fleeting moments : m.s / s.g

marc knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever. there was always going to be a point where you would want to meet steven, even if it wasn’t in the most conventional way. (1.5k)

all the fluff in this one, cause i’m a sucker for soft steven and marc

masterlist//taglist // requests: OPEN

The silence between the two of you was too loud. He knew exactly what you were thinking, and he dreaded this day.

“So,” You start, “it’s always going to be like this, huh?” Lifting your gaze upward, you hear him hum in response.

“He’s not ready to know, baby.” His arm tightens around your waist, causing goosebumps to once more erupt on your skin and a smirk to form on his lips.

Sadly, this doesn’t bring you much comfort as you slink out from his embrace, something Marc didn’t anticipate. “You’ve been saying that for months, Marc.” The short tone in your voice makes him wince internally.

The truth is, Marc believes you deserve better. He doesn’t want to involve you further into his life, into his situation because he knows one day, you’ll just get up and leave. But of course, he’ll never express this aloud. So instead, he just pushes it away.

“It’s the truth, Y/n.” Marc retorts. “He’s still coming to terms with,” He pauses, unable to say the name as it burns on the tip of his tongue.

Steven’s sleep pattern has become significantly worse and Marc’s control has been transient. He knows it won’t be long until he clocks on, but until then, he has these moments with you.

Noticing the hesitance, you reach out and take his hand into yours, placing it on your lap. “I know.” You mumble, tracing patterns in his palm, avoiding his focus. “But I don’t want us to always be like this, spending fleeting moments and only late nights together.”

“What if,” Marc begins a suggestion, noticing your eyes focusing on him solely and your lips turning upward. “okay, I’ve got an idea.”

You don’t respond immediately, and Marc curses himself for a stupid thought.

“Go for it, Spector.” Taking his hand, you bring it to your lips, kissing his torn knuckles, smelling the copper from them.

*

It was a good idea, in Marc’s defence. But being here in front of the entrance, you started to second guess yourself and whether you were ready for this, despite wanting it for so long.

“Come on, we haven’t got all day!” A woman calls out from behind you, quickly followed by a group of school children who rush inside the Museum with wide eyes of awe.

Following the class of students into the Museum, you too share the same sense of wonder for the interior and history lining the walls. “No wonder he loves the place.” You think aloud, passing the children as you head toward the Egyptian exhibition, knowing that it’s a good starting point as any.

Through your wander, you can’t help but think back to Marc when you last saw him. He too was nervous about you meeting his alter, knowing it’ll be strange for you, whereas Steven will be oblivious to the deep meaning of it.

“Just be yourself, okay babe?” Marc asks of you, now sitting in your flat rather than on the rooftop.

Sipping your drink, you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “And why would I be anything else? He’ll love me, I think.” You second guess jokingly, catching a concerned expression in the corner of your eye.

Clearly lost in your thoughts, a child bumps into you and falls over consequently. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Immediately bending down, you help the little girl to her feet. “Are you alright?”

The child in question nods hesitantly, her lower lip quivering. “I lost my class.” She sadly admits.

“Oh dear,” You sigh softly, looking around to see no other children in the same coloured jumper. “well, let’s find a member of staff, okay? I’m Y/n.” Introducing yourself, you walk alongside the young girl in the direction of the reception, only for her to gasp in awe at the sight of stuffed cuddly toys.

“A crocodile!” She yells, running into the gift shop without giving you a chance to react.

Blindly following the child, your ears perk at a chuckle. “Gotta be careful with that one,” A Londoner comments, and as you lift your gaze up, your heart almost stops in your chest.

His curls part differently, somehow his face softens as he wears a gentle grin and slouches his shoulders but those dark eyes are always the same.

“Steven.” You mumble, noticing his lopsided name tag.

“Why? It’s just a crocodile.” The child shrugs, noticing you approaching whereas Steven keeps his attention on the stuffed toy and the child’s interest.

“Well, you might think that, but it is actually the Goddess Ammit,” Steven’s hands begin to join the conversation and you watch his face light up.

Marc always told you about how expressionate Steven is and once you got him started on Egyptian history, well, there was no stopping him.

Entering the gift shop, you catch the frustrated look of a blonde woman storming toward Steven and the young girl. “Stevie!” She barks. Noting the name tag, it clicks in your head who she is. “What have I told you ‘bout pestering the visitors?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffs loudly leaving Steven to stammer a response.

“Sorry,” You interrupt, apologetically smiling at Steven whilst trying to control your heart beating at the sight of him.

Yet, as your attention averts to Donna, you miss the way Steven’s eyes widen and his lips part. 'She’s beautiful.’ He thinks to himself, unaware that Marc is thinking the exact same thing.

“I ran into this little one, pretty sure she’s been split up from her class and I was just trying to find someone to help.” You explain.

“Right,” Donna sighs again, evidently unimpressed as the little girl sways her school bag in front of her. “let’s find your teacher then.” She begins to walk away with the girl who waves back to you and Steven.

“I er,” Steven speaks up almost immediately, knowing someone like you doesn’t frequent these sort of places often, and by these sort of places, he means in a room with him.

“Thanks for that.” You motion to the child trying to match Donna’s quick march. “She’s a bit much, right?” You chuckle, noticing a breathless laugh leave his lips.

“Yeah.” Steven comments. “No matter how many times I say, it’s Steven with a V.” He points to the name tag. “That’s me, by the way. Steven, with a V.”

Your stomach flips and your head aches with the difference between him and Marc. Yet, your heart warms for Steven, knowing how much he means to Marc.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Steven with a V. My name’s Y/n.” You introduce yourself, now walking further into the gift shop whilst Steven mumbles your name under his breath, hoping he never forgets it.

“Y/n, it’s well, welcome to the gift shop.” He rambles, unsure of the words forming and leaving his lips. “Not much of great value, and I wouldn’t bother with the sweets, they’re a bit naff.”

Chuckling, you approach the counter to find the sweets in question, shaped like beetles. “I’ll have you know, gift shops are always my favourite part of any place.” You playfully admit, hearing Steven rush from behind to stand at the counter, resting his elbows on the ledge.

“Really?” Steven can’t help but ask, surprised as you nod.

“I like getting souvenirs of significant places.” Picking up a postcard with the Pharaohs on it, you place it on the counter along with a bag of beetle sweets. “And this seems pretty significant to me.” You add, smiling up at Steven whose cheeks begin to burn at your comment.

Unsure what to say, Steven rings up the items. “I, I s'pose so.” That toothy grin makes an appearance, causing your knees to almost buckle. “Thanks for stopping by, Y/n.” He places your receipt on the counter, sliding it toward you.

“Thanks for the help, Steven. I’m sure you’ll see me around.” You wave, taking the sweets and postcard in hand.

Once out of sight, Steven chuckles to himself in disbelief. “Y/n.” He repeats your name under his breath, hoping that you’re true to your word and come back sometime.

Taking your phone, you begin to text Marc, knowing when he takes over he’ll want to know if and how it went.

“Kids,” Donna barges past you, muttering under her breath, not giving you any recognition as she makes her way to the gift shop.

'I think it went well. :) see you soon.’ You can’t stop the smile on your lips as you wander further into the museum, hoping to visit Steven again soon.

“Stevie! It’s time for your break.” Donna enters, snapping him from his thoughts.

Nodding, Steven walks out of the gift shop and into the inventory room, knowing it’s the one place he will have some peace. With you still fresh on his mind, he takes out his phone and dials her number.

As it normally does, he ends up listening to the voicemail message. “Hi Mum, I think I might’ve met someone,” He starts and begins to explain wistfully whilst Marc watches from the framed photo of the Gods with pride.

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good stuff : s.g / m.s

It has been a while since you saw Steven and Marc, knowing they had unfinished business with Harrow. But the longer they’ve been gone, the more you worry they won’t return. (1.4k)

some mentions of violence, kinda fluff, kinda angst idk

masterlist//taglist // requests are open :)

Sitting in the flat, your eyes wandered from the pages in front of you to the lonely goldfish swimming around in his tank. “I know, Gus.” You sigh, closing the book and leaving it on the small coffee table, piling it on top of the various books you’ve been reading in a feeble attempt to keep your mind occupied.

It has been a week since you last saw Steven, and well Marc in turn.

Marc barely told you anything, knowing you’d only worry and rightfully so. He kept Steven at bay, despite his protests when wanting to at least say goodbye, knowing more about what this would entail and that they might not return.

“Come on, Marc. Let me say goodbye to her, at least.” Steven pleads, brows deeply furrowed at the sight of your confused expression.

“So you’re going somewhere, and won’t even let me know where or when you’ll be back?” You question, crossing your arms in annoyance and rightfully so.

You’d known about Marc as long as Steven had, and though it hasn’t been an easy transition in your relationship, you were learning to embrace it as Steven was. Yet, despite this, Marc was still secretive about certain aspects, including his missions with Khonshu.

Marc huffs loudly, turning his back on you and facing Steven in his reflection. “It’s for your own good.” He states to both of you. “I’ll be back soon, just keep Gus alive.”

Without another word or chance for you to see Steven, Marc picks up his bags and places the spare key in your palm. He closes your fingers over it and squeezes lightly before walking out, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of thoughts.

Since that day, you stayed at their flat. Initially, you told yourself it was for Gus’ sake, he was always used to the company and didn’t want him to go without. However, as days turned to nights you realised you just wanted to see them come home safe and more importantly, alive.

Flicking through channels on the small TV, you could barely focus as the moonlight blared through the old windows. “Fuck you, Khonshu.” You mutter, curling up into the arm of the sofa, closing your eyes and imagine it was Steven holding you in his warm embrace, or even Marc on a softer occasion.

A loud scream causes you to stir from your attempt at sleep. You reach for the nearest object, which happens to be a hardback book and hold it up to your chest for defence. “Okay,” Muttering to yourself you try to control how fast your heart is beating from the abrupt awakening.

Another noise sounds, yet it isn’t a scream from the streets below. Instead, it is coming from outside of the flat.

“Shit.” Lowering the book momentarily, you scan the sofa for your phone, hoping that Marc and Steven, wherever they are still have their phones at least.

With shaky hands, you try to type out a message, unsure of what good it’ll do. ’someone’s here.’ Is all you manage to type before sending the message when footsteps approach the front door, that awful creaking floorboard that sits outside of the flat causes your ears to perk in fear.

The doorknob continues to rattle, causing your fear to spike as you desperately search for a potential weapon. “Fuck.” You whisper, tears now forming in your eyes whilst you scramble around toward the kitchen for a knife.

Quickly grabbing one, you freeze at the sound of the lock clicking.

A tear falls from one of your eyes as those hinges creak for a second before slamming open against the doorframe. A series of books fall to the ground, muffling your gasp as you cover your mouth, trying to hide in the corner of the kitchen.

Entering the flat, three men with hoods stand in the doorway. Each of them eyeing the contents, you hear them muttering to one another.

“Search everything.” One speaks up, the other two nodding in agreement as they step further into the flat and begin to pull books from the shelves, bedding from the mattress and inching toward your hiding spot.

With your eyes remaining tightly shut, each ruckus causes you to flinch. ‘Please ignore me.’ Mentally you repeat the sentence, hoping you’re the least of their priorities as they ransack the place.

Then it goes quiet.

Too quiet.

“What do we 'ave here?” One of them pipes up, the other two standing beside with sinister smirks as they spot you quivering, eyes still closed, wishing for it to all be a nightmare.

Stepping toward you, the leader of the trio kneels in front of you. His fingers glide across your cheek, hearing you whimper in fear as you apprehensively open your eyes.

“Hi, beautiful.” He chuckles, quickly noticing the knife in your grip, almost useless. “Now, we don’t wanna cause any harm here, do we boys?” Looking over his shoulder, the others shake their heads teasingly. “We are looking for Marc Spector,” The man leans closer, brushing your hair from your ears and whispers. “know where he is, sweetheart?”

You can’t help but shudder as his breath fans your neck, hating how defenceless you feel. “No.” You answer.

The man rises to his feet with a sharp breath. “Sadly sweetheart, that isn’t the correct answer.”

Before you can even glance upwards, a foot plummets into your ribs, causing you to keel over into a fetal position. “You fucker!” You cry out, the knife you once held discarded beside you.

“Now, wanna try that again?” Another steps forward, cracking his fists in eagerness.

“I don’t know where he is.” Again, answering truthfully.

Bringing your knees closer to your chest, you force yourself upright, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. “He wouldn’t tell me shit, so good luck with whatever you’re trying here.” You laugh weakly, the pain from your ribs increasing by the second.

The leader merely hums. “You’re his womanthough.”

“His woman?” You remark, scoffing. “What decade are you in dude?”

That comment lands you a punch in the face, a searing pain you struggle to comprehend. Silence ensues from you whilst they converse, unaware of your eyes drooping or the sound of the floorboards outside creaking.

*

“Come on, come on, Y/n.” A hand gentle taps your cheek, a voice you know and seek comfort in. “I know you’re in there, come on, please.” He mutters, bringing you into his lap.

Uneasily, you begin to open your eyes. “Marc?” You mumble, groggy from the dull pain in your face and ribs as you shift, only to be shushed in response.

“I wouldn’t move, love.” Steven comments, his soft smile easing your discomfort. “And I wouldn’t look around either, someone got carried away.”

“I didn’t get carried away.” Marc rolls his eyes. “Someone else did.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, Marc helps bring you closer into his chest, keeping your back turned to the three lifeless bodies strawn the flat. “I’ll explain everything, I promise.” Marc tells you softly, his hand still palmed on your cheek, feeling your tears coated with dried blood.

“We’re really sorry, Y/n.” Steven tells you, tears brimming in his eyes at the sight of you all bloodied up. “Marc knows now, he, he should’ve explained everything.” He stumbles over his words, feeling the lump in his throat rising further up.

Lifting your hand up weakly, you rest it on his cheek with a gentle smile. “I know,” You mutter. “he’s got a lot of explaining to do.” A weak laugh passes through your lips, easing Steven’s pained expression. “Thank you though.”

“You’re our girl, doll.” Marc regards with a light shrug, his hand now resting on your waist lightly, not wanting to risk hurting you. “It’s what we do for the girl we love.” He admits, unable to stop the words from falling.

Feeling Marc tense up, you lean back in his embrace. “You falling for me, Spector?” You tease knowingly, and before he can respond, you lean closer to his lips. “'Cause I might be falling for you too.”

Internally, Steven is clapping his hands in excitement whilst Marc mentally freezes, leaving Jake to front momentarily.

“He’s happy to know, mi amor.” Jake chuckles, watching you tilt back in pure bewilderment. “Allow me to introduce myself, the creator of that mess, Jake Lockley, Princessa.”

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