⟡ Saturn ☾

Read the prequel (but this can be read alone) - Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

Word count: 3.9k

NSFW MDNI. AU in the sense that there's no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Not beta'd, angst, smut, p in v, creampie, fingering, choking-ish, angry sex, tiny bit of thigh fucking, nipple play, breeding kink, pregnant sex, Leto is possessive af

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your husband’s heated breath falls warm and heavy on your neck. Broad hips push into you from behind, his cock sheathed in your slick, wet channel.

Hands grasping at you possessively, he cups your breast and spreads his other palm protectively over your growing abdomen. He groans, rutting into you faster, tracing the rounded shape of you.

@deputy-videogamer @zephyrixx @juleshadalittlelamb @tsukkie-daisuke @silvernight-m

@pockcock @minigirl87 @uncle-eggy @cookielovesbook-akie @bibliotheca-amoris

@animechick555 @tiffanypooh @thexsanctuaryx @majestic-jazmin @x-ratedhimbo

@deezisnotreal @serren-diamandis @alexxavicry @spidey-3 @twiggoblin

@stevengmybeloved  @howellatme @dowbastan @lonelyisamyw-0love @purple-amaranthe

@latenightcravingz @faretheeoscar @my-secret-shame @ohantonia @lilacspider

@imonmykneessir @saints-and-sinners @steven-grants-world @aquaarietes @toobular

@i-still-dont-like-your-face @wordacadabra @thewinterv @suddenlysteven @whatthefishh

@sammi-doll483  @pooliosworld @lilskirata @strangerhands @moonknixght

@buckyssugarchick @hammerhead96 @reallyrallyauthor @pygmi-cygni @blackfawn

Tagging people I can think of🤔 reblog and do it if you want!

Pick a goodie

Watch the stars with me with my finger inside you

Pairing: Layla El Faouly x Fem!Reader

Summary: You might feel alone and unloved but you aren’t. That’s the tragedy of life, you will never know how much you are loved ❤️

Warning tags: fluff + a little Fomo

You hadn’t meant to be gloomy, but here you were, curled up on your couch, staring at the soft glow of your phone screen. The flood of happy couple photos on social media was enough to make your heart ache a little. Valentine’s Day was everywhere. On every corner, in every store window, it felt like a reminder of what you didn’t have. It wasn’t a big deal, not really, but you couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that tugged at you.

The sound of the front door opening caught your attention, and Layla stepped inside, a smile brightening her face. She’d made her usual entrance, the one that made everything seem like it was going to be okay. She looked at you, paused, and then her smile softened.

“What’s going on with you?” Layla asked, sitting beside you without a second thought. “You’ve been quieter than usual today.”

You shrugged, trying to act normal. “It’s nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. I know that look. Come on, spill.”

You let out a small sigh, fingers nervously tracing the edge of your cup. “I don’t know. It’s just... Valentine’s Day, I guess. It’s everywhere, and I’m here, alone.” You swallowed, feeling the sting in your chest. “Everyone’s with someone, and I’m just here.”

Layla tilted her head, her expression softening with understanding. She wasn’t one for platitudes, and you appreciated that. Instead, she grinned, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes.

“Well, if you’re going to be alone on Valentine’s Day, then I’m here for you. It’s Galentine’s Day, now.”

You blinked at her, confused. “What?”

“Galentine’s Day!” She was already bouncing off the couch, moving like she had a plan. “It’s what best friends do. We’re going to make this day fun. No more moping around. I’m not letting you sit here feeling sorry for yourself.”

You watched, a little stunned, as she grabbed her purse and tossed you a set of keys. “Come on. We’re going out.”

Before you could protest, she was already pulling you up, leading you through the door.

First stop: dessert. The café smelled like warm chocolate and fresh pastry, and Layla was already ordering two mugs of the richest hot chocolate they had. “This is mandatory,” she declared, handing you yours. “Valentine’s Day or not, we’re doing it right.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the comforting warmth of the drink melting away some of the tension in your shoulders. It wasn’t so bad after all.

“Okay,” Layla continued with a wink, “next, we go find the tackiest Valentine’s decorations and wear them with pride. A heart-shaped necklace? A giant teddy bear?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly daring you.

You laughed despite yourself. “Are you serious?”

She grinned. “Absolutely. It’s Galentine’s Day. We don’t follow the rules.”

You both ended up in a thrift store, Layla pulling out the most ridiculous clothes she could find: glittery hats, neon pink scarves, a plush red dress that was clearly more Halloween than Valentine’s. With each ridiculous outfit she handed you, your laughter grew louder. By the time you’d tried on the most absurd combinations, you were almost crying from laughing.

“This is the best day ever,” you said between giggles.

Layla beamed, her eyes sparkling. “That’s the spirit. You’re not alone today. I’m here. And I’m not letting you forget it.”

Later, you found yourselves on a quiet rooftop, the city spread out before you like a sea of twinkling lights. Layla had brought along a couple of drinks, and the two of you settled into the cold night air, comfortable in each other’s company.

“You know,” Layla said after a while, breaking the silence, “Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be just about romance.”

You glanced over at her, feeling the weight of her words.

She shrugged, casually kicking her legs out as she leaned back. “Love is a lot of things. It’s friendship, support, showing up when it counts. That’s what today is about—us.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a quiet kind of peace.

“So, technically,” Layla added with a teasing smile, “you do have a Valentine. Lucky you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head on her shoulder. “Lucky me.”

—-

Pairing: Duke Leto x GN Reader

Summary: In a glittering hall of power and intrigue, you, a mere shadow, stand at the edges of a grand gathering, silently admiring the Duke. Your love for him—unspoken and unacknowledged—blooms in the silence, as you watch him, and the world, from afar.

Warning tags: Minor angst, yearning, unrequited love

A/N: Enjoy!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The hall was nothing less than a painted canvas of grandeur—a space where the air seemed heavy with the perfume of gilded opulence. The chatter of a thousand voices swirled like fine music, a dissonance that played in perfect harmony, filling every corner of the room with noise and light. And yet, in the midst of all this grandeur, you found a silence within yourself. You were a whisper, a breath against the sea of voices.

Your gaze, however, was not upon the sea of elegantly dressed courtiers or the haughty faces of the imperial elite. No, it was drawn, as it always was, to the man who stood with his son just beyond the crowd.

Duke Leto Atreides.

You stood at the edge of the room, hardly more than a ghost, unnoticed by most, least of all by him. The Duke, who commanded armies and ruled vast lands, was oblivious to the quiet presence of someone in the back, silently drinking in every detail of his being.

A pang of longing twisted in your chest, but you quelled it quickly, hiding it behind an expression of indifference. After all, what could someone like you—nothing more than a humble observer—ever offer to someone like Duke Leto Atreides? A wallflower, content with the sun's rays never touching one of your welting petals, where no one could see the longing in their heart.

But you still watched. It was impossible not to.

As he spoke to the Emperor and his guests, your eyes followed every movement. The subtle shift in his posture as he offered a smile, the faint flicker of amusement in his gaze as he conversed with a few of the higher-ranking members of the court. His son, Paul, stood by his side, less at ease but still, undeniably, carrying the same strength in his blood. But it was Leto’s quiet confidence that kept you rooted in place, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even though you knew you could never get close enough to burn.

How you adored him. It was not love in the manner that the poets describe, for you were no fool to think such feelings could bloom where there was no soil. This was a different kind of love—one that could only thrive in the shadow of impossibility. You loved him as one admires a beautiful painting—knowing you could never touch it, never hold it, yet forever haunted by its image.

And yet, for all the distance between you, there were moments when his eyes would flicker toward you—just a brief glance, as fleeting as the breath of a ghost. In those rare, exquisite seconds, you could almost convince yourself that he saw you. But then, as though the very notion were too much to bear, his gaze would slip away, leaving you stranded in your own reverie, your heart undone by the very thought that perhaps, just perhaps, you had been noticed.

But it was not to be.

You knew better than to mistake these moments for anything more than mere happenstance. How could you, who stood in the shadows like an uninvited guest at a feast, ever think your presence could matter to him? No, you were the observer, the silent witness to a life you could never touch.

Your fingers tightened against the fabric of your sleeve, the soft material offering little comfort as you looked down at the ground. The weight of your emotions pressed down on you, but you didn't dare to let it show. You had become quite good at this—hiding what you truly felt. The years of watching him, of being a silent presence in his orbit, had taught you the art of observation, the quiet kind of longing that no one ever saw. No one but you.

Leto was a man of iron will, his thoughts far beyond the reach of your longing heart. He moved with an elegance that belied the ferocity within him. His voice, when it spoke, was smooth and measured, like the calm before a storm—soothing and sharp all at once. To those who could claim his attention, he gave a part of himself that was both a gift and a burden. But to you? To you, he gave nothing but a glance that passed over your form like the wind over the sea—never lingering, never truly seeing.

Your hands, delicate and trembling, fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, and you took refuge in the softness of your own thoughts. Why do I love him so quietly? you wondered. Why do I take such pleasure in this hidden adoration, in this ache that will never be fulfilled?

It was an indulgence, this quiet sorrow. Perhaps the only indulgence you had ever known.

You watched as he spoke to the Emperor—his words deliberate, his gestures calm. Even now, you could see the weight of his mind, the careful consideration behind every sentence. How often did his thoughts stray to places where you could never follow?

And then, for a moment, the sun dared to allow his rays reach to you.

It was but a brief flicker—a moment too short for anyone to have noticed. His gaze passed over you like the merest touch of a bird's wing, but it was enough to stop your breath, to send a shiver down your spine. For an instant, you felt as though the whole world was held in that gaze, as though the barriers of the universe had momentarily cracked open, and he had seen you, truly seen you.

Your chest tightened with the sudden weight of that reality, the tenderness of your feelings now a dull, aching throb. You had loved him in silence, and you would continue to love him in silence. This was the nature of your devotion—the love that is pure because it is untainted by the world’s demands, the love that will never ask for anything in return, for it understands that it can never be fulfilled.

There was a quiet beauty in that, wasn’t there?

The moment passed, and you returned to your quiet place in the background, the ache of unspoken affection heavy on your chest.

Perhaps it was enough to love him in silence, to observe from the shadows where no one could see. Perhaps that was all you could ever do.

But oh, how you wished you could just once... step out from the edge of the crowd and let him see you. Even if only for a moment.

You shook your head, allowing heart to be weighed back down but the stones of your love to the bottom. You sipped on your glass of wine, and decided to go outside for a fresh of breath air. 

Duke Leto Atreides would never know your name, that much you knew. 

And perhaps even with that reality, it was for the best. For in loving him from a distance, in never truly being seen, you could preserve that secret. 

It would be kept as a secret between you, your heart and the stars. But as they say, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

——————-

taggin list:

@megamindsecretlair @lonelyisamyw-0love

@i-still-dont-like-your-face @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ivystoryweaver @the-fox-den @soft-persephone @dowbastan

Pairing: Marc Spector x Haya Spector (OC)

Summary: Of course the moon will always be there, how could you not know? Warning Tags: Fluff, sweet fluff. Dear god FLUFF.

Author’s note: I missed Haya Spector

The evening was calm, the quiet of the house settling around them like a soft blanket. Haya,, lay tucked in her bed with her favorite stuffed bunny nestled close to her chest. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight casting gentle shadows across the walls. The soothing hum of the night was barely audible, and Marc stood by her bedside, brushing a lock of curly hair from her face.

"Papa?" Haya's voice, small and sleepy, floated through the air, tugging at his heart.

Haya’s voice was quiet but filled with that soft excitement only a child could muster. “Can you tell me the Moon story again?”

Marc chuckled, settling down on the edge of her bed. “The Moon story, huh?” He paused for a moment, thinking back to the days when she was smaller, when she asked for this every night, her little eyes so full of wonder. “I guess you never get tired of that one.”

Haya smiled sleepily, her eyes starting to drift closed but still holding on to the story she loved.

Marc’s heart warmed. This story had become a little ritual, something that always calmed her down after a long day. Something she could rely on. He nodded, adjusting her blanket to make sure she was snug.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Marc began, his voice soft and steady. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, glowing Moon. And this Moon wasn’t just any Moon—it was special. It wasn’t just up there to look pretty. No, it had a job.”

Haya, still holding onto her bunny, shifted slightly, her big brown eyes focusing on Marc’s face, eager to hear more.

“This Moon, see,” Marc continued, “was a protector. Every night, while all the children were asleep, the Moon would shine down on them, keeping them safe from the shadows and bad dreams. It made sure nothing could hurt them. The Moon didn’t just shine for everyone—it shone brightest for the children who were loved the most.”

Haya’s eyes were wide with wonder, her little hands clutching the bunny tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like me?”

Marc smiled softly, reaching out to brush a curl from her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart. Just like you. The Moon watches over you every night to make sure you’re safe while you sleep.”

She beamed up at him, her small fingers curling around his hand. “The Moon loves me?”

Marc nodded, his smile full of affection. “The Moon loves you. And so do I.”

Haya’s eyes softened, her small face lighting up with a sleepy, contented smile. “And the Moon keeps me safe?”

“Always,” Marc said, his voice low and tender. “The Moon wraps you in its light to chase away the dark, so you don’t have to be scared. You’re never alone, little one.”

Haya smiles as she slowly blinks, the warmth of her father’s words draws her near to sleep. 

But, for a moment she had energy. 

Her tiny hand reached out, finding his sleeve. “Papa?” Her voice was soft, almost a question. “Will you always protect me? Even when I grow up?”

Marc’s chest tightened at the question. He bent down, kissed her forehead again, and whispered in that calm, steady voice he always used when he wanted her to know he meant every word. “Always. No matter how big you get, I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Haya smiled sleepily, her eyes half-lidded as she drifted closer to sleep. “I love you, Papa.”

Marc felt a lump in his throat, but he smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“I love you too, my little moonbeam.”

He stood up slowly, watching as her small form relaxed into the comfort of her bed. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sound in the room now, steady and peaceful. 

Marc lingered for a moment longer, taking in the sight of his daughter, her face soft with sleep, her little hands tucked beneath the blanket.

He stood there, his eyes tracing every small detail, from the way her curls framed her face to the way she cuddled closer into the blanket like it was a hug.

Marc lingered by the frame of the door, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. Haya Rose Spector was growing up, and even if time as not slipping through his fingers, he didn’t want this moment to pass him by. This singular moment, was a reminder of what he fought so hard for. 

Meanwhile he stood by, he whispered, hoping that Haya’s dreams could send his words to her 

“I’m knighted to protect you, my little moonbeam,” he whispered softly, the words a quiet vow, a promise he would carry forever.

The room was still, the only sounds the soft rustling of the wind outside, whispering through the trees. With a final glance at Haya, he quietly clicked the door shut, his heart swelling with love and pride. 

As he flicked the light off, leaving the room bathed in moonlight, Marc felt a deep, quiet certainty: The Moon might watch over her, but he would always be right here, protecting her—now, and forever.

————-

tagged:

Synopsis: Khonshu has ordered Marc Spector to complete his task. Y/N is a threat to society especially since they tend to lurk in the shadows. Will Marc Spector catch her?

Warning tags: paranoia, slight stalking skills, and Prey vs Hunter themes.

Word Count: 4K ish

The rain hit the cobblestones in a rapid staccato, a relentless downpour that drowned out all sound but its own. Y/N’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts, each exhale fogging up the cold, damp air. Her body moved instinctively, her feet carrying her down twisting alleyways as the familiar weight of panic settled in her chest.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was out there. Somewhere. Watching.

Every footstep felt too loud. Too clumsy.

But she couldn’t stop. She had to keep moving, keep ahead of him. Her mind screamed at her to think, to outsmart him. She had trained for moments like this, fought on the edges of survival before. 

But Marc Spector wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t someone she could outwit with her instincts alone.

The city’s narrow streets twisted in on themselves, the rain-soaked walls and dim alley lights making it feel like the world was closing in around her. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, only that the deeper she ran, the harder it was to escape the feeling of being stalked.

Every now and then, she caught a fleeting glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye—a shadow darting behind a pillar, a flicker of white disappearing into the fog. But each time she turned to face it, nothing was there. 

Just the storm. Just the city. Just him.

--

Marc’s POV:

Marc followed in the shadows, allowing her to think she still had the upper hand.

She was quick. That much was obvious. 

The way her body weaved through the narrow alleys, her feet barely touching the ground, every step calculated. She knew how to disappear into the night, how to make the world bend around her.

But Marc wasn’t fooled.

He watched her with a stillness that mirrored the coldness of the night, his gaze sharp, picking apart every detail. 

There was tension in the way her shoulders hunched before she turned a corner, a slight tremor in her hand as she gripped a broken piece of glass, the fleeting look of fear in her eyes whenever she thought she had lost him. 

She wasn’t just running from him—she was running from herself, from her own doubts.

He could almost hear the thoughts racing in her mind: This way, this way, I can lose him. I know this city. I know these streets.

But he knew them better.

Her movements were precise, but there was an undercurrent of hesitation. 

A quiet moment where she had to choose—left or right, up or down—just a second where her instinct failed her. And Marc was there, feeling the weight of her miscalculations.

It was easy to see how she was trying to keep her distance. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her pulse quickening with each step. 

She was looking for an escape that didn’t exist, running into the same corners again and again, hoping for something different, but it was all so predictable.

Marc’s lips twitched. Is this really the best you’ve got?

She was good, yes he wouldn’t deny that. 

She fought with the raw precision of someone who had spent years surviving. But there was something incomplete about her. Something off, like a puzzle missing a piece.

Her heart beat faster. He could hear it, that rhythmic thud that betrayed the calm she was trying to maintain. She wasn’t breathing steadily anymore. It was frantic, shallow. 

Desperate.

He slowed his pace, savoring it. Enjoying the moments of how Y/N was so close to escaping the moonlight but so far from escaping him. 

He saw the way her silhouette flickered against the dim light, knew that when she ducked down an alley, she would pause just long enough to catch her breath. He knew when she would falter.

He watched her again, taking note of the way she shifted her weight, just for a moment, right there. 

Yes, right there.

A smile tugs against Marc’s lips,  he saw it—the slightest misstep. But did she see it? 

She was so focused on outrunning him that she missed the turn ahead, and just like that, she was boxed in.

Marc’s smile faded away  as he took a single step closer, barely making a sound. She hadn’t noticed him yet. 

He could hear her heartbeat, wild and uneven. 

The way her eyes darted around, the panic flashing behind them.

She’s still trying to find a way out. She’s still pretending there’s a way she can win this.

But there wasn’t. Not anymore. 

—-

Y/N’s POV

Y/N’s body trembled, the chill from the rain sinking deep into her bones. She turned, her eyes wild, scanning for anything that could save her. She was breathing too fast, too shallow, her mind clouded with fear.

And then one heart beat to the next

She felt him.

The air shifted, and she froze, the world going still. Her throat closed in on itself. The footsteps. They weren’t a blur anymore. His was here. Getting closer.

Her heart thudded in her chest like a hammer, each beat so loud it drowned out everything else. Her legs shook as if her knees were about to buckle beneath her, but she forced herself to stand. She turns slowly to face him. 

Those eyes, the brightness of the eyes.

Almost human, almost a man. Almost a God. Almost a myth. Too bright. Too cold. Too close to her. 

Her pulse spiked, her chest tightening as the figure of Marc Spector stepped into view. His silhouette was dark, shrouded in shadow, with only the glow of his eyes cutting through the storm.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The moon behind him framed him like a god of darkness, casting an eerie glow over his figure. 

His face was hidden, but those eyes—those glowing eyes—were all she could see. All she could feel.

She wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t.

The world seemed to narrow. The space between them vanished.

Her heart raced louder than ever before, the sound deafening, drowning out the storm, the rain, the world.

Marc’s shadow loomed over her, a suffocating presence that swallowed the light.

Y/N could hear his thoughts 

“I got you” 

Y/N held her breath as she whispered to him

“I know” 

Marc nods his head, of course she knew but she didn’t know better.

———

@megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @autismsupermusicalassassin @lonelyisamyw-0love @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader

Summary: time may have passed but this fleeting moment won’t.

Warning tags: bittersweet, nostalgia, right person wrong time.

author’s note: I wasn’t sure who to tag since I don’t know which followers like Pedro. 😭

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩 

The palace was alive with opulence, sunlight streaming through the marble columns, bathing the gardens in a golden glow. General Marcus Acacius walked through the grounds, his heavy cloak trailing over the stone pathway. Duty had brought him here, but the gardens called to him, offering a rare respite from the weight of command.

As he passed a row of blooming laurels, his gaze caught on a group of Vestal Virgins. Their white robes fluttered softly in the breeze, and their hushed voices melded with the rustling leaves. Marcus’s steps slowed, his dark eyes lingering on the serene scene.

Then, he saw her.

Y/N stood slightly apart from the others, her hands brushing over the petals of a nearby flower. The years had softened her features, but there was no mistaking her. Time had not dimmed her presence, nor erased the memories she carried with her.

She glanced up as if sensing his gaze, her eyes locking with his. The world seemed to still, and for a fleeting moment, neither moved. Marcus’s chest tightened, the flood of nostalgia almost unbearable.

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, but before he could step closer, she turned away. Her movements were swift but unhurried, her retreat deliberate. Marcus watched her disappear into the palace, his jaw tightening. He hesitated for only a moment before following her, his footsteps steady and measured.

The corridors of the palace were quiet, the muffled hum of life echoing faintly from the distance. Y/N’s figure was a whisper in the shadows, her white robes blending with the pale walls. She moved with the grace he remembered so well, though now there was a fragility to her, a weight she carried that hadn’t been there before.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice low but firm.

She froze, her back to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of her robe. Slowly, she turned, her expression a careful mask, though her eyes betrayed the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

“General,” she said, her voice calm, though there was a tremor in it that Marcus didn’t miss.

Marcus stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. “You left before I could speak to you.”

“It wasn’t my place to stay,” she replied, her tone quiet but steady.

He tilted his head, studying her. “And yet you lingered long enough for me to see you.”

Y/N’s gaze faltered, and she looked away, her fingers brushing against the stone wall. “It has been a long time, Marcus.”

“Yes, it has.”

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words. Marcus’s eyes softened as he took her in, the memories of their past weaving through his mind like threads in a tapestry. They had once been inseparable, their bond forged in a childhood spent under the same Roman skies. But life had pulled them in different directions—him to the battlefield, her to the temple.

“Why did you not write?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s shoulders tensed. “What would I have said? That I missed you? That I wished things had been different?” She shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. “I had no right.”

Marcus’s brows drew together, his expression pained. “You always had the right.”

Her breath hitched, and she turned away, staring out of a nearby archway into the sunlit garden. “It doesn’t matter now. Our paths were never meant to cross again.”

“And yet here we are,” he said, stepping closer until he was just behind her.

Y/N closed her eyes, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a cloak. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet intensity that had always unnerved and comforted her in equal measure.

When she finally turned to face him, the vulnerability in her eyes cut through him like a blade. “Marcus, we can’t change the past.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice low and steady. “But we can acknowledge it.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. The touch was feather-light, as if he feared she might vanish if he pressed too hard. Y/N’s breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest. The years melted away in that moment, leaving only the two of them, bound by a connection that time could not sever.

“You kept me with you,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “Even when we were apart.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “You never left me, Marcus. Not really.”

He nodded, his forehead resting lightly against hers. The palace, the garden, the world—they all faded, leaving only the quiet rhythm of their breaths.

“What do we do now?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Marcus smiled faintly, his hands falling to her shoulders. “We take this moment, and we hold it.”

Y/N nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She leaned into him, allowing herself, for the first time in years, to feel the warmth of his presence.

The moment was fleeting, like a petal caught in the wind, but it was enough.

When they finally parted, there was no bitterness, only a quiet understanding. Marcus bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect and affection, before stepping back. Y/N watched him go, her heart heavy but her soul at peace.

As he disappeared into the corridors, she turned back to the garden, the sun warming her face. The past was a weight they both carried, but in that moment, she knew they had found something more—a solace that could never be erased.

—-

tagging list: (you can ask to be removed or added)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem! Co-worker

Summary: Javier Peña wasn’t a jealous man, or was he?

Warning tags: Pinning emotions. Slight jealously.

A/N: You voted and I am delivering. Enjoy.

Y/N sat hunched over her desk, the clutter of case files and evidence spread out before her. It had been a long day, and even longer nights, preparing for the court report on the latest drug bust.

Every detail had to be perfect, every piece of evidence neatly organized. If there was even one mistake, it could cost them the case. And Y/N had no intention of letting that happen.

Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but she pushed through it. She had to. The case was crucial, and it was up to her to make sure the work was airtight.

Javier Peña sat a few desks away, working through his own set of papers, but every now and then, his gaze drifted toward her. He didn’t let it show, not to anyone — not to her, not to Steve — but he couldn’t help but notice the way she worked so intently.

Y/N had been on edge all week, and it was clear it wasn’t just the case that had her stressed. He’d seen it in the way she tucked her hair behind her ear or rubbed the back of her neck when the workload felt too heavy.

It wasn’t that he wanted to help. He wasn’t the type to get involved in someone else’s work. But it bothered him, in a way he didn’t understand, that Y/N seemed so... distant lately. Not from him, exactly, but from everything.

She’d been asking Steve Murphy for help more than usual, and there was something about the way Steve seemed to make her laugh, something about the easy way he offered feedback, that rubbed Javier the wrong way.

It’s nothing, he told himself. You don’t need to worry about it.

But as Steve approached her desk again, this time offering to take a look at the final report, Javier’s grip tightened on his pen. He forced himself to focus on the papers in front of him, trying not to let the subtle discomfort creeping up on him show. It wasn’t jealousy. It was just... distraction.

“Hey, Steve, can you look over this for me? Just a second opinion?” Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts. She sounded tired, but there was a softness to her that made Javier’s chest tighten.

“Sure thing,” Steve replied easily, taking a step closer to her desk, leaning in as Y/N explained a few details about the evidence.

They were too close, too comfortable.

Javier bit back a sigh, feeling that old, familiar feeling of being left out. He didn’t want to acknowledge it. It wasn’t like him to care. But it nagged at him, especially as Steve made her laugh with some joke about the case.

The rustling of papers seemed louder now, the room too small, too quiet. Javier glanced up once more, just as Y/N met his gaze. For a split second, there was a flicker of something — recognition, maybe — before she looked away, returning to her conversation with Steve.

Pull it together, Javier thought, though it didn’t make him feel any better.

Later, as the office began to clear out, the soft clink of Steve’s chair scraping across the floor broke through the silence.

“Thanks, Y/N. Looks good. I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Steve said, giving her a brief smile before heading out the door.

Y/N stretched, letting out a small sigh of relief. She didn’t notice Javier’s eyes on her as she shifted the papers around, trying to make sense of the final draft.

It was then that Javier couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t stand up. He didn’t approach her desk. But his voice was quieter, more direct than usual.

“So, looks like you’ve got all the help you need,” he said, tapping his pen against the surface of his desk. His tone wasn’t angry, but there was something there — a shift, a weight that wasn’t normal.

Y/N paused, looking up at him with a frown. Her eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the change in his demeanor immediately. Javier wasn’t one to get caught up in small things, so this... this was something.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing, trying to gauge if there was something more.

Javier shrugged, looking back down at his desk, though his hands didn’t quite look busy. “Nothing. Just—looks like you’ve got it all under control.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. She knew better than to let his defensive posture fool her. It was rare for Javier to show any sign of weakness or emotion, but this… this was different. He wasn’t being his usual detached self.

“You know you can help, too,” she said, her voice warm, but not pressuring. “I wouldn’t mind a second set of eyes on it.”

He didn’t look at her. “I’m not exactly good with the details,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. But his tone was quieter now, and Y/N could feel the shift in the air.

For a long moment, they stayed silent, the tension hanging between them, unspoken yet palpable. Javier wasn’t good at this — wasn’t good at expressing what he really felt. But in that instant, Y/N understood something he hadn’t said aloud. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but she knew that this moment wasn’t about the report anymore.

“Javier…”

He looked at her then, finally meeting her eyes. It was brief, but it said everything.

Y/N felt a flicker of something in the air, a shift between them. The words she wanted to say were stuck, tangled in the same web of unspoken thoughts. She understood now — Javier wasn’t asking to help because he thought she couldn’t handle it. No. He was asking because there was something else, something beneath the surface. Something that he wasn’t going to come out and say.

But before the silence could fully settle in, it was Javier’s turn to speak. His voice was low, but there was a rare sincerity in it that made her heart skip.

“You’re not alone in this, Y/N,” he said quietly, his gaze soft but steady. “You know I’ve got your back. But if you need to talk, or even if you just need a break… I’m here.”

Y/N’s heart gave a small flutter at the offer, something about it just... felt different than usual. The weight of it sank in, and she realized that despite his tough exterior, Javier cared in ways he didn’t always show.

She smiled softly, feeling the tension lift just a little. “Thanks, Javier. I think... I think I could use that break,” she said, her voice more playful now.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Yeah? A break from paperwork?” he said with a small, almost teasing grin.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, leaning against her desk. “It’s been a long day. How about we grab a drink? My treat — to make up for keeping you in the dark all afternoon.”

Javier seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes scanning her face as if weighing the offer. It was clear he wasn’t used to this kind of invitation — wasn’t used to people looking out for him.

“Alright,” he said after a beat, his voice gruff but sincere. “One drink. But I’m not making promises about stopping at just one.”

Y/N grinned, feeling that familiar, comfortable ease return. “Deal,” she said.

As she grabbed her jacket and gathered her things, Javier stood up as well, his movements casual but for a moment he had the urge to place his hand onto her back

Stop. Javier told himself as he shoved his hands into his pockets. It wasn’t much, but it was enough retraining that he could do, for now.

————

tagged:

Pairing: Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warning tags: Protest, f*ck ICE & Fuck Trump, Political topics, a bit of violence. Word count: 3k-ish

Summary: Chicago is burning—not from fire, but from fear. ICE raids have torn through the city, leaving families shattered. Y/N has been fighting on the frontlines, organizing protests and underground networks to protect undocumented immigrants. What they don’t know is that their cab driver, Jake Lockley, has been working the streets in his own way—gathering intel, passing messages, and keeping a close eye on them.

author’s note: I created this because A) A lot of you guys forget that MCU Moon Knight is Latino. B) He is played by a Latino. C) I said what I said, fuck Trump and ICE. And lastly because as an Afro-Latina, I know both of my communities are I n pain but we are strong. We’ll get through this together. ❤️

The cold Chicago air burned in Y/N’s lungs as they marched, their voice hoarse from chanting. Thousands of people flooded the downtown streets, moving as one mass, fists raised, signs high. The scent of sweat, street food, and the acrid bite of flares filled the night as the energy pulsed through the crowd.

"No more deportations!" The chant rolled over them like a battle cry, defiant and unyielding.

Y/N gripped the strap of their messenger bag tightly, feeling the constant buzz of their phone against their hip—text chains tracking ICE vans, lookout updates from Little Village, emergency contacts in case of arrests. The air crackled with tension, but Y/N had been through this before. They knew how to move, where to be. They also knew that tonight felt different.

Jake Lockley sat in his cab a block away, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as he watched. He had driven them to protests before, never asking for payment, never pressing for details. But this wasn’t just any protest. His sharp eyes scanned the restless sea of people, picking out the ones who didn’t belong—the ones who moved too purposefully, eyes locked on something—or someone.

ICE. Not in riot gear, not making a show of force. These men were hunting. Jake had seen it before, but never this bad. He recognized three of them immediately, plainclothes, stiff postures, trying to blend in. They weren’t here for just anyone. They had names, targets.

And Y/N was one of them.

"Shit," Jake muttered under his breath as he swung open the cab door and stepped into the street.

Y/N felt the shift before they saw it—a ripple in the crowd, something too focused, too intentional. Then, movement. A man in a heavy jacket pushing through the mass of protestors, his gaze locked onto them.

They turned to slip into the crowd, but a hand closed over their wrist. Firm. Official.

"Y/N L/N?" The voice was low, controlled. "You need to come with us."

Their pulse slammed against their ribs. ICE didn’t arrest people at protests. They disappeared them.

Before Y/N could yank their arm free, another hand clamped onto the agent’s wrist—rough, calloused, and unrelenting.

Jake

"Lo siento, amigo," Jake’s voice was thick with his Spanish accent, smooth yet dangerous. "But they’re with me."

With a sharp, brutal movement, he twisted the agent’s arm and sent him sprawling.

Y/N barely had time to react before Jake grabbed their hand and pulled them into motion.

"Move, cariño!"

The crowd blurred around them as they ran, boots slamming against wet pavement. Behind them, shouts rang out—ICE agents barking orders, protestors screaming.

Jake navigated the streets like he had a map in his head. They ducked down an alleyway, slipping past dumpsters and fire escapes. The blue and red flash of sirens flickered against the brick walls, but Jake didn’t slow.

"Where—?" Y/N gasped.

"Shut up and run."

A chain-link fence loomed ahead. Jake leaped first, landing solidly before turning to catch them as they scrambled over.

Behind them, an agent vaulted the fence just as fast.

Jake swore. "Dame paciencia."

Bolting into the street, they nearly collided with a rush of honking cars. Jake weaved through traffic effortlessly, dragging Y/N along with him. Their pulse was a hammer in their ears.

Then he saw it—a delivery bike, abandoned on the curb.

He smirked. "Get on."

Y/N didn’t have time to argue before he hauled them onto the handlebars and pedaled like hell. The city blurred past, ICE agents chasing behind them. A gunshot cracked the air, shattering glass somewhere nearby.

Jake growled, "I hate this city sometimes."

Up ahead—his cab. A sanctuary wrapped in peeling paint and a busted taillight.

But just as they reached it, an agent lunged, tackling Jake off the bike.

Jake hit the pavement hard but was already moving before the agent could pin him. Y/N scrambled back, their breath ragged, as Jake’s expression shifted into something other.

The agent threw a punch. Jake dodged. With terrifying precision, he grabbed the man’s wrist and snapped it back. The agent screamed.

Jake grabbed him by the collar, voice low and venomous. "Dile a tu jefe que esta ciudad no es suya."

Tell your boss this city isn’t his.

Then he slammed the agent’s head into the pavement.

Breathing hard, he turned to Y/N, eyes flashing with something feral. "Get in the damn cab."

They obeyed.

The city blurred past the window, the glow of streetlights casting fleeting shadows across Jake’s face. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was Y/N’s shaky breath and Jake’s fingers drumming against the wheel.

After a long silence, Y/N finally asked, "What the hell was that?"

Jake exhaled sharply. "That was me savin’ your ass. Again."

"You—" They swallowed. "You just took out a federal agent."

A smirk tugged at Jake’s lips. "Did I?"

Y/N turned to him fully now, heart still racing. "You knew they were coming."

Jake nodded. "Yeah."

"Why?"

His jaw clenched. "Because I’ve been watchin’."

Silence filled the cab like thick smoke. Y/N’s fingers curled into their lap. "Are you working for them?"

Jake actually laughed, short and bitter. "No, cariño. I’m working against them."

He glanced at them, dark eyes unreadable. "You think you're the only one fighting this war? I’ve been in this city longer than you have. I see the people they take. The families they rip apart."

His hands tightened around the wheel. "I help where I can. I pass messages. Get people out before the vans roll in. And when I need to, I do worse things."

Y/N’s breath hitched. "And me?"

Jake hesitated. Then, softer, "I couldn’t let them take you."

A lump formed in their throat. They turned to the window, watching the city pass. The people, the lights, the life still fighting to breathe.

"Where are we going?"

Jake’s smirk returned. "Somewhere safe. For now."

The night swallowed them whole.

——-