw the familiar door he had come through from the waiting room. If he had been alone he would be running now as he quickly stepped to the door and pried it open, hurrying through. 

He paused to wave at the front desk woman. She smiled and waved back, saying something he didn’t catch. 

Jake threw open the front door and rushed out towards the elevator. The ride down was a blank and he was certain someone else had moved them through the building back to the parking lot because he had a missing space where the memory should have been. 

Keys fumbled in his hand as he unlocked his car with the push of a button. Sliding into the driver seat, he sat there for a moment and stared at the steering wheel. He didn’t bother trying to ground himself. 

It took a moment before Steven made himself known again. “I think that went well.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Marc snapped from the dark. “I’m shocked my blood pressure wasn’t through the roof after I switched in.” 

Jake stared at the wheel and slowly slid a finger across it. So Marc had slipped in. They would be having nightmares tonight. 

As much as he didn’t want to be there, desperate to slip to the back where he didn’t have to deal with the body or the world around them, he needed to get them home. He needed to make sure they were safe in familiar territory. 

He started the car and waved a hand as if brushing away any conversation that might take place. They had a strict rule about fronting while driving that was enforced after one nearly disastrous accidental switch out. 

“Hey Jake?” Steven gently spoke up from the back. It was easy to pretend that it was a passenger behind him making casual conversation in this role. 

“Hmm?” He pulled the car out of the parking lot and out onto the street a little faster than needed. He wanted distance between them and the medical building behind them .

“You don’t have to protect us from things like this. I know it’s a trigger for both of you, but this isn’t life or death. It’s stress. You can let me handle it. Let me do my job, okay? Let me protect you too. Not just Marc.” He was gentle and soft. It was truth and hard to hear. Sometimes truth needed to be whispered softly. 

“You think I wanted to do that?” Jake snapped, angry at everything and nothing all at once. He sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry. I fucked it up.” 

“You did really well.” Steven assured. “No one freaked out. No one punched anyone in the face and made a run for it. Marc didn’t even dissociate much!” He sounded proud. 

“I should have had better control. This was your thing.” Jake angrily flicked on the blinker as he merged lanes. “That is my job. Make sure the right person is where they are supposed to be. How the fuck do I get front stuck in moments like this?” 

They were silent for a moment and Jake longed to be home where he could give back the body and slip back to where he was most comfortable. If he could. Could he? He had never been stuck like that before. 

His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. What if he got stuck again? What if he put up the wall and couldn’t get it back down? What if-

“Jake?” Steven’s voice filtered through the haze. “Relax. You’re freaking out a bit. I can’t drive. I mean, I think I did rather well when under pressure of a bullet and death, but that’s different from busy street driving.” 

Jake shook his head, trying to clear it. He was getting fuzzy. It was what he wanted but not now. Driving was his grounding thing. Even when Marc tried to go somewhere, Jake was always lingering around the front, ready to jump behind the wheel. 

The idea that he was losing everything suddenly popped into his head. He was hindering them. They wouldn’t be able to rely on him for anything. 

Hands clenched on the wheel and Marc was suddenly there, taking a quick glance around to get his bearings. 

Jake sank back, rushing past Steven’s worried gaze and away from Marc’s own emotions. Steven could take care of Marc now. It was Steven’s job. He handled the emotions. He handled the problems. He took care of the body, the spirit, and the general well being.

The nightmares came. They all knew they would. They had warned Steven weeks ago. They were used to nightmares. 

When Steven had nightmares, they were filled with sadness and feelings of being lost and alone. He would wake with tears in his eyes and a half hearted chuckle as he wiped them away and called out to Marc. He always called out to Marc in these times. Reassurance that he was there. That he wasn’t alone. That he had a friend to rely on. 

Marc had them the worst. Dreams that could make them wake up screaming and crying. Dreams that were pretty solid representations of stress, grief, and violence. When Marc woke from his dreams, he would clench his fists and breathe like a drowning man pulled from an ocean. Steven would be there to sooth him. To reassure him that he was safe. 

Jake tried not to dream. HIs dreams were so strange that neither Marc nor Steven understood what they were seeing. Only Jake knew the memories for what they were. He hid his feelings, taking calm and deep breaths in the dark as Steven mumbled about how weird that one was. 

He couldn’t let them know. He couldn’t let them see. This was his job. If they did see, he would wipe it away immediately, leaving just a fog of what was almost there. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he had failed. Like he had left them down. He was supposed to be better than that. He needed to let them run the life. His purpose was internal. He had no need to be out anymore, did he? 

It was a solid two weeks before Jake found himself sitting in front again. He had occasionally peaked above the surface to see what was going on, and on seeing a normal average life spanning out, he had ducked back below. 

Now, he sat blinking in the light and staring down at a cup of coffee. There had been no trigger. No threat or stress. The body was in good condition and as far as he could tell, there were no injuries. 

Just him and a cup of fresh coffee in a diner at a booth towards the back. 

“If you don’t want to front, that’s fine.” Marc’s voice reached up to him. “But you don’t get to go silent on us.” 

Jake sighed and sipped the coffee. It was done just how he liked it. “You don’t need me fucking things up.” He muttered and looked up as a waitress set down a plate of eggs and hash. He offered a thankful nod to her as she walked off. 

“You aren’t fucking things up.” Marc gave an irritated sigh and nudged the fork with their hand, indicating he wanted Jake to start eating. 

“Where’s Steven?” Jake hated when Marc tried to use passive influence on them. He moved his hand away from the fork and grabbed the hot sauce instead, dumping it across the plate. 

“He’s tired. I gave him the day off.” Marc watched as things were mixed up and piled onto a slice of toast. “He’s been fronting for two weeks since you decided to take a vacation.” 

“Why aren’t you taking a turn?” Jake took a bite and felt a familiar twinge as the body recognized how hungry it was. He struggled not to start shoveling food in and instead took a long sip of the coffee. 

“Because I’m having panic attacks.” Marc shrugged. 

“From the doctor visit?” Jake looked down at the plate. If he had just done what he was supposed to do then Steven could have handled it all and Marc wouldn’t have been forced to deal with it at all. 

“No.” Marc sounded tired. “Cause of a lot of things, but mostly you giving us the cold shoulder.” 

“I’m not giving you the cold shoulder. You’ve both done just fine without me up till now and after what happened, you might do just fine without me again.” Jake took another bite. 

Marc made a snorting laugh sound. “We did not do fine without you. From what I gather, I’ve never been without you. Just because I didn’t know you were there doesn’t mean that you weren’t there.” It sounded suspiciously like something Steven might have said to Marc at one point. 

“Our lives aren’t like that anymore.” Jake muttered. “You don’t need me to jump in and save us.” 

Marc was silent for a moment while Jake drank his coffee. The waitress stopped by with a pot and topped his mug off before shuffling off to other tables. 

“Saving someone isn't always about battles and fights.” 

“You have Steven for the bad days.” Jake added a packet of sugar and stirred the coffee slowly. 

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” Marc sighed. “No one understands like you do, Jake. Steven wasn’t there. Even if we tell him, even if you show him the memories… Everything we went through, you were there… You don’t just fight to protect us from outside harm. After everything, you deserve some happiness. You deserve a turn at life… If you want it.” 

Jake looked down at the plate. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay. We’re sharing this existence, right? Sometimes things happen and you just gotta let the shit happen and hope Steven’s there later to drag us out of it.” Marc grinned and would have patted him on the shoulder if he could. 

“So did we get the results from the doctor back yet?” Jake reached up to brush the hair out of his face. “Are we going to live?” 

“Yeah. ‘Fraid so. Cholesterol is a little high, though. Steven hasn’t let me hear the end of that. There’s a lot more carrots in the house than I ever thought possible. Uh… Don’t tell Steven what we had for breakfast.” Marc moved their hand and scooped up the last bite of the eggs quickly. “If he asks, we got oatmeal.” 

Jake smirked and pushed the empty plate aside. “Now and then isn’t bad. Gotta enjoy life a little. I’ll talk to him.” 

“See? Saving us already.” Marc settled back, happy to let Jake take the front fully. 

Jake sipped the coffee and slowly smiled. Maybe it was time to consider opening up communication more. 

“Steven’s right, you know.” Jake reached for the creamer and sugar, sweetening up the coffee. 

“Annoyingly.” Marc grumbled. “I try not to let him know that. Takes it to his head. What’s he right about this time?” 

“He should know about our medical history. It’s his history too. Maybe if he knows it, he can handle it better when we need to do things like routine check ups and things.” 

“Jake-” Marc started to protest. 

“You can tell someone things without them knowing things.” Jake leaned back and stirred the coffee slowly, watching the cream swirl into the black till it mixed into a lighter brown. “How can he save us if he doesn’t know what he’s saving us from?” 

Marc was quiet for a moment. “I’m having panic attacks again.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable and nervous. He didn’t want to talk but he did all at the same time. There were some things he could never say aloud. Things that made him feel too vulnerable, weak, or damaged. Things he didn’t want Steven to see and things he struggled to keep inside. 

Jake nodded and let Marc drift close enough to the front to feel comfortable enough to take the body if he wanted. “Merc times?” 

“Yeah.” Marc was tense then slowly relaxed. “Yeah…” 

“Wanna talk about it?” Jake tapped the spoon on the side of the mug then let his hands cup the mug, soaking in the heat till the body relaxed. 

“It’s complicated… But… Yeah. Let’s talk.” Marc relaxed and talked. 

Talking never came easy to him. It never came easy to Jake either. From an outsider’s view, a man sat silently alone in a booth with his cup of coffee and a far off look on his face. 

Inside, words flowed in images, memories, emotions, and a hope that settled like a feather delicately in the wind. 

[belablue222]

It always bothered steven more than he let on…

an animatic i did that explores more of the date scene in ep. 1, and how the universal emotion of loneliness effected steven.

song: goodbye- billie eilish

[xycuro-illuminati]

See with Zdarsky's run it was so unbearable and awful and sucked ass but there were other dd runs going on like Daredevil & Echo. Not only that, Ahmed is trying his best to work with this shit with the fault legit being having to continue off of zdarsky, boring, and the cane depiction. I was v close to just dropping dd but I'm willing to give the new run a chance. I have a stronger attachment to dd and it's characters other than matt so maybe that's why but I was close to going full dc and dmc. Plus Zdarsky's run (at least on tumblr) had a majority poor reception anyway. I'm down to ignore it and move on.

Mckay with Moon Knight?? Absolutely not. The mk system is DEAD (as far as we know) and now it's just continuing off while also grabbing niche hero characters and writing them in xenophobic and ableist ways. Reading a few panels alone has me so uninterested esp when I mostly enjoyed the original mk comics. MK was a second fav but now I'm just dropping it completely and not looking forward to read another run again nor engage in any mk media. It's just a headache to think about at this point.

[jujapaya]

Cool announcement: I've started a fic over on Ao3!

Currently, I'm only on Chapter 2. However, It's going to have many, many more chapters and I'm super stoked to write more of it!! Even if you don't read it, checking it out means a lot! It's my first fic, and I'm excited to share my delusional thinking about these guys.

If you're interested, read it here!

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[age-of-moonknight]

“Rats,” Moon Knight: Fist of Khonshu (Vol. 2/2024), #4.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Devmalya Pramanik; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[soft-girl-musings]

I'm sorry but reader insert stories as a tall gal can be so funny

fic: (Character) towers over you, their eyes boring down into yours

me, 5'10", already having pictured myself looking down: huh

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

[daddy-dotcom]

Bang My Line

Summary: You're Penelope Garcia's first intern, and you learn a lot more from her than just her technical skills.

Rating: M

Words:4, 357

Warnings: Fluff, typical canon violence mentions, smut ;)

*reblogs or comments r much appreciated*

Read my newest fic Scents and Sensibility out now 🤭

_____________________________________________

The first day was a blur. It was scary enough to completely change career paths, but working for the FBI was an entirely different beast. Between what seemed like hundreds of background checks and interviews, I finally made it to my first day. Granted, I would just be an intern for now, but hopefully this would lead to a permanent position as a technical analyst. I waited in the lobby for Penelope Garcia, the woman who would be my mentor for the duration of my time with the BAU. We had spoken over the phone and even texted back and forth a bit, but this would be my first time meeting in person.

“There she is! My shiny new intern.”

“Hi you must be Agent Garcia,” I replied with my arm outstretched. She took it and gave what was the most enthusiastic hand shake I’ve ever seen.

“Oh honey, I’m way too fun for you to call me agent. Call me Penelope.” I shook my head in agreement and she led me towards the elevator.

“I know I gave you a rundown of the team via our text messages, but be prepared for them to ask you a million questions. You’re my first ever intern and they’re dying to meet the newest member of the team.”

“Duly noted, just know I’m going to be doing the same to you Penn because I’m a little out of my element here.”

“hmm Penn, I like the sound of that.”

As the elevator doors opened, I could see the rest of the team gathered around a desk, too focused on their own conversation to notice me and Penelope.

“Everyone, please welcome my first and only intern (Y/N).”

The man in the crisp black suit stood up first to greet me and introduced himself as Agent Aaron Hotchner.

“Penelope has not shut up about her new intern so it’s nice to finally put a pretty face to the name. I’m SSA Derek Morgan.”

I let out a bashful chuckle as I shook Morgan’s hand. Penelope did warn me that he could be a bit of a flirt. I was then greeted by a blonde woman who goes by JJ and an older man named Agent Rossi.

“Don’t tell me you write in pink sparkly gel pen too?” he jokingly asked.

I smiled and shook my head no, before being greeted by Agent Emily Prentiss.

“Don’t mind Rossi, it’s always nice to have another woman on the team to keep these boys in check.”

She gestured towards Morgan and the other agent beside her, who I can only assume is none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

Penelope had described him as quote “Steven Hawking trapped in a young Bill Nye’s body.” What I didn’t expect was for him to actually be attractive. Sure, Agent Morgan and even Agent Hotchner were easy on the eyes, but Spencer Reid was strikingly handsome in the most unassuming way. The soft golden waves that covered the top of his head combined with those puppy dog eyes were enough to remind me how nervous I was to be joining the team.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)” he said as he took my hand. My palms were beginning to sweat, but the steadiness of his firm grasp eased my nerves.

“Likewise,” was all I could manage to say. He held my gaze for what felt like both a moment and an eternity, before releasing my hand.

“Well, (Y/N), let’s get you briefed on your first case,” said Penelope.

I followed Penelope into the briefing room and decided to sit in the seat closest to the screen so that I could take notes on her presentation. To my surprise, Spencer took the seat next to me. As if I wasn't already a nervous wreck, his close proximity to me was going to make my writing even more illegible than usual. Still, I could get used to sitting next to the most handsome member of the team.

As Penelope wrapped up her presentation and the rest of the team departed on the jet, the bubbly blonde gave me a little tour of her office. Rossi wasn't joking about Penelope's love of glitter gel pens, and her desk was adorned with unicorn paperweights and mermaid statues.

"This is your workspace over here, (Y/N), although you'll mostly be assisting me for the first couple of weeks. Feel free to decorate your desk with as many unicorns as you please," she said.

The first hour or so of work was mostly getting situated in my new workspace, but we soon got our first call from the team, and it was from the man himself, Derek Morgan. Penelope pressed the button to answer the phone and his voice immediately came through the speaker for both of us to hear.

"It's your babygirl and her babygirl in training, what do ya need hot stuff?" said Penelope.

"Hey mama, I need you to look into Walter Price's bank activity for the last few months, see if there were any suspicious withdrawals or transfers."

"Anything for you gorgeous"

"Thanks babygirl, I'll be expecting your call back soon."

I sat with my mouth slightly ajar, looking over at Penelope dumbfounded.

"Do you talk to everyone on the phone that way?" you asked.

"Nope, just my sweet lover Derek Morgan."

I paused for a second before asking my follow up question, "so are you two like...in a relationship?"

"Only in my dreams," Penelope said with a wink. I let out a laugh because this whole situation surprisingly made me more at ease in my new job.

"As your intern, I guess it's my job to learn how to answer the phone like you?" I said with a wicked smile.

"Oh no my dear, at least, not yet. We've got a long way to go before you get to my level. And of course you'll have to find your own gorgeous man to talk dirty to, Morgan is already taken."

That definitely wouldn't be a problem, I already had the most gorgeous man on the team in mind.

I spent the next few weeks listening in on Penelope's phone calls and looking up information for her. I even got to help her present a new case to the team. After my first week, the team took me out to celebrate surviving my first case with the BAU. Even though I had become more comfortable around everyone on the team, I couldn't shake the butterflies Reid gave me whenever we interacted. However, I did notice that I was much more confident over the phone than in person. I tried to conceal my blossoming crush on Spencer as best I could, but I couldn't help but be the slightest bit sweeter to him whenever he was the one who called us.

During my second month of internship, we had a particularly hard time tracking down an unsub. Penelope was getting way too many names and she called Spencer to help her narrow down the list.

"There were traces of chlorine and calcium hypochlorite on the body which are chemicals commonly used in pool maintenance, Garcia narrow it down to men over 40 in the area who own pools or work in pool maintenance," he said.

"One name! It's Michael Dunlop, he works as a freelance pool maintenance man and, ooh get this, he hasn't responded to any jobs since the first murder on June 11th."

"Sending the address to your phones right now!" I interjected.

"Thanks (Y/N),"

"Anything for you, cutie" I said, with a sudden burst of confidence.

As I hung up with a satisfied look on my face, Penelope glanced over at me looking smug as ever.

"Cutie huh? That's a new one," Penelope said, "I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later." And she was right. I started incorporating more color into my work wardrobe and I even brought my tiny stuffed cow to sit at my desk.

"You said I had to find my own gorgeous man to flirt with on the phone...so I did."

"I knew it! You have a crush on our genius boy-wonder!" She was positively giddy just by the thought of it. "I mean he's always sitting next to you and looking over at you when he thinks no one is noticing. You would think in a room full of profilers that I wouldn't be the only one to notice, and yet here we are."

It never occurred to me that my little crush might actually be reciprocated. Spencer was always a bit socially awkward, so I just assumed that he was the same way with me. I never once thought that he was actually as nervous to talk to me as I was to him. This fact somehow boosted my confidence even more, and I decided to have some fun with Spencer over the phone.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Cutie huh?" Morgan asked the blushing boy. Spencer was used to Penelope teasing him, but this was different. He had been harboring a small crush on their newest intern for the past month, and when she flirted with him over speakerphone for Morgan, of all people, to hear, Spencer couldn't help but turn as red as a tomato.

Of course, being a profiler, Morgan took notice of Reid's crimson cheeks. "Call me crazy but I think she likes you, pretty boy."

"O-of course not, she's just copying the way Garcia talks to you," Spencer stuttered.

"That may be true, the only difference is that you have a little crush yourself."

Spencer didn't bother trying to lie since he knew Morgan would see right through him, so he just mumbled something about Prentiss and Hotch needing them at the location (Y/N) sent.

---------------------------------------------------------

It was a lot easier to flirt with Spencer when he wasn't physically in front of me. When we were in the office together, we'd shoot each other smiles from across the room or he'd bring me an extra coffee in the morning. But when he was out in the field and I was back at my desk at the BAU, it was a whole different game. I tried my hardest to make him blush over the phone any chance I got, and it seemed to be working. After Penelope found out about my little crush, she decided to play matchmaker and slip Spencer my work phone number to call me instead for information. For the first time, I heard my phone ring instead of Penelope's and I immediately answered.

“Give it to me good baby, what do you need from me?” I replied. I knew it was Spencer since he was the only one who had my number.

"Hey (Y/N)" he said, and I swear I could hear him smiling through the phone. I could tell he had become more comfortable with our one-sided phone flirting over the past month. "I need you to look up all of Dr. Gupta's patients at the psychiatric clinic for the past 3 months, see if any of them drive a black van."

"You got it, gorgeous. If you need anything you know you can always bang my line."

---------------------------------------------------------

“You have (Y/N)’s number?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked puzzled, “Yea.. don’t we all?”

“I think it’s just you pretty boy” Morgan quipped, as he chuckled and gave him a pat on the back.

Spencer had grown fond of (Y/N)'s phone flirtation, but he was too embarrassed to return the favor in front of his colleagues. He loved watching her walk around the office in her high heels, trying to keep up with Penelope's fast pace. He knew brief glances and morning coffees weren't going to cut it anymore, he had to do something before her internship was over. So he decided to call her on his way home from working the case.

---------------------------------------------------------

The team had just finished a case and were on the plane headed back to Quantico. Penelope had plans so she left me to wrap things up in the office. Just as I was making my way towards the door, my phone began to ring. Confused, I picked up the phone and listened to see if it was a misdial.

"Hey babygirl."

I nearly choked when I realized who was speaking. My body involuntarily shivered and my heart quickened its pace. This "babygirl" hadn't come from Morgan, it was Spencer on the other line.

"Hi Spencer! What's up I thought you guys wrapped up the case?" I asked in a confused tone.

"We did, but I thought I'd call you without everyone else around." His voice sounded sultry and silky smooth, unlike his usual rapid rambling, and it made it so much harder for me to speak. "We should be landing in about twenty minutes, stay in your office and I'll meet you there."

"Okay, I'll be waiting here, handsome."

--------------------------------------------------------

Those twenty minutes were the longest twenty minutes of my life. I knew Spencer had a crush on me as well, but what could he possibly want to meet with me for? Was he going to ask me to stop flirting with him on the phone? Was he going to ask me out? Was he trying to make out with me? God I secretly hoped it was the latter...

Just as I had been getting lost in my own thoughts, I heard the familiar voices of the rest of the team down the hall. I knew Spencer would be walking into my office any minute, so I nervously fixed my hair and applied the lipgloss Penelope gave me.

"Hey babygirl," said the tall man standing in the door frame.

"Hi Spencie," I said with a smile as I called him the nickname I lovingly gave him, which I'm sure he secretly hates. I couldn’t help but grin since the word “baby girl” still seemed so foreign coming from his mouth. I stood up to meet his gaze as he slowly made his way over to my desk.

"I know you've been teasing me these past couple weeks," he said as we closed the gap between our bodies. I would say our faces were inches from each other, but he was impossibly tall and my face didn't reach past his chest, "but now its my turn to tease you," he said as he brought his hands behind my ears and pressed his lips onto mine. He was gentle and tentative at first, but I passionately pressed my lips back against his to deepen the kiss. I ran my hands through his gorgeous locks and began to tug. We quickly became a breathless mess and I couldn't help the feeling building in the pit of my stomach. His hands traveled down to my waist and he gingerly pulled me closer. He was both hesitant and passionate, not quite sure if he should act on his instincts. He pulled back for just a second to speak:

"I know you only have a few weeks left with us, but would you like to get coffee sometime?" he asked with those same puppy dog eyes that made me fall for him in the first place.

"Oh Spencie, we're a bit past coffee don't you think?" I said with blushy cheeks. "Let's get dinner sometime, I'm free any night except Tuesday, I have Zumba class with Penelope."

"She really has influenced you a lot hasn't she?" he said, making a mental note of the pink scrunchie in my hair.

"In more ways than one hot stuff."

---------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few weeks, I spent my days phone flirting with Spencer at work and my nights making out with him in my office or eating Chinese take-out in his apartment. No one on the team, not even Penelope, knew about our brewing workplace romance, and we intended to keep it that way until I was hired permanently. However, that didn't stop him from flirting back on our calls. I was on my last week of internship and I was now the only one who Spencer called when he needed information. Spencer and I had agreed to take it slow, but our most recent calls had me desperate to find out what else he was packing besides the gun strapped to his hip. Just then, a call interrupted my wandering thoughts and I immediately picked up knowing it was him.

“Dayton Ohio you're on the air" I answered in my sexiest voice possible.

"I'd like to make a request," Spencer replied.

"You can request anything you want, doctor" I could hear him chuckle behind the phone before telling me what he actually needed.

"I need you to look up a marketing firm by the name of Firsthand Media and see if they have any connections to the colleges of the first set of victims."

"I'm on it, sugar" I answered.

"Oh and one more favor, look up the words beautiful and brilliant and see what you can find."

"Look at that, it's me"

"You're the best (Y/N)"

I could feel Penelope's eyes on me before she turned around and said

"I've never been more proud."

The rest of the day was filled with calls from the other agents to Penelope, mostly Morgan, until that evening when I got one last call from Spencer. He asked me to see if there were any men who had been admitted to the hospital in the last 6 months for brain injuries, but no one came up.

"Couldn't find anything, looks like you're going to have to punish me Spencie," I replied.

"You'll just have to wait til I get back for that"

He hung up, and I couldn't believe what I just heard. Penelope and I were in shock that Spencer Reid could be so dirty. For once, I was the one blushing on the other end.

"(Y/N) I swear to god if you don't let that man make sweet love to you I am personally writing your letter of resignation"

"Penn! We just flirt is all, like you and Morgan, I could never actually be with him"

"So you two haven't been using my sacred office space to make-out between cases?" she asked with raised eyebrows. I stood there, with my mouth open and eyes wide, looking guilty as ever.

"You do know there's a camera in this office right?" I was mortified. Thank God we'd never done anything more than kiss in this office.

"You knew this whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh Morgan knows, but everybody else is still in the dark because I didn't want to risk you not getting hired. And I hacked into the security computers and deleted the footage."

"Thank you so much Penn, and I promise I won't have anymore heated makeout sessions in this office, or anywhere in this building for that matter."

"Anything for my little protege. But in all seriousness, you should definitely ride boy-wonder off into the sunset and make it official once you're hired."

"Penelope!" I hit her in the arm, only half jokingly because I knew deep down that that's exactly what I should do.

---------------------------------------------------------

As usual, I waited in my office for Spencer to meet me. But this time, I was determined to go back to his apartment and finish what we started over the phone.

"Hello beautiful" he said as he made his way over to me. He greeted me with a hungry kiss and it took every ounce of strength I had not to pin him down and ride him in this office.

"Spencer listen, we can't makeout in this office anymore. Garcia and Morgan know about us already and she had to delete the footage off of the security cameras."

"Morgan knows? That present he gave me actually makes a lot of sense now."

"Nevermind that," I said before moving closer to whisper in his ear, "what I need now is for you to punish me like you said you would."

I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, his eyes went wide but faintest hint of a smile appeared on his deliciously soft lips.

"well then what are we waiting for" he said as he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the office.

We wasted no time getting back to his apartment. Reid was always such a cautious driver, but this time he was driving like his life depended on it. Once in the building, he wouldn't let go of my hand and we were practically sprinting towards his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment before the door sprang open and I pushed him inside with the force of my lips on his. His hands had become quite comfortable exploring my body, and tonight was no exception. I tugged on his tie without breaking the kiss and he let out a heavy sigh as I led him towards his bedroom. I pushed him once again, this time down onto the bed, and I practically jumped on top of him to straddle his waist. As I let my weight rest on the growing bulge in his pants, he let out the sexiest groan and I could feel the wetness pooling in my panties. I continued to grind on him as we completely devoured each other. This wasn't the first time we'd done this, but this time it was different, we both wanted more.

"Spence please," I whined, "I need you."

"You can have me baby," he replied, looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes that I adore so much.

We quickly undressed and I raced to climb back on top of him.

"You really are beautiful," he said while tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. I smiled back at him and gently kissed his lips before going back to grinding over his now bare cock.

His groans were like music to my ears and I couldn't help but sighing at the feeling of him gliding across my exposed cunt.

"Baby please, I want to be inside you," he pleaded.

"Do you have a, uh, condom?" I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"I do...that was actually the 'gift' that Morgan got me," he said followed by a nervous chuckle. He reached into the drawer on the bedside table and, slightly trembling, opened the package.

"I-I just want you to know that I haven't done this in a while, (Y/N)," he began, "I don't know if I'll be any good." He was just as nervous as I was. I gave him a sympathetic nod before replying.

"It's okay Spence, it's been a while for me too. I guess you could say we get pretty caught up in our work."

"Agreed," he said, slightly more at ease.

As soon as he finished up rolling on the condom, I wasted no time lining him up with my entrance and sinking onto his length.

"Fuck, baby" he moaned with his eyes screwed shut "you feel so good." It was insanely hot to hear such foul language come out of Spencer Reid's mouth.

"You want me to ride you baby?" I asked teasingly.

"Yes please..."

I began to bounce rapidly on his dick, feeling every inch of him come in and out of me. I had a feeling he wasn't going to last long, but I didn't care, I was beyond happy to just watch the pleasure that I was bringing him. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts, which caused a simultaneous moan to come from the both of us.

"God (Y/N) you're going to make me cum" he said, nearly out of breath.

I knew he was close, but I was slowing down as my legs began to give out on me. He sensed the slowing of my pace, so he took one hand from my breast, wrapped it around my waist, and began to pump into me from below.

“Consider this your punishment babygirl”

This new angle was heaven to me and I couldn't help but cry out. He was fucking me so hard I swear I could see stars.

"Oh god Spence," I moaned. For someone who has been out of the game for a while, he was making me feel so good.

"I'm gonna...I'm..." he muttered.

"Let it out Spence, cum for me baby."

And with that, he spilled his load inside the condom. He just kept coming and coming inside of me until there was nothing left. Spencer Reid was utterly and completely spent.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Well Dr. Reid, you sure know how to please a woman,” you said poking him in the rib.

“What can I say, I’m an overachiever,” he replied with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

As I was about to go in for a kiss on his cheek, my cellphone rang, and it was a call from Penelope.

“Hello my pretty! Sorry in advance that I’m probably interrupting your sexy times with boy-wonder but I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You got the job!”

“Oh my goodness! That’s great news, thanks Penn! What department am I in?”

“You’re going to be working in the international intelligence department, aaaaand that means you’ll probably have to report your little romance directly to human resources.”

“Sounds good Garcia, we’ll take care of that first thing in the morning,” Reid interjected.

“Ah, so boy-wonder is there with you! Looks like you took my advice after all (Y/N),” Penelope replied.

I rolled my eyes and said “Goodnight Penelopeeee” in a sing-songy voice.

“Goodnight you two, be safe and don’t stay up tooooo late.”

“Aww, what ever happened to the fun Penelope Garcia?”

“She’s not here right now but leave a message, bye!” And with that our conversation was over.

“Guess it’s time to tell the rest of the team about us”

“I guess so Spence, good luck handling all the teasing on your own baby,” I said with a giggle and planted a kiss on his cheek before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow was surely going to be an interesting day at the office.

__________________________________

AN: Thanks for all the love, shameless plug for my newest oneshot The Visit

Taglist: @alondralolll@irehluvr@abbeyskeff@kaldurahms-lover@mischiefmanaged21@cheerful-clarinet@julesasf69@its-like-twilight@spearbsm@xxrookexx@oliveoilthoughts@twilightlover2007@comboboo@breadrobin@sunflowers-420@the-holy-trinity-l@frickyea-guacamole19@ayatos-wife@ghostheartbeat@famfan-1034@ivyproblems@lavenderrway@rogerismyqueen@talkintrashcann@chatxconverse@phoenix1388@dumbredpotato@ourprisma@autisticallyreid@curvingdoll@strwbymoon@tomorrowxforever@alexabsinthe@myliteralhyperfixations19@cloudy-em@prentisszlover@cami-is-reading@ichundjulia@rubywritesblog@blameitonthenight21@xsophx27-blog@mariezanny@gubes-sweaters@ohmoaohbaby@lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests@secludedstarlight@clockgirl94@theonewhereifangirl@nervousmoongiver@tearsofsound@suburban-forest@unkn0wnnerd@creativeuser101@bigassnocash@chasedbyunclewalt@abbyandersonssecretgfsecretgf@iheartlilia@cryingabta@justsomeimbicel@ssaspencerreidswife@likeawinebottle@imanewsoul@singinghamtaro-blog@lovingperfectionsblog@deafeningmiraclecherryblossom@secretlovezz@inlovewithemilyprentiss@jenthebin@walmartclearance89@theseverefangirl@tulips-ean@gummybear123@myravenchaser@tpickett@librarymousesqueak@pocketful-of-sunflowers@climbingivy97@ghost-wonder@sparrow-winchester@thbckgrnd@mswgtsd@kirmaaa@taliegator@jinecie@unlikelypaintertreeknight@notagirlfangirl@sarahsmiles-user@luvehotch@cosmoscoffeee@ara-a-bird@lesbiansayaishii@itsmeelena@just-a-lil-xtra@willowtree42095@the-way-of-the-hall@theedwardscissorhandslover@thosewhocantdo-teach@slay-and-gay@luvurmind@witchyval@fandom-alley@wifeyreid@samandhislostshoe@whoamiomakeachange@xcastawayherosx@danis-stuff-is-here@love4lando

[mgparker]

Come Back to Me

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: Mark leaves on a mission for Khonshu while you deal with a confrontation of your own. Unfortunately, this particular foe is aware of your specific skill set and uses your weakest spot to deliver a fatal wound. Laying there defenseless and abandoned, your final desire is to speak to the love of your life one last time.

warnings: ANGSTTTT!! (the fav), character backstory, flashbacks, character death, reader wound, sadness, despair etc etc, cliffhanger

masterlist!

“M-Mark?” Fuck. Fuck. Your voice was wobblier than you had expected.

“Baby?” You heard some shuffling. “What’s wrong?”

You pulled the phone away to clear your throat. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Despite your assurances, he wouldn’t be fooled. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk.”

The pain was spreading from your side, crawling through your torso like deadly vines. It was nearly blinding. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you tried to steady your breathing.

This isn’t how you wanted to go. Whimpering in pain and regretting every decision that got you here.

No. What you wanted was to hear your lover’s voice one last time. The warm timbre of his essence. Your favorite sound in the entire world.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed. “Where are you?”

Your man was nothing if not stubborn. “Yes, baby. I’m okay—“ you really weren’t. “What—what did you do today?”

Marc sucked in air through his clenched teeth, gripping his phone with white knuckles. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I’m coming home for a few days… our leads haven’t gotten us anywhere and Khonshu believes we just need a comfortable place to think.”

You would’ve scoffed at that if your chest and throat weren’t on fire. Khonshu believes?

The big bird knew what Marc would be returning to. He knew you were lying in a pool of your own blood.

The thought sent a surge of panic through your body, even as the pain was beginning to overwhelm you. “No! Uh—um you— you’re already so close. W-what are you stuck on?”

Tears welled in your eyes, it felt like a blazing iron rod was being shoved into your chest and dragged up slowly until every organ could feel the flame.

It was silent on the other end for a heavy moment, before Marc’s deep voice hesitantly spoke your name. His tone lifted, suspended in question.

A shake courses through you, fear beginning to blossom in the pit of your stomach. The last thing you wanted was for him to panic… and now you’re beginning to panic as well.

You weren’t ready.

A sob broke through your lips before you could stop it. As if you even had the strength to.

“Marc,” you sobbed, turning your head to gaze at the phone beside you. As if it would give you one last glimpse at the love of your life.

His breathing picks up frantically. “Where are you? Tell me now.”

On his end, fabric is wrapping around his body at a faster rate than it ever had before. He could feel the strength of Khonshu enter him, the god’s presence filling the void.

The corners of your vision darkened and just when you thought you’d scream from the pain— it was gone. Miraculously, you felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Your heart dropped.

“I’m sorry,” a daze washed over you. There was nothing else to do but wait. A forlorn smile graced your paling face. “I’m so sorry, baby. There isn’t much time left.”

“What time?! Stop this shit, where are you? I can make it there as soon as you tell me.”

“There’s not enough time,” you pressed. You were coming to terms with the distant bright light that was supposed to be illuminating your vision.

You would’ve wished that that was what you were seeing as you drifted off, but one wish stood above all the others—

Your desire to be with Marc and Steven.

You barely notice the frantic yelling on the other end of the line before you’re cutting it off weakly.

“I—“ you go to clear your throat but the numbness had spread too far now. “I love you. Every part of you, baby. I just— I just wanted to hear your s—sweet voice one last t-time. Okay? I love you…”

The last word died on your tongue. And the darkness had taken over before you could hear Marc’s broken response.

A strangled yell left Marc’s lips. His stomach was knotted. The shadow of Khonshu appeared in his peripheral vision.

But Marc was rooted in his own grief. His lips were quivering, snot mixing with salty tears as he bared his teeth, shaking from the pure emotion of it all.

Why wasn’t he home? He had vowed to protect you, shield you from the horrors of the world— his world— but it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t be there all the time, and you’d always reassured him that it’d be okay. That you didn’t feel like you constantly had to look over your shoulder, you didn’t want Marc or Steven to spend every second of their life protecting yours.

It’s his fault. God, the thought made him choke. Hands flying up to grasp at his throat as if he could stop it from tightening. It’s all his fault.

Maybe—maybe it’s not too late. Maybe, just maybe, you’re alive.

He could still feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder. “Take me to her.”

It’s silent. The wind breezing past his ears, the serenity of the night sky brazenly mocking his wild panic.

“Now, Khonshu!” He spun around quickly, voice wavering in rage.

If it hadn’t been for the God’s power over him, Marc would’ve been with you. The only person who truly matters to him in this world.

By some beautiful twist of fate, Khonshu unexpectedly relents, nodding his giant head in the direction of a portal.

Marc couldn’t find it in himself to thank him, everything else had faded away until all he saw was your mangled body on the other side of it.

His feet took him across the rooftop at an immeasurable feet, practically flying over the distance, until his surroundings had changed completely.

“No,” he cried, dropping to his knees painfully. Shards of glass pierced his skin as if he weren’t already bleeding out with you. “Baby? Baby, wake up. Wake up!”

Your body was lifeless in his arms, and the embrace felt strange, nothing like how you’d lay in his arms at night. Fingers gripping his necklace loosely, head tucked into the crook of his neck… legs tangled with his as if your bodies were one.

Blood left a trail from your nose to your chin and shaky hands went to wipe it away before pausing in midair to hover over your face…

“Love?”

Bewildered, Steven nearly gave himself whiplash as he snapped his head away from the sight of your bloodied body.

And despite wanting to run away, his hands tightened around your frame, his lungs failing.

Everything burned, his chest, his stomach. God, his arms and legs were going numb.

And where Marc couldn’t go, Steven went.

Denial.

“Love, come on,” his head has turned to you again but his eyes were squeezed shut. “Wake up. The gag has gone long enough.”

No response. Your laughter wasn’t shaking your frame, your voice wasn’t reassuring him that it’d all been a silly, cruel joke.

“Lovie…” he knew how much you hated the name and despite it, absolutely nothing.

Weren’t you going to argue? Playfully punch him in the shoulder as you giggled at him to never call you that again. Weren’t you going to put on that half-assed angry frown that you always did before smiling and pulling him to your lips?

Weren’t you going to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright?

His heart dropped with the realization that you already had.

You already spoken those words sweetly and he’d dismissed them, twisted them into something rageful when all he should’ve done was pulled you into his arms and never let you go.

“Steven,” you tried, grabbing onto his hands with an unusual hint of desperation. Almost as if you knew something he didn’t. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be alright.”

The sincerity in your eyes practically sparkled or maybe that was just the pure love that you felt for him. But it didn’t get through to him this time, instead his panic and anxiety twisting his words and actions into something else.

“How can you say that?” Steven stressed. “How can you be so positive all time?! Consider the possibility that maybe sometimes you’re just wrong!”

His soul shattered when he realized… it was the last time he’d ever hear those words.

He hadn’t believed in them and now this happened.

Steven forced his eyes to open slowly.

In the pale moonlight, your face was still as beautiful as the first time he ever saw you.

It was early in the morning; the sun was barely over the horizon and the streets of London were not all too busy for this hour. 

Thankfully for Marc, the little coffee house that was nestled in the array of buildings on Russell Street was practically empty. Save for the steady stream of customers who would fly in and out with a streaming cup of coffee or tea in their hands.

But tucked in the corner of the large window seat was you. 

Exactly as he’d seen you in his numerous hours of laborious research. Hair tucked behind your ears, oversized round glasses slipping off the tip of your nose, lips tucked in concentration, a loose sweater hanging off your shoulders. 

There was a sense of tranquility about you. A stillness despite the bustling customers mere feet from you. 

A girl immersed in her own world; a utopia all within the threads of your pale green sweater, the gentle sway of your feet under the table, the hint of a smile at the corner of your lips.

How odd it was to find such astounding beauty in someone you knew everything and nothing about. 

Because in your little world, you may have been closed off from the reality around you, but an open book to anyone who cared to look. 

And Marc couldn’t see why anyone wouldn’t.

He just hated that he had to be the one to shatter your universe.

“Excuse me,” Marc said when he finally worked up the courage to enter the shop. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Then you looked up at him and he knew it was a sight he’d remember for the rest of his life, an image that would flash behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.

Your eyes piercingly studied his through your eyelashes for a long moment. The hint of a smile was gone. 

“Sure,” you eventually smiled brightly. 

A dazzling smile that kept him rooted to the spot a little longer than necessary. 

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to mind it. “You’re American?”

Marc finally sat down next to you, gripping his chocolate muffin tightly. “Actually, I’m from Chicago.”

If your chuckle was charming, he couldn’t imagine your laugh. 

“Which is in America, if I recall correctly.”

“You do, it is... in America.” God he needed to work on his social skills. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Partly because of your particular line of work, mostly because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. 

You shut your book softly. “What brings you to London?”

Marc was sure you would’ve shut him down by now, questioned his intentions or tried to put his ass down. But you were graceful, serene... Seemingly not worried at all about his intentions.

If he’d asked, you would’ve told him that you had a keen eye for vibrant souls. His being one of the brightest you’d stumbled upon. 

“Uh, work,” he replied unconvincingly. “What about you? You’re a fellow American yourself, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” You were teasing him.

Maybe he could hear that laugh again after all. “Your accent and the whole sweater thing you’ve got going on? Practically screams California.”

Your laugh was surprisingly booming, genuine. He found himself smiling at the sound of it.

It can’t be this easy to fall in love with someone you just met. 

“It’s New York actually,” you corrected between fading giggles. “Close enough.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears red. “It’s not.”

Smiling widely, you shook your head in agreement. “It’s really not.”

It’s silent for a few moments and just when Marc thinks you’re going to open your book again, you speak softer than before. 

“I’m assuming you sat in my little corner for a reason, Mr. Spector.”

The gravity of your simple statement uncharacteristically flew past his head. Instead, he was a little more focused on trying to hear that twinkling laugh again. 

“What’re you doing?” You rose an eyebrow, watching as the man wildly looked around the space you were occupying. From the two adjoining walls to the wooden round table. 

“Looking for any indication that this is in fact entirely your corner. So far I see nothing except...” There was no way he wasn’t making a fool out of himself but he was in too deep to stop--

The pin suddenly dropped.  

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

A nonchalant expression adorned your face. “People like you don’t seek people like me unless they need something.”

His brain short-circuits. 

“People like me...” Marc repeated, his voice lifting slightly as if almost in question. 

“I’m aware of every single entity within my range whom fit the qualifications of a very secure database. Yelena Belova, Alexei Shostakov, Spider-Man who happens to be around on a school trip...” you listed idly, twirling the little stick that was stained with your hazelnut coffee. “... Marc Spector.”

The rose-colored glasses were slowly slipping off. His years of servitude under Khonshu’s hand began to harden his exterior until he could finally look at you as a threat. Just to be sure. 

“Why would I be on that list?”

You motioned toward the untouched muffin. “Are you gonna eat that?”

“Why would I be on that list?” His jaw clenched.

“Well, why wouldn’t you?” You take a sip. “Moon Knight is an incredibly promising prospect in the eyes of those who protect our world. You’re incredibly powerful.”

Marc scoffed. Is that what he was to you? A potential business deal, a recruit?

“But it doesn’t really matter to me anyway.”

His eyes shot up in interest. The corner of your lips had turned up again.

“I don’t work for any agency anymore,” you explained. “I’m just a girl with an incredible skill set and impressive resume.”

“Humble much?”

There was a knowing twinkle in your eye. “Only when I need to be.” 

Your stares met with a shared interest. As if you two were really seeing each other for the first time. 

To Marc, your beauty was astounding, ethereal. He could only hope that you’d choose to stay in his life.

“I did come for a reason... I have a mission and I could use someone with your specific skill set.”

“You need help.”

“Well, I didn’t say that exactly--”

“It’s what you meant,” you narrowed your eyes playfully. “Thankfully, I’m a woman of the people. But why should I help you?”

“I’m backed into a corner. I’m just trying to do things right in the best way I can. But I need you to trust me.”

“Trust is gained, Spector.”

“Then allow me to earn it.” The mercenary countered.

You allowed your eyes to look over him. At his open grey button up, his ironed white shirt and black pants. His ebony hair, brushed away from his face, sprinkled with a hint of grey. The scruff on his jaw and the brown of his eyes. 

Falling in love with someone you just met can’t be this easy.

Your resolve crumbled and you knew he was going to be in your life for the unforeseeable future. The fluttering in your abdomen pulled you in before you could stop it. 

Not that you wanted to. 

“So what does this mission entail?”

Slowly, a genuine smile curved Marc Spector’s lips, one that you reciprocated with a blinding beauty that made his heart nearly stop.

And as he walked out of the coffee shop that morning, your number scribbled on a note that was neatly folded in his pocket, there was a sudden change... brief but enough for Steven Grant to suddenly find himself on Russell Street. Confused and a bit frightened, but only for a quick moment-- 

Until he turned his head and gazed into the large coffeehouse window...

To see you for the first time, with eyes that had adoringly gazed upon yours for hours. 

And the sight was like a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with something he didn’t quite know he needed. 

The close-lipped smile that spread from cheek to cheek behind the fist of your closed hand, idle strands of hair that fell to cover your joyous expression, the simple rise and fall of your chest...

And between the moment that he saw you and Marc reemerged to front, Steven Grant couldn’t help but wonder who had made your eyes light up in that way. 

Steven Grant wondered if he had the chance, could he make you happy?

But he couldn’t see the light in your eyes anymore. Eyelids rested over those effervescent eyes and a part of him finally shattered. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. Bringing your forehead close to his, his lips tenderly touched your warm skin. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

Softly, as if to not disturb you, he reached for your hand, catching a glimpse of the fading paint job he’d done on your nails before he left last week. 

“I-I-I can’t, I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t breathe anymore, gasping against your body as he tightened his embrace. 

Acceptance. 

With a shudder, Marc kept his eyes closed despite the sudden switch. 

This way he could imagine that you weren’t dead, you weren’t cold and lifeless. No, you were alive. Finally squeezing in a nap between your tireless research, hours upon hours at the computer, hacking databases and trying everything you could to help the boys. 

Yes, yes, he could take a moment to indulge in that fantasy. 

Because once he opened his eyes, it was finally over. Marc Spector would have to live without you. 

“How wasteful...”

That pent-up anger reared its ugly head. “What?”

If he wasn’t holding onto you, Marc would’ve committed violence against the god. 

“To let such a valuable asset go would be a pitiful waste,” Khonshu drawled from behind his avatar. 

Marc shook his head at the audacity. “I don’t want to hear this. I--I don’t want to hear this.”

“Perhaps you do, Spector,” the god insinuated. “Feel the warmth of her skin... look at the color beneath her skin...”

This was cruel. “No...”

“Your grief may be premature--” what? “-- her fate lies in no one’s hands but her own.”

He finally looked up. “Stop with the riddles. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just as I once appeared before you, the goddess Isis requires an avatar. Your lover is still in the fight between life and death.”

Deception was a skill Marc was certain Khonshu had mastered but yet, he found nothing but the truth in his tone. He felt the god’s sincerity. 

Shock stilled his body, mouth slightly open as he stared into the night sky and then slowly back at you.

Despite his aversion to serving a god, the only thought running through his mind was the desire for you to come back to him.

In any way, he’d have you. 

Otherwise, neither he nor Steven would make it. 

“This is up to you, baby,” Marc whispered into your hair. “But fight. Please... fight. Come back to me.”

Please.

Come back to me.

The voice bounced off the walls of the chamber, echoing until it faded away.

It was the voice that would always bring you back. 

“You have a choice to make,” a different voice reminded you, sweet and smooth. “Be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was.”

You were on the tip of the iceberg, held back from what you’d seen Marc and Steven deal with for years but itching to get back to the broken man that was begging for you. 

“What does that even mean?” You groaned. 

Isis gave you no further explanation than what she’d told you before. You glared at her for another moment before feeling a phantom pain shoot across your body. Well, metaphysical body.

You realized you’re running out of time.

“So I do this or what? Die? I love how you all deal in absolutes,” your snark was still intact. “Any room for negotiation?”

The Goddess of Magic and Fertility towered over you, mighty with large wings that spanned the length of the golden chamber. Eyes that pierced into your soul, quite literally, and a beauty that wasn’t made to be seen by mortal eyes.

It was easy to tell why. Such beauty was captivating, breath-stealing and enough to send any man or woman to their knees.

But yet here you stood, slightly annoyed and about three feet under. 

Unamused, Isis blinked expectantly. 

Please... Air caught in your throat. Baby...

The decision suddenly wasn’t hard at all. 

And it seemed as if Isis knew it as well. 

“Will you be my apprentice and help me restore the world to what it once was?” She repeated.

The other half of your soul was missing and you knew how to soothe the agonizing pain for the both of you…

“Yes.”

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking Down the Comics: Teaming up with the Devil.

Moon Knight Issue #13: The Cream of the Jest. (1981) 

Moon Knight's first team up! Daredevil! 

At this point, he probably has appeared in the background of other comics and maybe even been badly sketched in one or two group shots. 

But this is the first Moon Knight comic that features another hero. 

And of course it's DareDevil. 

And thus we start Matt and Marc's long competition of who can be the most dramatically angst ridden. 

....I think Matt is winning. 

I'd also like to point out that ANY TIME Moon Knight teams up with someone, the issue always starts off with them fighting. (There is one hilarious exception and that is Franke Castle, who instantly bonded with Moon Knight and was like his BFF. That issue comes later). 

It's like anyone in the Avengers sees Moon Knight and kill bill sirens start playing. 

So the issue opens on Grand mansion and Jake (clothes and mustache make the man) is at the table reading the paper. He's not happy because someone he stopped as Moon Knight just got out on parole for being a 'model prisoner'. 

I want to point something out here: NEDDA THE COOK is better at respecting Jake than Marlene. 

She's still calling him Steven but whn Jake gets up to leave, Nedda takes the time to get it right: 

"Very well, master....ah, Jake." 

Little old granny Nedda! 

As Jake leaves, Marlene calls after Steven. 

"The name is Jake now, Lady." As he gets into his cab. 

Cut to two guys scheming together about what to do after they get out of jail. One promised to kill Moon Knight as his first act out of jail. The other is a villian named "The Jester '' because he had a poor stage performance and got booed off the stage once. 

He plans to ruin the director that fired him during his big big triumphant return to the stage. 

He also deeply hates DareDevil for putting him away. 

It's surprisingly easy to become a villain in the marvel universe. 

Yep, just as Moon Knight is planning to watch his guy, DareDevil plans to follow his own villain. I....I'm going to have to show you the glory of this age of DareDevil. 

Behold: 

Matt….What are you doing…. Was this the best way to do this? 

So the Jester is preparing for his scheme, putting together his 'deadly toys' and so on. 

He heads to the city and DareDevil follows. 

Meanwhile, Moon Knight is hot on the trail too. 

And he spots DareDevil, but he worries DareDevil is going to get in the way before the Jester leads him to his guy. 

Unfortunately the Jester nearly gets hit by a car and in New York fashion, the driver chews him out, leading to the Jester hitting him in the face with a Yo-yo. 

DareDevil assumes the worst and is ready to jump in and take him down. 

And so, Moon Knight is forced to interfere to keep DareDevil from ruining his plan. 

What does he do? Of course the most sensible thing and talks to him, right? NOPE. Throws one of his crescent darts at DareDevil and cuts his Billy Club Line. 

....And DareDevil lands in an arcade. Because of course he does. 

If you've read any DareDevil comics, you'll know that DD's greatest weakness (besides his crippling catholic guilt) is having his hearing overwhelmed. 

So while DareDevil is stunned and having a bad time with the loud sounds, Moon Knight straight up tackles him. 

Yeah, that's not how you make friends, Moon Knight. 

Jester stands outside the arcade watching the fight. 

I can't even imagine the citizen's of New York also watching these two idiots fight in an arcade. 

Jester runs off to carry out his plan. 

While DareDevil swings Moon Knight around on a billy club line. 

And Moon Knight throws his own Truncheon (big stick thing to hit people with). 

DareDevil is still off balance by the arcade sounds and gets whacked right in the face.

It's at this point that they've made a right mess of the arcade and the citizens decide they've had enough. 

Put to shame by the arcade patrons, Moon Knight FINALLY introduces himself. 

"The Name's Moon Knight, Daredevil, and it seems to me that enough is--"

"Right--Enough. We've almost hurt some innocent people as it is." 

They make up and decide to team up to stop the bad guys. 

Meanwhile, the Jester has made it to the theater and sends in his robots to cause chaos. 

They crash the play and take the audience hostage while the Jester does his thing. 

They proceed to rob the place. 

Running up to the theater, Moon Knight spots his man in the getaway car playing lookout. 

On a walkie talkie, he tells Jester that the cops are coming. 

They have a getaway plan, though. "Go get the helicopter, Taggert-and pick me up on the theater's roof in say, a half hour?" 

Look at my boy go. Sending people to ‘Dreamtime”. I’m not sure that makes sense. Did you mean Dreamland? I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, he did take a few DareDevil hits to the head, after all. 

He calls Frenchie in his chopper and tells him to get ready for a plan. 

You gotta love the early comics. They were about fun and surprises. Even when you could see where they were going, you had no idea how they would pull off the gag. 

DareDevil meets with the police at the baracaid. 

"You can't go barging in there--He's got five hundred hostages!" 

You can't stop DareDevil when the law is being broken. 

"...And not even the Jester can laugh at the law. I'm bringing him to justice." 

And he dramatically vaults the baracaid. 

He's just so passionate about the law....

He runs in before the Jester can hurt someone and jumps through a background prop. 

And I do mean through. He busts through like the Kool-Aid-Man. 

"DareDevil! Bursting through the scenery! But I thought you were--" 

"Trading punches with Moon Knight? Sorry to disappoint you, but we kissed and made up -- Deciding our punches would be better spent on YOU, Jester!" 

Gotta love old comic dialogue. You just... You just have to appreciate it. 

The robots attack DareDevil and Moon Knight busts in to help take them out. 

It goes about as well as it usually does.

 Why does he always look so utterly helpless all the time? I’ve never seen someone spend so much time face down on the floor. That’s not just me, right? Does he splat on the floor a lot?

He jumps on a robot and just beats the shit out of it. 

Moon Knight has never been about elegance. He's not going to flip around like DD. He's always been about brute force. 

He just has no regard for his own limitations or safety. He always just goes into every fight hoping to dish out more hits than he takes. 

The Jester makes a run for it and Moon Knight lets him go. 

This is what I like about some of the older comics. You get a lot of dynamic poses. You just don’t see art like this too often anymore. 

Also, you get a lot of glimpses at Moon Knight’s sense of humor. 

Later, in the late 90s and early 2000s, a lot of comics took a dark turn and became more edgy. Moon Knight took that turn too, but Early Moon Knight really did have a sense of humor that was fun. 

You even see in some Marc Spector flash backs and side shorts that Marc was a bit of a doofus. Something I miss at times. Seeing how much of an goof he was. 

You see bits of that in modern Mr. Knight at times, but still not as carefree as it was. 

Anyways, Jester runs to the roof looking for his partner in crime to pick him up in a helicopter. 

And he sees one coming with a rope ladder! 

Getting on the ladder, he laughs about outwitting DD and MK. 

MK explains to DD who, when you think about it, has no idea what's going on, since he can't see the copter. 

"You see, that's MY helicopter... Piloted by MY partner, not his, and his ultimate destination is the True cream of the frothy jest..." 

He tells Frenchie to take him down. 

And the helicopter lands him right in the middle of the police line while he's screaming at what he thinks is his partner. 

I want to say that this issue was just outright fun. 

Even in the fun, you still get a Jake moment, asserting his identity and it was really nice to see someone in the Grant mansion acknowledge it and trying. 

ALso, Sienkiewicz went OFF on this issue. The lines and faces were just amazing and a real pleasure to look at. 

Marlene is no longer just a vague woman shape in a sexy pink nightgown like she is in SO MANY of the earlier issues. 

Gena, Jake, and Crawley are all carefully inked out and even the clothes and lines in the shirts are just stunning. 

I also REALLY enjoyed the way Moon Knight's eyes were so easy to read in the black void of his mask. 

I've always loved how the eyes are the only thing you can see and how they give away so much. It's like looking at an all black cat in the dark and suddenly big bright eyes look up at you. 

There are also a lot of new angles and action poses that you don't get in the earlier issues. I think after a few years, Sienkiewicz really came into his own and started experimenting and having fun. 

Hats off to this issue. While not a big important one, it is still a pretty good one in the Moon Knight history.