#vigilante!reader x marc spector

[lunadei]

Exile - Marc Spector

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!vigilante-reader, Steven Grant x F!vigilante-Reader

Warnings: gunshot wound, fighting. 

Premise: You and Marc share a mutual dislike for each other - or so you think. That is until a particularly nasty fight leaves you at his mercy. 

an: Hey guys! This is my first Moon Knight fic - and fair warning, it isn’t perfectly canon. Just a fun little blurb I had on my mind. Please enjoy all the enemies to lovers clichés here as much as I do. 

From the moment you unintentionally stepped - or perhaps more accurately, punched, into Marc Spector’s life, you both walked a thin line. Your paths had crossed rather unceremoniously during a minor street brawl, though Marc loved to remind you that fighting three men single-handily was hardly minor. You loathed to admit when you were over your head. And, much to the Moon Knight’s dismay, you would rather get pummeled than accept assistance.

Still, in all fairness, you had it handled. 

As you prefer to tell the story, his arrival proved an unfortunate distraction which cost you several broken ribs and a nasty concussion. No injury had ever prevented you from kicking ass previously, but Marc and his magic armor beat you to the punch. The average damsel would have been grateful to be ‘saved’ by the Moon Knight. However, it quickly became clear to Marc that you were no damsel in distress. 

“Why the hell would you do that? I had it under control.” The venom you managed to summon despite your injuries was astounding. Had Marc been any other man, he may have cowered before you. He could practically feel Steven shrinking back as it was. 

“Hell of a way to say ‘thank you,’ princess,” Marc scoffed, his anger partially sheathed by his mask. 

“Excuse me, princess?” 

Marc would later admit that you had a hell of a left hook. 

Perhaps your animosity toward Marc extended from many years of being a lone vigilante, unused to sharing your territory with another - though you would hardly call him a vigilante. Hell, he wouldn’t even call himself such. After several escapades, during which you found yourselves inevitably face-to-face time after time, you had reluctantly became familiar with Marc. And you despised his self-assured, reckless bravado. You wanted nothing to do with the Moon Knight, knowing he spelt nothing but trouble for your image. That soon changed after you were introduced to Steven. 

Steven was everything you adored about society - he reminded you of why you chose this life to begin with. Steven was the first to remove his mask after finding you perched upon the Landmark Pinnacle one moonlit night, gushing about what a big fan he was. Though he would make the occasional appearance during your midnight watch, time was always limited before Marc would resume control. You had made it quite clear to Marc that you preferred his alter-ego’s company. He had made it quite clear that you could shove it. 

It seemed you were doomed to repeat this cliché cycle: fighting for justice, butting heads with Marc when he intervened, always choosing to teeter on the cusp of enemies rather than work together. That was until the night you made a minor miscalculation as to your abilities. 

Well, minor being you brought your fists to a gun fight. And needless to say, you were not as swift as as the barrage of bullets - not quite, anyway. 

Your armored suit presented an unexpected weakness, allowing a bullet to pierce through your hip. Perhaps some Egyptian God had been looking after you that night, as it deflected off your right rib and exited next to your right clavicle - by some fortunate avoiding any major arteries. You had barely made it out of the fight before collapsing in a nearby alley. Crimson stained the cobblestone street, the copper smell lingering in your nose as your eyes rapidly fluttered. You’d be damned if you allowed yourself to bleed out here, nameless and easily defeated. 

“Jesus, Y/N, can you hear me?” Marc, it’s Marc, your brain briefly registered. His voice, while usually vexing, was a welcome reprieve from your thoughts of mortality. 

“Oh, hey Marc, fancy seeing you here,” you choked out, sputtering at the effort required to speak. You watched as kneeled beside you, eyes raking down your form in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

Jesus, you thought, bleeding out was making you delirious. 

“Oh my god, Y/N, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.” Steven. You grabbed onto his pristine white suit, rapidly shaking your head despite the tremors of pain. 

“No, no hospitals. Rule number one of being a vigilante, Steven.” A gloved hand pressed to your hip, staining the fabric red. His panic became increasingly evident as he took note of your wounds. 

“Listen, my flat is a few blocks away. Get me there - I have supplies.” You heaved a shaky sigh, fighting to maintain consciousness. 

“Right, right, yeah, okay, flat, got it.” Trembling arms slid beneath your torso and legs, grasping your limp body against his firm chest. 

“And, Steven?”  Steven, bless his heart, lacked the same trauma skills as his counterpart. You recognized this rather reluctantly, pressing a hand against his cheek apologetically. “I’m going to need Marc, unfortunately. Don’t let him let me bleed out, yeah?” 

Blissfully unaware of the trip back to your flat, you awoke to Marc’s small slaps to your cheek. His voice felt far away as you slipped in and out of consciousness, a sight which, though he would never admit it, frightened Marc. 

“C’mon, Y/N, wake up. Don’t make me explain your dead body to your landlord.” A chuckle escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you noticed was the feeling of Marc’s calloused hands pressed against the bare flesh of your hip. You shifted slightly, taking in your living room. A trail of blood was smeared from your doorway to the couch. 

“God damn it, I’m never going to get these stains out.” It was Marc’s turn to chuckle. He was intently focused on stitching your entrance wound, which he had apparently cleaned while you were unconscious. You groaned at the sensation, shifting your body in discomfort against the couch. 

Upon feeling the fabric against your bare back, it was then that you realized you were shirtless. Heat travelled from your neck to your cheeks, the blush nearly matching the crimson stains smeared on your figure. You rationalized that you were only flustered because of the blood loss. 

“I would apologize about your shirt, but considering I’m saving your life again, I didn’t think you’d care.” Turning your head towards Marc, you saw a smirk grace his lips as he met your gaze. The bastard was amused, mocking your discomfort. 

“Oh, brilliant. I hardly care about the man I positively despise stitching me up.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. The gesture was completely childish. For a moment, the usual malice you extended toward him felt wrong, like a cheap façade. 

“Ah, there she is.” He briefly paused his handiwork. “If it weren’t for me you’d be dead on the streets, princess. But you’re welcome to stich yourself up if you hate me so much.” 

You couldn’t help but remark, “I could probably do a better job.” Marc raised his hands in mock surrender, preparing to stand, and you instantly regretted stroking your own ego. 

“Be my guest, I have work to finish now that you’re not on your death bed.” He made a show of turning away, just slowly enough to allow you to change your mind. Your pride would never have allowed you to ask for his assistance previously, stubbornly preferring to bleed out than admit defeat. However, something had shifted tonight. You once again convinced yourself that it was just delirium, nothing more. 

“Wait, Marc-” you grasped his wrist, pulling him back to the floor. “Please, don’t go.” Oh, the blood loss had definitely unveiled a level of vulnerability you weren’t aware existed within you. Marc glanced at you, not masking his shock, noting your wide eyes and trembling hand. He spared you his usual biting retort, instead nodding and resumed tending to your wounds. 

You watched him concentrate, gaze raking over the apparent softness of usually sharp features. Brown curls tumbled over his forehead, accenting his tanned features in a way you were rarely privy to. Supple lips were relaxed and parted in concentration, so different from the usual grimace they held. You weren’t blind, you knew Marc was attractive. But you had never allowed yourself to dwell on that thought before, never allowed your gaze to sample every inch of his features as though he were fine art. It made your stomach twist, the previously dissipated heat now spreading throughout your entire body - pooling in your lower abdomen. 

Fuck, you were so screwed. 

“Marc,” your voice was a breathless whisper, pathetic, you thought granted your usual composure. He glanced up at you, brows furrowing at your twisted expression. Cliché as it was, you felt yourself swimming in his brown eyes, further degrading your rational mind. With a strange fondness you had never extended toward him before, you could imagine waking up to those eyes, getting lost in them every morning - 

“Y/N?” 

Snapped out of your trance, uncertain and reaching for the right words, you had merely intended to thank him. “Thank you, Marc Spector,” you breathed against his lips. When had you gotten so close? But he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. 

“Wow, someone alert the press. Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.” His remark lacked it’s usual snark, sounding nearly as wrecked as you - though you supposed your judgement could be clouded by the blood loss. 

“Shut up,” you huffed, lips nearly brushing his own at the movement. 

“Make me, princess.” With a vigor you didn’t know you possessed, you threaded your hand into his disheveled curls, pulling him a fraction closer. Your lips connected perfectly, like two halves of one whole, causing you to contemplate why you hadn’t done this sooner. His kiss grew desperate, hungry, as though he was a starving man waiting to devour you. And god, you wanted more. 

Your hips bucked into the air of their own accord, causing a pained groan to escape your lips. Marc reluctantly pulled away from you as you chased his lips, tears prickling your eyes as you attempted to ignore the burn in your side. 

“Don’t stop,” you implored, begged. You hadn’t even thought yourself capable of begging, lest of all to him. 

“Y/N, you’re hurt. You need to rest, I need to go -” Before he could retreat, you pressed your lips against his once more, desperate, searching. 

“I can take it,” the breathy confession elicited a strained moan from Marc, and god, the things you would do to hear that sound again. 

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” It was your turn to smirk, nipping at his mouth with renewed energy. Strong arms encompassed your figure once more, gently lifting you to your bedroom, careful not to disturb your stitches. Slipping from your lust-fueled haze, it momentarily occurred to you that your injuries would not allow for this to extend further. 

“God, the things I want to do to you,” his voice slipped into a deep growl, the vibrations against your neck causing your body to spasm. 

“Then do them,” you insisted, all common sense having slipped your mind. With surprising control, Marc removed himself from your grasp, looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Fondness? 

His hand briefly trailed over your hip. The touch, though featherlight, caused a burning ache to travel through you. Marc cocked his head with a frown, having already proven his point. 

“Not now, not like this.” He paused, licking his lips as his eyes roamed your figure with a desire so intense it nearly made you forget the agony completely. “When I have you, and I will, I don’t want you to feel anything but me.” 

You’re not sure when you finally slipped from consciousness, when you stopped feeling Marc’s hands brush through your tangled locks. That night you dreamt of white cloaks and brown eyes more piercing than the moon, with the sweet smell of jasmine and spice engulfing your senses.  

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #enemies to lovers #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #superhero!reader #vigilante!reader #vigilante!reader x marc spector

[mrvlbimbo]

Marvel

Steven Grant x Reader:

Whatever You Want

Frank Castle x Reader

Play to Win, pt1 pt2 pt3

Dc

Vigilante x reader:

Fast times at Fennel Fields/Falling in love at Fennel Fields

Nice to meet you

Justice

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson x reader:

Eddie Munson masterlist

Robin Buckley x reader

Sub!robin Drabble

Steddie x reader

Reader + Eddie flirting with Steve

Reader + Steve domming Eddie

The Boys

Billy Butcher x reader

Prologue

Better Call Saul/Breaking Bad

Saul goodman x reader

His secretary but in a porno way

Saul with a hot young wife

Pedro pascal Characters

Javier Peña x reader

A Series of Nights

*********************************

my ko-fi

my tiktok

AO3

#marc spector x reader #marvel #steven grant x reader #frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #dc #vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase #eddie munson x reader

[devilish-mirage]

Can't Remember to Forget You

Marc Spector x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings; none

Summary; No matter how long time has passed Marc can't seem to forget you and you feel the exact same thing.

Word count; 700+

A/n; I was scrolling through tiktok and stumbled across this trend, I just had to write them.

Masterlist

Marc was out of breath, the thugs were getting more and more out hand. He wasn't supposed to be this exhausted but it was because Khonshu just had to be called by Anubis to the underworld for whatever reason there is.

He didn't understand nor did he want to, the only thing he cared is that when the moon God isn't on earth the suit did not work as efficient as it usually does.

"Marc, Behind you!" Steven voice rings on his ears, he snaps his head and saw someone throw a dagger straight at him, he can only bet his reflexes were quick enough to catch it.

But before it reaches him the dagger was hit by another object, "why do I always find you in these kind of situations?"

There you were, standing confidently with the unconscious bodies littering around your feet, your lips tugged to a smirk. He can feel the world stops when he saw you, looking as pretty as the day he left.

Marc didn't have that much time to adore you before a flash of panic flashed before his eyes.

You missed one bastard, all because he was on the verge of death. The wound that Marc caused him earlier was fatal but he's still strong enough to use a gun, that bastard was a few feet away behind you, with a crazed smirk he point the gun to the back of your head.

"I'm taking you with me."

Marc reached towards you and pulls you into his embrace, flipping your body so that he can flaunt his cape to shield the bullet that targeted you.

"Bastard."

He growled, looking back and throw his crescent darts, hitting straight into that man's forehead. He was frantically breathing, trying to call himself down by taking deep long breaths, not caring on how you both can feel each other's heartbeat because of how close you were.

He then looked into your eyes, his mask unrevealing, showing his face and that beautiful chocolate toned eyes of his.

"You alright?"

You didn't answer him, you were distracted by how he look so worried and partially because you were lost in his eyes, those same eyes that would look at you with so much passion and adoration no matter what you do, the very same eyes that would express his most inner darkest feeling without him saying them because he know you would always feel it by looking at his eyes.

"I'm good, yeah."

He flickered his eyes down to your lips, the same lips that he used to pampered with kisses, that same soft lips that he would kiss passionately after every fight.

The both of you unconsciously leans closer, it was like instinct, like magnets that were attracted to the other end, you were drawn to him as he did to you. Eyes looking back to back from each other's and lips, you parted your lips at him, it drives him insane so he leans closer, basically inhaling each other's breath.

And then you heard the obnoxiously loud sirens coming closer, snapping the both of you from your trance.

"It's this way!" he heard the voices coming closer so he looked back and indeed saw the cops coming closer by the seconds.

"Fuck- we should-" he was cut off when he looked back at you, well, the place you were once in.

"You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, Moon Knight."

The Moonlight shines brightly, Illuminating your figure more as you stands there. You were so damn pretty it's distracting him.

You have successfully slipped from his embrace and dangle the ancient artifact that he was supposed to steal from these guys, with a smirk painting that damned soft lips of yours.

"Give it back." you shake your head, gripping the artifact harder in your hand.

"It was fun, I predict that we'll be seeing each other more in the future."

You bowed at him, head tilting slightly upwards as you hold your stomach with one hand and stretch the other to the side, smiling wildly at him before running away.

"Marc, who was that?" Steven voice pulled him out of his daydream. He cursed under his breath before taking off, leaving the confused cops behind.

"No one important."

Oh, he'll be seeing you more alright. He didn't even realized the smile on his face as he jumped to run after you.

#Spotify #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #mcu moon knight #marvel moon knight #mira writes shts #vigilante!reader

[andromacher]

ANDROMACHER’S SOCIALS

TIKTOK — @ runeicfilms

TWITTER — @ runeicmxmff

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— ven <3

#ven’s personal #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #peacemaker #adrian chase #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #dc #the suicide squad #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

[ninebluehearts]

our moon boys w a vigilante gf? maybe she has like spidey powers or sm? 🫶

Omg!! I love this!! Sorry it took me awhile to answer it! I just didn't really know how I wanted to write it for awhile 💕 (yes, the reader does have spiderman's powers in this because that's cool af)

The Moonboys would absolutely love and hate that you're caught up in basically the same job as them.

They love it because: They get to see you in action. There's something so sexy about the way you're able to wrap a bad guy up in web and then clock him so hard in his jaw that he immediately blacks out.

You're also really good backup. There have been a few times where (Steven) they needed backup and you've been there to take on at least half of the bad guys for them. Plus, you're always swinging around London, so knowing your way around town is a big bonus (especially for Marc and Jake; Steven knows the city like the back of his hand just like you.)

They hate it because: They know they're in danger, but they have the suit to heal them. But knowing you're in danger and can die? It often distracts them and a lot of the time they'll ask you to stay home when they really need to focus on the mission. Though, 90% of the time you just agree and then show up in the middle of the battle. Conveniently, it's always right when they need help...

#moon knight #steven grant #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #marc spector #moon knight imagine #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moonboys x vigilante reader #reader has spidy powers #thank you for the ask!

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Make It Worth It

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries

Genre: fluff & smut

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

***

Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.

It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.

"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.

"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.

"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.

"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.

"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.

"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"

"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.

"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.

"Well why am I here?" 

That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.

"You were hurt so I brought you here."

"Hurt? Hurt how?"

"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.

However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.

Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.

"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.

"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.

"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"

"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.

"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."

"I don't have to tell you about dates."

"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"

"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."

"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"

"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"

"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"

"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."

"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."

"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."

"That's not the same."

"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."

"Don't go."

"Marc!"

"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."

"You don't even know him."

"Neither do you. So stay."

"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."

"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."

"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."

"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.

"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."

"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."

"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.

"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"

"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.

"What?!"

"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"

"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.

"Say the words."

"What?"

"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."

"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."

"Any way that I ask?"

"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."

"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"

"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."

"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."

"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"

"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."

"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.

"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.

"Hello?" 

"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."

"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"

"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."

"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."

"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.

"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.

"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.

"Probably not." You shrug.

"Probably?!"

"I already canceled the date for you once."

"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"

"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.

"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."

"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"

"Of course they are."

"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"

"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.

"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.

"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.

"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.

"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.

"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.

"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.

"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.

"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.

"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.

"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,

"Steven, calm down." You say.

"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."

"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.

"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.

"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.

"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.

"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.

"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.

"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.

"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.

"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.

"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.

"You are... very good with words." You muse.

"Have our actions not supported them?"

"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.

"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.

"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."

"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.

"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.

"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.

"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.

"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"

"Yes Jake, please."

"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."

"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.

"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.

"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."

"Well, did we make it worth the stay?" "I'd say so." "Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.

"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.

"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."

"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #marc spector fluff #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #jake lockley fanfiction #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight fluff #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

#marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector angst #marc spector fluff #marc spector imagines #marc spector drabbles #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #moon knight drabbles #moon knight imagines #moon knight oneshot #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love- series masterlist

summary: you’re an ex-black widow, now working with the avengers. and marc spector, a soldier gone vigilante, is your target. so who’s this steven guy, and what’s up with the giant skeleton bird?

relationships: moon boys x fem!reader

total wordcount: 20k

warnings: violence, language, episode five, specific warning listed in each part

ALSO I’M DELETING LAYLA I’M SORRY I LOVE HER TOO BUT I FOR THE SAKE OF THE FIC I MUST

this series is complete!

[pictures aren’t mine]

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

part i- the mission

“and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.” -mahmoud darwish

you head to britain to begin your most recent assignment: to find the vigilante marc spector.

part ii- the scarab

“the moon taught me there is beauty in darkness too” - marine ashnalikyan

steven gets arrested, there’s a cult, and apparently, a magic bug. how did you get roped into this?

part iii- cairo

“i am a deserted sky, and you are the moonlight” - manoj muntashir

arthur harrow causes more problems

part iv- the hunt

“the moon in me finds the sky in you” - dikshasuman

a bit of breaking and entering, a touch of mummy surgeons

part v- the boat

“we are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side” - kahlil gibran

grave robbing and a shootout lands you in a bit of trouble. ok, i guess being dead is a lot of trouble

part vi- fault

“someday someone will bring the moon down for you in the shape of their love” - dikshasuman

a dive into the past to save the future

part vii- choice

“hug me like the night holds the moon” - alexandra vasiliu

two resurrections that could arguably give that jesus dude a run for his money

part viii- home

“love you to the moon and to saturn” - taylor swift

you come back from your mission with a little more than you expected. namely, a boyfriend.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #khonshu #arthur harrow #steven grant x fem!reader #marc spector x fem!reader

[sarahghetti]

absolutely purr-fect; m.k. x reader

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: you and the boys adopt a cat.

warnings: none! only fluff 'round here, folks.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

if there’s one thing the boys all have in common, it’s that they’re all cat people.

steven thinks they’re particularly cute, and has always liked the idea of having a cat curled up beside him as he reads.

jake got attacked by a dog during a mission once and has been wary of them ever since.

marc just appreciates their independence—the fact that their trust needs to be earned with a little more effort, a little more patience.

(you give him this look when he says that, and steven snorts from inside their headspace. marc pointedly ignores you both.)

they’ve always wanted a cat, but the logistics of it never worked out given their vigilante schedule.

getting someone to drop by and feed gus the ii and his friend once a day? no problem. but leaving a cat at the flat? even if it were in the care of one of their neighbours, the idea makes them uneasy.

but then they met you. and since you’ve moved in with them, the opportunity has become much, much more feasible.

steven often looks through listings from the nearby adoption centres, cooing over the cats they have available.

steven lets out the most precious little gasp, excitement illuminated by his laptop, and you can’t help but lean over to see what he’s looking at. a picture of a scrawny-looking shorthair with a pronounced snout is pulled up on the screen.

“his name is scream,” steven supplies, utterly enamoured.

“scream,” you repeat, and he nods. “well, the flat does have good soundproofing.”

he scrolls down some more and almost instantly, there’s a fluffy mess lounging on the back of a couch that catches your eye. your hand falls on steven’s to stop him from going down any further.

“kit kat!” you take control of the trackpad to circle kit kat’s adorable face. steven shakes his head, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, but does kit kat hold a candle to margarine?” margarine is a kitten so small that she looks like she’d immediately get lost in the mess of books and knickknacks strewn about the apartment.

steven’s posed an impossible question. you pout a little. “I want both.”

he sighs. “me too, love.”

jake sends you a picture of every single cat he spots on the street. they vary in quality—some are so close that you can count each whisker while others are nothing more than a fuzzy blob in the night.

the utter quantity is enviable. you have half a mind to think that they just spend their entire night patrol looking for cats around the city.

that said, if you ask, “did you get to pet it?” the answer is almost always no.

for all of yours and steven’s window adopting online, marc is the one who ends up bringing a cat home.

not even an hour after marc left to patrol, you stir awake to the sound of the front door banging against the adjacent wall. your boyfriend’s quiet voice hisses, “shit.”

“marc?” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. usually, he’s mum as a mouse when he comes back, cautious not to disturb you. you squint at him in the dark. “are you okay?”

“’m fine.” his silhouette moves into the living room, and one of the softer lamps is clicked on. “just—”

a sharp little mrow interrupts him, and you both fall silent as it rings out in the flat. was… was that—?

mreo-o-o-ow!

“marc!” you throw the blankets to the side as you jump out of bed, scurrying so fast to his side that you nearly trip over your own feet.

he’s still in the suit, mask and hood retracted, and held gingerly in his gloved hands is a dirty bundle of orange fur. the little guy is dwarfed against marc’s broad chest; narrowed green eyes watch your movements suspiciously. you bring your hand up to let the kitten sniff you, but marc leans away. “careful—he’s a bit touchy.”

“you’re holding him fine,” you point out, and he snorts.

“hardly.” as if on cue, the kitten lets out another piercing cry, squirming and scratching so fiercely that you’re sure it would leave some marks if not for the suit. marc grimaces as he tries to maintain his grip without hurting him, but his eyes widen when you sigh endearingly. “oh, no, don’t you dare—”

“can we keep him?”

while marc knows that he can’t say no to you for very long—a fact that’s going to be the end of him someday, he swears—he does effectively put that conversation on hold until the kitten can see a veterinarian in the morning.

trying to convince you to go back to sleep is a lost cause. you’ve brought home a stray kitten, marc—there’s no way you’re leaving him to try and figure out what to do on his own.

the commotion also wakes up steven and jake. you can only hear marc’s side of the conversation, but it’s clear that they’re as excited as you are for your new guest.

marc’s staring down the mirror, brow furrowed at whatever his alters are telling him through the reflection. the kitten is nonplussed by the argument happening over its head, only sinking further into marc’s arms.

“no, we can’t keep him—”

“aw, come on!” you interject. marc, unable to do anything that could bring you down when there’s that much excitement in your voice, only responds with a restless noise.

“he could already have an owner somewhere,” he reasons. one of them must offer to take over, because his mouth twists into a stubborn scowl soon after. “I’m fine.”

getting marc to take care of himself is a herculean feat, so you switch tactics, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think they just wanna meet the kitty.”

still, he bristles, and holds the kitten almost protectively against his chest. “the meet and greet can happen after we figure out what we’re doing.”

he steps away from the mirror then, and you pump your fist when his back is turned.

there’s a chance.

it’s the most intense googling research session you’ve ever been a part of.

marc gets most of the grime off its fur with a damp cloth, handling the kitten so gently that it might as well be made of glass. he still won’t let you touch it—too worried that it’ll hurt you somehow.

(you go along with it because yeah, if it does bite you, there’s no way marc’s letting you guys keep it.)

an old cardboard box is pulled out of recycling to serve as a makeshift bed, and some spare towels are neatly spread out on the bottom to provide some bedding.

you watch marc have a staring contest with the kitten as it sits inside, every muscle in his body tensed and ready as if anticipating a fight. the kitten, a valiant opponent, doesn’t seem to show any fear at the sight of your boyfriend, ancient ceremonial armor be damned.

it’s not until it’s contentedly chomping down on some boiled chicken you prepared that marc finally gives up the driver’s seat, getting some rest at yours and the others’ insistence.

jake comes in with a wide, wide grin, immediately crouching beside the box with a disbelieving sound.

“so small,” he comments, twiddling his fingers in a way to entice the little guy. the spark in jake’s eye is enough to know that he’s on your side in the keep-him-or-don’t conversation.

which means that finally, you can ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“what should we name him?” after the impromptu bath, the orange of its fur gleams a little warmer in the low light of the flat, but you wait patiently as you let kitten sniff you. you bite back a giggle when its whiskers brush against your hand.

jake winces in a way that tells you that he must be getting an earful from inside the headspace, but presses on. “juice? naranja? OJ?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you really want to name him after orange juice, huh.”

“yeah well, steven says some egyptian god.” he rolls his eyes. typical.

“and what does marc say?”

“marc says—” his voice shifts to a monotone drone “’—oh my god stop trying to pet the cat it’s still dirty and hostile and why are we trying to name the damn thing it’s only been here for like an hour it’s not staying jake shut your mouth you’re not funny—’”

your laugh startles the kitten but you can’t help it, burying your head in your arms to muffle the sound to no avail. if you looked up, you’d see the smug look jake is pointing at his nearest reflection.

there’s a nudge at your side as you quiet down. “and what about you, carino? what do you think?”

“hmm.” you tilt your head. “where did marc find him?”

a pause as he listens, then, “in a dumpster. behind that chinese place we like.”

your mind whirs, and you can see that jake is following the same train of thought. egg tart. chicken chow mein. mapo tofu.

you gasp, “dumpling.”

the look on marc’s face when you put ‘dumpling’ on the forms at the veterinarian’s office is priceless.

for what it’s worth, the kitten is in surprisingly good shape. some washing up, a round of vaccinations, and one microchip later, he’s released back into your care with little fanfare, but you’re positively buzzing.

you guys go a little overboard at the pet shop. jake fills the handbasket with an assortment of toys while steven and marc argue incessantly about the best food to buy, which bed he’d prefer.

“thought you didn’t even want to keep him!” steven snarks into the gleam of a metal shelf at some point, and you can practically hear marc’s ensuing scoff.

when you guys get home, jake dumps all the toys on the ground at once, a colourful mess of bells and feathers that almost blend into steven’s existing mess.

to no one’s surprise, dumpling plays more with the disposable plastic bag than the toys themselves. still, that doesn’t matter—jake can lay on his stomach and play with him for hours.

steven, mediocre human food chef, becomes a master cat food chef.

“good god,” you comment as he comes back from the store with his arms full of fancy looking packages. what started as mixing wet food in with the dry has seemingly become a new pinpoint of steven’s focus, and your eyebrows raise a little more with each label you read.

chicken liver, mussels, duck egg—all freeze dried and decked out in cartoony illustrations. dumpling jumps up to take a look, sniffing inquisitively at each bag.

“you’re gonna be eating better than us,” you quip. he’s still a little cautious, shying from sudden movements, so you just let him explore and don’t push when he slinks away.

“little guy only deserves the best, doesn’t he?” steven pulls out dumpling’s fish-shaped dish. you watch, mesmerized as he carefully begins to put food on it; he’s even pulled out the kitchen scale to properly measure everything.

steven talks as he goes, telling you (and dumpling) about each element with the same vigor he would apply to egyptology. organ meats for nutrients, bone broth for hydration, oils for a shiny coat—dumpling looks as baffled as you are.

although—he also looks quite impatient. steven keeps having to push him back to keep him from the dish before it’s ready. his little paws slide on the counter each time.

“ta-da!” steven presents the finished product to you with a flourish. it’s surprisingly well-plated for someone who sometimes eats straight from the pan.

though it doesn’t last long. the second he places it down, dumpling is ravenous. broth is splashed onto the ground. bits of dehydrated powder get caught in his chin. you worry a little that he’s gonna choke somehow.

steven manages to pull his attention away from the scene for a second, turning to you. a proud smile pulls at his lips. “think he likes it?”

with all your efforts, it doesn’t take very long for dumpling to get comfortable; the flat becomes his kingdom.

you find him lounging on the top shelves of steven’s bookcases and leaving stapler-like holes in marc’s research notes with his teeth.

jake is constantly running around looking for his driving gloves because dumpling always manages to get his paws on them and always squirrels them away in separate locations, somehow.

you wake up more often than not to a mouthful of fur—he loves to sleep on your pillow, regardless of whether or not your head is already on it.

“why. why.” marc dangles dumpling in the air by his front legs. an entire piece of sushi—swiped from marc’s plate on the coffee table—hangs from the kitten’s mouth, nearly the size of his head. there is not a hint of remorse. “steven’s putting a dent in our finances to buy you organic beef hearts or whatever-the-hell and you come over here to steal my food?”

the defendant remains silent. marc lets out a low grumble and deposits dumpling onto his lap, sushi and all, keeping his hand on him to stop him from taking anything else.

you lean into his side. “thought you said we shouldn’t give him any scraps, hm?”

it’s true—while jake folded immediately, often sneaking bites to dumpling under the table, and steven excuses a bit here and there just as a treat, love—marc is the strict cat-dad who stubbornly ignores those big, begging green eyes whenever they pop up during a meal.

or at least, he was. marc chews slowly, an obvious delay to answering your question, and so you hum again, prodding. it’s not that he’s hated having the cat around, but for a while it was clear that he was the sole holdout to keeping him.

finally, he swallows. you wait with bated breath as he sighs. “he can have a little bit. just this once, though.”

the last part is said directly to the culprit, who’s purring like a motor with the soils of his hunt. your grin is blinding. marc goes back to eating, but you and dumpling come to the same delightful conclusion—

yeah, it’s not going to be just this once.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing

[mgparker]

recruitment gone… right?

platonic!steven grant/marc spector x teenage!reader

summary: who in their right mind sends a teenager to recruit a dangerous vigilante all on their own? oh sam and fucking bucky.

warnings: teenage avenger reader, inaccuracies, clueless steven being an overall mess and a huge cap fan, violence, swearing, gen z shit? perhaps idk, 2k word count

request: ‘can you do a father figure Marc Spector/Steven Grant x A teenage avenger who was sent to recruit him? I imagine the reader being a typical Gen Z kid with a sarcastic sense of humor, but meaning well.’

notes: loosely based off this request i got MONTHS ago. i’m so sorry it’s taken forever this has literally been in my drafts for a year. not a whole lot of father figure-ing going on but i think it’s a funny little neutral recruitment blurb/one-shot. enjoy. also not sure if this is gen-z enough but i was not going to make this obnoxiously “relatable”

“It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Sam, I want you to think about what you just said. Then think about who you’re talking to. And then… consider the possibility that your plan might actually work if you send Barnes.”

A distant voice shouted through the speaker of your phone. “No can do, kid. Recruitment is below my paygrade now!”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling down a busy sidewalk in the midst of London. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m talking to the big champs now.”

You heard Sam chuckle in amusement, and you could imagine him shaking his head at your words. “You know what you gotta do. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can get back to base. Kick some ass with the big champs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” it was time to get serious. “Got it, Wilson. I’ll check in later.”

Instead, it was Bucky who answered. “You’ve got this, squirt!” 

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even give Sam a chance to get a word in before you were ending the call, stuffing your phone into your pocket and narrowing in on the bus stop ahead. 

This is stupid, you thought as you waited a safe distance away. You couldn’t risk your target spotting you before you could properly assess them. Who in their right mind sends a teenager—a freaking teenager—to recruit one of England’s most dangerous vigilantes?

You’re not scared—you were far more than capable to defend yourself, even against the famed Moon Knight—but it feels out of your way, something you’ve never been asked to do. But of course, as an Avenger, this was your duty.

You couldn’t help but think of this whole thing as a personal attack. With Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson assuming the mantle of interim leaders of the Avengers (or rather what remains of them), this whole mission seemed like their version of a practical joke. 

Those two loved you with all their heart, you didn’t doubt it, but they take the role of “fun uncles” a bit too seriously. 

But anyway, this recruitment... This isn’t fun. Not in the slightest.

This is like being a salesperson. 

Shudder. 

Finally, you catch sight of your target—Steven Grant, an extremely sleepy, stumbling gift-shoppist who had appeared at the bus stop surprisingly early for once.

He seems gentle enough, guard mostly down, clutching his bag with a paranoid grip but that was the only thing tense about him. He’s technically older than you, not ridiculously so, but a bit younger than Sam.

You watch as his lips start forming some words; it’s subtle, nothing anyone would really notice unless they were analyzing him piece by piece like you currently were.

Ah. You realized with a pleased smile. Steven Grant and Marc Spector are working together. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the bus arriving, squeaking loudly as it stopped in the street. 

Showtime. 

There was a click in your brain, or that’s what it felt like at least, and a quick scanning of your surroundings made it easy to instantly blend in. 

Steven Grant was having a decent morning. He actually woke up in time, ate a decent breakfast, and rushed out of the house with ten minutes to spare. 

Even Marc had been pleasant this morning, making unusual small talk as Steven went about his business, getting ready for work. 

And everything was well. Up until now—as he stood in the bus, trying to keep himself from falling asleep on the passengers around him, despite the extra shot of espresso he’d slipped into his drink this morning. 

Steven. 

He jolted awake, pulling his head away from a man’s shoulder with a small ‘sorry!’

But before he could doze off once more, something odd came over him. A strange tingling feeling, as if he was being watched. 

It snapped the drowsiness right out of his system, eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

You feel it too, don’t you? Something isn’t right. 

“What—” He mumbled quietly, searching for the source but coming up emptyhanded.

There was nothing peculiar or odd about his fellow commuters. 

So, he continued about his day, feeling that unsettling eye on him at all times but unaware as to its source. 

It was only when his shift was over, that he was walking home, that he decided this charade had gone on for far too long. 

Despite Marc’s pleas to let him front, Steven stopped in his dead tracks, away from any curious eyes. 

“Oi, who’s there?”

Great job, Steven. If that isn’t the most cliché thing to say before the main character gets killed in a horror movie. Marc sighed. 

“Shut up,” hissed Steven quietly. “You know I don’t watch horror movies—”

Steven blinked and suddenly you’re there, standing in front of him as if you’d been there the entire time. 

“AH!” 

The scream echoed down the alley, high-pitched and nearly startling you into a similar yelp. 

But you were quite used to your presence spooking others, it’s a part of your abilities that you’d never been able to control. 

Chest heaving and cheeks tinted with embarrassment, Steven gave you a suspicious glare. 

“Oh, it’s—it’s just a kid,” he tried to brush off his embarrassing reaction. 

You scoffed, a bruise to your ego. “Not just a kid.”

“Well, I know what I’m seeing,” Steven argued. “And you look like a child—“

“Firstly,” you’re staring at Mr. Knight’s suit, taken aback by the change in his appearance that you’d apparently triggered by startling him so bad. “I’m seventeen. Second, I thought you had a whole—“

You aimlessly motioned around your head in a sort of halo way, confusing the ever fuck out of Steven who just stood there blankly.

“A whole w-what?” He gaped, desperate to know what you— a complete stranger — had to say about his kickass suit.

“You know, a whole cape thing goin’ on.”

Ha! Colonel Sanders.

Steven wished there was a way to punch Marc.

“Now, you’re just talking about my lesser counterpart,” Steven shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he had just been offended to the core.

“Ouch, hard feelings?”

Steven pulled his lips to the side. “You could say that— wait. How do you know about—?”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” you interrupted. “I was sent here on behalf of an organization that is really interested in having you join our ranks. Normally, they’d send someone else but you’re stuck with me so—“

“What organization? What ranks? You’re hiring?” I guess we’re both interrupting each other now. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Even if the task was annoying, you wouldn’t be returning to base with a new recruit if you hit him with a bunch of attitude.

Patience was not your strongest virtue. “Not exactly. As soon as you put that blade down, maybe we can talk some more.”

Steven looked down with a jolt, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been white-knuckling the weapon since you appeared.

Slowly, he started to store the blade before Marc cut in hastily. Hello? Are you seriously letting a kid tell you what to do? A kid who appeared out of thin air?

Steven caught Marc’s glare in the reflection of a small puddle, the road damp from London’s regular showers. He looked much more menacing than Steven, even with his half-assed suit. 

He hadn’t said it yet, but Steven knew Marc was aching to take over. And it was probably the smartest option- Steven wasn’t the best at confrontation. 

“Don’t hurt a minor please,” he pleaded quietly. Marc narrowed his eyes at the notion. But he nodded his head dismissively.

With a sigh, Steven allowed Marc to front.

All the while, you minded your own business as well as you could, staring at the sky suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had sent Redwing to spy on you. Not because he didn’t trust you of course, but because him and Bucky loved to get a laugh in whenever they could. 

“Alright, let’s cut the bullshit. Who sent you? Harrow?” 

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from how fast your head snapped forward. 

The suit was different, cape billowing behind him, and eyes even whiter than before. They seemed to glow-- no, they were glowing-- and glare into the depths of your soul. You were almost intimidated.

“Who the hell is Harrow? Absolutely not. Since you asked so nicely, I was sent on behalf of Captain America.”

Captain America? He gripped the crescent blade tighter. 

He considered your words carefully, staring at you with the utmost suspicion. Lip curling up, head already starting to shake in disapproval, annoyance consuming him altogether— 

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s- that’s amazing!”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. “It is pretty cool,” you shrugged thirty minutes later, chewing through a particularly large bite of your warm bagel. You were sat in the corner of a small, dingy bakery. What it lacked in aesthetics, the bakery definitely made up for in flavor.

“Do you think you could maybe, like I dunno, introduce us?” Steven asked with an excitement that barely kept him still in his seat.

You’re surprised he hasn’t gathered the attention of everyone else in the bakery, but for once, you’re not the one worried about being on the opposite end of a judgmental eye.

Being an Avenger in these post-Blip days isn’t as easy as it was before… stack that on top of being a ‘child’ and it’s the perfect recipe for disaster.

‘They’re too young!’

‘They can barely contain their abilities!’

‘The Avengers already ruined our lives before! Why should we trust a child?!’

Even if you denied it a million times, there was always a small part of you that craved their approval. Their vote of trust…Maybe this mission would help with that, once they learned that it was you who got the infamous bad-guy-turned-good Moon Knight to join the world’s mightiest superheroes…

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly you who got Steven to willingly agree. But there was absolutely no way in hell you were ever telling Sam that it was his pull that got the deal sealed.

“Sure,” you smiled back at Steven who just about died at your response. The coffee in his mug jostled out and splashed onto the table. “Big Captain America fan?”

“As of late,” Steven grinned. “So, when do we leave? Is—” He gasped suddenly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is Captain America coming to pick me up?”

Jesus Christ. Marc groaned. This was a fucking mistake. 

Steven ignored him and looked at you expectantly.

You glanced up from your phone where you’d been rapidly typing something up. You did a double-take as you processed his question.

“Absolutely,” you deadpanned. “He’ll send a car for you. Probably meet you at the airport with his private jet.”

Steven’s eyes grew wider with every word. Marc was scowling in the reflection of the window behind you.

“Bollocks...” he breathed, staring down at his lap in disbelief. 

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t even know what to say. I mean, who—who would’ve thought they would send a seventeen-year-old to recruit little ole me—”

You saw something click in his brain. He looked up with glazed over irritation. “...you’re... you’re not being serious.”

“Of course, I’m not being serious, Grant. I got here alone and I’m more than capable of getting us back to base. You can save the fangirling for when we finally touch down alright? He’ll meet us there.”

Steven pursed his lips at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you finished your text and locked your phone with a click. “I’m being serious this time.”

Excitement poured into his gaze again. You’re not sure how Marc feels about it, only that after explaining yourself in very, very specific detail, he was open to the discussion. But it must be a mutual decision at this point. You doubt Steven would’ve gotten this far if his counterpart was fighting against it.

“Marc is on board?”

“Absolutely.”

Don’t lie. I’m regretting this more and more each second.

Steven continued. “Should I... should I pack my bags?”

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” you agreed nonchalantly.

“... now?”

You tapped your phone and glanced at the time. “If you want to make our flight in less than an hour, I’d say so.”

“Bollocks!” Steven exclaimed, nearly knocking the table over on his mad dash out the door. 

You snickered as he slammed into a lady on his way out. 

—————> the big champs + bucky

you: i’m expecting a promotion when i get back. and for you two to get off my ass already 

redwing’s bitch: I told you it wasn’t going to be too hard. Proud of you, kid

you: 😐

you: thanks i guess... expect a meet and greet when we get there. he’s probably going to be up your ass. steven’s your biggest fan. marc not so much.

you: and don’t worry bucky, they didn’t mention you at all <3

bucky bitchy barnes: fuck off. I have a fanbase. It’s on tweet.

you: wtf is tweet

bucky bitchy barnes: Don’t fuck with me you know what tweet is. 

you: my brother in christ... you mean to say twitter :,)

bucky bitchy barnes: I hate, no DETEST, your generation. 

ha ha

— elle <3

#mgparker #mgparker chats: #moon knight #Steven grant x reader #Marc spector x reader #Steven grant x platonic!reader #platonic!reader #Marc spector x platonic!reader #marc spector x teen!reader #moon knight x teen!reader #teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #request #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marvel #captain America #sam wilson x teen!reader #Sam Wilson x platonic!reader #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x teen!reader #avenger!reader #young avengers

[vintagegirl01]

Loving you is a losing game

Marc Spector x fem! reader (Steven and Jake are mentioned briefly)

Summary: Marc meeting you was one of the best things to have happen to him. However, the demons of his past make him feel otherwise. You help him see that the love you share is one that should be fought for.

A/N: This is what I thought while listening to the song Arcade by Duncan Laurence. Of course with a happier twist.

A/N 2: Purely for entertainment purposes, so please don’t come after me. As I said, I'm still getting used to writing pieces like this.

Marc Spector’s life has never been easy. From the trauma of his young brother’s death to everything he’s during his time as Khonshu’s avatar, he’s felt like a ticking time bomb. Though he’s tried to use his time as Moon Knight to right his wrongs, it never feels like it’s enough.

When he meets you, he begins to see that there is more to life than vengeance. Marc begins to let himself enjoy your presence when he and you hit it off at the gym.

You weren’t a gym rat by any means but you had started a membership in the hopes of getting in shape and learning self-defense by using their punching bag. Seeing you hit the bag by yourself catches his attention and he begins to give you some pointers on how to improve your stance. Over time, this leads to you becoming sparring partners and eventually exchanging phone numbers. Although,this leads to you all regularly hanging out outside your sparring hours.

The day he asked you out was a shock for him because not only did he actually let himself be brave enough to ask the question but you eagerly accepted his invitation. It’s even more surprising to find out that one date led to another. Then another until you both have officially unofficially started dating.

Despite everything going well, he knew that there were things he needed to tell you. About his DID. His past. Being the avatar to an Egyptian deity in exchange to right the wrongs from his ugly past.

This then leads him to begin feeling self conscious about himself. His inner dialogue begins to consist of questions such as: What if he didn’t deserve this chance at happiness? What if she thinks I’m crazy or thinks I’m making this up?

Marc then begins to hear his mother’s voice. Telling him that he is unworthy of receiving love and will only continue to destroy all the lives that he surrounds himself with. Steven and Jake try to snap him out of this but Marc is paralyzed. At this moment, Marc only thinks one thing.

“I have to break up with her before I hurt her”, Marc thought.

_____________________________________

“Marc, this isn’t funny. Stop joking, you say.

“I’m not joking. I think we should break up,” said Marc.

“But why, Marc? Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’ve been the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Then why are you doing this?” You take your hand in his, looking at him sadly. “Please, tell me why you’re acting as if I’m a disease.”

“Imthedisease.” He says as if he’s trying to rip off a bandage.

“What, baby?”

“I said, I'm the disease. I seep into innocent lives and destroy them.” He looks at you tearfully.

“Marc, that’s silly. What are you talking about?”

Marc then begins to explain everything. From the death of his younger brother to the lives he took during his time as a mercenary. He also makes sure to mention that he is the vigilante, Moon Knight, and has two other individuals living within his head. He concludes all of this by saying, “Loving me is a losing game.”

Once he’s done explaining all of this, Marc is waiting to see your reaction to all this. Will you call him crazy? Run away from him? Scream?

Instead, you take his hands in your own.

“Loving you isn’t a losing game, Marc,” you tell him. I love you and long as we have each other, we can face whatever life throws at us.”

At this, Marc pulls you into a big hug. He lets himself break down because he knows that you’re here to stay and love him. For his strengths and weaknesses, through good and bad times. He knows you will be there for him.

As you two are still embracing, he starts to believe that he is worth loving after all.

#marc spector #moon knight 2022 #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #implied future relationship with Steven and Jake. #oscar issac characters #oscar isaac #song lyrics #angst #fluff #moon knight system #arcade lyrics #inspiration #oscar issac x reader #trauma #healing #hand holding

[lavendertales]

Below the surface—Marc Spector x f!reader**

summary: you quite like the Moon Knight attire, as Marc and the boys are about to find out.

word count: 2.7k

WARNINGS: established relationship; cunnilingus from behind, doggy, anal & cum play, little edging & dirty talk thanks to Jake Lockley, squirting, Steven makes an appearance too. 

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

A/N: This is exactly what you think it is: fucking in the Moon Knight suit. song inspo. 

gif: @theavengers 

read on AO3 

Marc Spector is different. Not in the way people usually claim in order to make themselves feel better about their choices. He truly is.

That’s because he lives his daily life with two other guys crammed inside his head.

No, that is not a euphemism. He introduced you to them and everything.

So yeah, Marc is different. So are Steven Grant and Jake Lockley, his partners in crime, as you began referring to them. It was always interesting trying to figure out who was going to take the reins during conversations—or more importantly, during your intimate moments with Marc.

You’d been a little reluctant to get involved with Marc at first; you knew him from way back when you struck up a lame conversation during a site digging in Egypt and have kept in touch over the years, but learning about his divorce from Layla—a gorgeous, intelligent and overall badass woman—hasn’t excited you because… well. You’ve always thought of Marc as devilishly attractive, but you saw a particular disturbance in his aura, so you’ve kept your respectable distance. Even a little more once he was single. You thought you’d give both him and Layla the curtesy of mourning their relationship if need be, and let them figure out their lives first before doing anything you might regret.

Turns out, Marc was also very ballsy when he wanted something.

Or rather, Jake was. You later found out that the reason your impromptu dinner invitation was forwarded and then accepted was because Jake decided to play that day.

But those two weren’t the only interesting fact about Marc Spector. No, of course not. Why would it be just that?

Marc was also under a God’s service named Khonshu, to punish those who deserve it. So, from time to time, he’d strap on this mysterious suit and go all vigilante on some poor unfortunate souls.

The thing is, you’ve only ever caught glimpses of the suit, of the bold Moon Knight. You couldn’t even make up much of it—you figured Marc wanted to keep you as distant as possible from the dangers of his endeavors in spite of his willingness to be truthful towards you.

Only glimpses. Till today.

He thinks you’re not at home. He thinks you’ve gone to do your research at the local library. So he walks inside the apartment, careful and yet carefree simultaneously, unaware of your glare just yet. He’s tugging at the hem of the—bandages? Is the suit made entirely of bandages? Reminds you a little of a mummy, but not so much because… this is different.

Oh, this is completely different.

You don’t say anything; you’re locked in a trance, really, simply admiring the bulky silhouette make his way about the apartment, appearing as if arranging his suit, and you cannot look away. You know underneath it is your beloved Marc and his two counterparts. The image and the knowledge work together in some sinful manner to make your blood boil in your veins and spread heat throughout your whole body, settling somewhere down below, far below the surface, simmering dangerously.

“Baby, hey!”

It’s Marc. He’s surprised to see you just standing there, paper in hand, looking at him. He’s covered from head to toe, even his face. His eyes are —hell, they’re white and bright, and under any normal circumstances, you might be afraid in the slightest, confused. But you’re not. You know who is standing right now before you.

“I thought you were—“he begins, approaching you steadily and carefully.

“I’m not. So. This the infamous Moon Knight.”

Your tone is flat, with a hint of sultry underlining it. Marc picks up on rather quickly—after all, it’s been almost a year since the two of you, as well as Steven and Jake, have been involved with each other.

“Yeah. This is—him,” Marc concludes, still hesitant.

“Why didn’t you want me to see this again?”

“Because it’s dangerous, baby. If anything were to happen…”

It’s you who approaches him, taking the reins in your hands, and thus surprising him. He’s expected a more refrained reaction from you, but he’s clearly underestimated your desire to be with him.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” you reassure him. “Nothing bad, anyway. Then again, it depends.”

Marc’s face appears before you, clear as the day. His brows furrow, confusion dominating his face altogether.

“Depends on what?” he asks.

You lick your lips, staring him up and down, and it doesn’t take him long to put two and two together. Yet, he still feels taken aback by your reaction.

“Don’t play the fool, Marc,” a coarse voice intervenes, and Marc shudders. “It does not flatter you. You know what she wants. Give it to her.”

“Real classy, Jacob,” Steven comments, and Marc can virtually hear him roll his eyes. “You could’ve framed that so much better.”

“Call me Jacob one more time, see what happens.”

“Not now, you morons!” Marc blurts out.

You smile. “I think you should listen to them.”

Marc’s frown deepens, and he feels like he’s fighting for his life with those two voices inside his head and your eager figure before him.

“How do you know what they’re saying?” he asks you.

“I don’t. But I can only assume Jake’s telling you something direct and filthy, and Steven thinks he shouldn’t say it quite like that.”

Stunned, Marc freezes in his spot. If Steven and Jake would’ve materialized themselves right now, they’d be in the same stance, the same shock becoming all three of them.

“She knows us so well!” Steven exclaims. “She’s brilliant.”

“You really know us so well,” Marc adds fondly.

You shrug. “You gotta learn the habits of those you share a living space with.”

“You’re so—“

Marc doesn’t finish his thought. He can’t, not when your doe eyes are locked on his face, so adamant about what your body wants. He shares the same need now, the same desire that’s overturning his entire composure.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to be honest with me,” you tell him, grazing his face. “I can take much more than you think.”

“That’s something to remember,” Jake grins somewhere at the back of his mind.

Marc smiles rather flustered, and you melt his every worry once your lips are on his. Everything he needs to know about this moment, about your wishes and feelings, is right in that kiss: fiery, needy, triggering pleasure centers in his brain that, up until then, have been taken up by the two inhabitants of his mind.

So Marc gladly reciprocates; he welcomes the distraction from the madness within, however long it’s bound to last. He’s eager to remove the suit, to feel you properly, skin to skin, but, as you stumble throughout the apartment till you land on your shared bed, you groan into the kiss and shake your head.

“No?” Marc checks to see if he’s understood you correctly.

“You look too damn fine to waste this moment.”

Marc can’t hide his astonishment, not even when your kisses turn sloppy and messy and you open your legs to make room for him to grind in between. Jot this down under things I’d never thought I’d be doing, Marc thinks.

It’s true that he has underestimated you; he’s been trying to sneak around in his Moon Knight attire for months, settling with the idea that you saw mere fractions of him this way, thus keeping you safe and sound. But deep down, Marc knew he could never fully hide his true self from you. And certainly not once you’d met Steven and Jake. He was still learning how to cope and function alongside you, and the fact that you stayed through the worst of it all made him rethink his decisions to hide from you.

There’s nothing to hide anymore, especially not now when he’s hastily removing the clothes from your writhing body. He cannot wrap his head around the fact that you want him this much, this desperately, and when he’s Moon Knight, no less. Marc leaves a wet trail of kisses from your mouth to your neck, progressing lower to your sternum, breasts, stomach, and at painfully long last, your sweetest spot.

Calloused hands grip your thighs to spread them further, but not before pressing light kisses on either sides of your thighs. You huff and mewl, your fingers playing with his curly hair as his mouth kisses your clit, beginning to lick up and down your folds.

Then, a sharp voice intervenes so abruptly, it nearly scares even Marc. “Turn around, Hermosa.”

You whisper Jake’s name, surprised at the change. You do as you’re told, switching positions till you’re on all fours, ass on full display. You’re not sure whether this lewd spectacle is for Marc or Jake now, but you don’t question it. And you certainly don’t care when the same mouth presses roughly on your folds and begins to devour you entirely, almost as if drinking straight from you.

A rugged moan escapes from your throat; each flick of the tongue gets you wetter and weakens your body, preparing it for the sweet implosion you so desperately crave for. One of your hands reaches back to rub circles around your clit, overstimulating yourself to the point of breakage. You don’t know which name should roll down your tongue as you’re climbing the throes of highest pleasure known to mankind, but you figure either one is good. Hell, you might even say Steven’s, just to mix things up a little.

Instead, nothing but choked sounds come out. You feel the pressure in your belly slowly building, ready to be detonated at any given point. Then again, Marc has always been godly with his mouth, so it’s not a fair game.

“Hmm, so needy… so needy and filthy. What a greedy little slut we have in our mouth.”

The voice trails off with a soft groan, humming almost, and you swiftly realize it belongs to Jake. He might have taken over the body too, you’re not sure. Doesn’t really matter because his words get you going further, adding more wood onto the fire.

“F-Fuck—“

It’s all you can muster, especially when you’re getting closer and closer.

“Let’s see what you can really handle.”

Suddenly his lips are no longer on your aching cunt and the emptiness makes you want to scream. You do squirm instead, but firm hands grip your flesh, willing you to stay in place.

Marc still cannot wrap his mind around this. It feels like an insult brought to the purpose he’d chosen to serve, to Khonshu and everything else in between, soiling the suit with these filthy endeavors. He’s never done this before, not even with Layla. It’s a wonder in and by itself, some sort of dirty miracle that he wants to remember for all of eternity.

“Be a good little slut and stay still.”

The voice is coarse and definitive. Still Jake, you conclude. You sneak a peek around you, turning your head enough to see Marc—Jake—stroking himself. Frankly, you’re a little surprised to remark how hard he is, but it’s nothing if not flattering. Your vision gets blurry the moment his cock fills you up to the brim with a single push of his hips. You feel so full and warm that you could cry on the spot and cum just from that. You start to move backwards, pushing against him, and then you hear Jake’s chuckle.

“You gonna fuck yourself on our cock? Hm? Like the desperate slut you are?”

You nod, doing your best to move enough to feel him, but it’s not enough. It doesn’t even come close to the real feeling. But it’s a good start. Though knowing Jake’s intentions, you might have to carry on like this for a while, thus forced to prove your neediness to an embarrassing degree. But do you care? Absolutely not.

And then you feel your flesh burn where strong hands grip tightly, kneading it between fingers; the same hands that now hold you while simultaneously propelling you back and forth to meet with the heated body that is finally fucking into you. While strong, there’s a certain tenderness to the grip that turns you soft as well, making you feel as equally safe as you are hot.

Steven.

The grunt and moans that ensue fill the room, a thick scent of sweat and neediness floating in the air as Marc takes you from behind. He’s mesmerized by the sight, completely enthralled by the moment and unable to think about anything else but you. The way your cunt swallows his cock, taking all of him in in the most intoxicating manner possible, your sweet noises, your warm skin… he’s never known a more poisonous, yet delicious sensation.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so—warm—“

You can’t will any words to leave your mouth; your mouth remains ajar, the only sound leaving being sinful moans, the feeling of his cock throbbing in and out of you slowly but surely knocking the air out of your lungs. Again you reach behind, finding your clit and attempting to rub circles on it to reach your high, but a hand slaps it away.

“You need more, baby?”

“Mhm—please—“

Marc slows down in the slightest, grunting as he does so; a spitting sound follow, and you feel heat and wetness around the curve of your ass.

Oh.

And then you feel a finger slowly protruding the tight ring of flesh there, boldly pushing in, all while you’re still being fucked from behind.

“You heard her, she can take so much more,” Jake teases.

“Shut up, lemme—“

“She’d take all we’d give to her.”

“Jake, I swear—“

“Fuck, baby—“

“That good?”

You desperately nod, the fullness overwhelming you. It’s wild and unprecedented, but you welcome it dearly. It’s too good to put an end to it now. So you start pushing backwards again, the feeling of his cock inside you and his index completely clouding your mind.

“She’s so good, damn it—“Steven coos somewhere in the back.

“Such a needy slut, this one. Needy and desperate for us, always dripping wet,” Jake adds mischievously.

Marc forces himself to turn off his mind and focus solely on you again. He resumes his pace, a little faster now, while maintaining a reasonable speed for your ass. He’s just as overwhelmed, if not more, and he feels so close, so dangerously close—but he wants to feel you first. He has to feel you tip over the edge of pleasure first. Then he’ll come too.

“M-Marc, I’m—I think—“

“Yeah? You’re—you gonna come for me?”

“Mhm, fuck—fuck, yes—“

“Good girl, come on, do it, baby… do it for me, please—please, let me feel you—“

It’s a blur after that. Your walls flutter around his cock, nearly strangling it inside you, but it’s more than that. It’s a lot more, actually: you keep coming, like waves of pleasure who wash over your shore, unable to stop, soaking his cock completely and spilling seemingly everywhere. Marc doesn’t mind, nor does he care; your reaction triggers his own climax, and he quickly pulls out, painting your ass with his seed.

Spent, Marc can only watch the filthy mess the two of you have made over the bed and your ass, oddly enticed. He licks his lips, suddenly aware that he’s still technically Moon Knight. He can only hope this little stunt will go unnoticed and unspoken of by Khonshu.

“Told you I can take more than you think,” you breathe, a smile grazing your lips.

“You did,” Marc chuckles, gently turning you around to kiss you.

“Next time we’ll fill her right up from the back,” Jake groans at the back of his mind. “See how much she can take then.”

Marc doesn’t correct him. He keeps that naughty wish between them. For now.

#moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fic #marc spector smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fic #steven grant smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac smut

[messrmoonyy]

Can I ask for Steven x Avenger reader? I have the idea in my head but I cant write so if you could that would be so awesome. so reader is an ex avenger and has the ability to read minds and maybe Marc and Steven are arguing over taking about readers past and reader reads their thoughts so she can hear them both at the same time? bonus if you could add some smut in too? sorry this is long and only write if you’re comfortable with it. Thank you anyway

Late night talking

Afab reader x Steven Grant / afab reader x Marc Spector ( background )

Not my gif

A/N- I LOVE ME A SUPER SPECIFIC REQUEST. Layla is mentioned but layla and Marc were never married, she’s readers friend. Oh also my first full reader insert one shot and not Drabble ever so that’s fun. Also my first time writing smut in YEARS. Go easy on me.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, afab reader, vague mentions of reader having trauma but nothing specific, DID as shown via the show moonknight and not medically accurate, smut- unprotected p in v , oral ( f receiving ). Think that’s all.

Word count: 4.9k

Masterlist- requests open!

Reblogs and comment greatly appreciated <3

When you woke up it was raining outside. The window open, a bit of a breeze coming through and the sounds of the evening traffic going by outside. Someone nearby was playing music, just far enough away that you could catch the beat but not quite guess the song. Music was playing somewhere in the flat too, and you could hear the sound of pages flicking in a book.

You opened your eyes and stretched, rolling your neck to ease the stiffness that had settled from your slightly odd position. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep for so long, just a quick nap you’d said before dropping off. But the night before you had been up until dawn, studying a long list of stolen artefacts from a dig site.

The boys no longer had Khonshu leering over their shoulders constantly and you no longer had obligations to the Avengers. But after a few months of long awaited normality. You’d actually gotten a little bored. And Layla had convinced you to dabble in the art of vigilante work again.

During the blip when what was left of the avengers had scattered, you’d teamed up with Layla and helped her recover stolen artefacts. Return them to their rightful owners out of the hands of people who wished to sell them on, ruining her fathers work as they did. It was how you’d met Marc. Both hunting for the scarab.

So when she’d asked you to assist her again after all the mess with Harrow…. Who were you to turn her down? You had nothing better to do really… and you were doing a good deed. In a round about way.

A glance at the alarm clock by the bed told you it was 8:57pm. You sighed knowing you’d be up all night again now, but at least you’d had some rest. You pushed yourself up and rubbed at your eyes, spotting what you automatically knew was Steven at his desk. The glasses perched on his nose and the way he was looking down at his book, you’d know it was Steven a mile off.

Marc hadn’t fronted for a couple days, in a sulk because he had wanted to go straight to Egypt again but Layla and Steven had agreed it wasn’t a great idea yet. Apparently the relics that had been stolen had a whole number of rumours surrounding them, curses and spells that shouldn’t be taken likely. Going in blind would only end badly.

Marc thought it was all bullshit, a way to scare away any wannabe thief. You and Steven knew better and decided to do some research first.

Steven hadn’t noticed you were awake yet, nose too deep in his book as he hummed along to the song playing. The room was dimly lit, the light from the fish tank, a string of fairy lights above the bed and Stevens desk lamp the only light in the room.

You slipped out of bed and over to the desk, stretching your arms out as you went. You only had a pair of pyjama shorts and one of Marcs shirts on and the chill from the window made goosebumps rise on your legs. Steven looked up as you reached the desk, slipping around the side to where he was sat. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek

“ hi “ you said softly, smiling at how cute he looked in his glasses.

“ You Alright love? “ he said with a warm smile and put his book down, pulling off his glasses. He pushed his chair back slightly already anticipating you wanting to climb into his lap. Which you did, slipping around his chair and sitting sideways on, looping your arms around his neck “ sleep well yeah? “

“ yeah. Probably going to be another all nighter though, you should have woken me up “ you said with a sigh and reached to brush some of his curls from his forehead.

“ you needed some sleep. Thought it was best to leave you be “ you smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to his nose in thanks.

“ what’re you reading? “ you asked with a nod towards the open book on his desk.

“ ugh traditional tomb curses “

“ cheery stuff “ you said with a tilt of your head, looking over at the book, picking it up with your free hand.

“ Egyptian afterlife stuff is easy but Layla thinks this group had some like mad idea about the afterlife bigger than the standard beliefs. They really wanted to protect their things but they also had these proper crazy ideas about magic, and would curse their tombs and the items inside of it. Like twice as much as what the standard practices were. Thought we should know about them before we go lookin for this stuff, but there’s not much Information beyond the standard practices in here. Maybe Layla will know more. Well. Hope she does. Don’t wanna get cursed now do we? “ he said with a little laugh as he held the other side of the book.

“ she knows just about everything there is to know about tombs. I’m sure she’ll have more information for us “ you said and turned the page “ I’ll book our flights tomorrow “ You noticed him glance towards the picture frame on the desk, a picture of you, his reflection a little visable “ Marc talking? “ you asked.

“ yeah “

“ what’s he saying? “ you asked softly moving your face closer to his as if you could see Marc in the frame too. Which of course you couldn’t, though sometimes you wished you could “ being miserable still? “ you teased, making Steven chuckle. He shrugged.

“ he thinks we’re being stupid and over cautious. He still thinks we should’ve gone out there already “ you placed the book back on the desk and sighed.

“ Marc you might wanna remember you don’t have a powerful healing suit anymore. And even if your did I don’t think it’d work on curses. Research is needed not head first charging into a possible waiting curse “ Stevens eyes remained trained on the frame, obviously listening to what Marc was saying “ go on what’s he saying now? “

“ I’m not repeating that “ Steven said to the picture frame and you rolled your eyes.

“ stop sulking “ you said towards the frame before turning to Steven again “ hes just jealous because we’re smarter and don’t wanna get a fucking curse “

“ right. And so much for us not having protection, you don’t either. You have your little magic thing but… won’t stop you getting cursed. Will it? “ he said quietly.

“ no. It won’t. And it’s not magic “ you said with a smile. He nodded and seemed to be deliberating on saying something else, the familiar look on his face as the cogs turned in his head.

“ talking of your powers…. actually was. Well. Was looking into things about- about your powers and. Is that okay I mean- “ he said suddenly, taking you slightly off guard. You didn’t really talk about it much. After all you’d known Marc first, he had been the one you had told. You just assumed he had told Steven all there was to know.

“ what did you find? “ you asked quietly and looked at him hesitantly. Steven definitely knew the majority of what you had been through, knew how and where your powers came from. Marc, he knew it in all its gritty and gruesome details. But you were always scared to tell Steven everything. You wondered what Marc had told him exactly. Maybe not a lot seeing he’d gotten curious and gone searching himself.

“ well I- Marc had some of your files. The coded ones. And after what Harrow had said back in Egypt. I was just curious I’m sorry “ Harrow had taken great pride in telling Steven that you were not to be trusted. That you were dangerous. You were a little hurt that Steven had gone snooping rather than just asking you. But you couldn’t be mad. You couldn’t blame him for his curiosity.

“ it’s okay “ you said softly. His arm that was around your waist tightened a little, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

“ what they did to you- “

“ Steven.. “

“ y/n. What they made you do I- “ he sighed and glanced at the picture frame again “ do you have… are those memories still in there? Is that why you have nightmares sometimes? “ you hadn’t spoken about your time in Hydra for a very long time. And now see Steven looking so hurt to even think about it? It made your heart ache. You were holding back tears at the look of pure sadness and despair on his face. You nodded slightly.

“ yeah. It’s still in there. That’s my nightmares “ his hand rose up to touch your temple gently.

“ wish I could take it all out “ his fingers drummed lightly against your skin and you closed your eyes for a moment, opening them to see Stevens eyes fixed on you “ just pluck it all out. Throw it away “ he dropped your eye contact for a moment and you knew Marc was talking to him. You hoped he wasn’t mad at Steven for asking. Talking was good he’d been the one to tell you that.

“ you okay? What’s he saying to you? “

“ wants to front “ he mumbled, seemingly fighting to keep him back and out of the metaphorical driving seat. They didn’t fight each off much anymore, quite happy and seamless in their switching. But sometimes, like in that moment, the other didn’t want to let the other out “ he said I shouldn’t be prying “

Stevens brow furrowed and he threw an annoyed look at the picture frame again, clearly Marc wasn’t giving up. You sighed, knowing Marc would just overwhelm Steven if he didn’t give over.

“ let me read? “ you asked quietly, your finger tips slipping into his hair. You never read minds without consent, especially theirs. Steven gave a small nod and you closed your eyes, both hands slipping into his hair to cradle his head. You always got a clearer read on them when you had contact with them. You took a deep breath, your fingertips ready to caress his brain and sort through the chaos inside.

It always took a moment to sort out where Marc began and Steven ended, even more so if Jake decided he wanted to be close to the front- Which was very rare-but once you did it was easy and clear. “ don’t go shy on me now Marc “ you mumbled, tilting your head as if to concentrate more and prod at the correct part of their brain.

He shouldn’t be meddling Marc’s voice flowed over your fingers and into your own mind like warm water.

“ I’m not. I was only asking “ Steven protested, a pout evident in his voice.

“ he’s allowed to be curious. He’s allowed to know. I love you. Both of you… we don’t keep secrets “

You don’t need your trauma digging back up again

“ that’s not your decision to make Marc “ sternness filtered into your words.

He shouldn’t be reading the files. He should’ve asked you if he’s so desperate to know you partially agreed on that but you didn’t want to make Steven feel bad for being curious.

“ maybe you shouldn’t have kept them “

“ I deserve to know to “ Steven spoke up again, his hold on your waist getting a little tighter. Possessive almost “ she’s my girlfriend too “

“ Steven. Calm down “ you sighed.

Fine. But if you scare him? It’s on you y/n your eyes flew open at that, fingers slipping from his hair as you disconnected from their mind.

“ y/n “ Steven grabbed your hands gently as you pulled away. You were always terrified of scaring him, always worried that your dark past would have him running from you. Marc accepted it. His own past was just as murky maybe even more so. But Steven? Marc had let him live a warm and sheltered life. He didn’t know hardships and death and despair. You were always worried one day he’d discover something that meant he’d never look at you the same way again.

“ Steven. I don’t want you to be afraid of me “ you almost whispered, those tears brimming in your eyes again.

“ what? Love, I’d never be afraid of you” he took your hand in his and pressed his lips to your fingertips “ I love you. Powers and past and everythin I- I love you so much. Exactly as you are “ your fingers brushed over his jaw with the hand he wasn’t holding, his eyes locking into yours with so much love and admiration it made your heart ache.

He knew what had happened to you. The things you had done. And yet he still looked at you like that? He had far too much goodness in his heart. Those eyes looked at you as if you were a goddess before him, some perfect being made just for him.

It was different to the way Marc looked at you, similar but somehow different. Marc adored you, loved you with all he had. He just didnt know how to show it as well. Steven practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and was more than happy to show the world that too “ I just want to understand you. You help me when I.. freak out. I wanna be able to help you, yeah? “

You closed your eyes and sighed a little but nodded.

“ I know. I’m sorry “ you cupped his face in your hands “ I love you too. For the record “

“ love you more “ you smiled and shrugged, taking the chance to change the subject. There had been enough discussion of your past for one night.

“ yeah? Prove it “ Stevens eyes flitted over to the picture frame again and you reached over, placing it face down “ don’t listen to him right now. Let him sulk “ Steven nodded and laced his fingers with yours “ focus on me “ the atmosphere had shifted slightly, his cheeks already flushing pink.

“ right yeah. Right “ you smiled at how awkward he still was. With Marc you were constantly fighting him for who was in control of the situation, often losing to him simply because you let him. It was different with Steven. Even now. Even after over a year since you had first met him.

“ or do you wanna. Wanna tell me more about the.. the curses? “ you asked softly, faltering slightly at the way his eyes were watching you now. He was like a lovesick puppy. You knew his answer already. But had to ask.

“ no. Wanna kiss you actually “ a smile pulled at your lips and you nodded slightly, cupping his cheek with your hand and leaning in. He always kissed so gently, like you were delicate and easily broken. It was a strong contrast to Marc. They were both so different. It was what you loved about them. How they showed their love in different ways.

Stevens hand pulled lightly at your hips, pulling you closer but still too nervous to really do anything. You took the hint and shuffled slightly so that you straddled him in his chair. His hands fell onto your hips, kneading gently, your fingers slipping up and lacing into his curls.

You rocked your hips lightly against him, testing the waters on whether or not he actually wanted to do anything other than make out. The way his own hips chased after yours gave the answer you wanted. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and he moaned into your mouth at the friction you were causing. You ground your hips down harder, seeing what sounds you could pull from him.

As usual he soon got more comfortable and his fingers slid under your- well. Marcs- shirt. His lips found your neck, gentle wet kisses to your skin but never ever marking you. That was Marcs job. Steven refused to lay a marking finger on you, Marc liked to litter your body in bites and bruises shaped like his fingers.

“ Steven “ you breathed out as his hands made their way up your back, bunching the shirt up as they went.

“ can I take- y/n- “ his fragmented question came with a light tug to the shirt.

“ yes. Yes please “ it was over your head quickly and he took a moment to marvel at your bare chest. Gazing at you as if you were a piece of art plucked right out of the museum.

“ Steven “

“ bloody perfect you are “ he almost whispered “ absolutely bloody perfect “ he leant forward, pressing more kisses across your throat and down your chest, his hands cupping your breasts gently. Always so scared of hurting. You tilted your head back, hair falling from your face as he took a nipple into his mouth.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, taking note of every sound you made, worshipping every part of you. You ground your hips down on him again, his suckling halting briefly at the feeling, a stuttering breath leaving him. You were certain you’d already soaked through your panties. Maybe even your shorts. He always wound you up ridiculously fast. You wondered if he could feel it.

“ would you piss off for just a bit? “ Steven suddenly grumbled and you looked back to him, confusion on your features.

“ Marc? “ you questioned, fingers raking through his curls as he looked up at you. He hummed an answer, turning to kiss you softly “ he’s listening? Talking to you? “ he nodded “ don’t listen. Focus on me. Okay? “ he nodded again and you trailed your hands down his chest and had his shirt over his head in seconds “ you’re so pretty “ you said softly, knowing it always made him melt. Marc hated it, you said it when you wanted to piss him off and have his way with you. But Steven loved it, had him eating out the palm of your hand.

He keened at the word, a breathy whimper leaving him. He closed his eyes as you held his head and brought him up to kiss you again “ so pretty “ you whispered between kisses, one hand tugging at his curls and the other trailing down his bare chest.

“ y/n “ he almost whined, rutting up against you as your fingers trailed along the waist band of his sweatpants. His fingers ghosted over your shorts, a testing press that made you gasp “ so wet “ he said mostly to himself. That confirmed your earlier query of soaking through the thin material of your shorts. He kissed you again and was tugging at your shorts with more confidence a second later. You helped him wiggle them down your legs, taking your panties with them, before placing yourself back on his lap.

His lips were back on you instantly, nudging his leg up against your now bare cunt as you rocked against him. You were definitely leaving a mark on his sweatpants, but he didn’t seem to care at all.

His thoughts were loud, you weren’t even trying to read him but with your hand on his neck it was impossible not to. Maybe it was because Marc was clearly still trying to push his way to the front, maybe it was because of how intimate the entire evening had been. You didn’t know. But there was no ignoring Marc’s voice as it flowed over you.

Sit her on the desk. Go on you didn’t know whether to laugh or whine. Marc was talking him through it. You wondered how long he’d been guiding him. And if he’d done it before. Steven still seemed hesitant as his hands slid around to hold hips again she’ll like it trust me he didn’t move straight away. Only deepened your kisses, letting you slip your tongue into the warmth of his mouth. You were certain you were soaking his sweatpants now and yet he still seemed too nervous to do anything. Even with Marcs prompts mate you need to touch her. You were going to get yourself off on his thigh if he kept up what he was doing.

It wasn’t like you’d never slept with him before. Gods there had been countless times. But he was always the same. Always nervous. Always gentle and scared. You didn’t know why. It was always in bed too. Marc took you wherever he felt like, any flat surface was good enough for you two. So this was new for Steven. Not that you were complaining.

“ Steven “ you said breathlessly, pulling away and holding his face in your hands “ need you. Need you right now “ that breathy whimper left his lips again and it seemed to urge him forward. He reached behind you and moved the book he’d been reading, with far too much care but you’d expect nothing less from him, before hoisting you up. Clearly taking Marcs idea. You shivered slightly, the cool wood of the desk a stark contrast to the warmth of his lap.

His lips were on you again, but only briefly.

“ can I taste you? “ he asked, eyes wide and practically pleading. You almost moaned just at the idea, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically at his request.

“ yes. Yes Steven please “ He pressed another kiss to your lips before dropping onto his knees, never letting his hands leave you. He pulled you to the edge of the desk and carefully pushed your legs apart.

His eyes didn’t leave you once as he pressed soft, wet kisses to your thighs. You clenched around nothing just at the sight. This man would be the death of you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he drew closer, his own hot breath fanning over you and making you shiver again. His fingers carefully spread you apart, His nose brushing against your clit. Your head fell back with a soft whine.

“ Steven “ he was still watching you intently as he licked a slow stripe between your folds, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“ so good “ he mumbled against you, confidence seemingly drowning him as he began to devour you as if you were his final meal. He’d always been good at eating you out, it was always his favourite thing. To please you. He’d quite happily give you orgasm after orgasm without even bothering about himself. He’d go at it for hours, making you come over and over until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“ fuck- Steven- “ you gasped, hands sliding into his hair and tugging on his curls. He looked beautiful like that, giving you every ounce of his devotion, wide eyes still trained on your face “ pretty “ you breathed “ so pretty for me “ he had you on the edge unbelievably fast, even Marc couldn’t bring you so close so fast. And he’d known you far longer. Steven truly was a god when it came to pussy eating. You were certain.

“ taste so good “ he mumbled, eyes still trained on you “ so fuckin good “

When he slowly slid a finger into you you moaned so loud they probably heard you two floors down, even more so when a second quickly followed. His mouth was still preoccupied with your clit, and the mix of his tongue and his thick fingers curling up inside of you was too much. You could never get anything going with your own fingers, but his were magic you were sure “ Steven So. Close “ you whined.

He curled his fingers again, hitting the perfect spot that was your undoing and barely a minute later you were coming. Hard. You clenched your thighs around his head, moans loudly falling from your throat before you could bother to care about the open window. Steven continued to lap at you gently, helping to ride you though it and make sure every single second lasted as long as possible.

As usual he didn’t stop until you pushed at his head gently, too over stimulated for any more. He leant his head against your thigh as you came down, catching your breath. You looked down at him, chin glistening and a dopey lovesick expression on his face.

“ okay love? “ you gave a small laugh and nodded. You ran a hand over his hair and then nudged your fingers under his chin, urging him to stand again. He stood up from the floor and kissed you, making you moan into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips.

You felt him grind his crotch against your leg with a whimper, his surely painful erection clearly apparent.

“ it’s hurts? “ you asked, pulling away slightly and he whimpered, a small nod of the head following “ I got you babe it’s okay “ you pushed at his sweatpants, freeing his cock and taking it in your hand. The tip was swollen and red, leaking precum over your hand, you stroked him slowly watching his shoulders slacken slightly at the small relief in the pressure.

“ y/n. Y/n please “ he whispered, eyes scrunched close.

“ do you want my mouth? “ you asked as you placed kisses to his neck, nipping playfully at the exposed skin.

“ need to be inside you. Please “ you smiled at how polite he was, even then.

“ okay baby okay “ You said and nodded, spreading your legs a little further and lining him up at your soaked entrance. His hands fell to your hips, fingertips pressing into your flesh “ look at me “ you locked eyes with him as he pushed in, eyes fluttering closed briefly at the stretch but opening again as you inhaled deeply. He pushed in until you were filled to the brim, moaning into your ear in a way you were certain would make you come again in an instant. His body flush against yours and holding it for a moment.

“ okay? “

“ yes. Yes. So good baby I promise “ you whispered, your hand gripping at the curls in the nape of his neck.

And then he was moving. A gentle pace but so bruisingly deep you knew you’d be aching in a few hours time. His lips covered your skin, his hands roaming as if he wanted to touch every single part of you.

You rolled your hips to meet him, one of his hands gripping tightly at your hip and breathy whimpers leaving his mouth. With your hand on his neck you could hear Marc talking again, but you were too engrossed in Steven to listen to him. But his slight increase in speed gave you an idea of what he had said. It was still an agonising pace though, each long deep thrust hitting that spot just right “ fuck Steven “ You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him as close and deep as possible

“ so good. So good for me love. So good” he rambled into your ear, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. He was so gentle compared to Marc. One of his hands grabbed at yours, linking your fingers together, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles “ look at you. Look so beautiful “ you almost wanted to laugh. He was calling you beautiful when he was stood right there looking like that? His curly hair a mess, parted lips all kiss swollen and pink. That was beauty. From the way he looked to the sounds he was making.

His moans went straight to your core, they were your favourite sound on earth. He had been embarrassed at first, but you’d made sure he knew just how much you loved him being vocal. Loved every single sound you could pull from him, every whimper and whine, every moan and stuttered breath. Nothing gave you more pleasure than knowing you making him sound like that. No one else. You.

“ can we- can. Want you to ride me “ he stuttered, cheeks flushing even warmer if that were even possible. You nodded and pressed another bruising kiss to his lips.

He stopped briefly, picking you up and sitting back down in his chair. He always did love watching you ride him.

You held his shoulders, rising almost completely off of him before dropping back down. He seemed mesmerised as he watched you get into a steady pace, rolling your hips against him.

“ so fuckin good look at you “ His hands found your breasts again, squeezing and pinching your nipples before smothering them in kisses “ so beautiful so perfect “ Marc was an ass man, but Steven? He’d have his face between your tits all day if he could. You guessed that was why he loved you on top so much.

“ fuck you’re so good “ you whined, angling your hips so that his cock was so deep inside you it made you see stars. You almost wanted to cry at the feeling of complete and utter pleasure rippling through you.

A familiar pressure was building, tightening inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Thankfully he seemed to be same.

He was still sucking at your nipple but his hands were back on your hips, holding you as he began thrusting up into you.

“ so close Steven. Please make me come please “ you whined and pulled his head up, pressing your forehead to his as his thrusts grew sloppy. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow circles, revelling in the way your lips parted in pleasure.

“ want you to come for me. Come on love you can do it. Come for me, let me see how pretty you look when you come” that was enough for that pressure to explode, your orgasm crashing into you. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder as he kept thrusting, drawing it out as long as possible, your eyes screwed shut as you cried out his name. Neighbours be dammed.

He slowed down to a deeper and agonisingly slow pace when you opened your eyes again, his hands running up and down your back.

“ almost there. Can you keep going for me love? “ you nodded and brushed your nose against his, closing your eyes as your sensitive walls clenched around him “ knew you could. So good for me “ his pace picked up again and you looped your arms around his neck, as his cock thrust into your sensitive cunt a few more times “ y/n- need to. Can I- inside? “ his broken question was punctuated by breathy moans, his brow furrowing.

“ yes. Come inside me baby I know you need to” two more thrusts and he was gone holding your hips tightly to keep himself as deep as possible. His orgasm wracking his body and shooting hot ropes of come over your walls.

His head dropped to your shoulder as his grip on tou loosened, breathing heavily as he came down. Shaking slightly. You wrapped your arms around him, a hand slipping into his hair. You pressed a kiss to his temple and smiled.

“ you okay? “ you asked softly, running your fingers through his curls and pressing more kisses to his head. He didn’t answer for a moment, just held you.

“ bloody perfect “ he said with a goofy smile, lifting his head from your shoulder and dropping a gentle kiss to your swollen lips. You giggled, shaking your head.

“ goof “ you dropped a gentle kiss to his nose, his forehead and his lips, cupping his face in your hands “ shall we go take a shower? “ he wrapped his arms tightly around you and shook his head, dropping his face into your neck.

“ in a minute. Just stay for a sec yeah? “ you ran your fingers through his hair and wondered if you’d actually be able to stand a shower, your entire body felt like jelly “ I’m sorry for prying earlier “ he said softly, lifting his head, looking at you with those beautiful brown puppy eyes of his.

“ it’s okay you deserved to know. But you can always ask me about any of that you know. It’s okay “ he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You didn’t want to talk about it now though and he seemed to get the picture.

“ shower yeah? “ you previous worry about standing was washed away as he scooped you into his arms and carried you into the bathroom with a million whispered I love you’s on the way.

#moonknight #Steven grant x reader #Marc Spector x reader #Steven grant smut #marvel #mcu #Steven grant #marc Spector #x afab reader #mr knight #Oscar issac #moonknight x reader #moonknight smut #au #avengers #smut #fluff #established relationship #moonknight fanfiction #one shot #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #x reader #x you

[pendragon-writes]

𝒮𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈? 𝒜𝒹𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝒶𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈.

Marc Spector x Avatar!Teen!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Part 1/2

Next (Coming soon)

TW: Typical Vigilante/Marvel Violence, Bullying, Mentions of Blood

AN: I am not too familiar with their personality I want to apologize if I accidentally made them OOC. Also, I do not have DID so if I interpreted anything wrong please let me know ASAP

Well, this wasn't exactly the plan. Sure the plan may have been to infiltrate this very fancy auction but it wasn't your intention for a shootout to start. Quickly you turned to Anubis awaiting his instructions. "Now what?" He turned to you and motioned to the window behind the stolen artifact. "Grab the artifact and jump through that window". You sighed, quietly wondering how high the drop would be. "Well can you at least tell me if I can land on anything there?" Anubis walked to the window to see a pickup truck with tons of rugs in the back, when he returned to you he responded. That was the only confirmation you needed.

As you leaped forward you knocked one of the men down with a baton and the other with a random champagne glass. There were two more guards who were reloading their guns, if you made a run for it you could break the glass and jump to the truck. Just as you grabbed the artifact you noticed a man with curly dark hair and a black shirt watching as you broke the glass with your bo staff, threw a smoke bomb, and jumped. Once you landed you turned your head to see the man from before watching you from the broken window with the moon god himself Khonshu.

Marc Pov

He looked down from his spot as he watched the mysterious masked Avatar get away with what appeared to be a Jackal man. "That masked guy was an avatar right, Khonshu?" he asked him. Khonshu grumbled confirming his suspicions, muttering something about him being the god of death and being named Anubis. Since there was nothing he could do since Anubi's avatar was long gone.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

It was the next day and his hunt continued, after searching endlessly he spotted the masked person entering a building with a shadow that appeared to look like a dog not far behind. Apparently, this specific building they were breaking into was another auction but this one had the 'Sekhem scepter'. Khonshu, much to Marc's displeasure, commanded him to identify the avatar once and for all.

As Marc was about to enter Steven interjected through a window from a shop nearby. "Don't you think it's strange, I mean they seem to also be an avatar, and not just any avatar its Anubis himself!" Steven started to go on a mini info drop of the god and Marc zoned him out after a few minutes. "Hey, are you listening this is crucial!" Steven yelled. "Yeah, Anubis is the god of death so what, I can deal with it," Marc remarked. "Deal with it- Do we even know who the avatar is for all we know it could be this super powerful person with powers to summon the dead, with all these avengers and new heroes popping out we're bound to have an encounter with them" As Steven was about to add more they saw the masked person walking out with the scepter on their back and their staff on their right hand. Marc quickly rose up from his spot and shifted to Moonknight.

Once he caught up to the person they began to fight one on one, as he continued trying to throw blow after blow his moves kept on being blocked and dodged, some landing. Just as he was about to back off he was knocked down and pinned to the floor. He easily stood back up and tackled the person, ripping off their mask in the process. "Wait your just a kid?!" Marc Yelled. "Actually I'm 17, so not a kid," The now identified teen remarked. As the teen glared at him he suddenly raised his eyes.

"Dad? Nah I'm just playing with you my dad is out of the country with his secretary. You were interesting to talk to I'll give you that Moonknight but unfortunately I have a schedule I need to stick with," he used his legs to kick Marc off, put back on his mask, and jumped off the building. "Shit"

°。°。°。°。°。°。

It was a week since they last encountered them. As Marc went to feed Gus 3.0, he heard a loud crash and a lot of curse words being shouted. This quickly alarmed him so he grabbed his trusty knife and rushed to the scene. When he arrived he noticed a teenager around the age of 17 with a bleeding leg and arm. "The hell are you doing here?" He yelled at the teen. "I was being chased by these 2 guys and needed a place to hide, you don't mind do you" The teen said, shyly smiling. Marc sighed and went to the bathroom. "Stay there kid, and don't move a muscle".

When Marc returned he came back with a first aid kit and a vegan sandwich. "Here kid eat up while I patch you up, once you're done eating I want you to explain everything that happened" He instructed. The teen chuckled and nodded, and took a bite out of the sandwich.

Once he was patching him up he gingerly sat him on the couch and put on a random documentary. As Marc was about to prepare some tea he turned around and was slightly startled when he realized that same teen was no longer on the couch but instead leaning on the counter. "Holy shit- kid you scared me," "You know after feeding me and stuff I should probably now tell you my name and why I'm here" the teen ignored the fact that he clearly freaked Marc out.

"Well my name is (Y/n) and this is what happened, I was just reading my book on this tree right when all of a sudden these 2 guys came and started chucking rocks at me. I think they were guys in my class cause they looked familiar and I knew these 2 girls who I think were dating them cause they shouted to 'Leave their girls alone and that they belonged to them', and before I knew it I was being chased by them, that's when I climbed up some buildings, found your place, and broke in. Sorry about the window, I'll get that cleaned and replaced" Marc sighed at this explanation and gave the teen one of the cups. "It's fine, don't worry about that window. Do you think you'll be safe to head back?" "Probably not," The teen sadly chuckled. "Okay how about this, I walk you back since it's already getting late and tomorrow I teach you some self-defense?" Marc suggested.

"That sounds great! Thank you..." "Marc" he filled in. "Marc. Thank you Marc" the teen smiled for once. "Alright and I have a few rules before I agree to do this, one, don't come in through the window anymore, two, no scaring me like that, and three, come with a staff, you'll see why for that one tomorrow. For now, I'll walk you home"

As the two of them walked together Steven and Jake both teased the poor man whilst (Y/n) kicked a small pebble on their way back.

An: part 2 still a wip💀

#marvel x male reader #teen!reader #teen!male reader #marvel x teen!reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #male!reader #x teen!reader #marc spector x male reader #marc specter x teen!reader #avatar reader

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

The Nosy Neighbor

Title: The Nosy Neighbor

Pairing: Marc Spector/Steven Grant x GN Platonic Young Adult Reader

Word Cound: 2,803

Request:

omg you’re back!!! i hope you’re doing alright, life’s treating you well and all that.

since you’re looking for requests might a suggest a platonic/familial moon knight x reader (maybe a male reader but gn works too!) where the reader is a teen that’s a part of Harrow’s cult. Moon boys try help the reader get out of the cult but unfortunately reader is stubborn af. eventually they realise that Arthur is taking advantage of them and start reluctantly helping Moon Knight. Marc maybe even seeing a bit of himself in the reader when it comes to their attitude towards others (just being rude and blunt to everyone).

thank you for the chance, and again great to see you back!

A/N: Here you go!!! I'm a bit worried I didn't make them very stubborn but I hope you don't mind it much. I hope you enjoy!!! And yes, life has been treating me well. I've only been at the gym and studying lol.

“You’re a lousy spy. Did you know that?”

Sitting in the shaded London apartment on a rather gloomy day, Steven Grant sat at his kitchen table with a mug of tea in his hands and the eyes of a spy staring right at him. Now there were many things about Steven’s life that he could permit reason for having someone observe his every move. Such as how little legal paperwork the man has compared to his alter from the Americas, Marc Spector, or how he and his alter work as vigilantes for an ancient Egyptian God. The system itself was an abnormality that gave many concerns to different parties around the globe. It was a matter of time before someone was sent to observe the system’s every movement. What caught Steven, and even Marc, off guard about the whole spy situation was how it was this specific neighbor. 

“Can’t say it was something I’ve been properly trained for.” spoke the spy before they took a long sip of the tea that Steven had offered them. 

No, no. Marc fretted inside of the system. They’re too young. If Harrow’s reaching out to kids like this then he’s getting desperate. 

“Has Harrow gotten desperate?” Steven asked the spy, only to receive a lame shrug. “You’re just a kid.”

Steven, shut up. That was rhetorical.

“Ouch. This kid still managed to get more information on you in two days than Harrow’s gotten in two years. So if you’re going to insult me, at least do it remembering that I can send everything I have on you with a simple rendezvous point away.”

Inside of the system Steven could feel Marc seethe in anger. The marine insisted to be released so that he may deal with the spy, but Steven ignored him and straightened himself up in his seat. 

The spy in question was a neighbor from across the hall of Steven’s apartment. Y/n l/n, he’d learned the first week when he’d moved into the apartment. They’d introduced themselves while Steven was fumbling for his keys amongst the moving boxes outside of his flat. His first impression of them wasn’t much. Just a young chap, probably in university, and though they seemed nice, they had a sort of attitude in the way they responded. Rather abrupt and tended to keep to themselves. But they were still up for conversation whenever they found Steven in the hallway. That was something the museum tour guide liked about the chap. 

So, for the next few days while Steven was moving into the apartment y/n would exit their own apartment to make small talk with the man before heading out on an errand. It was a habit that was maintained even after Steven was moved into the complex, as he often saw his neighbor while passing in the hallway. He was really pleased to have someone to talk to other than silent street performers or lonesome paintings in the museum, even if the kid could be a pain to talk to.

Marc had never made conversation with the kid himself. During one particular conversation with Steven he’d made it known that the kid probably lived alone. That thought alone never bothered him, as he’d seen all sorts back in Chicago. 

But then the kid started to annoy Marc. Slowly their eventual chance encounters turned to daily occurances. Steven never minded it but to Marc he grew irked. The kid seemed to leave exactly as Steven or Marc was at the threshold of their apartment, rummaging for their keys, always inquiring about what they’ve been up to and asked questions that would require them to go into specific detail of their life, that Marc suspected that something was up. Perhaps their neighbor was eager to learn the details of the system’s life for an employer. Harrow, maybe? The CIA? He’d warned Steven to not speak to their neighbor until he’d figured out a way to deal with the young thing, but Steven went and did the exact opposite of Marc’s warning by inviting y/n into their own apartment.

The spy observed the apartment around them while Steven was in thought. “You have a nice apartment, shame it’s such a mess.”

“It’s not that messy,” Steven dismissed the look they gave him, “I don’ suppose you want anotha cuppa?”

y/n looked to the mug in their hand and sloshed it around before nodding. “Yeah, why not. I think I’ve gotten past the suspicion that you’re trying to poison me.”

Steven smiled at the young thing with a chuckle, relieved that despite the situation they had a sense of humor, and grabbed the kettle that sat between the two. As he poured the steaming liquid into the mugs, there was a sort of silence in the air. He tried to ignore the look that y/n gave him, probably expecting for him to continue the conversation. 

“Thank you,” y/n accepted the mug from the gift shopist, “So how long have you known?”

“Known that you’ve been spying on us?” Steven sat back in his seat, “oh, we’ve known for a bit. Marc started catchin’ on ‘bit before me, but I’s was in denial about it. ‘Just that you’d been so nice an’ all, I told him ‘No, Marc, they’re just a nice chap. It’s just the generation these days, they don’t take the time to get to know their neighbors, we’re just not used to it when someone like them comes along’.”

He chuckled at his words, shaking his head and reaching for his reading glasses. “But a few weeks ago, Marc noticed you started receiving flowers. Tulips, always were tulips at your doormat. They’d came same time every week with a letter attached. That’s how your employers been communication’ with you, hasn’t he?” 

“Wow,” y/n chuckled in exasperation, and almost in disbelief at the accusations thrown by the man, “so let me get this straight, you’re accusation of me being a spy is because I’ve been receiving flowers? Is that all?”

“Quite is, actually.” 

“I’m sorry, Steven, but if you can’t see people as an enemy just because they have a partner and you don’t.”

“See, no you don’t. You know how I know?” Marc leaned over with his knees resting on his knees. “Cause all of this time we’ve met in the hallway, not once were you accompanied by your ‘partner’.  You keep to yourself. You don’t have people over. Not even kids your age. So even a one-nighter walking out of your door is going to catch my attention. But same as me, you’ve not been catching many fishes out there, hm?”

There was silence. y/n glared at the marine at the string of words they’d received. All the while the marine observed their expression with a snide smirk written on his lips. Marc didn’t particularly blame them for the way they looked at him, but he paid no mind in showing the teen the attitude they’d given the gift shopist for these last few weeks. 

“You know your boss has a real good sense of humor,” Marc tapped the mug against the table before hovering the ceramic to his lips. He spoke again before taking a swig. “ ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Way back in the day a Chinese general used to say that. He never lost a battle. Harrow must look up to him, choosing you for the job. Being across the hall can really let you into someone’s life.”

y/n looked at him as though they had no clue who they were speaking with. “Is it still you or is it the history buff talking now?”

“Nope, still me.” Marc clarified, unperturbed by the kid’s confusion. “I know a bit about history myself.”

“Oh.” y/n mused. Their eyes glanced between the marine and the cup between his fingers. “Sorry, it just seems like you’re more the muscle than the brains.”

Marc, completely ignoring the insult thrown at him, took another swig of his drink while y/n spoke again, making a face when he realized he’d drank Steven’s tea. “Alright, I’m a spy. What are you gonna do about it? Kill me? That’s not going to stop Harrow, he’s going to make the world right. ”

They watched the marine stand up from the table and make his way to the kitchen. Sitting atop the counter was a half-full pot of coffee he’d prepared earlier in the day. He grabbed a new mug from the counter and prepared his drink.

“We’s just wanna talk, is all. Understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.” Steven grabbed Marc’s cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table once more. This time he’d pulled his seat closer to the young thing and nestled his forearms onto the table. “ well, I do. Marc just wants to get you out of our way and deal with Harrow already.”

“.”

Steven chuckled, “So, how did this whole thing start between you and Harrow?”

The spy took a long look at him. Steven could tell that they were debating as to whether or not to disclose such private information to their supposed enemy. They looked at him with a stone face, fingers tapping in thought before they weighed in their decision. Expression morphing to match the sigh of defeat they exhaled, y/n hunched over their cup and watched the tea leaves in their drink. 

“First time Harrow approached me about doing all of this I told him I’d do a lousy job, that I’d get caught. I told him to find someone else in town that could do it, but he was insistent for me to do it. Said that I was chosen to do it, that I was meant to do it.” They were mumbling, barely above a whisper that Marc had to lean closer to hear their words. Finally, after a few moments, they inhaled, straightening themselves into the chair. “Were you blipped?”

Marc observed the kid for a moment before answering. “No, I wasn’t.”

“I was a part of the population that was Blipped some years ago. When I came back there was no home to go back to and none of my family was accounted for, and the whole world didn’t care about people like me. But Harrow cared. He opened up his town to those who needed it and took the time to get to know every single person who came to him. Eventually, Arthur received a vision from the gods that he was meant to create a perfect world. He said that everyone who ever did us wrong would be punished. I mean, the world would be pure again. But he had a problem, you…”

y/n took a sip from their cup. All the while, Marc could only look at the teen with a straight face despite his anxiousness to the kid. It was obvious that the young thing suffered from Stockholm syndrome. They had the whole world turn their back on them. It was only natural that now they were so agreeing to the one person who showed them right, however double-sided it could have been.

“Harrow could easily send his men to my apartment and finish me off if he wanted to.” Marc admitted, knowing that his current living situation wasn’t exactly fort knox. “So why bother sending a spy on me?” 

“He said he wanted to know what makes you tick. Whether the rumors that you were unwell were true.” 

y/n paused and spoke with hesitation in his voice. “If there really are two of you in there.”

From inside the system, Steven shifted uncomfortably. It seemed that the news of the system spreads fast. 

“ ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’ “

y/n smirked, amused by the words that the marine mumbled. “Same general said that? Or are you making shit up now.”

“Same one,” Marc acknowledged the young thing before Steven fronted. Immediately the man’s posture shrank and the little spy felt more at ease with the gift shopist accompanying them. “You do realize that what Harrow’s doing is wrong, don’ you?” 

“Bringing justice to those who commit wrongs?” y/n shook their head confidently. “I don’t see anything wrong about that.”

Steven stared at y/n in disbelief, letting out a small scoff. “You don’ see anything wron- you can’t be serious? He’s probably about to take out half the planet. Aren’t you pissed from that guy- that- Thanos? Do you really want something like that to happen again? After everything you’ve been through?”

“The difference between him and Harrow is that it's all perfectly designed. Harrow brings justice to all of this! He’s wanting to kill off people before they get the chance to do something wrong! The people who were blipped, were blipped without discrimination. Doctors, murderers, criminals, children, lawyers! There were innocent people whose lives were ruined. My life was ruined. I was innocent.“

Marc’s voice was stern and rigid, trying to clear y/n’s riled up demeanor before they got more worked up. Only they were still going.

“You’re putting a perfect world at jeopardy, Harrow needs to make sure you don’t get in the way and-”

“Alright, stop, stop, stop.” Marc holds up his palm to the young thing in a final attempt to stop them, careful not to show any sign of aggression. “It’s mass genocide.” 

y/n stared at the marine for a long moment, showing no sign of speaking. Maybe they were realizing the depth of Marc’s words? Had he gotten through? If so, he needed to act fast. So, Marc grabs his chair and pulls it so that he sits closer to the young thing. “Alright, y/n, I’m gonna need you to listen very carefully to me. Okay? Now, I know Harrow took you into his wing, fed you, clothed you, gave you a place to go, an’ you feel like you want to do what you can to help him. Pay him back, even. Trust me, I’ve been there before. Owed my life to a god myself and it got me in more trouble than you know. But Harrow’s working with a god whose concept of crimes is much different than you and I’s are, so there are people who are going to be punished for things that aren’t as bad as we make ‘em to be. And if it comes down to that you are called to die for a crime that you have yet to commit, do you think Harrow’s going to vouch for you? Well, do you?”

The spy, unwavering eyes staring into Marc’s own, said nothing. But they didn’t need to. Marc knew very well that he was slowly making sense to the young thing.

“What’s happened to you is going to happen again, only this time you’re going to see what a mess the world was when you left it. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And between you and I, I don’t think the world can handle something like that happening once more. Now, it doesn’t have to be this way. You can change that. But you’re gonna have to help me. how about you and I work together, hm? The more I know about how Harrow’s whole operation works, the better I’ll be able to take him down. How’s that sound, hm?”

Though Marc didn’t get his answer right away, instead he shot back against his chair when y/n abruptly stood up from the table and began to make their way to the door. Reaching for their shoes that they’d left, drenched in water from the rain outside, they hurriedly put them on.

“You’re crazy,” They grumbled from the doorway. Marc remained seated at his place from the table. 

“Please, let me walk you out.” Steven stood up from the seat and reached for the door. He opened it, stepping to the side and patiently waited for y/n as they finished. 

“Just think about my offer.” Marc urged as y/n straightened themselves up and gazed at him with reluctance in their eyes. “There are worse enemies out there than me, yknow.”

y/n, in all their confidence, strode past the marine and exited into the hallway of the floor that they shared. Swiftly they strode to their apartment at the end of the hall, and as Marc watched them he watched how their stride fell almost too quickly when they noticed a bouquet of tulips awaiting their doorstep. 

Now, Marc didn’t know what exactly was in the letter that waited inside of the bouquet. But whatever was written inside of that piece of paper had made y/n question the theology behind Harrow’s conquest, as a few hours after their lovely conversation were they waiting outside of his doorstep with tulips in their hands. 

Taglist:

taglist:

@astrobuzzsstuff

@blustalker

@thekaibabes@nerds4life246 @samanthacookieone @thekaibabes @kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek @blustalker @atzlena @xiernia @dheet @astrobuzzsstuff @lourecovette @fezlvr @wanderingmaximoffs @jay-alison @dweeb-central @theseawa @mothperson666 @yeetyeetchickenmeat @allynplays @raylan-c @crowpop

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#moon knight series #moonknight fanfiction #moonknight imagine #moon knight funny #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #marc spector #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #x yn #yn #gn reader #moonknight x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #oscar isaac

[eloisegrant]

Mission: Find Spector

Steven Grant x F!Reader (platonic for now); mentions of Marc Spector, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson

Summary: Avenger!Reader needs to locate a recent enigma during an incident in Cairo, Marc Spector. Unfortunately, he keeps calling himself Steven Grant.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, drugs, trauma etc.

You were part of Hydra since you were 11 years old. They tested on you, tried to understand you, trained you and provided shelter for you. They got close enough by letting you concentrate your powers but, the full potential… Yeah, not even close.

Growing up with powers has made childhood terrible for you. Even your own parents casted you out and called you a freak. Unfortunately , joining Hydra was the easiest way to use your atomkinesis capabilities for some sort of higher purpose. Although in hindsight, higher purpose was never always good.

But of course, when you came face to face with the Maximoff twins who turned to the side of SHIELD and the Avengers, something inside you triggered. Something inside you wanted to be better. To do better. Since the incident at Sokovia, you left Hydra and went undercover as a vigilante fighting your own battles, as well as saving people you thought needed it by following orders or leads. Pretty much a hitman but for people who deserve the boot.

After the Blip, you had met Captain Wilson and Sergeant Bucky at Madripoor, after meeting up with some clients. Chasing after them, noting that these familiar faces were part of the Avengers and you would love to join them. After seeing Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers sacrifice their lives for the world, you gained more respect. The need to use your powers for good intensified.

“Sorry, remind me how you got your powers again?” Captain Wilson was baffled at your admission, from your past, your powers, all the way to your vigilante activities.

“I was born with it.”

“Born with it?” Bucky inquires.

“Yes.”

The two men stared back at disbelief. They had never met a mutant, only heard tales of people born with remarkable, godlike and inhumane powers. Mutant. Type of term like that was degrading and maybe that was the reason most of your kind hid behind a mask.

But they warmed up to you and eventually took you under their wing. They needed more people like you. Filled with hope and the need to help others. Your powers were just a plus, and they promised they’d help you understand the extent of it.

Its been 8 months since then, the three of you have formed an irrefutable bond. You even helped them fix up the Headquarters since you’ve earned more than enough money through your hidden work and Madripoor acts.

So as you entered the newly renovated Avengers Headquarters by the outskirts of New York, it felt like an acid trip. The airy and modern atmosphere was just enough to look homey and professional, all at once. As your heels clicked and clacked through the marble flooring, Captain Wilson calls out to you by the kitchen.

“Agent Snowflake, c’mere.” Sam jokingly calls you snowflake because of that one time you cried while playing monopoly. They cheated that night, no one fucking wins monopoly. You thought to yourself.

“Its- I’m not a damn snowflake, Sam.” You walked near to him as you roll your eyes. He hands you a smoothie and chuckles at your reaction.

“It’s Captain Wilson to you.” He pesters again, causing you to huff out. Immediately, he swipes a holographic screen right in front of you as you sat on the kitchen table.

You took a sip of the smoothie as Sam plops down next to you. It was an image of a man, who appears to be a soldier. Dark brooding eyes, dark locks and a stern expression. Handsome, sure. No idea why he was being shown to you, though. “What exactly am I looking at?” You shrug your shoulder while giving Sam the side eye.

“American Intelligence, Marc Spector.”

Again you took a loud sip from your smoothie, causing the plastic to squeak, and stayed silent. To be honest, it confused you because, why this was important?

Sam releases a sigh and proceeds to speak.

“He was last seen in Cairo at some excavation site. Thought to be dead after a rampage occured by someone from their group…” He lingers on. “….Till this, was caught in a Museum CCTV in London.” The screen flashes to a blurrier image of a man who was wearing a rugged jacket, messy hair and a weird stance.

“Okay, so? He isn’t dead. Big whoop. Why feel the need to tell me?” The unenthused tone of your voice was evident. You place your drink onto the table and cross your arms. Eyeing Sam as your eyebrows raise up.

“He knows something about the shit that happened in Cairo. Where dozens of scientists, GOOD scientists, paleontologists and whatever-the-fuck-gists, were brutally murdered.” He flashes images of a desert in Egypt filled with lifeless, bloody bodies. Both young and old. People with aspirations, goals, lives to live. All taken away. You felt a pang in your heart.

“We need to know what American blood was doing over there.” Sam looks at you with more seriousness in the tone of his voice. “And who we should approach to stop this.” His eyes were more genuine, and you knew what he was asking for.

“So you want me to get him… right?”

“Bingo.”

“Fine.” You stand up, stretching your arms above your head. “Send me all there is to know about Spector.” Sam smiles up at you, nodding at your tenacity. He knew you were going to be moved by the incident, and he knew you were the right person to send. Not like he had much of a choice but, you were the only viable one.

Hawkeye was nowhere to he found. So was Antman. Spiderman was god knows where, especially since no one knew who he actually was. Doctor Strange isn’t even an Avenger. Bruce went on some sort of vacation and Bucky… well let’s just say you’re the most viable.

~

Landing in London as an Avenger and not as a contractual assassin was kind of refreshing. Of course, you won’t walk around letting people know you’re an Avenger. But Goddamn, it does feel powerful.

You arrived at London around 11 AM. The museum was about a 10 minutes away from the AirBnB you were staying in, so everything was within reach.

As you got situated into your AirBnB, you quickly placed your baggage in the closet and grabbed the most easily accessible outfit. A pair of leggings and a hoodie.

Exitting the lobby of the flat, you made your way to the Museum. Trying to get there before the inevitable crowd of tourists crowd the place. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to try and prove if you came face to face with Spector. All you knew was, innocent people died and this man witnessed the attack.

Stepping up the tall steps that led to the museum, you were happy to know that there was no entrance fee. God knows museums, which are dedicated for learning, shouldn’t be charging. But alas, some still do. The world ain’t perfect.

You kept your eyes open. Ensuring that if you were to catch even a small sight of Marc Spector, you would get to him. But, of course— you gotta keep it lowkey. You moved pass the various pieces of art and artifacts. Finally deciding to stand in front of a Sarcophagus.

Damn, this thing’s golden. Your thoughts lingered as you pretended to care about the piece. Turning around from time to time to spot Spector, and looking back at the writing describing the Sarcophagus.

“Ahh, yes. That’s an interesting piece.”

A voice interrupts your fake acting, making you jolt to your right in order to see the stranger.

“That there is a sarcophagus. Pharaohs were often laid to rest there but only once all their organs, except the heart, were taken out.” It was him. Dressed up in a beige jacket and a funky shirt. The face you’ve been studying for the past few days and the person Captain Wilson wants you to track. Right here, talking to you.

“Uh-“ You stutter out, pure shock covering your face. You look down to his chest and see his nametag. Steven. What? But, this was Marc Spector. It had to be. Those rugged features couldn’t be a simple similarilty.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He almost backs away but you pull his sleeve gently.

“No, no, please. Um… why do they leave the heart?” In order to get a picture to study later tonight, you needed him to stay and keep near. You adjusted your hoodie slightly for the nano camera to capture his face. Sideways and frontal view.

“Oh, cause they’ll be judged by their hearts which will decide whether they enter the field of reeds!” He was so chipper. And British as hell. American Intelligence. That’s who Spector was, but this man is British as ever. Maybe its his twin? You debated on whether you should ask him or not, but your thoughts get interrupted

“Steven! What are you doin’? Get back to the shop!” A blonde lady screams from his back which causes the man to close his eyes tight, apologizing to you.

“Sorry, I’m not a tour guide, sadly.” He points to the gift shop and shyly bows his head down.

“No? You sound like you know your stuff.” You complimented the guy and pat him lightly on his shoulder. Praying to God you got the correct pictures to run through and compare on the computer later

“Thanks, it’s cause I like-“

“STEVEN!”

“I-I gotta go. Sorry again!” He shouts as he runs off to the direction of the blonde woman who looked like he was going to bite his head off.

At that moment in time, everything froze and you felt like you met a fork in the road. You needed to head back to the AirBnB and find out what the hell and who the hell this was.

~

Stepping back into your rented out apartment, you phoned Sam while setting up the computer to run data analysis through the pictures you got.

“Y/n? What’s the situation?” Sam beams in through. You put the phone on the side while pressing the speaker mode.

“Uh… met a speedbump.” You injected the nano camera to the side of the laptop and uploaded the images to compare Marc Spector and mystery man, Steven.

“How big of a speedbump we talking about?” You could hear Sam pacing back and forth.

“So I met a man who looks precisely like Spector in the museum…” Your photo uploads and the facial recognition analysis tool finally began to run its course. “…but it was not… Marc Spector...” The program completes the analysis.

Similarity: 100%

“Yeah? Hello?” Sam beckons, confused why you turned silent.

Shocked, all you could do was try and understand the situation. But you only came onto one conclusion. You were bamboozled. Marc Spector probably knew you were headed his way and placed a co-worker’s nametag and left it at that. Or he could have legally changed his name and faked an accent. You weren’t sure anymore. “Cap I’m sending you something.” With a few taps on the keyboard, the information on Spector’s whereabouts was exposed.

“Got it.” He was probably looking at the data because all you heard was, “Goddamn, what is he hiding from..?”

“No idea.”

“You gotta confront him. He gets off work at around 5 according to the footage.” You hear a few clicks from the laptop on Sam’s side.

“Right.” You look at the watch 4:45, “Better get going then.” After Sam’s pleasant goodbyes, the call ended.

Instead of opting for a more casual attire, you wore your work suit. Nothing fancy, it was just a dark blue suit that was made of thick, bullet proof material. It hugged your body tight in all the right places to ensure maximum movement. You wished you didn’t have to use your powers tonight.

~

You stood by the bushes on the side of the museum. Waiting for the so-called, Steven, to walk by. It was 5:06 PM, and he should be here, any minute now. And as if on cue, you spot the man again with his bag draped over his shoulder. Quickly you slid to his feet, causing him to trip over onto the concrete floor. You grabbed him by the legs to drag him behind the bushes, avoiding a crowd. Though, there was barely anyone there, it wasn’t worth the chance.

You pinned him onto the grassy ground and placed your arm on his chest. “Okay, Spector, no more funny games. Why are you hiding? What happened in Cairo?” He was in shock, shaking, startled at the suddenness.

“Wh-what??” He mutters out, trying his best. His eyes flicker, keeping his gaze on you. As if he was trying to focus on who you were. To his surprise, you were the one who complimented him earlier that day. And now, you were about to hurt him or something. “Say, you were the nice lady in the museum! This is a far cry from being nice, lady!”

“Oh quit the accent! Tell me the truth Marc Spector-“

“Sorry, what did you call me?” His question makes you pause.

“Marc. Spector.” You nearly choke over your words because you couldn’t believe this man was still pretending.

“You’re-you’re not the first person who called me that- but I’m sorry, lady. I am Steven Grant. Not Marc.” Your pin on him got softer because the look on his face sincere. It was quite genuine and your mind was stuck. If he wasn’t Marc, the facial recognition program may be faulty or something. But, that’s impossible.

You plopped to his side, sitting beside him. Desperate to arrive onto a proper answer, because this was not making any sense. “You gotta help me here, Steven…” you use the name he constantly repeated. “Marc Spector shares your face, and we need Marc Spector. It’s impossible that you two don’t have a link.”

He sits up beside you and tries to look at you, but a part of him is still afraid since you were nearly choking him awhile ago. “I-I can tell you what I know.”

“You know something?” Grabbing him by the shoulders makes Steven flinch a bit but he calms down.

“Yes…” He stands up and fixes his bag, as you followed his actions. He got a better view of what you were wearing and was genuinely terrified. You looked like you were some secret agent of some sort. “…do you work for the FBI?” He gestures to your attire.

“Uh… Something like that, sure.” You balanced yourself in between your feet. “So, the thing you know…”

“Right, it’s in my flat…” In order to help you not look like a fish out of water during the walk to his flat, he removes his jacket and hands it over to you. “Put this on.”

“Oh-um… thanks.” Carefully, you grab the jacket and wear it. Now your attire just looks like a big jacket and some shiny ass jeans.

“Yeah, now… Follow me.” Steven makes his way back to the main streets, as you follow behind. You typed a quick message to Sam letting him know you’re gathering intel and will send him updates soon.

You weren’t sure what this Steven guy would know about Marc Spector, but since they shared the same face— there had to be something more to it. So all that was left to do was wait.

-✨-

Part 2

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