a/n: hello! this is for @beautifulbows924 Moon Knight writing special.
prompt: “It’s okay.” + “I know you don’t love me like you do her.”
word count: 2k+
pairing (s): marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader
moon knight masterlist
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
Your love for him was like a tragedy waiting to happen. The trigger was there since the beginning, waiting for your finger or his to pull it and shoot you right in the heart. Your friends were wary of him, saying that he would be the one to break your heart into two, leaving you alone to mend the poor pieces. You did not listen to them, not when you found yourself falling for him harder every day.
When you first met him, he was nothing more but a stranger who saved you from your creepy colleague. You had a bad day at work, and your day was only getting worse when one of your colleagues kept pestering you to go out on a date with him. Rejecting him for the hundredth times, it seemed to upset him so much that he followed you home. You did not even notice it, not until he had you pressed against the wall of your apartment building, fear started to suffocate your head.
That was when Marc came and ripped the man off you, sending a few punches that left him begging and crying for forgiveness from you. He was not in his suit, back then you knew nothing of his job and yet when he looked you in the eyes, you knew your heart was his.
It was too good to be true.
You did not run from him when he told you about Steven, or his night activities that might scare others. He would remember the way you held him in your arms forever, as he cried into your chest, letting it all out to you and only you.
Steven was so different than Marc. He found himself getting attached to you the moment his eyes laid on you, and he knew he could not survive without you. He knew you loved Marc first, but he also knew that did not mean you love him any less. You had so much love to give, and Steven loved you with all of his heart.
You were aware that Marc was a man of many secrets. Sometimes you wondered if it was prudent for you to believe him, when he kept so many things from you. Everyone thought you were gullible to trust him, but you would shrug them off, saying that you loved him and it was enough to make you trust him with your life.
His secrets unrevealed themselves day by day, and nothing could surprise you more than knowing that he had an ex wife, whom he still confide with so many things even after the divorce. Sometimes you were sure that she knew him better than you could ever do. It took him a year to tell you about Layla, and you could not help but wonder why.
Then you met her. She was so kind to you, and there was no reason for you to dislike her in any way. You liked her and you could see yourself being friends with her. However, you were not stupid. You saw the way Marc looked at her, and as much as you wanted to convince yourself that he was yours, you knew he was hers first, and perhaps she never left his heart.
You never brought her up. There was no reason to, as you knew she was in his past. But that was until he brought her up, during an argument.
“Why don’t you talk to me, Marc?”
Your voice was soft, not wanting to anger him even more. He came home, rage filled in his eyes as he paced back and forth in the room. He shook his head, clearly wanting to shut you out like he always did.
“Marc, please let me help you.”
Putting your hand on his arm, you hoped it would bring him some comfort. Marc looked at you, silently telling you to let him be. A part of you was screaming at you to leave him alone, but another was begging you to stay. He needed you.
“Let me help you.”
“No.”
He said under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear him. You dropped your hand from his arm, your heart was hurting for him. He had been through so much and you wished he could trust you enough to get your help.
“You know you can trust me, Marc.”
You tried, not even once did you raise your voice at him, as your love for him was far too big to even hurt him by words. But he was exhausted and angry, Steven was telling him to let you comfort him but he would not listen. He would regret it later.
“I can help you, love.”
You caressed his face gently, but he did not lean into your touch like he always did. He just stared at you, a sharp glare was sent towards your way.
“You can’t help me.”
Anger was dripping from his voice, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You let your hands fall from his face and you were ready to leave him alone, but before you could do it, a half-hearted chuckle escaped his lips.
“You can’t help me, Y/N. You’re not Layla.”
His words were knives stabbed into your chest, ripping your heart out and leaving it on the cold hard floor. Tears boiled in your eyes, as suddenly it felt like it was hard to breathe. How could he look you in the eyes and compare you with her? You never thought you meant so little to him for him to hurt you this way.
“If I was her, you would love me more, wouldn’t you?”
You asked, voice breaking as his words stung. You would remember if forever, those words were engraved in the back of your mind, reminding you again and again that you were not the one he wanted.
Marc’s anger turned into realisation and it vanished into devastation when he realised what he had said to you, the love of his life. Steven was silent, flabbergasted that Marc would say something like that to you when he knew how much you hated being compared to anyone, let alone his ex wife.
“No, darling. I did not mean what I said. I was angry and I wasn’t thinking—“
“It’s okay, Marc.”
You wiped your tears away, a sad smile was painted on your face. Marc felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He broke your heart, and you were crying because of him. He swore to himself that he would never hurt you. He even made Steven promised to him that Steven would never hurt you, and yet, he was the one to break it.
“I know you don’t love me like you do her.”
You had given up. You would be lying if you say you were not hurt. You would be betraying your own heart if you stay with him instead of walking away from him forever.
“I love you, Y/N. I really do.”
Tears welled in his eyes, his chest was hurting and he just wanted to hold you in his arms and apologise. But you pull away when he tried to reach out for you, shattering his heart in pieces.
“Please, Y/N. I know I made a mistake but I love you.”
It tormented you to see him in tears, but you realised you were hurt too. You loved Marc, and you would let him hurt you as long as you got to love him. But this is where you draw the line.
“This will be the last time you lie to me.”
You said, gritting your teeth as you held back a scream. You were angry and disappointed at him, but you were more upset that you let him have such a power over you until you could cry over him.
“Are you going to leave me?”
Marc had never sounded so defeated, but as he watched you walk towards the door, he felt like his world was crumbling down. He made you leave, it was his fault. He could not lose you, not you.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I did not mean what I said.”
He grabbed your arm, careful not to hurt you but still holding you back from leaving. You could feel another wave of tears begging to stream down your face, and it was hard not to cry when Marc Spector was standing in front of you, looking so heartbroken and hurt, that you just wanted to forget what he said and forgive him.
“I’m leaving you, Marc.”
“Please don’t leave me. I couldn’t live without you— We couldn’t live without you.”
Your eyes widen, realising that you would leave Steven too. You did not know if he was being honest, or if he was just using Steven against you, knowing that you would not dare to hurt your sweet Steven when Marc was the one who screwed up.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about your life without me, Marc.”
You stood your ground, pulling your arm out of his weakened grasp. Your heart was heavy, but you could not stay. You would die from a broken heart if you kept getting yourself hurt like this. Just as you were about to reach for the door, you heard his voice calling out for you.
Steven.
The one who always had to face the consequences of every argument. He would always managed to make Marc apologise, and he would always got you to forgive Marc. Never once did he do or say anything to hurt you.
“Are you leaving, love?”
You did not dare to turn around, afraid you would break into tears once your eyes met his. But then he came and stood in front of you, his eyes were glassy with tears and the sight of Steven being dejected was crushing your soul.
“I’m sorry, Steven.”
You whispered, letting tears fall freely on your face. Steven shook his head, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He cursed Marc for breaking your heart, when you were supposed to be protected and loved.
“You’re not at fault, love. Don’t apologise.”
He hated to see you cry. The gears in his head were working so hard to find out a way to make you stay, but he did not know if you were willing to after what Marc had said.
“Marc was stupid for saying that to you, but he will fix this. We will fix this together.”
He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles softly. You let out a wistful sigh, knowing it would be agonising to leave Steven and Marc when they had your heart in their hands.
“As long as I’m here, I’ll make sure Marc will never say anything that could hurt you again. I love you.”
A tear escaped his eye, and he felt like dying when you shook your head, letting go of his hands. You were not leaving him, weren’t you?
“I love you, Steven. I love Marc too. I love both of you so much.”
Your words made him cry, and for a moment, he thought he had you back in his arms. But Steven knew you were more than hurt, so when you placed a kiss on his cheek, he understood that you were not staying.
“Y/N, love, please don’t leave us.”
He begged, but you were far too hurt to care.
“I need time. I’m sorry.”
Steven could hear the breaking of his heart as you left. He fell on his knees, silent tears rolled upon his cheeks as Marc went quiet in his head. His head pounded, and he tried telling himself that you just needed time, and you would come back to him soon.
He wanted to hear your voice again, saying that you loved him, instead of saying that you were sorry.
But your apology was the last thing Steven and Marc could ever hear from you.
A/N: I've had some problem with my account in these past few days and my post wasn't visible so I decided to post it once again. I hope that now is everything working.
This story was written for @beautifulbows924 challenge. This is my first time participating in a challenge here on tumblr and I am really excited. I decided to go with a fluff prompt with Marc Spector. There is only Marc. I love Steven but I think that Marc deserves a lot of love and he needs someone to take care of him, especially after episode 5.
Pairings: Marc Spector x fem!reader
Warnings: patching wounds, probably my english as i am not a native speaker
Summary: In the middle of the night Marc came to Y/N.
Words Count: 1900+
MASTERLIST
It was the middle of the night, and Y/N jumped up in fear when someone started knocking on her door. The loud banging made her almost go down with a heart attack. She wiped her sleepy face with the palm of her hand and looked at her watch. She didn't have the faintest idea who would like to visit her at three in the morning, and she didn't even want to find out. She knew that Marc had no mission planned from Khonshu this evening, so it couldn't be him.
Y/N decided that she would just ignore the mysterious visitor, whom she had already had enough of.
Y/N laid her head on the pillow again and buried herself under the duvet. She closed her eyes and when she thought the knocking had stopped, someone started banging on her door again. She growled quietly, threw back the duvet and moved to the door. Y/N was annoyed and angry that whoever might have been standing in the hallway, there was a chance they would get a punch from her sooner than get any help.
Then she opened the door and saw Marc. She furrowed her brow and was opening her mouth to draw his attention to the devilish hour he decided to visit her, when she realised the state he was in. Marc was barely standing on his feet, one hand propped against a nearby wall and the other held to his bloodied side. His face was all battered, his eyebrow was cut, and dried blood was visible on his forehead and cheeks.
“Marc! Oh my God!” she cried out in horror. She opened the door wide and let him in. Before she closed the entrance, she looked around the corridor, checking if her neighbours had noticed anything.
Y/N returned to the flat and immediately approached Marc, who was propping himself against the wall with his free hand and trying to reach the living room.
“Wait, let me help you," she said quietly and threw Marc's arm over her shoulder, then embraced him around the waist. She slowly steered them into the room and after a few moments helped to seat him in the chair. Marc groaned quietly, but quickly clenched his teeth. “God, Marc, what happened?”
He didn't answer, and Y/N was too shocked and horrified by the state Marc was in to be angry with him. Without a word of warning, she leaned over him, carefully searching for injuries on his body. Y/N wasn't a doctor, but this wasn't the first time she'd been in a similar situation. Marc often came to her in the middle of the night, all battered and bloody, and all she could do was try to bandage him up and believe that would be enough.
“There's so much blood…” she muttered, touching his bloody shirt. She carefully watched his battered side, which he kept still holding.
“It's not just mine” he spoke up for the first time that evening.
“I don't know how that was supposed to comfort me, Marc” Y/N straightened up. “You should go to the hospital. I... I don't know if I can help you. Why...why weren't you wearing your suit?”
Marc tsked and grabbed her hand, leaving soft red marks on it.
“Hey, Y/N, look at me” he almost commanded, and she obeyed him. For a moment, it seemed to her that she was far more concerned about his state than he was. “This looks worse than it really is. Only the wound on the side needs stitching, and yet you've done it more than once, darling. You can do it, I know you can.”
“How can you be, so relaxed about this?” Y/N asked nervously, releasing her hand from his grasp. “Don't answer, Marc. I think I don't want to know. And sit here” she threatened him with her finger, pointing to the couch, and Marc chuckled. “You've bloodied my flat enough already.”
“You know very well that I had nowhere else to go,” he replied and sent her one of his killer smiles that always made her legs yield. Even now, as Marc was bleeding on her couch she couldn't resist his charm and she felt herself blushing softly.
Y/N sighed silently and then went to the bathroom to get her first aid kit. Normally she'd just keep some painkillers, hydrogen peroxide and Band-Aids in it, but that had quickly changed since she'd started dating Marc. Spector never wanted to go to the hospital, and she understood that if he went there, the police would pick him up right away. However, at times like this, she was genuinely worried that something might go wrong. She was much less worried about him when he fought in a suit that could heal him and there was never a trace of any fight. It was a different matter when he fought without it, and she was the one who had to patch up his wounds.
She felt like she had never seen so much blood in her entire life as she had in the few months she had been dating him.
Y/N poured warm water into a bowl and threw a small towel into it. She placed the first aid kit under her arm, took the bowl, turned off the light in the bathroom and returned to the living room. When she was in the room, Marc had managed to get rid of his jacket and put it down on a chair at the table. He was in the process of pulling off his T-shirt when he hissed quietly and stopped his action.
“Let me do it,” she turned to him, putting all the things away, on a nearby table. Marc sighed and nodded, defeated. Y/N grabbed the bottom of his shirt and gently began to pull it up. She was careful of the open wound and when it was finally exposed, she swallowed heavily. Someone had clearly tried to plunge a knife into Marc's body, but fortunately the wound was not deep. “Hands up” she ordered briefly, taking her gaze away from the wound, and Marc obeyed her immediately. Finally, she pulled the shirt off his body and threw it on the floor. “Sit down and let's get this over with. I want to get some more sleep tonight.”
“Ouch,” Marc muttered with amusement. “That's mean.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she smiled. Marc sat back on the couch, and she got to work. First, she cleaned the wound on his side carefully and wiped the dried blood. She cleaned the needle and thread and began sewing. Even though the wound was not that serious, she had to stitch, which she hated to do. Her hands began to shake, and she closed her eyes for a moment to take a calming breath. Marc watched her closely the whole time and quickly noticed the change in her behaviour.
“Y/N, you don’t need to if…,” Marc announced calmly, but she shook her head.
He took her hand and reassuringly drew gentle circles on her wrist. Finally, Y/N opened her eyes and returned to the task. It took her a few minutes to stitch up the wound and then to put a proper saline gauze and bandage around his body. Finally, she took a wet towel in her hand and began to wash Marc's face, being careful with the cut eyebrow.
“One day if you knock on my door, I won't open it,” she said firmly. Y/N knew, however, that she was only pretending, because she could not leave him without help. She would rather nurse him herself and make sure he was okay, than worry and wonder if he was still alive.
“Probably you should,” he replied, tilting his head back. Y/N's hand stopped in the air, and she froze, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. She brushed the dishevelled curls away from his forehead and laid a hand on his cheek.
“Marc, you know that's not the point,” she said calmly, but he didn't look at her. “The point is that I hate to see you like this. Especially if you don't have a suit. He is at least able to cure you. I don't want to lose you, that's all.”
“You won't lose me” he announced confidently, looking at her. He placed his hand on hers, then lifted it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. “I promise, Y/N. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, which is, I don't understand why you put up with me. So tell me... Why?”
“You know why,” she smiled, her nose wrinkling gently as she did so.
“I know,” he agreed. “But I want to hear it.”
“Because I'm in love with you.”
Marc didn't reply, but strengthened his grip on her hand and pulled her forward so that she sat on his lap. Y/N was careful with his injured side, but when he caught her face in his hands and pulled to his own and then kissed her, she forgot about the world around her. Y/N was used to Marc's kisses being firm, sometimes maybe even a little possessive, but full of affection. She hadn't expected him to kiss her as gently and calmly as he did at that moment. His lips brushed hers and if he hadn't answered her before that he loved her too, that was enough for her to be firmly convinced of it. She knew that Marc sometimes had a problem in talking out loud about his emotions and feelings, but his actions spoke for themselves.
As they pulled away from each other, Y/N rested her forehead against the side of his face and looked at him through her lashes. Marc closed his eyes, and she could feel that he was definitely more relaxed than he had been just moments before.
“Don't fall asleep” she instructed him, and Marc muttered something unintelligible under his breath and looked at her half-consciously. “I have to finish patching you up. You know I'm a strong and independent woman, but I can't carry you to bed by myself. I have no intention of letting you sleep on the sofa.”
“I can sleep even on the floor, but only with you.”
“You're so cheesy right now” she giggled cheerfully.
“But you like it.”
“I didn't say that I didn't” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him.
She quickly finished patching up the rest of his wounds and then led him to her bedroom. With his help, she pulled off his shoes and trousers, and finally laid him on the bed and covered him with a blanket. She went into the bathroom for a moment to wash her hands, and when she returned to the bedroom, Marc's eyes were closed and his breathing steady. Y/N smiled to herself and lay down next to him. Marc sensed her presence next to him almost immediately, as he pulled her body to his and kissed her head. Y/N settled her hand on his chest, snuggling into his body. She loved these nights where he was next to her. Then she always knew he was safe. And she herself couldn't have felt happier.
“Y/N?” Whispered Marc sleepily, and she purred softly, giving him a sign that she was listening to him. “I'm in love with you, too.”
Prompt: "Stop laughing at me!" "You've never called me that before, I like it."
Pairings: Steven Grant/Marc Spector x sorcerer!Reader, Khonshu x sorcerer!Reader
Warnings: language, grammar(english is not my first language😭), not beta'd or whateves, No spoilers! :D, this a bit of a crack fic but generally fluff, and characters might be ooc :')
Summary: Baking aftermath in a nutshell starring clumsy reader, overprotective bird god, a mercenary that loves to tease, and a sweet sweet 'gift shop-ist'.
Word count: *clears throat* I- uh..around 2.2k+ words..... eheh😅
A/n: Greetings everyone!! I decided to participate the lovely Rose's(@beautifulbows924) prompt challenge and here is my entry! I am still learning how to write stories so do forgive me if its a little meh lmAo. hope you guys enjoy it! 😊💞 ngl im a bit nervous posting this one HAHAHA
Note 2: Text in pink is the prompt; Bold dialouge is Khonshu speaking; Blue and Red dialogue is Steven and Marc, respectively, speaking/talking in their head.
You deeply sigh, just your luck huh?
You were baking. You were successful on that part, which made you a tad suspicious seeing as you sometimes don't accomplish a task so easily but then, you looked around. The absolute mess you've made in your kitchen is so ridiculous that you wondered how you did not notice it.
Nearly every inch of your counter and your apron is covered in flour, you probably even have it on your face. Used bowls and spoons are strewn around the room. The whisk you used dripping batter on the floor, when you saw it you snatched it before it could make more mess and surprise, surprise! You slipped because why would your floor not also be covered with flour, and landed painfully on your butt.
Which brings you to your current predicament, laying on the floor covered with flour- hah! that rhymed- as your butt throbbed from the impact with a whisk in one hand. All you wanted was to surprise your lovers, Marc, Steven and Khonshu, with a delightful home baked pastry that are simply cookies filled with Nutella (not sponsored by™) when they arrive from their trip from the groceries.
You want to sit up and clean the mess around you, actually you could just clean this mess with a simple spell, but the floor is much more comfortable at the moment. Hopefully, they wouldn't come home too early.
You hear the doorknob jingle and click. Oh shit. Are you seriously being robbed at this very moment of time?! You raise the whisk, waiting for the right opportunity to hit the intruder when-
"Hey, sweetheart!"
Oh it's just Marc. You drop your hand back to your side.
WAIT IT'S MARC. THAT MEANS-
"Beloved! What in the world happened?!"
Khonshu's home too. His booming voice full of worry echoing in your messy kitchen as he drops his staff in a haste to kneel to your side and aid you. Not that it's a bad thing that he's home but he usually goes over the top when it comes to your well-being.
"Why- what happened?! Are they hurt?! Where are they?!" ..So do the two..
"I'm fiiinnne!" You answer one of their many questions. Juuust your luck huh?
"We could never be that certain until we check, are you sure you're alright?-" As the god inquires, Marc carefully goes over to you both, mindful of his steps and crouched behind you.
Did they really have to be home early on this very lucky day!
You nod as you try to sit up, Khonshu places his rough hand on your back to assist you, Marc follows suit as he puts his hand on your waist and then places one on your head, looking for any signs of wounds. You can hear him mumble to himself, "I'm checking! I'm checking!" Steven is probably nagging him to thoroughly check for any signs of injury.
"I'm fine, I'm fine! Just fell on my ass 's all.." You reassure them with a smile, well trying to give them a smile as you couldn't help but to frown, scrunch your nose and hiss as you finally get to sit up. Your ass hurts like a bitch man.
Your pained face made Khonshu menacingly ask with a growl, "Who did this to you, little one?"
And there it is, overprotective bird god.
"Woah, lover bird, cool it..I did this to myself." You reassure the Egyptian deity mindlessly as you place your hand on his forearm, while you try to put the battered whisk on top of the counter while still on the floor.
Lover bird? Khonshu repeats in his head.
Marc takes the liberty to end your suffering and takes the whisk from your hands and places it on the full sink and asks, "You what?"
You thank him before continuing, "No, not like that! I meant- gods I would not intentionally hurt myself like this- I was just baking something up before you guys arrived- which I did successfully by the way they're cooling in the fridge if you need evidence."
Khonshu had stopped dead in his tracks, lover bird? He wasn't even listening to what you had said after that anymore, as the nickname echoes inside his skull. He usually brushes off the nicknames you give them, it's just this one that stirred something inside him and made him blank out.
You didn't seem to notice Khonshu's reaction to the nickname nor did you pay mind to what just slipped from your lips as you continued to babble about what you were doing while they were gone that led to this mess.
Marc notices the god's behavior as he listens to you- and so did Steven, "Oh..oh my days, is- is he -for the lack of better word- blushing?!" The american chuckles at the brit's observation, and the realization of the ridiculousness of the whole situation just made him laugh more.
Marc's chuckling behind you made you stop and look up at him, ah yes..the dreaded embarrassment of the aftermath of your predicament.
You huff and glare up at him, "Don't- It's not- Marc I swear-" Your warnings that are interrupted by your own snort, and Khonshu's aloof state, egged the mercenary's laughter to continue and increase in volume.
"Stop- Stop laughing at me!" You whine between giggles, your cheeks flaring red, still oblivious to the state of your other lover that is knelt in one knee beside you.
"S-sweetheart-" He tries to form coherent sentences, but his laughter stops him from doing so. "I- I'm not-"
You groan in annoyance and bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning. Chuckles bubbles in your throat as Marc continues to have the time of his life.
"Maaaarc!" you shriek and gather some of the scattered flour and throw it at him which didn't do anything helpful, besides staining Marc's jeans, but instead it made him howl in laughter and tickled your nose and-
"Achoo!!"
Khonshu finally breaks out from his trance, if he had eyelids he would've been blinking rapidly. He glances over to you.
"S-orry." You apologize between giggles as you use your shirt to rub your nose.
"It's- It's..okay, dear one. How about you stand, hm? Let's get you cleaned up and tidy up the kitchen." Says the god, unable to stop his stuttering. He silently praised the heavens for not having skin on his face or else you and Marc(and probably Steven and Jake) would've seen a very red Khonshu.
The god silently huffs and glares at his fist of vengeance, he's wiping away the tears that are forming on the corner of his eyes. He's annoyed that Marc didn't help you up while he was…out of it… and also because his avatar probably noticed his unresponsiveness.
"I think- yeah, I can. Hold on-" Your giggling continues, too giddy to notice his stuttering, as you fold one knee and lean your weight to that side before folding your other knee and stand. You were about to fall again as you lost your balance, cussing at Marc's infectious laughter and futile aid, but Khonshu was able to catch you in his bandaged arms, "Be careful." He sternly yet softly scolded as you clutched on him.
You apologized and thanked the deity. Surveying the state of the kitchen, "I really made quite a mess, didn't I?" you voiced your thoughts as your giggling dies down, Marc calming down along with you.
Knonhsu chuckles while Marc snorts. Khonshu then raises his arms, his staff wooshes to his hand, "Don't worry, moonstone. I'll fix this, Marc, how about you clean her up-"
"I'm glad of your concern but I can clean myself up, mo-WOAH!-"
Yep. you slipped once again but it was Marc that caught you this time.
"You were saying?" "Shush up and let's just go to the bathroom."
~~
After you took a refreshing bath, Steven was the one fronting and had changed their clothes to a clean and comfy one. He also laid some comfy clothes on your bed, bless him. You put them on and carefully made your way to the living room, not risking slipping and hurting yourself again. (The aching of your butt had just become bearable.)
You found the two lounging on the couch, munching on the treats you made a while ago that led to quite an event for each of you. You glance over to the kitchen and find it spotless. You hum, greatful for your wonderful lovers.
"I hope it tastes good, I wasn't able to taste test one so I really don't know if it's good or nah.." You say as you beelined to the couch.
"It tathe- sho goodth-" Steven exclaims with his mouth full of cookies, crumbs flying out of his mouth as he spoke. You found it cute but the god beside him says otherwise, "Ugh! Steven! You're making a mess!" "Sweetie, please don't talk with your mouth full." "Steven!..."
The brit apologizes after swallowing the food and offered you some. You took one as you gently nudged his and Khonshu's knees, they part and give you space in the middle allowing you to sink down on the couch with them on each of your side. You silently munch on your cookie as you watch the movie Steven picked. Khonshu lays his arm behind you on top of the backrest of the sofa while Steven half-leans his head on your shoulder. You softly smile at the 'giftshop-ist' before wrapping your arms around his shoulder to make him more comfortable.
"Better?" "Much. Thanks, love." He kisses your cheek in appreciation, leaving crumbs on your face. You laugh at his shocked expression as he saw the mess he left on your face.
"It's fine Steven!" "You sure?" he asks the umpteenth time as he wipes the crumbs off of your cheeks. "One hundred percent." You firnly told him and kiss his nose to further reassure the man. He blushes at the gesture and finally settles back under your arms.
"I just want to say.." "Hm?" "What?" "Please don't." "We're a batch made in heaven." A hearty a laugh and groans, one that is booming and audible to you while the other only Steven could hear, fills the room.
Half an hour into the movie, Steven has fallen fast asleep on your side. The cookie tray, now half empty, lays on the coffee table in front of you. Your free hand being held by Khonshu's rough, larger ones, caressing your knuckles with his thumbs as you two continue to watch the film. You were a little worried though, he hasn't spoken a word since it stared and he usually has something to say whenever you all would watch a movie. May it be witty comments or criticism or just bashing on the actor's appearance. Did the incident earlier really scare him?
You gave him a glance, he looks fine to you (as he always do) and didn't seem to be troubled, his breathing is even and-
"You're staring, dear one." He murmurs, taking Steven's sleeping state into consideration.
"Sorry, can't help it." You whisper back, grinning up to the god before turning your attention back to the screen.
He chuckles before asking, "Is something troubling you?"
"Funnily enough I wanted to ask you that question.." You mumble as you remove your hand from his grasp and place it above his, carressing his knuckles this time. "Is something troubling you, Khon?"
See, this was what he meant awhile ago. Nicknames don't bother him but dear heavens did that phrase stuck to him, the reason why he had been silent the whole time.
"Lover bird." He stated plainly and looked over you. Your brows furrow at his statement, "Wha?" You chuckle in confusion.
"You called me lover bird, a while ago…"
Your head tilts to the side as your eyes squint, trying to remember- "oh!" You exclaimed but immediately covered your mouth as you remember, both at what you said and at the fact that Steven is sleeping on your side.
Khonshu's chest deeply rumbles as he chortles, raising the hand that was resting on the backrest as he runs his digits through your hair. "You've never called me that before.."
"Oh? Yeah..I haven't..Do you want me to drop it or-"
"I like it, dear one." He interrupts you as he stops his ministrations on your hair, cupping your face and caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers.
"O-oh.." Physical affection from Khonshu is not new to you. Especially after you were able to cast some spell that would allow him to interact with the things in your plane of existence, with his help of course. Sure it got you in trouble but it was worth it.
"Well..that settles it then, lover bird." You tease with a grin, leaning to his now open palm. Khonshu only huffs at your teasing and turns his attention back to the television.
"Don't get smug on me, little wizard."
"I'm not a wizard!"
"Hm, sure. Steven begs to differ."
"Wh- oh! Steven, darling, sorry! I woke you up didn't I? I'm so sorry!!"
"It's fine, love-"
"Who decided to 'cast' this insolent? Can't even portray a very simple emotion properly!"
Aaand there he is.
The two continue to banter back and forth about the movie as you lay there in the middle of it, grinning at the scene before you as they held you while they were at it.
Just your luck..to have these people in your life.
Summary: You don’t have time to indulge in romantic affairs while being an avatar so you take it out in hookups instead. One night, Khonshu follows you against his better judgment and watches the show.
CW: NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), exhibitionism, hookups, canon divergent
Rating: Mature, 18+ only
Word Count: 1.3+k
Pairing: Khonshu/Reader, squint and there’s Steven Grant/Reader
A/N: An entry for the writing challenge by @beautifulbows924
Steven cameo in the 2nd smut scene but he’s unnamed for the sake of the story, turns out I like Khonshu in situations like this huh. Prompt: "did I say you could stop?"
Read it on AO3 | Masterlist
—
Being an avatar for Khonshu came with multiple unforeseen complications, it didn't come to a realization that it would come with a few sacrifices along the way.
This sacrifice was being able to connect to someone at an intimate level to form either a romantic or sexual relationship alongside.
It's too time-consuming. There isn't time to figure out common interests, go on continuous dates, find any little red flags if any would present themselves, and especially being there physically. Just thinking of any excuses as to why you're headed out in such godforsaken hours of the night from your hypothetical partner gives you a migraine.
Khonshu demands too much of you nowadays. His fist always aching for righteousness.
So you swore off dating. For now, at least. And you're pretty sure explaining to potential dates that you're devoting your life to an invisible deity that's been banished to walk among man due to his devotion for humanity and assigning a moral to carry out his wishes due to his steadfast belief in justice aren't exactly what anyone would believe on the first date.
Better off alone than be some deranged lunatic in another's eye.
So, a compromise is made.
Quick, messy, forgettable hookups became the answer.
That's where you find yourself now. Apartment of some man you just met this morning at work from your part-time job as a waitress. He’s fairly older than you, his hands give away the sense of hard work and labor, strong and steady. His well-kept, groomed facial hair complements his features further, especially that smile he shoots you before asking when your shift would end earlier that day.
Those very same hands are around your thighs right now as he keeps them apart, allowing him to thrust into your tight, wet, heat. His grunts and your melodic moans resonate in his bedroom, his scattered clothes and your work blouse litter the floor, and a dim warm glow cast by the lamp from his nightstand illuminates your bodies. You barely took the time to fully strip yourself in your uniform, so insistent on blowing off steam that isn’t a punch in someone’s gut for once. Gripping the sheets below, you chase that high, nearing your desperate release not caring if he’s close or not. Selfishness is your image tonight, you greedily eat up the burning touches of those hands of his, kneading your breasts, the sting from him tugging your sensitive nipples, and his mouth on your tender neck. That’s what sets you off, a scream ripping from your throat as pleasure washes over you that night.
—
Khonshu is no stranger to sex and the concept of intimacy, after all, being around for as long as time existed, he'd seen the rise and fall of human civilizations. Countless conflicts and wars, the indulgence of art and creativity, births of human ingenuity and invention, love and reproduction, life and death. Ebb and flow.
What he didn’t expect to find himself was becoming a spectator to your little… show.
He’s no fool, he recalls your pose stiff, the grip on your weapon tight, movement rigid, still so tense after every fight he’d thrown you both in the name of justice. The combat merely lets out the frustration that has clearly taken a hold of you. Then you start making your way into other people’s homes other than the usual routine you and Khonshu would take back.
He doesn’t mean to follow your trail tonight, but the past weeks have you running off somewhere in the night without a word to Khonshu, leaving him to wonder about your disappearance. He knows you’re capable, you’ve deemed it so. He wants to make sure you’re alive for his avatar duties is all, a pathetic call of an excuse, he acknowledges that.
He finds himself on a rooftop just parallel to the building you’re currently in, just two floors below the rooftop of the condominium opposite the building where he stands, giving him a vantage point.
There you stand, in front of another man, different this week, he muses himself. The man stands a head taller than you, with a lean build, but fatigue mars his face with deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his dark, unruly bedhead of curly hair frames his face.
Khonshu sees you put your hands over his to guide them over your chest, the man’s hands slightly quivering, quite inexperienced Khonshu thinks, and he follows along to your hand squeezing over his and Khonshu can see him swallow a shaky, deep breath at the softness presented to him. You push his hands away to start unbuttoning the blouse, then unzip your skirt, leaving you in your undergarments. The man’s eyes are blown wide, in awe of such a vision in front of him. He reaches out and feels your skin. A slow loving trail from your shoulders to your back as he shakily unclasps your bra, a giggle slips from you, Khonshu can tell by the slight bounce of your shoulders and the way you’d hide your lips behind your hand. He kneels down with his hands following suit, tracing the sides of your waist and down your hips as he pulls your panty down with grace. There you stand, in all your glory, quite fitting as the man in front of you stayed kneeling, the very image of a man worshipping his goddess.
You were magnificent, a special kind of beauty that you would hold near and dear to your heart, not because love has blinded it, but has enhanced it. Made it so special and unique that no other will ever catch his attention. Khonshu understands why there are countless statues devoted to the female body, it’s the kind of allurement you want to immortalize until the end of time.
Distracted by the thought of you, Khonshu snaps back to the scene exhibited to him. Both of you are finally bare and on his bed, Khonshu sees you push the man down to his back for you to climb on his lap with the intention to ride him. Something sparks through Khonshu seeing your display of authority. He can see your mouth open out a moan as you let yourself down on the man’s hard cock. He sees you bounce over and over and it’s hypnotic to him. You’ve trapped Khonshu with a spell with the way your tits would bounce while riding someone’s dick. He tightens his grip on the staff, suddenly your eyes snap open and to his horror, he has let his presence known. What bond you two share.
The man you’re riding doesn’t notice your attention is somewhere else. His eyes are glued shut to the absolute pleasure your body is giving him. You slow down to a stop, looking for a silhouette of a certain moon deity making sure he doesn't watch your sinful act in front of him. Khonshu oversees a huge aspect of your life already, he doesn’t have to see this one.
A whisper of wind brushes past your face.
Did I say you could stop? I want to see your body contort in pleasure. I want to hear the sweet melody of your voice in ecstasy. Show me the image of euphoria through you, my sweet little bird.
You clench at the sound of his voice, who are you to disobey the command of your god? You start the bucking of your hips with much more vigor than you carried. The man clearly didn’t expect you to ride him harder, making him anchor his hands on your hips with a grip so tight you’ll see bruises bloom the next day.
You touch yourself, groping your breast, a tug on either nipple, hands dragging over your own body knowing full well Khonshu wishes those were his hands.
Such a tease. He sounds so out of breath.
You reach down to your clit, tethering close to your climax, you make quick work out of it, hasty circles around your bud and you completely lose it. You arch your back and your voice drowns out every other sound, Khonshu burns this image of you. He remembers every night but this will stand out to him, cherished and kept close to his heart.
This is for @beautifulbows924's 2K writing challenge! Once again, congratulations on your milestone!
Small forewarning, the reader in this small drabble is Reverence! Reader but honestly, it could be read without that information. Reader is a high priest of the moon, is all that matters.
Prompt: “I will always keep you safe.” + Marc Spector (prompt used will be in bold!)
Warnings: blood and canon typical violence? Nightmares of burning alive-
Utter darkness. Immobilisation of your limbs- you couldn’t move- you couldn’t breathe- You reached out for the moon. For a sliver of light in this overwhelming darkness. But no matter how hard you tried, the moon wouldn’t come to you-
Did you think you could simply get away with your insolence?
You choked as you felt something burning hot wrap around you, encompassing you in a cage of molten heat.
We may be unable to kill you, high priest, but we can make your dreams a living hell- Khonshu can’t help you, no matter how much he wants to. And the lunar deities of the other pantheons can’t help you.
You could feel tears streaming down your cheeks as the heat became too much- as the celestial fire licked at your soul-
We don’t take well to being insulted- especially not by anything as insignificant as you are.
“Fuck.” You breathed out, voice raspy and pained. “You.”
Then- you burned.
~ ♥~
Marc awoke to pained whimpers and harsh pants of breath. His hand instinctively, immediately went to the gun by the bedside, as his eyes flickered around the darkness of the room.
When he realised that there was no immediate danger, his hand placed the gun back in its place and he looked over to you instead.
You were curled up in a small ball, your arms wrapped around you, and your fingers digging in deep into the sheets.
Marc furrowed his eyebrows. Something was wrong. And he knew it- But what was exactly was wrong? He called out your name roughly, frantically, and turned you over-
The mark on your forehead shined a deep crimson instead of the brilliant white. Marc called your name once more, frantically. And he let out a heavy sigh of relief when your eyes flew open.
“M-Marc?”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
He wasn’t expecting you to fly into his arms, but you did. And he could feel you tremble in his embrace as you buried your face into his shoulder.
Marc glanced down at the mark on your forehead. It was back to its normal white.
He shushed you gently as he held you, rough fingers brushing at the small of your back.
“They- they burned me, Marc-”
Who burned you? What had happened? What made you tremble in this way? He glanced out the window. The night sky was moonless today. And for the first time since his sworn servitude to Khonshu, he lamented the lack of the moon. If Khonshu were here, he would know what had happened.
Marc didn’t have the ethereal knowledge to help you. Nor did he have the knowledge that Steven possessed. He felt- He felt so helpless.
“They- The Ennead- they didn’t like how I treated them- they know they can’t kill me- but they said- they said-”
You choked on your words and he simply held you closer to himself, allowing you to sniffle and rub your face on his shirt.
“What did they say?” he asked, struggling to keep the fury at bay. Really, fuck the gods.
You pulled away from his shoulder, and looked straight at him, your eyes watery but full of contempt.
“They said they’d make my dreams a living hell.”
“Like hell they are.” Marc pulled his hands from your back and lifted them up to brush the tears away from your face. “They can’t do shit. It’s been weeks since your confrontation with them. And this is the first time the moon’s gone, right?”
You nodded.
“They can only interfere with your dreams because Khonshu isn’t here. Because the lunar deities of the other pantheons aren’t here.”
He slowly stroked your cheeks as the tears stopped dripping down your face.
“But what if they come back, Marc? What if I burn again?”
Marc didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t really sure on how to comfort you. Reassurance with words was more Steven’s thing-
“Will you keep the nightmares away?” You asked, your eyes gleaming with a raw vulnerability that only he, Steven, and Khonshu had the honour of seeing. “Will you keep me safe?”
Marc’s throat felt parched. You were entrusting him with this- your psychological safety, as well as your physical one. Your fingers gripped onto him as if he were your last lifeline-
“Of course.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto your eyelids as they fluttered shut. “I will always keep you safe.”
~ ♥~
“You, are a fucking idiot.” Marc hissed out as he pressed an alcohol-soaked wipe onto your wound. You winced at the stinging sensation. “A fucking reckless idiot.”
“I saved you,” you half whined out, as he aggressively wrapped the bandages around your torso. And your hands. And your thigh.
He simple glared at you, with those dark eyes of his. And you hissed out in discomfort when he wrapped the bandages too tight. At that sound, Marc loosened his grip and pressed a chaste kiss on top of the bandages. As if he were silently apologising.
But he was right back to grumbling and glaring at you as he finished patching you up.
“You got stabbed- twice.”
“You were about to get stabbed-”
“I have the armour of healing!” He shouted, his hands ripping away from your wounds. “I heal- I can’t fucking die in it!”
You barely flinched at his outburst. He was an aggressive worrier- especially when it came to you. And you knew that he hated when you got hurt because of him. But you couldn’t stop. You would gladly go through all this for him.
Marc pulled away from you and paced around the room in a brooding, bitter silence. You could feel the rage oozing out of him.
“Marc.”
He ignored you.
“Marc.”
“What?” he growled out.
You opened your arms, wincing slightly as you tugged at one of your wounds.
He was instantly by your side, rough fingers, surprisingly gentle as they skimmed at your bandages once more.
At his proximity to you, you slowly carded your fingers through his dark locks. Your fingertips rubbing reassuringly at his scalp. Marc still wasn’t looking at you- his eyes were firmly on your bandages.
So, you pulled on his hair, tilting his head so that his gaze met yours.
You were met with something raw and vulnerable in his eyes.
“You could have died.” He confessed, his voice losing most of the anger. “You could have died for me- when you didn’t have to.”
You slowly stroked his cheek with your other hand.
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Marc. Even with the armour, I know it hurts.”
You leaned forwards to press a soft kiss onto his forehead.
“Just because you can heal, doesn’t mean you are unfeeling of pain.” You gave him a small, lopsided smile. “You’ve been through too much already- I didn’t- I don’t want to see you get more hurt.”
“I love you.” He whispered out, his voice low and slightly pained. “I love you too fucking much.”
“I love you too, Marc.” You leaned forwards to gently cradle his face to your chest. “And I will always keep you safe. No matter what it takes.”
a/n: hi! okay so this is for @beautifulbows924 Moon Knight writing special! based on the prompt: “I know that you’re not okay! So stop telling me that you are!”
word count: 1.2k
warning(s): angsty?; title doesn't make sense but it sounds cool doesn't it? yeah it does don't lie to yourself; emotional; the ending is bad sorry
pairing(s): platonic!reader x layla el faouly
It had been days since you last saw your best friends. Now here you were, in Steven's apartment, reading books about ancient Egypt, occasionally feeding the fish, and the most entertaining of all: lying on the floor, tossing things into the air and attempting to catch them. Some part of you was hurt that they didn't bring you along on this mission to save the world but the other part argued that Layla and Marc (and Steven) needed the alone time. To either heal their relationship or form a bridge for them to move on.
It still sucked being alone though. Even the gold-painted actor that Steven talked too looked less shiny than usual. Yes, you were aware of how stupid that sounded.
Today started out like any other day in the crazy world you lived in, news of the skies literally turning, stars and constellations shifting as they were millenia ago. You merely shrugged at the news, continuing to shovel cheerios in your mouth. You intensely stared at your phone, willing it to call. Another pastime that had joined your daily routine. Watch the phone. Read the book of the dead. Remember to feed the fish. Lie on the floor. Realize that you didn't feed the fish, only opened the food container. Proceed to actually feed said fish. Watch the phone.
Of course, you thought about calling her. But with what she had told you about Marc, and what you had pieced together yourself, you had no idea the situation you could hypothetically be calling her in. Sighing, you collapsed on Steven's couch, about to turn on the TV when rapid knocking pounded against the door. Hesitantly, you grabbed the dagger Layla had given you before she left, clutching it against your chest as you leaned up against the wall, preparing to open the door.
"[Name?] [Name], please tell me you're in there!" The sound of Layla's voice was like taking a gasping breath after being under water. You practically flung the door open, dagger loose in your hand. The excitement you felt to see Layla melted away once you realized that...that she was alone. Layla noticed your eyes scrutinizing the empty spot where Steven or Marc normally stood. It seemed like your thoughts were running a million miles in your head, each one desperate to cause you the most worry.
Did Marc leave again? Was Steven okay? Is Ammit out? What's going on? Why did Layla have blood on her jacket? Who's blood was it? Oh gods, what if it's hers?
At the last thought, you shook yourself out of your confusion, grabbing Layla's arm, pulling her into the apartment. She gave no resistance. You pushed her into a chair, rummaging through Steven's drawers, grabbing the first aid kit. You, with a sense of frantic calm. cleaned her wounds, worry clenching around your throat when she made no noise or movement when the antiseptic pad wiped away the grime from her cuts. After you placed bandages on the wounds, gave her a glass of water, and gave yourself a mental pep talk, you dragged a chair to sit across from her. Layla gave you a small smile, her attempt to stop you from what you were about to ask. It didn't work.
"You can tell me what happened when you're ready, all I care about is you. Are you okay?" She swallowed and looked away from your intense stare to look at her hands clasped in her lap. When she looked up, she smiled, not reaching her eyes.
"I'm okay."
And that's the answer you got every time you asked. When you found her with a book upside down in her hands, eye's unfocused.
"I'm okay."
When she was sitting on the floor of the shower, water gone cold, her gaze piercing the wall.
"I'm okay."
When you came back from shopping to find her standing on the window's ledge, fiddling with the wedding ring she wore on a necklace.
"I'm okay."
It was a week and a half since she returned when you broke. You were tired of the gazes that seemed to pierce the air, tired of the tight, pained smiles - like she was constantly containing a scream, you were tired of your best friend lying to you. You were tired, and terrified, of the chasm growing between the two of you with every day that passed.
You were setting the table, still in Steven's apartment - both of you seemingly not able to leave the crowded space, while Layla cooked in the kitchen, the smell of falafel filling the air. You took a deep breath when you noticed Layla's staring off into space again. Before you could even ask, Layla smiled one of her tight lipped smiles.
"I'm okay-" Before she could finish, you had slammed the plates on the table, leaning on the wood as you practically yelled at your best friend.
"I know you're not okay! So stop telling me that you are!" Layla looked shocked, stopping all movements as she looked at you with wide eyes, "Why do you insist on pretending with me? What happened in Egypt? Do you not trust me? Is that it?" Your voice broke with every word as the realization that Layla didn't trust you completely set in. You guessed it made sense, you weren't some badass Egyptian avatar or an excitable nerdy Egyptologist. You had no place in her adventures. You turned around, pinching the bridge of your nose, angry at yourself for lashing out. You went to walk away, to calm down, when a hand grasped your arm. It was loose, like Layla wanted you to stay but wouldn't stop you if you walked away. You sighed and turned around. Despite her loose grip, Layla looked desperate, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.
"He's dead," her voice cracked as the tears started to roll, "Marc, Ste-Steven, they're gone. They're both gone. Harrow, he, he shot them." The air in the room went cold. You blinked. Layla's sob broke your frozen stance, and you pulled her into a hug, her head resting on your chest. You felt her tears soak into your sweater, your own tears pooling in your eyes. After what felt like hours, you pulled away, cupping her face in your hands. You felt a determination rise within you as you read the emotions behind her eyes.
"Layla, it's not your fault. Whatever happened, however it happened, it is not your fault." She choked back another sob, shaking her head.
"The last- the last thing I said was, oh gods [Name] I accused him of killing my father." She put her face in her hands, sobbing. You wrapped your arms around her once more. You rocked her back and forth, murmuring reassurances. A thought, insane but viable, popped in your mind.
"Layla, we live in a world where Egyptian gods roam and Norse ones fight aliens - we can find a way to bring him back." Your statement sounded crazy but you believed it. Layla pulled back, her watery eyes looking into yours.
"But we would need Khonshu and he- the other gods trapped him in stone." You shrugged, the pain of loosing a friend fueling your confidence.
No warnings aside from Moon Knight episode 4 spoilers.
A/N: For @beautifulbows924 and their 2k celebration Moon knight writing competition. My first Moon knight piece!
Prompt: “I’ve always wondered why you chose me… And now, I know that all of it was a lie.”
The inside of the pyramid was cold and unwelcoming. At least, it felt that way to you. You, Layla, Steven and Marc had all ventured underground but soon after were forced to seperate. Without Steven's familiar presence by your side, you felt a little less secure and confident. You hadn't known Layla for long, but she was certainly capable of making her own way through the pyramid. You knew that Marc would probably cooperate with Steven, especially if they came across an enemy. For better or worse, each of you were on your own. You ran a hand across the shining surface of the sarcophagus, studying it over. Some great ruler was probably buried inside.
You didn't need to wait for long until someone else entered the room, relaxing when you recognized it was Steven. "What took you so long?" You asked, smiling as you stepped forward to greet him. Your smile fell as you came to a stop, seeing Steven look at you with something akin to uncertainty. Something had happened to him, but you didn't know what exactly.
"Are you okay?" You asked, raising an arm that wavering with uncertainty as you wondered whether or not to approach him. Steven took a deep breath as he walked forward, briefly meeting your gaze before looking over at the sarcophagus.
"Yeah. So, I know we pretty much agreed not to listen to Harrow." He said, making his way to you standing in the center of the room. "But just to make sure... you'd tell me if you were serving an ancient Egyptian deity?" He asked, his eyes desperately searching yours for any confirmation or denial. "And you'd definitely tell me if you used our relationship to spy on me, right?" He stuttered while you froze, the dread setting in. How in the hell did Harrow know about you? More importantly, this wasn't the right time to start talking about it. You couldn't just talk about this when there were bigger things at stake, couldn't hang onto Steven for just a little longer. You began to move past him, your vision out of focus as though to make sure you never saw his eyes. It would just hurt too much.
Steven dryly chuckled, disbelief written all over his face. "I've always wondered why you chose me. I- I thought that I was so lucky to have someone like you in my life." He began, slowly stepping back. Away from you, the distance between the two of you increasing. "Of course it was a- a bloody lie. Too good to be true."
You stood where you were, unmoving as you were paralyzed- at a loss at what to do. You couldn't utter an excuse, he wouldn't hear it. He was slipping out from your life, and you couldn't do anything about it.
"So now that you've accomplished your mission, we don't need to see each other again. This-" Steven gestured wildly, raising his arms out "-is what you wanted, right? The scarab, the whole spying on me... it's over." He said, saying your name with a kind of venomous tone that hurt to hear. Looking between the pair of you, it was as though you two were worlds apart now. The truth had divided your relationship, and it had still hurt even if you knew that it had to come out sooner or later. He was going to find out, and he certainly had.
"Say something, please!" Steven shouted, his disbelief and anger mixed with a newfound desperation. "You lied to me. Was our- was our time together a lie? It felt so real." His voice dropped to a murmur, his face a plead for you to speak. For you to deny that everything between you two had been fake, to declare Harrow a total liar and reassure Steven with a smile. You did none of those things, looking down while you missed Steven glancing over at the sarcophagus.
The moment you opened your mouth, the sounds of marching feet drew closer. Harrow's men on their way to find one of you at least, no doubt about it.
This was your final chance to say something to Steven before you parted ways, to say whatever you needed to before leaving. What would you say, though? Your lie had hurt him, and the truth caused him just as much pain. Whatever you'd choose to tell him, it'd hurt the both of you either way. Oh, what the hell? You'd been selfish once and might as well be selfish again in lieu of telling him another lie.
"Go, Steven. You have to do your own thing." You said, giving him one last look as you made sure to memorize him. "And for what it's worth... I'm sorry. I enjoyed our time together." Your voice was little more than a whisper, something you hoped he wouldn't hear. You didn't stop to turn around while you walked back toward Harrow's goons, didn't pause to hear a silent sob behind you.
Pairing(s) - Marc Spector x gn!avatar!reader, (Implied) Steven Grant x gn!reader
Prompt(s) - "You'll find someone better than me, I promise you that."
Summary - With pain dripping from his lips and tears falling from his eyes, Marc Spector breaks your heart.
Warnings - Angst, like seriously angst, slight fluff, use of curse words, making out.
Wordcount - 2k+
A/N - My first ever fic on Tumblr and it's for @beautifulbows924's 2k celebration, I'm so happy for you. Please check her out everyone, she's amazing. This fic has like too many details that maybe fell flat and Marc's probably ooc so forgive me for that. I have written the reader to be Hermes' avatar who is the Greek god of travellers, merchants, thieves and many other things however reader can be taken as Mercury's avatar as well as he's never exclusively mentioned and also please check out Sedated by Hozier, a song that matches the story's vibe. I would love to know what y'all think about it. Thanks and stay safe all.
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It was early in the morning when Marc arrived. Silent steps and imposing presence, he did not appear to be in a fantastic mood. Eyeing his sage green bag and the shadow to his stance, you ponder over what could have happened. You chalk his bad mood upto Khonshu as you shut the door behind him. He probably made Marc do something shitty again.
You were lucky in that regard, you suppose. Your god doesn't demand a lot of you. A few errands here and there, sometimes he asks you to disguise yourself and pass on a few gifts to mortals he deems worthy and occasionally train his demichildren, but he has never forced you to commit to things you weren't comfortable with.
Marc deviates from your usual routine today. Instead of heading towards the kitchen or your balcony where you both usually have your breakfast together, he heads towards your bedroom. You don't give his actions a second thought, assuming that he wants to exchange his clothes for new fresh ones that he must have brought in his bag and so you head to your kitchen to prepare your regular cups of coffee.
When you return to your living room a couple minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee in your hands, Marc is returning from your bathroom with all his bathing necessities clutched in his hands that he proceeds to dump in his bag. You wonder at his actions as you set the cups on the table. A peek in his bag shows that he has retrieved almost all of his and Steven's things that were kept in your apartment; spare clothes, combs, towels, perfumes, books that Steven had lent you, along with all his bookmarks, everything.
You question him on it, but he ignores you and instead steps up to your quaint coffee table and hesitantly plucks four of the six watches there. He carefully tucks them in his bag as you stiffen at his actions.
Marc was a casually passionate horologist, a word you had curiously looked up for him. He had a rather impressive collection of multi hued, antique, as well as modern watches. Those watches had been an integral part of building intimacy between you both. Every milestone of your relationship had been accompanied by Marc fondly pressing a watch he treasured into your palms. When you had asked him why he did that, he had told you that he wanted to share with you a hobby that brought him genuine joy and so you had cherished every single gift he had ever given you and this rather excitable side of his that you got to be a part of. You found yourself obsessed over the glimmer in his eye every time he noticed you wearing one of his pieces, every breathy little 'I love you' that used to tumble from his lips just after and the way his fingers would ghost over your wrist throughout your time together.
As he zips his bag with all of him you had stored in every part of your apartment, a piercing dread spreads through your heart. You dazedly observe Marc drag his eyes longingly around your apartment.
You shouldn't be so affected, you think, they're just watches after all and he probably needs them but you can't help but wonder if you had given too much emotional value to them, if you were the only one who viewed them as a really crucial part of your connection with Marc. Your heart feels heavy in your chest as if it has been stuffed with rocks and your throat feels constricted as you try to speak up.
"Marc," you start weakly, "what is going on?"
He finally meets your eyes, trepidation littered all over his face. He sports his usual creases on his glabella, smile lines more prominent than ever as he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair.
"I think we should break up." He says it, finally says it as his wide eyes bore into yours to gauge your reaction.
You wonder if he can identify anything you're feeling on your face because you sure as hell can't. Are you even feeling anything right now? You're not sure. All you feel is like you are caged somewhere outside your body and can't conjure up any emotion even if you tried.
"Oh." is all you say, blinking heavily. With just a couple of his words, you can foresee all the turmoil, the distress and the pain with arms extended ready to consume and eat you alive. How long will you survive or rather, will you survive at all?
"Please, say something! Anything!" Marc pleads, stepping closer to you. Still, there' are a couple steps between you both and Marc has never seemed so close yet so far away, not even when he so often withdrew into his little bubble for extended periods of time. Today, it feels as if you're looking at him from another planet. He seems so strange... so different. You wonder when things changed and you didn't even notice them.
"Is this because of Khonshu?" You ask, tilting your head, the answer vibrating deep in your bones.
Marc doesn't reply, he doesn't have to. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away, glaze over and immediately return to yours.
His unspoken confirmation is all you need to finally snap out of your numb state because, of course its Khonshu. That dumb old bird had been fucking your lives for way too long now and your restraint has finally snapped. You were going to put him in his place today. He will learn to respect his avatar as a person and not a toy to be mistreated. He thinks he's oh so powerful, well you'll show him powerful. You'll reach out to every one of your contacts; gods, demigods, nasty witches ready to fuck him over with just one word out of your mouth. That selfish little bastard won't ruin Marc and yours relationship any longer, you'll make sure of it.
Heavy hands suddenly tug at your shoulders, spinning you around quickly as your eyes connect with Marc's. In your anger, you realize you had picked up your golden wing keychain with your car keys attached to it.
Marc pulls you close to him, his breath fanning your face as he gently rubs your shoulders. You're caught between feeling angry at him for stopping you and also feeling relieved that he's finally touching you in some way, that there's no longer a huge distance between you two.
"Marc, don't you.." He shushes you abruptly, looking spent to the bones as if he has reached the end of his limit and was about to break any second.
"You know why I have to do this. Please don't make this any harder than it already is."
"No, that's the thing, Marc, you don't have to do this. You know that and yet every time you bend over to do everything Khonshu says." You answer indignantly, "It doesn't make sense. He cannot keep using you like this anymore. He's making you end your relationship with me and you're doing it, just like that."
You push him away, "Where's my say in all this, Marc? Huh? Do you consider me that weak, that defenseless to just break up with me because Khonshu did what? Threatened to kill me?"
"I don't consider you defenseless, you know that, but I can't risk it. Dammit! I can't fucking risk it." He chokes out heavily, his hands clawing at your arms to tug you back towards him.
"With me, you're always going to be in danger, there's always going to be a threat hanging over your head and I. can't. fucking. risk it, you know it. You know all of it." He cries against your hands, holding your palms upto his cheeks as his tears trickle down your fingers, "I'm sorry for this, I really, really am but if something happens to you because of me, if you get hurt because of me, I won't ever be able to forgive myself."
He's shaking against you. You've never seen him like this before and it absolutely shatters your heart. Why do things have to be like this? So desolate and hopeless? Why only for you both?
His confession ignites within you feelings of love and fear and concern and desperation and anger and it's all too fucking much. The next thing you know, you're clutching at Marc's jacket and molding your lips with his. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gripping the side of your neck with such a familiar touch that your heart howls in agony.
You won't be able to comb your fingers through his hair anymore or softly caress his eyelids when he finally returns from his avatar duties to spend some time with you, no eating obnoxious amounts of takeouts while you lounge on your couch or training with him on rare nights where you shift in your armours and fight each other. No drinking till you're both shitfaced and horny and can't keep your hands off each other or forcing him to buy matching shirts with you so you could bond with both him and Steven over it.
You'll never get to do any of it with him ever again and it makes you sob in his mouth as you kiss him like you are greedy for the air in his lungs. His lips are familiar and safe and warm against yours and you don't know how long you hold each other, how long you both cry as your fingers clutch at his shirt and his stay glued to your jaw.
What's going to happen to you now? What going to happen to Steven? Oh gods, Steven. He's going to be so heartbroken. You are going to be so heartbroken. His sweet and tender disposition, always tousled hair and his animated ramblings, you're never gonna see him again. You'll miss the way he constantly moves his hands as he talks and the ever-present glimmer in his eyes deeply, his absence would slowly drain you of life, would slowly drain you of him. You wonder if he can see you right now, if he is indeed listening to all that is transpiring.
When you open your eyes a while later, having calmed down from your most recent wave of heartache, Marc's eyes are reflecting hazel from the gentle sunlight hitting his face. His forehead is peppered with faded scars, moist eyes gazing at you like a devout at their god and you wonder how you can feel so much love and misery with just a single eye contact. Why do you have to love these two wonderful and beautiful and compassionate men and then lose them just like that? Why does Marc have to be so stubborn and protective and paranoid, and why would you still utterly wreck yourself for him?
"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice hoarse, "you'll find someone better than me, I promise you that." His eyes flit across your face repeatedly, desperately. "You'll find someone better than us... and when you do, you won't regret a single thing."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You won't, you want to scream at him. You'll never find someone like them. Someone like him. Ever.
"Close your eyes." He says softly. You don't want to but you reluctantly do as he says, burning the image of him under the golden rays and the bridge of his nose, the creased glabella and the delicate bow of his lips in your eyes and your soul.
The only indication of his departure is the soft click of your door, the lost 'I love you' he leaves you and the two cold cups of coffee still waiting to be held. He's left your heart and your apartment just that little bit more empty.
A cold breeze sweeps through your living room, your god materialising behind you. He's probably been here a while, you think as you wipe at your ever-watering eyes.
You wonder if he can teach you how to outrun the pain.
