#//oh hey khonshu

[silverjetsystm]

Spector accepts the rage venom with disconnected placidity. Lying. He, dressed in clothing that doesn’t suit him, is that. Liar and a killer down to his bone. 

Cringing, he can’t take that sentence back. Doesn’t want to talk. Should talk. Why’d he say that? Ben’s already ticked. Motor mouth, movement dizzying Spector’s vision. Truth too late likely. Not his business. Not his life. Complete that sentence. No matter if the birth certificate was his name or if he drove the choices for a large chunk of their life. “Leave it, just leave it.” Pathetic. Is this who he is now? Waving a hand, reedy. Undone by a kiss. Honesty sullying this. Close to tearing his hair out the way he’s pulling on it, nails digging into clean scalp. No more styling. Tie like a noose. Further, breaking out in crescent moons on the right side of his face. Where’s his particular brand of slinging sentences together? Right. All those are violence baked, for those who sup on war. 

Party game. 

Face blazes and shifts with every word. He doesn’t know what it's doing, the angles he’s giving. Just a sneer. Temporary turquoise eyes. Chicago on display, they cross talk, ropes popping on his neck, wild dog base. Volume full blast. Ts are Ds, blue streak thick. “Oh. An interrogation. Little cozy for it. Steven’ll love this. Guy cranked up on Colombia’s best and Spector.” No mystery, he supposes, there’s no emotion the definition brings. Positive or negative. HUMINT. Hewmint. Humit.

Ordered to stay, he sits back down from a place he didn’t realize he was halfway up on legs and feet are fizzy radio static. Bobs like a cork on charcoal water. Good dog. Grown out thumbnail rubs, digs moons into index finger. Forward and back. Why does the crackdown of teeth on ice feel familiar?

Two choices on black glass table. Water or vodka. He picks vodka.

“All or nothing.” Echo shakes glass glazed expression.

The question.

Fuck that.

Spector stands up, back straight. Heads out without another glance. One foot after another, down the shitty barracks catwalk stairs, gripping on the railing when he goes too fast and starts to fall head over heels. Oh, he’s had nights like this before and he’s managed to get home. Sometimes Dad would – Out the building. South Side smog, freezing Chicago night. L’s rattling above. Fireworks further still. Clutched against his chest, he can hear the crinkle of the brown bag he used to stash his leather boxing gloves in. Before he scrounged together enough scratch to buy a proper gym kit. Lifetimes ago. “I thought you said to never leave the front unoccupied.” Before that.

Cigarillo continues to burn tobacco-clove-cherry in its black wrapper. Spector shakes his head. Lungs suck in smoke tinged air, flash of silver gloss. “Rrrr.” Engine warmup. Dog growls. 

Freezing lowball glass in his left, ice clinking wildly, he focuses on his hand dropping temperature. “How’d you figure I was a vodka guy?” Knocks a finger back in a practiced smooth motion at odds with the current pace of his heart. Oiling up the gun.

One lip smack. “Ah.” Ephemeral pepper, citrus, grains. Magic trick. Steady fists. Sure trigger and middle fingers bring the cigarillo to his lips. Inhale, personal orange flame in a vacuum. He wasn’t here to present his heart for judgment, crocodile black shirt or no, but here he is anyway. 

Weigh it against boxes of classified files with ink smell long after the redactions went through. By the words of the ones who wanted forever. Against orange prescription bottles.

“Y’.” Remaining in the box frame, shrimp hunched, he doesn’t lock dry red eyes to iced over thermal vents. Looks past Ben’s ear previously cupped by noise. If he speaks, does he ever stop talking? Will he ever reach the end of the litany of sins? Easier in the dark. Call it verbal paradoxical undressing.

“Ever feel shame so deep it dyes your soul scarlet?” His voice rasps, refusing to yell again. “That you can’t look yourself in the mirror? Cause you’re wrong. That whatever was innocent in you got ruined before you could understand what you lost?” Ice clinks, another swallow. 

“And no matter how hard you try, you can’t outrun it. An’ I’m not even talkin’ bout the things I can’t remember.” Walled off memories. “Nah. Talkin' about things I remember doing. Or people said I did. You can’t change the hand you got dealt. So you run and fuck up and run from that too until you ruin your whole damn life because all I know is how to punch first. To keep us safe.” Hoarse. He cracks the Evian. Water is thin. Vodka is oily. Both are mineral filled. A rasp, caw. 

Wipe of lips. Cigarillo’s almost burnt out. “Who’d wouldn’t be ashamed like that? Huh?”

@kylo-wrecked

Slipshod emotions slosh around the bowl of Ben's mind. He stands with his hands buried in his back pockets, studying Marc while he searches his. Smoke rolls up and flattens against the ceiling and its recessed track lights. 

Last time. 

Ben laughs, it cadence fraught with amphetamines. His left ear rings and rings into the rush in his brain, and his sinus meets it with a steady drip, drip, drip. 'Scrumbilized': simultaneously the best and the worst he's ever felt. Marc's words flare in and out… twisted. 

He ignores the bite-back comment only because he's got another's neck in his jaw. Follows the long line of Marc's throat and wants to kiss him again, wants to pull his lip right off his face. 

You and him. 

"What mystery?" He says, with Jake's same not-unkindliness. At first. "There's a mystery here?"

There are no mysteries in Ben's world. There's information he has and information he hasn't. 

"No." Stares hard at the floor's glare. Snarls. Biting back. "There's a guy with D.I.D who's also a fucking liar." Rubs his face and laughs. "Fuck. You got tapped—to—what? Be involved in your own—? And now—what? I get you lost something, time, but—" 

He rakes a raw-red palm over the ridge of constellation-face, through his black shock hair. 

Slap a diagnosis on it, and it explains everything? A one-size-fits-all answer? Every guy with a disorder comes with a top-secret file in every life category? Ben rubs a momentarily phosphorescent face and laughs. Presses the back of his fist to his mouth and tears into his knuckles. A broken tooth draws a thin skein of blood over his thumb. He breathes in deep as cocaine lungs allow, and that dark alligator shirt breathes on him, starts menacing his shoulders and chest. 

Maybe it's supposed to explain everything. 

Funny, if that's true. Funny ha-ha, all that's unsaid. Steven and Jake were equally mum on the matter. Did that make a trifecta of liars or a gargantuan fucking liar, or did depersonalization cover that too? Ben probably knows what he spent a day on in abnormal psychology before he dropped out and became himself.

"Sorry," Ben says about the laughing. "This isn't funny. At all. There's no part of this, frankly, that happens to please me—I just snorted a-mega-fuck-tonna blow before you showed up." 

Raises his hands in admission and claps them together. Hollow sound. Skein gone, then replenished. Drifts on his feet, nudging his newly shucked-off shoes onto their sides. 

"Do with that information what you will, Marc. But don't." He takes a breath that rattles his pumped-up ribcage. "Pete's sake. I don't know. Talk. You wanna talk about it."

No time like the fucking present.  

Cuts to the other side of the room, insisting, "No, you stay right there." Grabs a bottle of vodka off an (n-built wall shelf and pushes it at Marc. Across this clean black boomerang shape between them. And an Evian, the annoying-sized ones that come in baskets. 

"We can play a little party game—" Ben, he raises a face-sized palm at any legible protest, audible or not, and just keeps going, dragging his heels across vinyl and polished marble: "—shut the fuck up, I'm thinking."

Pauses mid-stride to the panoramic, the smoky city dissipating into a cold good night. Ben spots the ant people marching down the avenue and gets the blinds. Droops over the 'bespoke' drink cart he loathes and never needs because he doesn't host; he shows up; no architecture's needed for that. 

Supposed to talk. Sure. 

Fishing for ice in the geothermal whatever the fuck, he plops a (cube) in his mouth, cracking it down in consideration. The rest burn against his palm. Sucks the blood off his right thumb. 

"You answer a few questions," Ben says, glare flashing off Marc's, "and I see if you're lying."

That's the game. 

"And you can keep lying," he adds, with a kink in his tenor, in the lip to match. "You can lie all you want. That's fine, like. There's only one rule. If you leave, you don't come back. Any of you."

Little revved-up hand motion, approximating a die toss. Clinks ice into the tumbler that's become Marc's glass. Cut to the amp-charged gravity pick jumbling Ben's befuddled thoughts; the winning number is green. The losing number is two-thousand-zero-something. His hips about eye-level with Marc's glazed-on glare. Yeah, take a good non-look at what you're not getting.

"All or nothing." 

He awaits no verbal agreement on Marc's part, though Ben watches him with a hunter's grace as he pours from the bottle. Eyes flat-black and shrouded. 

"First question," Ben says. Sniffs. Looks Marc over in a way that could melt the ice in that low-baller. Or freeze the alcohol. "Why are you so ashamed?"

@silverjetsystm

[pygmi-cygni]

envy - jake lockley

envy - jealousy of somebody's success and a desire to have it for yourself.

cw: smut, feelings, body worship, jake is a little emotionally stunted, he learns to chillout a bit, nothing really kinky.

a/n: I know you guys were expecting some dom angry jake or something but i just want to kiss him tbh.

It had been a blissful few weeks. Khonshu had gone under for a while, meaning the boys had a long stretch of rest and relaxation. Marc had taken full advantage; slept almost every hour he fronted, honestly. You had some good snuggles on the couch together before bed. Steven was picking up a hobby of painting, and you loved to sit with him at the kitchen table and watch his creations.

Your relationship was glowing. There hadn't ever been such a long time that you could just be together, without worrying about Khonshu or anybody else.

Although, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. Jake had always been the quietest alter, but he made sure to pop in at least once and say hello or dive for a kiss. He'd leave notes on the fridge or send flowers to your work.

Recently he'd been nearly silent. You could hear him in the morning; his footsteps were by far the heaviest, and he always hummed Sinatra while he brewed the coffee. But as soon as you'd go over to say good morning, Marc would blink back at you.

You hadn't said anything the first few days. Maybe he's catching up on sleep. But after a week, you'd started to feel hurt. it wasn't just his absence.

He looked at you differently. His eyes were cloudy and he didn't make eye contact. His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...mad?

Jake hardly ever ignored you when he was upset. He was a little conflicted but he'd always apologize, showering you with affection.

The thought somersaulted in your head while you stood by the sink. Your cup of coffee had gone cold as you thought. Had you said something? Did you forget an important day? None of the valid reasons you could think of applied.

"You alright, dear?"

Steven's gentle question broke your reverie. A wistful smile flitted across your face.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks, Steven," you nodded, kissing him on the cheek. "Just thinking."

He rubbed your shoulder and nodded towards the television. "Marc's been wanting to watch a new show, you wanna join?"

"Is that even a question?"

Laughing, you both curled up on the sofa, an old quilt tucked under your feet. It was a crime show, of course, but even with the gruesome details you found yourself drifting off, wrapped in warmth in Steven's lap.

Some time later, you woke to a jostling. Rubbing crust from your eyes, you pulled the blanket tighter and tried to find Steven. He was halfway off the couch, one leg still trapped under you.

"Why you leaving?" You mumbled pitifully, reaching out. He paused, before lifting his leg and stepping away.

"'M not Steven."

"Jake!" you sat up, suddenly awake. "Baby, where've you-"

"I'm gonna go to bed. He'll be back in the morning." He leaned forward and brushed the barest kiss to your hair, before stalking off.

You felt like you'd just been slapped. In your eight months with the boys, Jake was by far the most intimate, craving touch whenever possible. He'd cry if you didn't kiss him before work. And all of a sudden, he balked at a couch snuggle?

What?

The blanket trailed behind you, slithering over the cold floorboards as you padded after him.

He'd already shucked Steven's jeans and pulled the covers up to his chin, facing the wall.

You knew better than that. Jake's shoulders tensed when the mattress dipped. Shifting close, you tucked your hands around his waist and locked your legs around his hips.

He was stiff as a board, hands firmly under his pillow. You huffed, nudging your nose into his neck. He twitched at the ticklish feeling and you tried again, flicking your tongue out. Jake grunted and turned over, nose-to-nose with you.

"Hey," you whispered. His eyes glittered dark in the low light. You so badly wanted him to lean forward and brush your lips with his, but he stayed a few inches away.

"Steven and Marc are asleep," he whispered back. "You can see them later."

"I don't want them."

Something about your tone, soft and clingy, made his brow furrow. There was that look again; frustrated and cold. You leaned in to hide the cracking of your hurt.

He pulled away. You whined quietly, eyes welling. Jake's chest burned when he saw your tears, but he kept silent.

"Are...are you mad at me?"

He'd never heard your voice so shattered. It cleaved a hole right through his heart. Words got stuck in his throat. No, he wasn't mad. How could he be mad? You did so much for them, all of them. Maybe more for Marc and Steven, but...

"Mariposa..." he lifted a hand to your cheek. You leaned in, fisting your hands at his chest. Jake reluctantly held you back, tucking his chin over your head. You burrowed as tight as possible, squeezing against him in a way that made his heart hurt.

"Why did you leave?"

The question met his ears and he sighed. The complicated slurry of emotions hung heavy in his chest. Taking a laborious breath, he shrugged.

"Didn't want to interrupt the show."

"No. Why did you leave?" You pulled away, brow set. He looked away, exposed. That raw nerve that entangled his heart was throbbing with alarm. He was too open, too vulnerable. Both of his headmates were out, cutting off the exits.

A soft rub to his chest. He'd been hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide and worried.

"Jake?"

It was too much. He wanted to get away. This was too hard to explain. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult, why did you have to ask? Your curiosity was adorable but it disrupted his brooding intentions.

The bedroom began to fall away as the tight thrumming of his anxiety took over.

He shuddered in a breath, raking a hand over his face.

"I..." The rest of the sentence was gluey on this throat. He coughed and tried again. "I didn't want to interrupt...you."

"Interrupt? What do you mean?" You were still stroking his shoulder gently. Tears threatened to fall. this was going so badly.

"You. And...them."

Another slap to the face. You gaped at him, more in hurt than in shock. "Us? You mean - Jake, what the hell are you talking about? You're not interrupting anything-"

"Leave it, amor, forget I said anything," he muttered, cowering behind his walls again. You wrenched his head to yours in frustration.

"No, Jake Lockley, I will not forget it." Your eyes softened. "Why do you feel like that?"

"It's not-"

"It is important, mister."

Feeling like a child, Jake shuffled to face you and harrumphed.

"It...it seemed like you were in the middle of something," he mumbled, neck heating. Frowning, you shook your head.

"So? You're not banned from participating. I'd love to watch something with you."

You weren't getting it. This was why Steven did all the talking. Frustration churned in his chest. He just wanted to sleep and shoulder this off to Marc. You liked him better anyway.

"Just stop," he hissed, backing away, "you have your things with them, go enjoy that. You don't need me."

You were dumbfounded. What?

"Don't need y- Jake, what the hell?"

His claws were out, shielding the raw emotion pulsing in his heart. Just stop.

"You like them better, si? I know you want Marc, just let me sleep and he'll be-"

You yanked his head to yours, scowling at his bitter tone. A mix of torrential sorrow and dumbfounded irritation tore at your ribs.

"Jake Lockley," you seethed, "you've said that once and I won't settle for a second time. You are not nothing."

He met your anger with his, but a shining film of tears diluted the rage. "No," he whispered.

"I love you too, idiot," you said indignantly, tugging his hair. he bashfully ducked his head, wanting to hide the watery tears bubbling up.

"You know that, right?"

He didn't move.

"Jake."

You carefully lifted his chin, peering into his glistening eyes. A tiny, imperceptible whimper.

"Oh, honey."

He collapsed into your hug as you stroked his back, murmuring soothing reassurances as he choked back a sob. He'd never felt so exposed. The delicate flesh of his chest was flayed open, revealing the timidly thumping cavern of his heart. Red and tender, too soft to cope with the dangers of out there. it felt like you'd reached in and grabbed it, cradling it like the sun. Jake curled into himself, head dropping onto your chest.

"You- you just seem so right with them an' I didn't know if you actually needed me or if I was just there an', an-"

You pulled him to your chest, shushing the sobs that wracked his frame. Internally, you were a mess. He'd never shown this much of himself. How long had he been thinking this way? Thinking you didn't love him as much?

"Of course I want you," you said, shocked. "Of course, love, you're all important to me. Equally," you said firmly. Jake choked into your shirt and you rocked, side to side.

"Why would you think that?" you asked gently when he'd gotten his breathing back to normal.

He avoided your gaze, hot shame curdling his stomach. This wasn't how he expected this to go. He wanted you to brush him off, give him the predictable air of nothing. Clean apathy was easier to live in.

Jake felt like a baby deer, stumbling around in the throes of love, trying to get his feet back under him. This was new. this was different, he wasn't used to being so unsteady. He was the strong one, the big bad Jake that had everything under control-

"It's okay," you whispered, kissing his cheek, "I understand. Just let it out for a bit."

His hands curled at your hips, pulling you tighter as he hid in your neck.

Your shirt was soaked when you pulled away. He still wouldn't look at you, but you could feel his grip tighten on your wrists. Don't go.

Still kissing his face, you gently rucked up his shirt and stroked his chest. Jake sniffled and held you tighter, mouth connecting messily with your neck. The wet warmth of his tears mixed tenderly with his soft lips.

Carefully, like calming a spooked animal, you kissed down his jaw, laving your tongue on his neck and shoulders. Jake stuttered, unsure of how to handle the raw emotion. This was his thing. He did that, not the other way round. You kissed down his sternum, cradling his hands in yours.

"Pretty," you whispered into his warm skin. "have I told you how pretty you are?"

His chest was seized with emotion so thick he could barely breathe. 'I-I look the same as the others," he gritted out, trying to salvage his exterior. A petulant mewl when you sucked a bruise above his heart.

"I know, but you're lovely in your own way." You hovered over the mark, blowing gently and smiling at the prickling goosebumps. Jake didn't know up from down as you continued your slow descent. The heady mix of lust and adoration was making his head fuzzy.

The apartment fell away while you held him. He had started crying again; a silent barrage of warm tears trickling down his cheeks. You licked up the salt, pressing the taste of his yearning onto his tongue. Jake moaned weakly into your mouth, pawing at your shirt.

"Patient," you whispered, returning to your task.

He hiccupped and raked a hand through your hair. The thumping of his heart in your hands was harder now, glistening with newfound love. You continued to wrap him in a protective cape of encouragement, coaxing his shoulders to relax.

You stopped above his waistband, moving to straddle his lap. "Follow my lead," you instructed gently, looking into the dark well of his gaze. Jake Lockley was at a loss for words as you rocked against him, tucking is head in your neck.

The pure intimacy was stifling. He couldn't breathe around the weight of the affection you carried for him. Something had burrowed into the pores of his skin, tearing down the stone barricades around his mind.

The exposure didn't feel so bad. You were right there next to him, keeping his soft frailty from crumbling.

"You've got such nice eyes," you murmured, your own sweet gaze shining with kindness. Sniffling another wave of tears as you kissed his eyelids, Jake felt another wave of emotion.

The comments continued, praising his hair, his mouth, his skin, his strength. Each word rebuilt a piece of his armor.

Softer, better. Like flexible cotton rather than strangling iron. Somehow it felt stronger. Like he was soaring above the Earth, unstoppable.

"you're strong, Jake," you licked into his mouth, "you do such a good job with Steven, keeping him safe."

Alto. no, no, no he couldn't no this. too close to his sensitive middle. caught off guard, he reflexively pulled away, hackles raised. You crept higher on his lap, refusing to let him hide.

"marc knows too, sees how patient you are when he's mad." Another warm kiss and Jake was a mess.

His heart had been pounded to a bloody pulp with every praise, shuddering and pulsing weakly on the floor. your hands were stained, but you still held him lovingly. How did- how did you-

Another shuddering breath, and you blessed him with a reprieve from the attention. Your coaxing, tender touches never stopped, still petting the tension from his bones.

Jake was at the top of the tower, staring down into the abyss of this. This new thing; the drowning mass of you.

jump.

jump, he could do it. just dive in.

Your eyes met his again. "te amo."

the wind whistled by his ears. it's okay, it's okay, he'd-

he landed safely in your embrace, diving forwards to devour your mouth with his. This time you didn't push him away, but pulled him on top of you, running your hands over his sides. He desperately grabbed at your hips, wanting to mold into you. to grow into one body, every cell touching and twining until nothing could pull you apart.

"It's okay, hey," you cooed, helping him burrow into your chest. The warmth of your breasts surrounded his face. This was familiar, he could do this.

A shuddering sigh drifted musically through the room as he kissed and sucked, hoping to drive you even close to the pleasure you'd brought him.

His kisses were needy, harsh and desperate. thank you, they said. thank you thank you thank you.

Gently, softly, he licked down into your folds, pulling aside your panties. The soft tang of your sex made his heart flutter. Your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging and raking delicious rows of arousal into his core. Rivers of lust poured from every inch of him, fueled by the intensity of your affection.

"Good," he moaned into your folds, licking up your slick, "g-good God please-"

You trilled a pleased sigh, thighs tightening around his ears. Jake was engulfed in you; your sent, your softness, your everything. He didn't want to leave. How could he? The syrupy trap of your honeyed attraction had ensnared his heart and wasn't letting go.

"I love you," you panted at your climax, "Iloveyousomuch oh-"

Jake groaned when your wetness met his tongue again, drinking from your well like a parched soldier.

He climbed up your body, diving back into your mouth. You shuddered and wrapped around him, hand traveling to stroke slowly at his hardness. Whining softly, he positioned you to sit on top.

Another powerful punch of lust knocked the air from his lungs as you slipped him inside, face contorting with pleasure. Pride swelled, knowing he could do that to you. Him, not Marc or Steven or anybody else. You moaned and writhed for him.

Your kiss-swolled lips were slack as you rolled your hips, hands planted firmly on his chest. Jake brushed the hair from your face, gazing darkly into your hazy eyes.

"Mariposa," he breathed, capturing your lips in his. The shift made him slide deeper, stroking a heavenly spot deep inside. You cried out against his mouth and he swallowed the sound greedily, rocking harder and harder.

"Need," he moaned, "need you to f-feel good, baby, need ah-"

You clenched around him, hands digging into his back. The fluttering, trembling warmth that surrounded him was intoxicating. Jake slumped against the headboard, bucking his hips as you draped over him. Your warm, slick bodies rolled together, riding waves and waves of pleasure.

Not an inch between you wasn't completely smothered by the other. Jake felt hot arousal peaking in his core, sending a rush of adrenaline through his shaking muscles.

"Amor," he heaved, "amor, oh, please cum, please please I need you to cum," his voice pitched higher. You whimpered, shuddering as his thick girth stroked your walls perfectly, caressing every spot inside. He pulled you tighter, clutching you to his chest.

The sheets were twisted tight around your limbs, rucking and rutting harder and faster into each other. A sinful moan ripped your throat as you bounced on him, soft flesh glowing with the orgasmic halo. A final mewl and you were finished, pulsing hot and tight around him.

Jake bucked once more and thrust hard, shooting his climax as deep as possible. Your velvety folds greedily flared around him, drinking in his spend as you shuddered and keened. Before he'd even finished, he'd tucked you under him, greedily pressing his mouth against your sweaty neck.

I love you, he slurred, I love you so much, baby.

Your fingers limply entertwined with his, finally at peace.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine taglist, comment to join!

[angel-of-the-moons]

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

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You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

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It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

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Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

[love-anddeepression]

Father Mine- 3

ok so this is where canon goes out the window, ive made my own universe, this might be blasphemy against marvel comics but i dont know. Honestly i made this up as i kept going and i like how this chapter ended<3 tell me how you like it! if you want a spoiler go to the tags and see what i've tagged :) part 1

You must have passed out because you wake up in someone’s living room.

“Anyone home?” You dare to call out. The apartment is sort of open-plan and if you had the energy to turn around and move you would have been able to see the man in the white suit staring at you.

“Yep. Hello!” The man walks up to you and you flinch at his strong southern london accent and glaring white suit that makes him look like a psycho Colonel Sanders, “I hope you’re alright, Khonshu said you were from another dimension?”

You reluctantly reply, “That’s right? And by Khonshu do you mean the actual Egyptian God?”

He nods excitedly, “Yea! Right twit he is!”

You look at him worriedly, maybe he is psycho colonel sanders after all.

He looks at himself in the mirror and does a double take, “Oh bollocks! No wonder you look scared!” The suit disappears to reveal a man with wild curls in an oversize t-shirt and pajamas, “sorry, sometimes I forget I still have it on.” He smiles nervously, “Um I’m Steven. With a V.”

That causes you to smile a little, maybe he’s not so bad, “Hello Steven.” You wave from your position on the couch and tell him your name.

Behind him you see a bony pigeon looking skeleton appear and your eyes widen, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” You point at it and scream.

Steven turns around, “That’s Khonshu, you can see him?”

“NO SHIT!” You web a wall and pull yourself up to stick to it, glaring at the offending creature.

“That’s mental.” He exclaims.

“What universe is this?” You ask him, eyes narrowed underneath your mask.

“Well, there’s no particular name for it.” Steven begins, but Khonshu intervenes, “How is it that you were able to traverse through the inter dimensional planes?”

“I knew someone who could.”

Suddenly Stevens demeanour changes and your spider sense tingles, you ready your webs against the potential threat.

The voice that comes out of Stevens mouth is not his. It’s the sound of the man who threw you here.

“Kid?” He says when you freeze and take your mask off, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re-You’re not Steven.” Your voice breaks at the familiar lilt.

He shakes his head, “My name is Marc.”

———————————-

“Miguel! Stop it!” Jess finally snaps and the man looks up at her.

She takes a hold of his hair and uses it to maneuver his face to look at him, “You either go and get her back, or you fucking move on. Because in this state there is no way you will be able to do anything. Get your shit together. ”

He gulps, not used to seeing her angry side often and nods.

“She thinks I’m a monster.” He looks down at his toes and breathes shakily.

“Then prove to her that you’re not. You’re her father, regardless of what she says, she still loves you. You need to apologize to her.” She looks at him pointedly and he sighs.

"What do you want me to say, 'Hey honey, I know what I did was wrong, I was wrong to chase a teenager and I was too blinded by my fear of losing my daughter again that I chased you away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Thats not going to be good enough."

"It's a start."

"Jessica." he looks up

"What?"

"I should have told you, something about her."

"What?"

"She's not a normal variant, even if her universe was destroyed. That fact alone makes her a special case. There's a reason I sent her to Earth 19999. Her atoms and dna will not glitch there. And I don't know why."

"Why didn't you send her there before?"

"It was too dangerous."

"As opposed to Earth 1999999?" Jess raises an eyebrow.

"Very similar universes, but everything is flipped."

The woman tilts her head, "What do you mean?"

————-

You sip on the hot tea Steven had made for you, glaring at the bony god sitting opposite you.

“I cannot send you back, child.” He says and you roll your eyes,

“As if I didn’t know that. The tea’s lovely, thank you.” You smile at Steven who beams at you. He’s much nicer than the American man living inside him. The one who was Miguel in this universe.

“Marc?”

He nods, “I happen to know of someone who can help you.”

You tilt your head, “Go on.”

He went to explain how he was on call as an Avenger, who were considered the world’s mightiest heroes, and how he was acquainted with someone known as Dr Strange.

As soon as he says, the name Strange, your mind considers the possibility that you might be in the universe of idiots, as Miguel calls it. Earth-1999999.

He’s spent whole hours explaining the entire storyline that honestly came out of a movie to you and while it was such, really Captain America you ditched your best friend to go be with someone who had already moved on? You were drawn to the universe.

It reminded you very much of your home universe that was destroyed.

When you’d nodded and said you’d be on your way he’d blocked you from leaving. Saying it was too dangerous and that you were being an irresponsible person.

You tried to reason with him but he was able to block your punches with efficiency, and he reached for your web slingers. The ones Miguel had given you.

That was currently why there was a purple bruise on Stevens’s cheek that you felt bad about. This sweet man didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of a hard punch. So you had helped him around the kitchen and he made you tea as a way of saying thank you.

“If you can’t take me away, you can atleast lead me to Strange, considering your own Knight isn’t letting me leave.”

“For good reason.”

“But it doesn’t make sense, without the watch I would be glitching every three seconds because the universe would not accept my genes. Here I haven’t glitched a single time.”

The god tilts his head and seems to contemplate your words, mimicking the man who looks at you with his head tilted, “Most interesting.”

Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as orange sparks began to appear out of thin air, forming a circle and then a portal out of which a man with a weird beard walks through. He nods at Steven and walks over to you, “So you’re the one huh?”

“No, your mom is.” You snarl, “Yes. Doctor Strange, I’ve heard of you.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, “Am I a common topic of conversation in the multiverse?”

“When we have to make fun of something yes.” You grin.

He rolls his eyes, “How did you arrive here?”

“Look I'd leave if I could, sir. But my device was taken away by the jerk who sent me here.”

His eyes narrow, “Sent you?”

Shit, you might have said the wrong thing.

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

"So you're not from here." The sorcerer supreme raises his eyebrow at you.

"No, sir." you're shocked at your politeness, but the man demands respect.

"And you cannot go back?"

"No."

"There is only one person now, who is capable of autonomous multiverse travel, America Chavez. And even her powers are not perfect. It is too risky to do this."

"What would you have me do then?" you ask.

"Wait here, there must be a reason you are not glitching. Maybe, you were meant to be sent here." Strange reasons.

His words make sense, honestly, maybe this universe would be your new home. Even back in Nueva York, you had to wear the watch at all times, or you'd be glitching.

But did Miguel know that? Because if he didn't know, then that would mean he'd sent you to your death.

You just nod at what Strange says, his words going in one year and out the other. You miss the way his eyes glint and flash. His shadow moving under him.

"She can stay with us at the tower." Steven puts his hand on your shoulder, looking directly at Strange, no smile on his face. After a few moments, the Doctor nods.

Your spider sense starts to tingle, and you glace at Steven, who only smiles at you. All teeth. Eyes that are blank. Devoid of emotion.

Now that you're here to stay, he looks like he's never been happier.

"You're going to enjoy yourself here, love." he pats your shoulder, "We'll all have a bit of fun."

You need to run.

[storiesforallfandoms]

how things are now ~ marc spector & steven grant;moon knight

word count: 2436

request?: yes!

“Hi hi hi sweetness!! I am here to humbly request a Marc Spector and Steven Grant x reader. The basis of it is kinda just what life is like after the finale. We saw how Marc was towards Stevens feelings for Layla and I kinda wanted that. The reader (Marc’s wife) starting a conversation with Marc about how things are now then going into how it works with Steven and all three of them talking about it. Fluffy asf please with maybe a steamy ending. Thank you so so very much🤍”

description: now that they’ve learned how to share the body, they must come to terms with the fact that they also have to share their wife

pairing: marc spector x female!reader x steven grant

warnings: swearing, a small sad moment but only small, the boys are fighting again

masterlist (one, two, three)

Meeting Steven Grant, the second personality that lived in your husband’s head, was one of the many surprises you learned about Marc after his time working for the God Khonshu. It was probably the better of all the other surprises, but still a surprise nonetheless. It was also a surprise that came with some complications in the marriage that you knew needed to be addressed.

See, Marc and Steven had figured out a way to evenly share “the body” and to get along with one another, until it came to wanting to spend time with you. Marc loved you to the moon and back and was relieved that everything with Khonshu had ended so that he could finally be with you without the fear of putting you in danger. However, Steven had also grown very fond of you. He was over the moon to find out that “both he and Marc had such a lovely wife” (his words). You’d be lying if you said you didn’t also love Steven as much as you loved Marc.

With that being said, this was where the complications lie: Steven kept trying to take hold of the body over Marc whenever you were with him. Despite having figured out a way to peacefully co-inhabit the body, Marc felt like he was back to struggling for control of himself because of how often Steven tried to take over so he could be with you.

You couldn’t fully blame Steven, though, as Marc had openly voiced his jealousy towards you and Steven, to a point where he wanted to deny Steven any time with you and wanted you all to himself.

You let this go on for a few weeks before you decided it was time to put an end to it. You were going to lay down the ground rules of this new way your marriage was going to work, and if the men didn’t like that, then that was too bad.

You arrived home from work to find Marc hunched over his laptop. You had come to learn which one of them had control of the body due to their body language: standing wise, Marc had the better posture and held himself with more confidence than Steven, but when they were sitting Marc tended to hunch or basically lay across wherever he was sitting.

He looked up at you and smiled.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, same old same old,” you responded. “Dealt with shitty people who don’t know what manners are, restrained myself from slapping said stupid people because an assault charge really isn’t worth it.”

Marc chuckled and pulled you into his arms as you sat down next to him. He leaned down to kiss you. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth running through your body that Marc’s presence usually brought.

You pulled away from the kiss to look up into his eyes. You could see that it was still Marc in control, so you decided to just get to the point.

“I want to talk to you about something,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Depends on how you take what I’m gonna say.” You pulled away from his embrace and took his hands in yours. You smoothed down his calloused knuckles with your thumbs as your gaze stayed on your joined hands. “I want to talk about Steven.”

You could feel him tense up beside you. “Why?”

“Marc, we can’t just keep acting like everything is the same now,” you said. “Besides the obvious that my husband was the hitman for an Egyptian God and apparently is a superhero now, there’s also a new person that’s been introduced in our marriage.”

“He’s not involved in our marriage.”

You finally looked up at him so that you could give him a stern look. His face was twisted in annoyance.

“You can say that all you want, but the truth is, Steven is just as involved as you and me,” you said. “You love me, I love you. But we both know that Steven also loves me, and I love him, too. I love you both equally.”

“He’s a fucking parasite,” Marc growled, tugging his hands free from you so he could stand.

“Marc!” you scolded. “Don’t you dare say that. We both know that’s not how you feel.”

“It’s how I feel when that fucker is getting between me and my wife. You’ve been my wife for longer, (Y/N). It’s not fair for him to come along and think he can just wedge his way into something he was never involved in before just because he and I have finally figured out how to share the body.”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You were starting to realize this was probably a bad idea. There was obviously no getting through to Marc about the issue, and you were certain now that he wasn’t about to happily follow along with the ground rules you were trying to set. The last thing you wanted was to continue on like this in your marriage, but you really weren’t sure what else to do anymore.

“Is he upsetting you, love?”

You looked up to see Marc’s entire demeanor had changed. Anyone who didn’t know Marc well enough probably wouldn’t pick up on it, but you had come to learn the tells between Marc and Steven so well that even the slightest of change tipped you off as to who was in control. You knew your angry husband had been forced back into the body, replaced with the kindhearted Brit who also resided in Marc’s head.

“Steven, now really is not a good time for you to take over,” you said. “We’re kind of...discussing you.”

“Oh, I heard,” Steve said. “I also heard that he wasn’t listening and was just making you upset.”

“Steven, give me back the body right now. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I believe this has everything to do with me, since it’s literally about me.”

“This is between me and my wife, Steven. Regardless of who we’re talking about, you’re not part of the conversation.”

“We share a body, Marc, she’s not just your wife anymore.”

“Will both of you shut the fuck up!”

He looked at you so startled that you weren’t sure which of them currently had control of the body. Not that you even really cared at that moment. You were tired of the fighting. You were finally taking this moment to say what was on your mind, which was what you had been trying to do since you had gotten home. They were going to listen, whether they liked it or not, and they were going to accept your terms.

You stood from the couch and approached whichever one of them had control. You took his hand and looked up into his eyes, searching to figure out which of the two personalities was there. He squeezed your hand a little as you recognized that Steven was the one still in control.

“Steven,” you started. He nodded, confirming what you already knew. “I need you to listen to me, okay? And once I’m done talking, I need you to give me Marc back for a little while?”

He nodded again. You brought him back to the couch and sat him down. Steven looked at you with wide, attentive eyes; the brown eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago when you first met Marc. That was one thing that you wished Marc could understand about the new dynamic of your marriage including Steven - the fact that you were basically getting to fall in love with your husband for the first time all over again.

“Marc, I know you’re listening,” you started. “But I need you to also control yourself so I can talk to Steven, okay?” You didn’t wait for a response you knew you weren’t going to get. “Steven, I love you.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at his lips. “I love you, too, (Y/N).”

“But you understand that I love Marc, too, right? He was my husband first, before I met you. He was my first real love. He’s special to me in a different way.”

Steven nodded. “I know. I understand that. I could never dream of you feeling any other way for him.”

“You say you understand, but you do tend to block Marc and I from spending time together. Case in point, you taking over just then in the middle of our conversation.”

“You were fighting - ”

“We weren’t fighting, we were talking. Even if we were fighting, though, that happens sometimes. Couples argue. It’s normal. You don’t always have to come to my rescue if Marc and I are fighting. And it’s not just when we’re fighting. You take control a lot when we’re trying to spend time together, on date nights especially. I understand that you love me, and that you want to get to spend time with me, too, but Marc did come first. You have to let him have his time with me, too. Okay?”

Steven nodded, looking down at his lap. You reached out to put a finger under his chin, lifting his head to look at you. You gave him a soft smile. “Don’t be upset. I do love the time we spend together.”

Steven smiled, shyly. You leaned forward to kiss him. He seemed shocked at first, which was when you realized it was the first time you had really kissed Steven. All the time you had spent together, all the date nights and lazy Sundays he had hijacked, and you had never truly kissed him before. It almost didn’t seem right for this to be the first time.

You could feel his hand twitch as you kissed. You kept a firm hold of it, knowing it was likely Marc trying to intervene, or trying to hit Steven for kissing you. When you pulled away, Steven pouted, which caused you to giggle.

“We had a deal,” you reminded him. “Can I speak to my husband please?”

Steven sighed, but didn’t put up a fight. You watched his demeanor change as Marc took control again. His pouty face turned to a scowl and he quickly pulled his hands away from you as he fully regained control. You rolled your eyes. Yep, there was your husband alright.

“That was kind of you,” his said. “To give him that speech and to kiss him like that. Wasn’t shitty at all to have to witness another man kissing my wife.”

“Marc,” you said in a warning voice. “We’re talking about this, too.”

“What else is there to talk about? You love Steven. I already knew that. Big fucking deal.”

“But I love you, too. Did you miss that part? The whole giant chunk of conversation where I told Steven that he has to understand that our relationship comes first to me?”

“I heard you tell him you love spending time with him, and that he has to share you. I’m not sharing you, (Y/N), so don’t even think about asking.”

“We don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, Marc. Whether you like it or not, you’re not the only one who has control of your body. You can’t just shove Steven down inside of you and never let him out again.”

“Worked for me once, didn’t it?”

You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. You could see he was trying to seem angry, but there was something in his eyes that gave him away; sadness.

“Baby, you know heard what I said to Steven,” you said. “I love you. You. I love Steven, too, but you were in my heart first. You’re the man I married, not Steven. Why are you so worried about my feelings for him so much? I can love you both equally, and I do.”

Being forced to look at you and finally being asked the question he dreaded the most caused tears to start to form in Marc’s eyes. You don’t think you had ever seen him cry in years. The last time was probably when you both got married. You could remember his misty eyes as you walked down the aisle that day, but that was the only time you could remember seeing him cry. It took you by surprise to see him getting so emotional over this.

“What if you start to love him more than you love me?” he asked, his voice soft. “What if you realize he’s better than I am?”

“I won’t, because that’s not true.”

Marc laughed, humorlessly. “Isn’t it? I mean, he’s nicer for sure. A little annoying, but people like him. He’s not abrasive or aggressive like I am. He’s the type of guy a woman like you was supposed to end up with, not an asshole like me.”

You took his hand in yours and gave it a slight squeeze. “And yet you’re the one I fell in love with. You’re the one I married. And you’re the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with, whether Steven is in the picture or not. You can be a bit of an asshole, I’m not going to deny that - ” His chuckle had some humor behind it this time. “ - but I love that about you. I love that you are you. I’m not going to end our marriage because of a nice guy with a cute accent. I mean, I’m here trying to negotiate that the three of us have equal standing in this marriage, for God’s sake. Would I be doing that if I loved Steven more than I loved you?”

Marc shook his head. “I guess not.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, too. Just as much love and passion exploded from your kiss with Marc as it did with Steven. If you needed any further evidence that you loved them both equally, that was it.

You rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes. Those eyes, you loved them more than you could’ve ever loved anything else.

“He doesn’t get to have the best part with you, though,” Marc said.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “The best part?”

You screamed in surprise as Marc suddenly lifted you off your feet and carried you off to the bedroom. “The part where we both get naked and I get to feel you all over. That’s not his, that part is mine.”

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Moon Knight and Deadpool

Warnings/Triggers: Deadpool is a trigger himself, blood, violence, strong language, mention of cancer, mention of DID and abuse, Marc and Steven don't know about Jake yet.

Marc and Steven were on their usual patrol when Khonshu informed them of a nearby fight. Moon Knight jumped off a high building, using his cape to fly towards the location, already hearing the sounds of gun shooting and some shouting.

"Marc Spector and Steven Grant, I sense someone else being there." they heard Khonshu say.

"Who? Someone innocent?"

"No. Someone's fighting against them."

When Moon Knight arrived, he was met with some gang members involved in a fight with a man in a red suit and a mask, his back was already penetrated with some knives and the guy in the red suit was taking them out swiftly with his pistols and swords. Moon Knight couldn't act fast enough as the last member was stabbed in his chest and fell to the ground.

"Hey, who are you?" Moon Knight spoke up.

Deadpool turned, seeing the white hero standing not far from him.

"Oh! You wanted to take part in this? If you showed up earlier, I would have been nice enough to let you take out some."

"You didn't answer my question." Moon Knight answered, his voice more firm now.

"I'm Deadpool. And you must be a mummy man with those creepy ass white eyes."

Deadpool swiped his bloody sword off on a dead guy's shoulder to clean it and moved his hands to his back to try and get the knives out.

Moon Knight sighed at this clumsy guy, that's when Marc heard Steven speak.

*Hey Marc, shouldn't we help him out?*

Marc looked back at Deadpool, who was seriously struggling to get the last knife out that was stuck right in the middle of his spine.

"Need some help there?"

Deadpool turned. "Yes, can you pull it out?"

Deadpool made his way over, Moon Knight put one hand on his shoulder to steady him and pulled the knife out with his other hand, not minding the blood spurting out.

"Got a tight grip there, mummy." Deadpool said calmly, turning back around to face him.

"I'm Moon Knight."

"Moon Knight? Who the heck came up with that?"

Moon Knight didn't say anything.

Deadpool leaned in a bit closer "I see, you're a quiet one. Someone with a few words." he patted his shoulder.

"And you seem to not mind having knives in your back."

Deadpool pulled back again. "Well, I have regeneration ability. And I've had worse things let's say, 'inserted into my body'." he giggled.

"Was nice meeting you, Deadpool. But I have some business to attend to." Moon Knight said, turning around to get ready to leave.

"Wait!" Deadpool jogged over, leaning in. "Who do you work for?"

Moon Knight let out an annoyed sigh. "None of your business, kid."

Deadpool let out a gasp and put his hands on his chest, "Come on! Aren't we super hero buddies now?"

"No."

"Fuck, are you always this grumpy?"

Deadpool could see Moon Knight's glowing eyes narrow but he kept pushing his luck.

"Oh, and my real name is Wade. Just Wade, and yours?" He extended his hand for a handshake.

"Just Moon Knight." he grabbed Deadpool's hand and squeezed so hard that some bones were already cracking, making Deadpool wince.

"Okay okay, chill the fuck out, Moony!"

Moon Knight let go of Deadpool's hand. "Mind your own business."

Deadpool looked up at him, holding his numb hand. "Come on, give us a chance! We can be a good team."

"Stay out of my way, pool."

"Aw, see you already like me." Deadpool teased, moving to walk beside Moon Knight when they heard vehicles approaching them.

"Looks like those stupid fucks never give up." Deadpool cursed.

"I deal with them." Moon Knight said, pulling out his crescent darts, throwing them at the drivers. Deadpool moved in, slashing and stabbing the ones who came out of the cars.

The fight didn't last long, the two made quick work of the bad guys.

Moon Knight retrieved his darts, looking at Deadpool who had a knife stuck in his head. "You got a knife in your head."

"I know, but thanks for noticing." Deadpool said in a warm, friendly tone before pulling it out.

Deadpool saw Moon Knight about to walk away and catched up to walk beside him. "We make a good team, don't we?" he turned his head to look at Moon Knight.

"Stop looking at me like you just fell in love with me."

"And what if I did?"

"I'm straight."

"I meant as friends, stop thinking with your dick!"

"Could say the same about you, pool."

"You're no fun."

"Good." Moon Knight looked up to a building, seeing Khonshu standing there, "Now go home." he jumped ontop of a car, to a roof and headed for Khonshu.

"Who was that, Marc?" Khonshu asked, looking into the distance.

"I don't know, but I hope he stays out of our way. Got something else?"

"No, the filth tonight is dealt with." Khonshu said before he disappeared, leaving Marc and Steven to get some rest. Marc made his way back home, to get some sleep.

The next day went by pretty fast as usual and Marc was strolling around the city. He passed a store, looking inside for a second, that's when he saw the cashier getting held at gun point. Marc held his position, looking for a way to get inside unnoticed. In the corner of his eye, he saw someone walking towards the entrance of the store. Taking a closer look, Marc saw the red suit, it was Deadpool.

Deadpool didn't shy away, pulling his gun out and shot the guy with the gun in his kneecap.

"Didn't your mom tell you to be nice to people? Where are your manners!"

The guy dropped to the ground, holding his bleeding knee, crying out in pain and dropping the gun.

Meanwhile Marc cursed under his breath, quickly summoning his Moon Knight suit and rushing inside.

"Hey! Deadpool, don't kill that guy!"

Deadpool whipped around, "Moony!! I knew you'd come."

The guy on the ground reached out for the gun, when suddenly a foot came crushing down on his hand.

"Bad! Now don't make me break your other hand, alright? Sorry if you're right handed." It was Deadpool, who now picked up the pistol.

Moon Knight turned to the cashier, an older woman who was curled into a ball in the corner.

"Hey, Ma'am, everything is okay." Moon Knight said gently, moving to press the silent alarm and carefully helping the woman to stand up. "Deadpool, tie that guy up until the police arrives."

"I hope you're into bondage, bad guy." Deadpool said, pulling some zip ties from one of his pockets, pushing the guy on his stomach with his hands behind his back and tied them up. "There you go. Get comfy before the cops get here."

Deadpool grabbed a nearby permanent marker and wrote 'I suck ;)' on that guy's forehead before he went out to Moon Knight, who was still comforting the woman.

"Did you take care of him?" He asked, turning to look at the guy, seeing the writing on his head.

Deadpool looked proud of himself, even with his mask on, his hands on his hips.

Moon Knight turned back to Deadpool, his white glowing eyes were hodded as if he was unimpressed or annoyed. "Are you kidding me?"

Deadpool giggled, clapping his hands "Yes. It suits him though. Now he's ready for prison."

Slowly, the police sirens could be heard in the distance.

"The police is coming, they will take care of everything else now." Moon Knight assured the woman, who thanked him in return.

"That's my partner, Moon Knight." Deadpool chimed in, earning a scowl from Moon Knight as he went to walk away.

"Come on! You act like a boomer! Where's your sense of humor?" Deadpool asked, walking beside Moon Knight again.

"You could have gotten someone killed!" Moon Knight growled.

"I'm a professional, you just have to trust in my abilities, glowey eye."

Moon Knight grumbled in response but he didn't push Deadpool away. Deadpool walked contendly next to Moon Knight, he wanted to break the silence but choose not to and kept walking in silence.

"Hey Moon Knight?" Deadpool began speaking softly, not wanting to annoy him.

"Yeah?" Moon Knight's voice was neutral.

"Can I get to know your name? I mean it's only fair since I told you mine."

Moon Knight thought for a second, debating whether he should or not.

"Marc. My name's Marc." He said softly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Marc." Deadpool nodded.

"You too, Wade."

Deadpool gasped, a bit surprised that Marc had remembered his name. "You remembered! You didn't forget!"

"Easy, don't piss your rainbow panties, Wade." Marc mused.

"So what's your story? How did you became a hero? Or let's say, anti-hero?" Wade asked, feeling more comfortable now.

"That's a long story..." Marc trailed off.

"Oh I understand. Wanna hear mine?" Deadpool asked.

"Sure." Marc agreed, he gestured towards a nearby bench and sat down. Deadpool took a seat next to him.

"So," Deadpool began "I was a normal dude, had a wife...but I was diagnosed with cancer."

Marc listened intently.

"And one day, a doctor reached out to me, he said he could cure my cancer." Wade paused. "I accepted, and he started."

"No complications?" Marc asked through the silence.

"This son of a bitch was torturing me every wake moment, he injected something. That shit caused my skin to get damaged,"

Marc kept silent.

"My cells mutated and they started regenerating, keeping my cancer at bay. One day, I broke out, slaughtered my way to the doctor and got my revenge."

"I'm sorry, Wade." Marc said softly.

"I got used to it. Now I'm looking like a cheap Freddy Krueger."

"You got burned?" Marc asked.

"It was the liquid he pumped into me. Wanna see my face? But don't faint."

Marc scoffed but nodded.

Wade reached for his neck, pulling the bits of the material out and removed his mask, showing his severe skin irritation.

"That's me." He smiled.

"It's not that bad, Wade."

"Aw, really? That makes me happy." Wade's smile widened. "Wanna tell your story?"

Marc hesistatet for a moment before answering. "Well I have DID."

Wade nodded undestandingly "How many?"

"One I know about yet." Marc decided to remove the Moon Knight hood and mask to reveal his face.

Wade's eyes widened "Oh hi there, handsome." he grinned "By the way, what's your other identity called?"

"Steven. Steven Grant, but he's sleeping right now."

"One question, how did your DID lead to get you this cool suit?"

"It's complicated..." Marc sighed.

"I'm a very good listener." Wade smiled warmly, crossing one leg over the other and put both hands under his chin.

Marc took a deep breath. "I had a brother once, we were in a cave while it was raining, the water was rising, I tried to save him but..." Marc paused. "My brother died. My mother gave me the fault for everything, blamed me. And she hit me, she abused me..." Marc's voice lowered.

"Is that where you developed the condition?"

"Yeah," Marc nodded "It just happened, I created Steven to cope with the abuse."

"Shit, I'm so sorry man. Your dad?"

"My dad tried everything to make me happy, but even he couldn't achieve it..."

"What happened after that?" Wade asked in a soft tone.

"As soon as I was old enough I went to the military for a couple of years, then left, became mercenary."

Wade sniffled.

Marc continued. "My old boss assigned me to a group to invade a dig site in Cairo for some quick money. But he and the squad betrayed me, they killed everyone and wanted to kill me."

"Oh shit."

Marc nodded "Yeah. I crawled towards an old tomb or grave of the god Khonshu. I was ready to just end myself, but I heard Khonshu's voice, offering a deal."

"So that's how you got the suit?"

"Yeah." Marc looked away for a second before he heard a wet sniffling. He turned back to Wade, who was blinking.

"Don't mind me." He smiled, turning to look away and rub his eyes.

"You crying?"

"My eyes are sweating." Wade defended before he scooted closer to Marc.

"Uh, Wade?"

"It's okay Marc. Come here." Wade leaned in and hugged Marc.

"Wade, you don't have to-"

"It's okay, let it out, big guy." Wade himself wasn't sure if he was talking to Marc or himself.

"Calm down, Wade." Marc patted his back and Wade pulled back.

"Sorry, I get carried away sometimes." Wade chuckled.

"It's okay."

"Is there a chance I get to meet Steven?" Wade asked sweetly, almost like a school girl.

"If you want, but he's asleep."

Wade and Marc decided to call it a night and left for their homes.

The next day, Marc and Wade met at a quiet spot, where Marc would introduce Steven to Wade. Wade was already there, in the distance he could see someone in a white suit and a mask similar to Moon Knight approach.

He called out and waved at Deadpool. "Wade?"

"Marc? Steven?" He called back.

"Hiya! Steven here!"

Wade noticed the British accent Steven had. "You're British? That's so cool!"

"Charming." Steven removed his suit.

"Oh shit, for a second there I thought you were naked underneath the suit."

"No, it summons around us." Steven stopped infront of Wade.

Wade extended his hand "Oooh, around you? I bet it feels nice."

Steven furrowed. "Sorry, around our clothes." He shook Wade's hand.

"Thank god you didn't break my hand like Marc did." Wade chuckled.

"Nah, Marc's the tougher one, I'm the more sweeter one."

"I see. I already think you're the non violent one."

Steven shrugged and Wade leaned close to him.

"Wanna go do some justice? Kill some bad guys?"

"Khonshu hasn't told us there is anything."

"Oh Steven, we will find some." Wade nudged his shoulder.

Wade and Steven patrolled the streets, and a couple hours later, Steven heard Khonshu's voice. "Steven Grant, there are violent worms nearby, be careful."

"Alright. Wade, Khonshu told me there's some bad guys nearby."

"Finally some action!"

Steven and Wade were soon faced with a group of violent people, they encycled the two. "Look at those two dipshits."

"Who are you calling dipshits, you sacks of living shit?"

"Whoa, Deadpool." Steven said surprised.

"Don't worry sweet Steven."

Deadpool was the first to attack, punching at one of the attackers. Steven pulled his two batons out, throwing one at another guy's head and moved to punch the other.

At one point, Steven got jumped on by three attackers, one on each side, holding his arms in place as the third was ready to stab him. Steven had to surrender the body to Marc, who swiftly freed his arms, grabbed the knife and sliced them all in their thighs. Marc stood above one younger man, who was crawling backwards against a wall. Marc still had the knife in his hand, he was about to throw it away when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, he instantly turned, the hand holding the knife stabbing the person in the ribs before he saw who it was.

"Oops."

"You stabbed me!"

"You sneaked up on me, idiotpool!"

"But you know how to hit those sweet spots, Moon guy."

Marc scoffed, ripping the knife out of Deadpool before throwing it away.

Deadpool squatted down to the younger guy, grabbing his hair. "You like ambushing innocent people, huh?"

The guy winced. "I didn't want to hurt anyone!"

"Deadpool! Let him go!" Marc growled.

"Not until he swears to never do that shit again!" Deadpool argued.

Marc didn't wanted any of Deadpool's bullshit, he grabbed him by the throat and slammed him onto the wall.

"Oh Marc, your hands are so strong, I bet you're good with them." Deadpool winked.

Marc looked around, spotting a loose pipe and threw Deadpool down on it, the pipe had penetrated through his back but that didn't seem to impress him.

"Come on, man!"

Marc looked back at the young guy, "If I ever catch you hurting innocent people again..." he trailed off, leaving the threat in the air. The guy immediately got up and ran away.

"Aw, you let him go?"

"I'm not killing if it can be avoided, idiot."

"Me too! I was just scaring that guy!"

Marc just scoffed.

"Hey Marc."

"What?"

"How about you search yourself a girl and get laid! Maybe that helps with your grumpiness."

"Doesn't help, maybe you do it instead." Marc backfired.

"Hey can you please let Steven out, atleast he's nice."

Marc growled before he surrendered the body back to Steven, the Moon Knight suit switching to Mr. Knight.

"Oi, you're being quite mean here, Wade."

Deadpool beamed. "Steven! I'm so glad you're back!"

Deadpool lifted himself up from the pipe and picked the dropped baton from Steven up.

"Here, I wanted to give it to Marc before he fucking stabbed me." He tilted his head sweetly.

"Thanks, mate."

Deadpool looked around at the passed out attackers and the weapons laying around.

"Come on, Steven. Let's just leave."

Both of them walked away, leaving the scene behind.

"Since we're a team now, should we consider choosing a name for us?" Deadpool asked.

"A name? Because we're partners now?"

"Yes. Something like Poolknight! Or Poolmoon! Okay that sounds edgy as fuck."

"Mate, we don't need a name, just Moon Knight and Deadpool will do."

"But our own unique name would sound so cool! Besides, deep, very deep inside, you know you want it too, Steven."

"You're a pig, Wade."

"Did you just call me pig?! That was so cute Steven!"

Steven removed his mask and couldn't help but smile.

Deadpool moved to walk behind Steven, leaning his head beside his and softly grabbed Steven's chin.

"You have a babyface, Steven!" Deadpool looked straight ahead. "If someone hurts Steven then I will hunt them down."

"You don't have to do that, Wade." Steven chuckled.

Deadpool pulled away and continued walking beside Steven. After a while of walking, Deadpool had an idea.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Steven! I have it, I know how our name is going to be!"

"Yeah? What's it gonna be?" Steven asked, somewhat curious.

Deadpool stepped infront of Steven, gesturing with his hands as he said;

"Moonpool."

"Sorry wot?"

"Come on Steven, say it with me. Moonpool."

Meanwhile inside Steven's headspace, Marc chimed in

*Oh my god, he's so done.*

"Yeah he is."

Deadpool snapped his head at Steven. "Was that Marc? What did he say?"

Steven shrugged, "He said you're so messed up."

"Thanks, Marc you peanut."

"If you think Marc is mean then wait until you meet Khonshu."

"A god is worse than Marc? Oh shit, that's a clear no no."

"Trust me, Marc can be a sweetheart, but if you mess with him he's a nightmare." Steven chuckled.

"Yeah I felt that." Deadpool joked. Feeling bolt, Deadpool slung an arm around Steven. "No homo, Steven, but I love you."

"You're a cool dude, Wade." Steven laughed.

Deadpool leaned close to Steven's ear, "Hey Marc. Steven said I'm cool, do you think I'm cool?"

"I suggest you don't bother Marc. Because if he says he's gonna whoop your butt, then he will do it."

*Steven, tell idiotpool he's okay.*

"Wade, Marc says you're okay."

Deadpool beamed. "Every bad guy better watch out! We are Moonpool!"

"Whoa wait, we didn't agree-"

"You'll get used to it Steven. You will come to love it."

"But-" Steven wanted to argue, but Deadpool gently shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"Sshh, Moonpool!"

[evilbubu]

guys. think about this. moon boys, Layla, khonshu and Harrow in an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with Gordon Ramsey. are you following me???? Can you see the vision???

for example:

Gordon: your menu and this decor looks absolutely shit. when was the last time you updated it? 45 BC?

Khonshu, restaurant owner: I hate this white man!

Layla, waitress: The only reason I'm still here is because he hasn't fired me yet. I stole 12 plates. 6 forks and 8 cups, in front of him and he JUST KEEPS REPLACING THEM. HELP. ME.

Steven, cook: hey, nice to meet you!

Gordon: hello.

Marc and Jake walk in

Gordon: OH FUCK ME, THERE'S THREE OF YOU!

Gordon: who the fuck is this guy?

Layla: That's Harrow, we don't really like him, he stays in the freezer most of the time.

Gordon: what

Layla: don't worry about it :3

[therealraewest]

I've gotten to Moon Knight's stint in the West Coast Avengers and I was a bit worried it would take the same route as the 1985 Fist of Khonshu run where Steven and Jake weren't even mentioned but

Everyone getting zapped by a mind control beam and MK looking... Pretty unphased?

Definitely not in pain like everyone around him, until

Oh hey Steven

And then Steven gets zapped and Jake out here basically running up and yelling "boo" (I love Jake Lockley so much)

Even though Marc has been ignoring/suppressing them for years at this point, the MK system came out to help Marc make a good impression on his new potential teammates

Love to see the system working together again

[onbearfeet]

Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Fifteen

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fifteen: In a New Chapter

Summary: (Y/N), Marc, and Steven experience a new type of life.

Mouse Note: Thank you so much for reading Burden of Truth (Book 1)! I had so much fun sharing with everyone. Really, I loved writing this. I hope that more Moon Knight content comes out soon because I already miss these guys so much. But, for now, I must say goodbye. I have more content in other series coming, and I have other Father Figure stories, so, please, take a look if you liked this story! Until next time

            (Y/N) stepped out of the Great Pyramid. Their mind was their own. Their choices were their own. Their purpose was their own.

            The warmth of the rising sun greeted them as they stepped out, and (Y/N) took a deep breath. Fresh, free air greeted their lungs. For a moment, they just stood there, existing. That’s all they wanted to do, forever.

            “Hey. You alright, (Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) opened their eyes and looked at Layla. They grinned. “I’m great.”

            “You’re not an Avatar anymore, are you?” said Marc.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “No. Ma’at gave me a gift in thanks, and then she let me go.”

            “Nicer than Khonshu,” muttered Marc.

            Steven switched in. “What are you going to do now?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “You’re not going to just…wander off alone, are you?” asked Steven worriedly.

            “…I don’t know what else to do,” said (Y/N).

            Layla scoffed. “No way are we letting you go off alone. You’re what, seventeen? No.”

            “What else do I do?” asked (Y/N).

            “Come back to London with me! And Marc!” said Steven instantly.

            (Y/N) blinked, and their heart warmed. “What?”

            “Layla is…going to be off doing Layla things, but we’re…we’re going to try to figure things out, Marc and I, between us. So we’re going back to London, to my flat,” said Steven, smiling.

            “I—You want me to?” whispered (Y/N) as if the spell of being wanted, belonging, would break if they spoke too loudly, no matter how honest Steven’s words were.

            Layla rolled her eyes. (Y/N) was apparently oblivious to how much Steven and Marc had become attached to them. “Of course they do.”

            “Come home with us,” said Steven.

            “Really?” They knew it was the truth, but it felt too impossible to accept. (Y/N) felt tears collect in their eyes, and their heart swelled with so much warmth it felt like they would burst.

            “We’re not leaving you alone, kid,” said Marc, switching to front. He pulled (Y/N) in and hugged them.

            (Y/N) let out a happy sob and grinned. They hugged back.

l

A few months later…

            (Y/N)’s eyes opened as sunlight warmed their skin. Rolling over, they looked out the window at the bustle of London below. They smiled.

            “Heya, are you awake, (Y/N)?”

            (Y/N) sat up as Steven poked his head into the room. “I’m up.”

            “Oh, good, I’m making pancakes. Want some?” said Steven.

            (Y/N) smiled. “Sure.”

            Steven grinned and nodded, leaving the room.

            (Y/N) got out of bed and changed into their day clothes. Pulling on a t-shirt and jeans, they looked in the mirror. They didn’t need to be prepared for thievery or fighting. They could just…be.

            Walking out of their room, (Y/N) walked to the kitchen portion of the flat.

            “Hey, Guses,” said (Y/N), picking up fish food and sprinkling it into the tank where two fish swam together.

            “Oh, yeah, we forgot to feed him this morning,” said Steven. “Thanks!”

            “No, I told you too, and you forgot,” said Marc from the mirror.

            “He’s cooking, so it’s alright,” said (Y/N), taking a plate from Steven.

            “He should make an omelet. You don’t get enough protein with him,” said Marc.

            “I make sure they do!” defended Steven, but there was nothing adversarial.

            “Marc, I cook for myself,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to worry.”

            “But I do,” said Marc, switching in and pulling out eggs to start cooking.

            (Y/N) laughed and smiled.

            “What are you doing today?” asked Marc, glancing at (Y/N).

            They paused and considered. “I don’t know.” And that was the honest truth. They grinned. “I’m going to walk around and see what interests me.”

            Marc’s gaze softened, and he smiled. “Alright. Just be careful.” He scooped eggs onto their plate. “And don’t forget, you and I are training later.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), eating their pancakes and eggs. “I’ll be back at 4.”

            “Do you need pocket money?” said Steven from the reflection in the aquarium.

            (Y/N) shook their head. “I managed to save some money when I worked with Ma’at. I’m fine.”

            “Alright, but if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll tell us, right?” said Steven, fretting as usual.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I will. Thank you.” They stood, passed their plate to Marc, and picked up their messenger back—the first item they’d bought in London. It reminded them of what their parents brought with them. “Bye. I’ll see you later.”

            “Bye, kid,” said Marc, watching them go.

            The door slammed closed behind them, and Marc smiled.

            “We’re doing good, aren’t we?” said Steven, looking at Marc.

            “I hope so. They’re a good kid,” said Marc.

            “Yeah. I really like them. It’s kind of like…we’re a family, you know?” said Steven.

            “I know,” said Marc, his gaze softening. “I know.”

l

            (Y/N) hummed as they sat down at the café of a bookstore they’d happened upon. Opening their phone, they scrolled through the news. As usual, the first things that popped up were the latest moves of some of the newer superheroes on the scene, like the new, female Hulk or a girl fighting with crystal-like abilities in Jersey City.

            Leaving the news behind, (Y/N) clicked on their music and pressed play.

            “El Melouk” began to play through their earbuds, and they smiled, taking a sip of their coffee.

            “Look, look, look where we have been/and where we are now.”

            (Y/N) smiled.

            They had lost everything, but now, they were living. They had people they cared about. They had a home. (Y/N) even dared say they had a family.

            And (Y/N) had a chance to figure out who they were.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

@noodleryworld

[runa-falls]

can you do “did i say that out loud?” with marc

congrats on your milestone btw!!

summary: marc sees you all dressed up for once.

a/n: thanks for sending this in!

marc | jake | steven

---

marc huffs as he fixes his tie for the fifth time, glaring at himself in the mirror. khonshu and sekhmet have the two of you attending a gala because apparently, there's a rich asshole who needs to be taught a lesson.

he doesn't understand why the gods are insisting on the aristocratic party when they could just catch him at his mansion or in a nearby alley.

he steps back, scanning over his appearance. his suit fits awkwardly.

he doesn't own one himself, so he had to choose between steven's ill-fitting professor-esque set or jake's playboy black-on-black tux. they were both shoved to the back of the closet, for obvious reasons, and of course, marc didn't think to check for an outfit until the night of.

marc grumbles as he adjusts the tight crotch, cursing jake's haughty fashion choices. at least he was able to find a white undershirt so he doesn't look like a complete asshole at this thing. he needs to blend in, not make a scene by flashing his tightly covered bulge...

lifting his left wrist, he checks the time. 6:10. you should be here soon.

he looks back at the mirror, running his fingers through his hair to keep his curls nice and neat.

"relax, you look good."

jake.

his day of silence didn't last as long as he hoped.

"didn't ask." marc walks over to the entrance of the flat where his nice shoes sit. god, those are going to be a pain to fight in...

"c'mon markie, you've been getting ready for an hour and a half...that's longer than stevie during his self-care days!"

"hey! saturdays are important for keeping our curls healthy and reseting our skin's ph for the upcoming work week!"

"what i'm trying to say is that our brother is desperate to get all prettied up for his warrior girlfriend."

"she's not my girlfriend."

"oh right, i forgot, you 'hate' her." the sarcasm is so loud as jake's words bounce in his head. "you're acting like we're not sitting front row to your longing stares"

"whatever. i'm just trying to look rich and put together since i'm going to be in a crowd of billionaires." before jake could make another quip, there's a knock at the door.

marc finishes slipping on the shoes and opens the door.

his eyes nearly bug out of his head. there you stand in a floor length gown that perfectly hugs your body without being overly tight. he's never seen you like this, all dressed up, it's completely different from you're usual battle armor that makes you look fierce and cunning. you look softer...beautiful.

"marc?" you've been standing there for about a minute, waiting for him to invite you in for a drink before you leave, but he's just been standing there, staring at you like you're a hippo that has escaped the london zoo.

he looks handsome with hair pushed back and a hint of stubble on his face. the fitted tux accentuates his muscled figure, especially his biceps as he holds the door open for you.

"damn..."

you suppress a blush and just offer him an amused look.

"not so bad yourself, spector."

"shit, did i say that out loud?"

"didn't realize you had the hots for me like that...is that why you're always an asshole to me?"

he rolls his eyes playfully, "no. i'm just an asshole because you're an annoying brat."

he opens the door further and steps out of the way to let you into the flat, and somehow, you still brush against him as you enter.

"...an annoying brat that you like~" you whisper teasingly.

"shut up."

[pygmi-cygni]

Hello Pygmi! I wasn't sure if your requests were currently open, but nonetheless, I was wondering if you could possibly write a Moon Boys x fem reader, where the reader has both ADHD and BPD.

If you feel uncomfortable with any of this, then please feel free to ignore.

That aside, I hope you have an outstanding day.

Cheers! 💞

for sure my requests are open!! also I did a bunch of research on bpd and I really hope that it isn't inaccurate PLEASE tell me (respectfully) if it isn't!! obv every experience is different so I tried to make it as general as possible.

content: angst with a HAPPY ENDING GUYS we have happy endings here ok? mentions of mental illness, hurt/comfort, fluff, insecurity, healthy relationship dynamics ftw, afab reader and very sweet cuddles

(I made it sad I'm sorry, oops but it is fluffy, dw)

It was one of those days. A little drizzly out, cold fog still curling around your ankles. It made the boys' hair curl wonderfully, little dewy drops of condensation sparkling on their waves. Although it did feel like a wet dog when Steven smashed his face in your neck for a hug.

"Steven, honey, you're soaked," you shrieked, flinching from the wet sensation. He laughed, shaking out his hair.

"Sorry, but the bus got stopped up so I thought I'd walk," he said sheepishly, hanging his sopping coat over the radiator. You wrinkled your nose at the water pooling on the floor.

These were your favorite days; nothing to do, nowhere to go, just a nice rainy day with a cozy flat. There was leftover soup in the fridge - Marc had taken to meal planning so you didn't stress about making dinner. You'd gotten all the laundry done during a hyperactive period where you speed-cleaned the whole apartment (you'd set a record, a little less than two hours!). You were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sit on the couch and watch television.

Steven, now changed into warm, dry clothes, poured himself a cup of tea.

"Hey, love, Jake wants to go grab somethin' for his car, but we'll be back soon, yeah? Just a few brake pads or whatever," he explained, catching your tense expression. You thumbed the ring on your finger.

"Can you text?" you offered. He nodded around a mouthful of Earl Grey.

"Sure, love, we'll be back in a bit." He pressed a warm kiss to your cheek and ducked out the door, Jake's hat tucked under his arm.

You took a deep breath and counted to ten, reminding yourself of Steven's promise. It was really nice how the trio had stepped to with communication. You felt a little over-attached sometimes, but Steven put in a ton of effort to keep you in the loop.

Pulling a blanket from the dryer, you curled up on the sofa and drifted off to the sound of a movie.

You woke later to a still empty flat. Frowning, you turned off the television and sat up. The lights in the kitchen were still off, Jake's jacket and hat were still gone.

Why hadn't they come back yet? Surely it had been long enough.

You slipped on a pair of socks and padded through the flat, peeking in every room. You didn't want to call out in fear that the boys might have just gone to bed, but it appeared you were alone in the flat. Huh. Okay. Well.

A little agitated knot began to grow in your chest. Deep breaths. Small problem, this is a small problem. He's fine. Probably just a long line at the store.

Feeling a stronger rush of adrenaline, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a few ingredients. You'd bake something while you waited. It helped take your mind off his absence and also, you were hungry.

two cups of flour, half of sugar. a bit of salt. You hummed a song while you measured, laser focused on the mixing bowl.

one teaspoon of-oh. Steven said he'd text if something happened. Dropping the spoon, you rummaged around the couch cushions until you grabbed your phone.

No messages. You refreshed the app and got the same answer. Chewing your lip, you hovered over the bowl of half-mixed ingredients. should I reach out? don't wanna intrude, maybe they've got some Khonshu work.

Nevermind that. You should just finish the snack. Muffins were a good choice - you could eat them tomorrow for breakfast. There were bananas getting old on the counter, so in they went.

half of the batter with chocolate chips, half without. Jake always made sure to put a note on your recipe so you didn't forget. He liked the chocolate on the side.

The oven timer ticked down as you waited, licking the spatula clean. It was very late now.

it wouldn't hurt to reach out. You typed out something quick and finished the batter remnants.

hi love, hope you and the boys come home soon. x

You'd sent it to the group thread so that they'd all see it, no matter who was fronting.

The rain had started up again, but now the thrumming was irritating. Your agitation built, and you tugged at the hem of your shirt. laundry. do some laundry.

Yanking the hamper from the closet, you shoved all the darks into the small washer and slammed it closed. The heavy thud-thud-slosh-thud-thud echoed in the empty flat. The emptiness was tearing at your nerves.

You hadn't missed anything. No anniversaries, no dates, no meetings. All the errands were done. The big chores were done. Nothing big at work for Steven or you.

"Why isn't he home?" you huffed, pacing in front of the door. He said he'd be an hour. He promised-

it's okay. if he wanted to reach out, he would. they all would.

did he not wanna talk to you?

That idea send a cold sheen of sweat over your arms. Shuffling to the couch, you curled under the duvet and shivered. No, it wasn't that. Steven kissed you goodbye and promised. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and burrowed into the faint smell of Jake's cologne. Maybe he'd be here when you woke up.

Sleep did not want to come out, apparently. You tossed and turned for a while, ate a muffin, went back to the couch, ate another muffin.

It had been two hours before you heard Jake's muffled car door slam.

Your eyes were achy and tired, and a buzzing adrenaline headache had been thrumming at your ears.

Jake was halfway through the door when you yanked him inside.

"Hey, ba-"

"Why didn't you text?" You stared at him, eyes searching his surprised face. He blinked, slowly shutting the door and removing his hat. Grease was smeared on his forehead.

"I'm...sorry, baby, I got real busy," he said genuinely, pulling you in for a short kiss. You scowled and pulled back.

"But...but Steven said you'd text if something happened."

"Okay-"

"You didn't," you emphasized, flexing your hands anxiously. Jake paused, taking in your haggard expression. Realizing the issue, he set down the bag of supplies and gently tugged you forward.

"Hey," he whispered, rubbing his hands on your shoulders. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean to let time get away from me, and it did."

"But-"

"I'm sorry I scared you, but me and the two were perfectly safe the whole time. I'd never intentionally shut you out, okay?" Jake looked at you again, eyes wide and sweet. He rubbed your cheek, the soft leather of his gloves grounding you.

"I'll remember next time. Look, I'll put a note in my phone." Still wrapping you tight to his chest, Jake set a reminder, letting you watch him type it out. txt when leaving.

Your irritation quelled, leaving behind a small inkling of shame. You curled into his shirt, still damp from the rain. Jake shucked his jacked and pressed a kiss to your hair. Out of the boys, he was the best at handling little escalations. He held you for a bit, casually stroking your head with his warm hands.

"Did you make something?" He asked, catching a whiff of the banana bread. You nodded, gesturing to the kitchen. Tugging you softly behind him, Jake grabbed a muffin and took a massive bite.

"it'sh good," he mumbled around crumbs, wagging his dark eyebrows. You smiled tiredly, feeling better already. He bumped your shoulder and flopped on the couch. His socks didn't match, you noticed, curling up into his side.

The silence wasn't so bad now that you could hold him. Jake's heart beat steadily under your ear, warm and soothing. He continued rubbing your back comfortingly. The muffin was gone, but the two of you still sat in silence. Sleep tugged on your shirtsleeves, and you were tempted to just pass out on his chest.

Jake nudged your nose with his thumb, tilting your chin up.

"Hey, c'mere," he said gently, pulling you up to his face. You averted his gaze, feeling shy from your earlier outburst. Jake squeezed you a little tighter, poking your sides until you squirmed and bit back a grin.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes soft and warm. You met his gaze then, fighting through the awkardness. At his crooked smile, you melted, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

"It's okay," you said, half-smiling back. Once he saw you relax, Jake's face broke into a bigger, crookeder grin.

"Oh, you can do better than that."

Diving forward, he smothered your face in light, sweet kisses. You giggled, shoving his chest back onto the cushions. The adorable attack lasted a few minutes, until your cheeks were pink and you were laying on top of him. Still laughing breathlessly, you snuggled tighter, taking a deep breath of his detergent.

Your hands laced together and you kissed him again, slower. Jake hummed, soft lips sucking gently on your tongue. He tasted sweet and tart, like...

"Did you go to the farmer's market?" You said accusingly, eyes narrowing. "You taste like danishes."

His eyes widened, caught in the act. "No! I ate a muffin, is all," he covered, cheekily kissing you again. His diversion did not work against your detective skills.

"No, you taste like cherries-"

"Amor, would I lie to you?" He said in mock offense, hand braced to his chest. Snorting, you made a move for the bags in the kitchen.

"Yes. Yes, you would," you poked out your tongue, causing him to stick his out right back. Your hand just brushed the edge of a pastry bag, when-

Shrieking, Jake scooped you off your feet, twirling you back to the couch and attacking your ribs. His warm hands were ticklish against your soft sides, and you quaked with laughter.

Dissolving into giggles, you both fought over the last pastry, cut in the shape of a heart.

I HOPE I DIDN'T MAKE IT TOO SAD! also sorry for taking so long!!!!!!

tags: @krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m

xox comment to join!

[angel-of-the-moons]

Ill Met by Moonlight

Khonshu x Fem!Stripper Moon Knight!Reader

Summary: You are Khonshu's Moon Knight. Although your "normal" job isn't what many expect from a superhero...

Nor does your god realize just what his presence means to your peers.

TW/CW: Reader is a stripper, Exotic dancing, strippers, lap dances etc. All the NSFW stuff that comes with that job, don't ask Khonshu where he gets the money because I don't know. Predator featured, but don't worry he dies :D

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This came to mind because I've been constantly thinking about the little AU that @drinkingwithkhonshu and I came up with in my little "Moonlight" post. I figured a nice way to wind down from the chaos of hurricane Helene, indulging my brainworm would be fun.

"And that concludes our little Moonlight's song and dance. Pretty as a painting, am I right, fellas?" The DJ said over the stereo system as you walked back behind the curtains.

Your set on stage concluded with a rather decent haul. Although you did have half a mind to kick one patron in the face when he threw literal nickels at you...

You sighed, pulling your mask down long enough to wipe the sweat off your face and adjust your hair beneath your hood.

Then, you reached down and adjusted the pasties covering your nipples--shaped like crescent moons--and re-examined yourself in the mirror.

Surely, not what many would expect the Avatar of an ancient god to wear in place of ceremonial armor, but.... Well. Sometimes video game logic worked in your favor.

Many of the cruel and evil men Khonshu dispatched you after often came to these clubs. You were an "amateur" dancer--meaning you would hop from club to club, working there long enough as a temporary hire to make pay but long enough to build a rapport with your targets before eliminating them for your god.

Your nose scrunched as you adjusted the ties to your g-string, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable in the scrap of clothing once again. You then slipped your fingers beneath the edges of your thigh-high platform shoes and let them loose with a soft snap! to your skin; the latex material hugging your thighs once more.

As you ensured your mask was securely in place, one of your fellow dancers, who went by the stage name "Khandi" (pronounced "Candy") walked up to you, her heels clicking on the glittery floor of he dressing room.

She wore a thin, sequined mini-dress that cut just beneath her bust line and was cut so short you could easily make out the panties she wore beneath.

"Hey, girl." She smiled at you.

You smiled back. You always treated the dancers with respect--male and female--because their line of work was dangerous as well as entertaining to many.

Which is another reason they were your preferred hunting grounds for you to dispense Khonshu's "justice".

"Khandi. What's up?" You asked curiously, leaning into the mirror to apply just a bit more silvery eyeshadow.

"Oh, y'know..." She snickered, leaning her hip against the dressing table, "Just that your usual guy is here. Again. And wants to see you. For another private dance."

Your hand stills and you look at her, "Again?"

Khandi grins and crosses her arms, "Mhmm. God, I wish he'd ask me to dance for him once in a while. Dude has it bad for you."

You rolled your eyes and laughed softly, "Mmm, if you say so."

"If she says so?" Another coworker, Mina grins, the shorter woman bouncing up to you.

"You're the only girl he ever asks a dance from. I swear, is he your boyfriend or something? Didn't picture you as the DILF-lovin' type..."

You sigh, trying not to laugh, "I--hah..."

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes again, "It's.... complicated? I'm not entirely sure how to categorize our.... situation."

You had some affection for him, sure, but--

Mina shoves your shoulder with a snort-laugh, "I knew it!"

Khandi grinned at you once again as you peeked out of the curtain to see a certain tall, bronzed, serious-faced man looking right at you, as if he knew you were going to look out at him.

He gives you a ghost of a smile, and nods his head ever so slightly, the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes creasing a bit more, the silver in his dark hair and beard almost shimmering beneath the pulsing lights.

He then turns and dips into the private room, waiting for you.

Khandi grins and nips her bottom lip, "Ugh, okay, I don't normally like the older guys who come in here because they're creepy--but god is he hot! He's really rocking the silver fox look."

You roll your eyes and look at her as Mina snorts again, "Well, he's not my type, but he is kinda nice! One of the customers got too grabby with me after I told him I didn't want to dance because i was on a break, and your mysterious stranger over there practically twisted his arm off and walked him out the door!"

You smile beneath your shroud, "Yeah... Sounds like him. He hates it when people take advantage of others. Has a bit of a moral code, that one..."

"Oh, so you do know him more than just the occasional lap dance!" Khandi grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

You shove her playfully and walk past her, "And it's none 'o your business, nosey!"

You could hear the gaggle of giggling fall quiet behind you as the next song pulsed through the air, the base vibrating the floor beneath your feet.

Your hand closed around the knob to the room, and you swiftly closed it. The lights were a very very low shade of purple-red, pulsing in slow waves along the LED strips that lined the couches along the walls.

And perched oh-so casually on one of those chairs, was not the same man who walked into the room a minute prior.

He was no longer the tanned handsome older man who walked in; though he wore the same crisp, white suit.

Khonshu nodded his head to the side, his large bony beak sweeping a bit as he spoke, "Your most recent performance was interesting. Though I have a suspicion that many of those men's wives will not like the glitter you threw over the crowd."

He patted one of his gloved hands to his thigh expectantly at you, and you silently obeyed the request, walking with a slight swagger to your hips before you straddled his lap; your hands coming to rest casually on his chest as you smiled.

"Well, I didn't just name it the Starlight Shower for shits and giggles, old man." You tilted your head, "And besides, if their wives find out they're getting lap dances in some dingy club instead of staying home and loyal that's on them. My work is done. They deserve whatever fate they made themselves."

Khonshu laughed, "Or the occasional embezzler using his partner's money to hire companionship for the evening."

His hands found their way to your hips as you settled yourself more firmly in his lap, the soft fabric of his suit pants wonderfully smooth beneath the cheeks of your ass.

His hands slid over your curves, almost possessively as his beak brushed the side of your face gently, "Speaking of which...."

"Already taken care of." You hummed, rubbing your cheek along the smooth bone of his skull; "I left the fool with his pants around his ankles and his laptop open in the hotel room."

Khonshu hummed his approval--the man he'd sent you after was a predator--for both women and underage girls. You'd been impersonating a child in an online chat room for weeks, using filters to appear much younger than your actual age, slowly manipulating him into agreeing to meet you in a hotel somewhere.

From there, you met him in the hotel, smugly noticing how disappointed he was that you weren't some young girl; his disappointment morphing quickly into rage as he realized you intended to trap him.

He had told you too much, sent too much--confessed too much. He needed to cover his tracks. That's how he thought his night would go...

With him dumping your body in a drainage ditch, hoping to read in the news about some poor "hooker" being murdered by a John.

He didn't expect for you to fight back--let alone summon your crescent darts and fling them into his chest, taking the last to plunge it into his heart.

You staged the crime scene; used a USB to get past his laptop's security, and opened every single incriminating file--and you felt like your soul needed a cleansing at those images afterwards--and left out of the back entrance, letting your darts dissolve into thin air to further stage the crime scene.

It would look as if he was meeting one of the young girls he was grooming--perhaps a parent, guardian or older sibling got there first.... Perhaps they killed him in a rage at how he was abusing their relative.

They wouldn't know it was you he was meeting. Not with how you paid off the security officer to conveniently stage the cameras to be "down", and the clerk at the front counter to forget you were there, and to "forget" to have you sign in....

It went off without a hitch. You uncovered an illegal human trafficking program, and saved many lives. Both women and girls.

A wonderful dispensation of justice, and Khonshu was proud of you for how wonderfully you orchestrated it all.

You leaned back as you feel his large hands smooth over your cheeks, tugging your hips closer to his, "A wonderful job, my little Moonlight. There is another man here I want you to go after. He is the leader of a gang of criminals and they are intending to bomb a business that will not pay them for "protection". He holds many innocents under his thumb."

"I'm guessing he's the douche who likes to play grab-ass with the other girls when they walk by? The guy with the tattoo on his fingers?" You sighed.

"Yes." Khonshu said simply, not surprised that you already sniffed him out.

"All right. I'll try to get him away from his friends and "take care" of him. It'll be a little bit difficult, though. His cronies like to hover."

"You will figure something out." Khonshu hummed, his thumbs plucking the straps to your g-string almost playfully.

When you went to try and stand up, his hands gripped your hips once again and pulled you down; his voice dropping to a low timbre that was on par with the base that thumped through the walls.

"Where are you going, pet? I believe I hired you for a private dance, did I not?"

Unlike your usual methods of operation, you stayed at your current club. You'd grown a little attached to the girls.

Often coming to their defense and fending off clients who got too handsy or rough with them.

Once, a man had grabbed the youngest dancer, Millie by the wrists and yanked her into his lap; grabbing her so tight her delicate wrists bruised.

Khonshu had stepped in first--scooping his arm around Millie's waist and whisking her out of the man's lap--before you grabbed him by his greasy shirt and shoved him towards the door.

"She said no, you fucking pig." You snarled from behind your mask.

"You bitches 're paid to be sluts." He slurred, sneering at you. "Th' fuck she turnin' me down for? I got money!"

"We aren't hookers, you piss stain." You replied, eyes narrowing dangerously as your fists tightened.

"Now leave. Touch any of these girls again, and I will gouge your eyes out with my heels myself. Go home with the friend attached to your wrist--it's obvious the two of you are well-acquainted with each other already. You won't get lucky with a woman around here, anyway."

"You fuckin' bitch!" He barked, face red with rage as he lunged at you.

Despite wearing your clunky, impossibly high platform heels, you were able to deftly drop to the ground, sweeping out your leg and tripping him, making him smash his face on the floor and breaking his nose in the process.

You stamped your foot on his chest as he rolled over to glare up at you, attempting to staunch the flow of blood form his nostrils.

"You should go back to school." You sneer as everyone in the room laughs. "Or maybe take a kick-boxing class. I'm a stripper and I just kicked your ass in heels."

You grabbed him by his disgusting shirt and shoved him towards the bouncer, "Get this piece of shit off my floor."

After that, Khonshu got an even bigger reputation with the dancers in the club. He would sit in a booth, watching from the shadows. All of your coworkers knew Khonshu did not mind if they sat near him--he was a safe space. He would help protect them when they were on break; he would even ensure they hydrated and fed themselves after an exhausting performance.

It had gotten to the point where your manager usually waived any purchases he made--not that he needed or wanted to drink, but he had to keep up appearances--and the dancers began to bring him things.

Takeout, bottles of water... things like that would often accumulate around him where he sat.

Half of your coworkers didn't even find him attractive, but they all agreed he was hot simply for the fact that he was willing to keep them all safe--both the guys and girls--when others would simply say they "had it coming" for being strippers.

Those that did find him attractive were shameless flirts. They knew he apparently only had "eyes" for you, but that didn't mean they didn't want him to know just how attractive his chivalry and good looks were.

Khandi was probably the most shameless, she would plainly lay across his lap and chat his ear off as Khonshu's eyes tracked your every move in the club. She knew what he was doing, but lavished being in the attention of such an attractive customer.

One night, Khonshu had inquired as to what a "DILF" even was, and why Khandi and a few others had apparently likened him to one. You couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell him. You never did, and it annoyed the fuck out of him.

With every little thing left to Khonshu, every whisper of his name on the lips of your coworkers, you noticed his powers gaining in strength.

It took you only a few days to connect the dots--the things they were leaving, the "hopes" your coworkers would utter that he would be there if you couldn't defend them from some jerk in the night, the attention they were giving him...

You had doubled over on the couch next to him, kicking your feet with tears in your eyes as you finally realized what that meant.

He had followers again. Even if they weren't in the practical or traditional sense--

Khonshu had essentially became the god of the strippers.

And the mere idea of the situation had you nearly crying and gasping for air as you laughed and laughed, and laughed...

Until Khonshu had pulled you across his lap and growled rather impatiently,

"Impudent little... I guess you need to be punished now, hm?"

Khandi certainly noticed how you didn't want to sit down for a little while after you came out of that room--and how smudged your meticulously applied mascara was...

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

I'm Tired

Franchise: Marvel (Moon Knight)

Pairing: Marc Spector & Steven Grant x male!reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, swearing, blood, angst, guns, severe injuries, angst, sad Marc, angry Marc, sad Steven, DID I MENTION ANGST

Summary: A mission in Guatemala goes perfectly. Well, not so perfectly.

A/N: get your translators out, it takes place in Guatemala and there's a lot of Spanish and I forgot to write down the English translations and I don't speak Spanish so I just used Google Translate (I'm sorry if I got anything wrong); also, reader used to be the avatar of Osiris but in the same way Mrc/Steve/Jake are the avatar of Khonshu, like he went on missions and had powers and stuff

The mission was a success.

Khonshu had you, Marc and Steven deal with a drug ring that had been terrorizing a small town in Guatemala. The ring was taken down, the threat was neutralized, and the town was safe once again. Everything went according to plan.

Until it didn’t.

You were already pretty busted up after your scrapes with the members of the cartel and you were wishing you still had Osiris’s protection. You were limping, favouring your left leg; your arm was definitely broken in at least three places; and there was blood everywhere. As you were walking to meet Marc and Steven outside, you heard shuffling behind you.

“Marc?” You murmured quietly, hoping it was one of your moon boys. “Steven?”

Instead, you were met with a member of the cartel that you hadn’t yet neutralized. Before you can react, the man draws his gun and shoots you twice in the gut. Without further ado, he runs off into hiding.

You’re too surprised to react any way other than shocked. Your hands fly up to cover your stomach as blood pours out between your fingers. You gasp for air and blood trickles from your lips. You stumble into the wall for support. Your senses stop working; you can’t hear anything other than your own ragged, uneven breathing. Your vision blurs, clears, then blurs again. You vaguely think you can hear your boys calling for you, but you can’t be sure.

You slide to the ground, still clutching your bleeding stomach. A figure kneels next you; judging by the cape you think you see, it’s Marc.

Your ears are ringing. If he’s talking to you, you can’t tell. His firm hands cup your cheeks, tilting your head to look at him. You blink your bleary eyes, begging silently for them to focus. Coughs suddenly wrack your body and you almost double over when more blood leaves your mouth. Marc’s talking is still muffled, but he picks you up with no argument from you.

Your good arm is pressed against his chest and your head falls onto his shoulder.

“…Breathing,” Marc says. It’s the end of a sentence and your hearing only returns to hear the last word. “Just keep breathing, baby.”

“M-Marc,” you say weakly.

“Hey, there you are,” Marc says through a nervous laugh. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Where…” You interrupt yourself with another cough. “Steven?”

“I’m gonna get you back to the car and then I’ll let Steven out, okay?”

You nod slowly, burying your face in his shoulder. “Hurts,” you whisper. Your forehead is pressed against the bandage fabric of his suit.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, I promise. We’re gonna get you help.”

“Layla?” You ask softly.

“I’ll call her, it’s alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?”

Though it feels like an eternity, you reach the car where Marc had hidden it before you went in to take out the drug ring. He manages to get you into the front passenger seat. Your head droops tiredly as Marc takes a step back. His suit dematerializes and a moment later, a worried British accent meets your ears.

“Y/N?” Steven asks, leaning into the car to look you over. “Oh my days, I didn’t want it to be as bad as it looked… we’ve gotta get you to hospital, love…”

Marc takes the body again, shuts the door, and jogs back to the driver’s side to get the car started. You can feel yourself slipping out of consciousness as the drive begins. The vibrations from the rough terrain mixed with the heat inside the vehicle threaten to lull you to sleep.

“I’m tired, babe,” you whisper.

“No, no, no, stay with me, stay with me,” Marc says. He reaches over to you and takes your hand in his, despite the coating of blood over your palm and fingers. “We’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, we’re getting help. You’re gonna be okay.”

The numbness you had originally felt begins to fade and you wince, screwing your eyes shut as pain begins to wash over you.

“M-Marc, it… it hurts…” The car bounces over a bump in the road and you gasp in pain, your head hitting the headrest, which definitely isn’t good for the already pounding ache that already resides there - you might have a concussion.

“Just hold on, baby, we’re almost there.”

You don’t entirely remember what else happens on the way to the closest hospital. It’s all a blur, even as Marc pretty much carries you into the emergency room, yelling in Spanish for anyone’s attention.

“Necesitamos un doctor!” He hollers. “Por favor, necesita ayuda, por favor!”

Somehow, you find yourself on a gurney. A drop of blood drips from the corner of your mouth when you start to cough again. Everyone around you is shouting in Spanish. You can’t entirely understand them; Marc only just started teaching you and Steven how to understand Spanish about a month ago. One nurse in particular has their hands putting pressure on your wounds to keep you from bleeding out more than you already have. You know Marc is with you because he’s still holding your hand, refusing to let go of you.

“No lo dejes morir, no puede morir, por favor,” Marc begs the doctors, keeping his firm grasp on your hand.“No puedo perderlo.”

“Vamos a hacer todo lo que podamos, señor,” one of the nurses says. “Puedes decirme tu nombre y el de él?”

“Soy…” Marc hesitates. “Soy Marc Spector. Se llama Y/N L/N.”

“Sr. Spector, voy a necesitar que mantenga la calma, por favor. Cuidaremos bien de él, pero necesitamos que lo sueltes por ahora, de acuerdo?”

“Marc,” you groan, your face scrunched in pain. “Don’t go, please, don’t go.”

“I have to, baby, I’m sorry. They’re going to take care of you, okay? I’ll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

Very reluctantly, Marc lets his hand drop from yours. He watches the nurses roll your gurney down the hallway until you turn a corner. That’s when he breaks.

He stumbles back into the wall, sliding to the floor and burying his head in his hands. Silent sobs begin to wrack his body, tears streaming down his face. His fingers rake through his hair and his eyes are already burning.

“I should’ve been there,” he murmurs half to himself and half to Steven’s reflection on the floor. “We should have been there.”

“Marc, we can’t blame ourselves for this,” Steven says gently. “All we can do is hope we got there in time for him to be okay. All we can do is wait.”

“Sr. Spector?”

Marc looks up to see one of the doctors that had rolled your gurney to surgery. He quickly composes himself, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands and pushing himself to his feet. “Sí? Puedo ayudarlo, doctor?”

“Puedo hacerle algunas preguntas sobre sus heridas? También tengo papeleo que necesito que llenes. Solo necesitamos toda la información que podamos recopilar para poder ayudar a su…?” He hesitates.

“Mi amigo,” Marc says, awkwardly and reluctantly, “pero es más o menos de la familia. Lo amo, sabes?”

“Eres familia, esencialmente?”

“Sí.”

“Nuestros cirujanos lo están cuidando mientras hablamos. Podemos sacar el papeleo del camino y podemos mantenerlo actualizado sobre su condición. Suena bien?”

Marc nods numbly. “Sí, gracias. Puedo encontrarte en la sala de espera? Solo necesito usar el baño muy rapido.”

“Seguro. Estaré esperando. Tómate todo el tiempo que necesites. Justo por este pasillo, la última puerta a la derecha.”

“Gracias.”

Marc treads down the hall and slips into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He braces his hands on either side of the sink and stares into the mirror. “Steven?” He says in a small voice. He watches his reflection change, showing Steven pacing nervously.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Steven murmurs. “You know you can’t let me out yet, though, right?”

“I know, I know,” Marc says. “I wish I could. I don’t know how to deal with this, I don’t know what to do with myself.” He cards his fingers through his hair. “Y/N’s hurt bad and I couldn’t stop it and I can’t fucking fix it either.”

“Marc,” Steven says in a surprisingly calm tone. Marc looks at him in the mirror. “We will deal with these emotions, I promise. But right now, I’m sorry, but you have to go out there with that doctor and get the paperwork sorted. I’m still gonna be here, obviously, but you’re the only one of us that speaks Spanish.”

“Fine, I know.” Marc turns on the tap. He washes the blood off his hands, then splashes some water on his face. “When we get home, Y/N isn’t going on missions for a long while, even after he’s fully healed.”

“It’s not his fault he got shot, Marc!”

“I know it isn’t but he got hurt while I had the body and I can’t let it happen again! I won’t lose him, I can’t lose him.”

“He was an avatar.”

“Yeah, was, Steven. Past tense. He can’t heal the way he used to anymore.”

Steven is silent for a moment. “Call Layla,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“She needs to know too, she cares about him. Call her.”

A shaky breath escapes Marc’s lips as he leans against the sink, pulling out his phone. He finds Layla’s number. His hand is trembling when he brings the phone to his ear. His other hand grips the sink almost hard enough to break it. His knuckles go white.

Layla answers after four rings.

“Marc? It’s like two in the morning. What’s going on?”

“It’s… it’s about Y/N,” Marc says slowly, trying to keep his breathing regulated. “He got hurt on a mission. Really, really badly hurt, and I couldn’t stop it, and-”

“Where are you?” She asks quickly. “I’m coming.”

“Hospital in Melchor de Mencos. Guatemala.”

“I’ll get the first plane out of Mexico City, I can be there in 7 hours. How is he?”

“They, they took him into surgery soon as we got here. I gotta go fill out paperwork ‘cause I’m the only one fluent in Spanish,” Marc explains.

“You can’t even let Steven out?”

“Not yet. Not until the paperwork’s done. You’re coming?”

“Of course, I’m coming. I’ll see you in seven or eight hours.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, see you then.”

Layla hangs up and Marc shoves his phone in his pocket again. He clenches and unclenches his fists over and over again, trying to keep his cool. His eyes feel like they’re on fire and he still can’t control how much he’s shaking. There’s a lump in his throat that won’t go away.

“All you can do now is sign the papers, Marc,” Steven says gently from the reflection. Marc looks up at him. Steven’s eyes are red and his face is shiny with fresh tears.

“Sign the papers,” Marc replies softly. He takes a deep breath, unlocks the bathroom door, and walks back down the hallway to the waiting room.

————————

Marc falls asleep in an uncomfortable chair after all the paperwork. He’s gently shaken awake and he opens his eyes to see Layla.

“You made it,” he murmurs.

“You told them about me,” she replies, sitting beside him.

“Well, I didn’t know if they’d let you in otherwise. Better safe than sorry.”

“What exactly did you tell them?”

Marc sits up properly, rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness. “Told them you were family. Figured then they’ll let us see him sooner after he gets out.”

Layla hums in response. “How’d the mission go?”

“It was perfect until some fuck hurt Y/N,” Marc says bitterly. “If that guy was still there, I would’ve killed him.”

“Marc…”

“He hurt him and I couldn’t-”

“Hey, don’t do that to yourself,” Layla says, gently putting her hand on his arm. “Thinking like that isn’t gonna help anyone in this scenario; me or you two or Y/N. There’s nothing you could have done and it’s not your fault. As terrible as it is, shit happens. I’m here for all three of you. It’s going to be alright. Unfortunately, all we can do now is wait and see the results, you know?”

Marc sighs, carding his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. We just wait."

————————

Both of them end up falling asleep in the waiting room even though they’d told themselves that they’d stay awake.

A nurse wakes Marc and Marc wakes Layla.

“Is he okay?” Layla asks.

“He is asleep,” the nurse says through a thick accent. “Painkillers. He spoke English. Not many doctors knew what he was saying. He was asking for Marc, Steven and Layla.”

“That’s us,” Marc says. “Can we see him? Please?”

“He will not be conscious just yet, but yes.”

The nurse leads us down a few hallways to Y/N’s room. “If he wakes, do not overwhelm him. Be gentle,” he adds.

“Muchas gracias, señor,” Marc says, silently stepping into the room with Layla on his heels. Marc has to brace himself against the wall at the sight of you.

Your left leg is propped up and casted, another cast encasing your entire left arm. Your forehead is bandaged and the lights are mostly off in the room - a concussion, Marc assumes (and correctly so). You’re too bandaged up to need to bother with a hospital gown but, save for your propped up leg, your lower half is covered with a blanket.

“Shit,” Marc whispers, though he’s not entirely sure if it was him or Steven that said it. He’s pretty sure he’s got the body right now, even if part of him wishes he could hand it over to Steven. Not yet. He wasn’t going to hide from this, as much as it hurt to see.

He’s slow in his movements to sit in the chair to the right of you. Layla pulls up a chair next to him. His trembling hand reaches out to hold yours closest to him. He blinks back tears, gripping your hand unintentionally tight. His thumb brushes over your knuckles and he bows his head, covering his face with his free hand.

“My fault,” he murmurs almost inaudibly. Layla frowns a little.

“Marc-”

“It’s my fault,” Marc stresses.

Knowing there’s no use arguing with him, Layla gently squeezes his arm. “I’m gonna get some air for a minute.”

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ll be back, I promise. You want a coffee?”

“What, you mean the shitty vending machine coffee that all hospitals have?” Marc asks sarcastically. Layla nods. “Yeah, sure. I could use the caffeine. Maybe one for Steven too?”

Layla smiles gently. “I’ll be back soon.”

Minutes after Layla’s gone, Marc still hasn’t said a word and you’re still unconscious next to him. He knows the doctors say you’ll be alright, but he can’t help worrying anyway.

————————

You could hear the people in your room before you could see them.

First, it was doctors speaking Spanish. It all sounded like gibberish to you, despite Marc having taught you some Spanish a little while back. It was after they’d gotten you out of surgery, before the extra painkillers they’d pumped you with. You hadn’t had the energy to open your eyes to confront the doctors, so you’d passed out again.

Then, it was two voices - familiar voices. Voices so agonizingly familiar that you’d silently prayed to the gods that you could open your eyes to see if it was who you thought it was. Then, you passed out again.

The third time, you don’t hear much, just someone shifting beside you. Something - no, someone - is holding your right hand. It’s no doctor, you can’t feel the latex gloves they all wear. It’s calloused. It’s a hand you’ve held before.

It’s one of your boys.

You finally, finally, manage to open your eyes. You tilt your head to the right. Your gaze is blurry at first. You blink a few times before managing to get a clear picture of the man in the chair next to you. His head is bowed but he’s gripping your hand like you’re about to disappear.

“Fuck, Y/N, if you die, I’m gonna kill you,” a rough voice says. American. Marc. He sounds like he’s been either crying or sleeping or both for quite a while.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up,” you mutter. Your throat is bone dry.

Marc’s head shoots up so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t break his neck. You shoot him a weak smile before you start coughing. He immediately lets go of your hand to reach for the pitcher of water on the table next to the hospital bed, filling one of the little plastic cups stacked next to it. He passes it to you. You manage to stop coughing long enough to down the little cup of water. It soothes your parched throat immediately.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you mumble. “Desert.” You clear your throat and thankfully you don’t start coughing again. “Hi,” you add awkwardly.

“Hey,” Marc says, though he can’t hide the way his voice cracks a little. His eyes are glistening. You frown worriedly.

“Marc, baby…” you whisper. You reach your hand up to wipe away a couple of stray tears from his face. “Don’t cry for me. I’m here. I’m here, my love.”

“I thought… we thought that we were gonna lose you.” His voice is thick with emotion and you wish you could wash away his pain right then and there.

“You won’t lose me. Not if I have any say in it. Come here.”

He wipes his face with his sleeve as he pushes himself to his feet. “What?”

You scowl teasingly up at him. “I wanna kiss you but I can’t exactly move, dumbass, you need to come to me.”

A smile tugs at Marc’s lips as he leans down to press his to yours. Your good hand reaches up to hold his cheek as you practically melt into the kiss. When Marc pulls away, you try to chase after his lips, but you push yourself up too far. You wince and lay back down, gasping in pain. Concern flashes over Marc’s face.

“Are you alright?” He asks quickly.

“Mhm,” you murmur through clenched teeth. “Just moved, moved a bit too much.”

“Should I get a doctor back in here?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths, trying to relax your tense body. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.” You pause for a moment. “Is… is Steven there?”

Marc’s body language changes, and you know you’re looking at Steven now.

“Oh my days, I was so worried,” he says. He leans forward and kisses your forehead, then your cheek. He almost pulls away completely, but you grab the collar of his shirt with your good hand and pull him down to kiss you on the lips. The kiss lasts a solid few seconds before you let him go. You smile a little as he sits back down.

“I’ll be okay,” you say quietly, holding your hand out. He slips his into your grasp, giving it a squeeze. “It’s like I told Marc, I’m not going anywhere if I can help it, Steven. You’re stuck with me.” You chuckle a little. “Sucks to suck.”

Steven rolls his eyes fondly. “I’d like to see you living and breathing on this earth for a little while longer, thank you very much.”

You smile gently. “I love you both.”

“We love you too, Y/N/N.”

“You’re awake!”

You turn your head towards the door and your grin widens when you see Layla holding a tray of three shitty vending machine coffees.

[A/N: no, she totally doesn’t almost drop them when she sees that you’re conscious, I dunno what you’re talking about…]

She puts the tray on a table and rushes to your side to hug you. She nearly pushes Steven out of the way just so she can get to you on your good side.

“Not too tight, the ribs, the shots,” you hiss out when you feel a stinging sensation from your torso. Layla apologizes immediately, loosening her grip but not quite pulling away just yet. Eventually she does, sitting down next to Steven. His demeanour changes, signalling the return of Marc. He looks over at her.

“Coffee?” He asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“Oh, shit, right.”

Layla retrieves the coffee tray and puts it on the table next to your bed. There are names scribbled on each one; Marc, Steven, Layla.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get you one,” she admits, “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

You shake your head. “S’okay. I probably shouldn’t have anything more than water right now. Plus it tastes like ass.”

“You’re not wrong,” Marc says, taking a swig of his coffee and nearly choking on it. “Fuck, that’s terrible.” He hesitates. He takes another sip. He straightens up as he puts his cup down. He reaches for Steven’s and takes a sip.

“Oh, bloody hell, that’s horrible.” He takes a second sip.

There’s a knock on the door and doctor begins to enter. Steve surrenders the body to Marc, in case of a need to speak Spanish.

“Buenos, días,” the nurse from earlier greets us. “Soy Dr. Juliàn Laguna. Soy el que supervisa el cuidado del Sr. L/N. Todos sois familia, sí?”

“Sí, es su hermano,” Marc lies, gesturing to Layla. “Estarà bien?”

“Sufrió muchas heridas. Su pierna está rota en un lugar mientras que su brazo está roto en tres. Dos costillas fracturadas. Conmoción cerebral de tercer grado. Tuvo suerte con la colocación de las heridas de bala. Bueno, tan afortunado como uno puede ser cuando te han disparado. Pudimos curarlo bien en la cirugía. Con el tiempo, sanará y estará bien.”

“What’s he saying?” You ask quietly.

“You broke your leg in one place and your arm in three. Two fractured ribs. They patched up the gunshot wounds well in surgery. With time you’ll heal and you’ll be alright,” Marc translates, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Muchas gracias, doctor, no sé- no sabemos qué haríamos sin él. Gracias.”

“Por supuesto. La muerte tendrá toda la lucha para sacarlo de esta tierra.” He clears his throat. “Les dejaré tener más tiempo para ustedes.”

“Gracias, doctor,” Marc says.

“So, I’ll be okay, right?” You asks quietly.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Marc says reassuringly. He takes your hand in his and presses his lips to your scratched and bruised knuckles. “We’re gonna take you home as soon as we can. As soon as the doc gives the go ahead, we’re hopping on a plane and we’re out of here.”

“Good,” you say immediately. “I think I’ll be taking a break from fighting for a little while. I’ll take the sidelines.”

Marc looks surprised. Sure, he told Steven and Layla that he wanted you to sit out once you fully healed, but he didn’t expect you to feel the same about it.

“Are you sure?” He asks gently.

You shoot him a tight smile. “More or less. I like being out there to watch your six, but this was too close of a near death experience for my liking,” you explain. “Plus, I’ll be able to take care of you when you get home. Both of you,” you add, shooting a glance and a smile at Layla. “Besides, since I’m not with Osiris anymore, I really need to take it easy.”

You squeeze Marc’s hand. “You won’t have to worry about me then either.”

“I’m always gonna worry about you,” he insists.

“You know what I mean, dumbass.” You pause for a moment. “So. When can we go home?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This has been sitting in my writing folder for a hot minute so I figured I'd finish it. Also I know virtually nothing about Guatemala including knowing nothing about Guatemalan healthcare but what little research I did had me decide to have Marc hide his relationship with Y/N for fear of homophobia but I wrote that bit a while back idk... Anyway, might make a fluffy little part two of Marc and Steven taking care of the reader while he heals 👀 lmk if you want it 👀 feed back is encouraged and appreciated! Have a lovely day!

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Neighbourly

First

Part 2

Prev

Summary: Whilst hiding from your ex in a new city you meet your rather strange neighbour. Now with a strange artifact bound to you, you must rely on his help as well as his flat mates?

Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, eventual Jake Lockely too

Tag list: @blackholegladiator

Translations: Tonto del culo - Dumbass

The angry red mark stared back at you. The stinging pain returning as your glassy eyes met Steven's again. Concern was etched across his face, an internal conflict passing in subtle pulls of his brow.

He looked strange, taller somehow and dressed in an odd white costume. Wrapping bands around a golden shape on his chest. Strangest of all was the cape and for a moment you wondered if he was a performer.

"Idiots." A booming voice sounded. You spun from Steven's grip to the source of the voice. Squatting in your living room was another horror. Giant frame hunkered to fit in the space and wrapped in flowing bandages. Worst was the meters long bird skull that spun to face you.

You screamed.

Steven's gloved hand clamped over your mouth, his other holding you behind your neck as he shushed you. You struggled in his grip, tears flowing freely as your wide eyes quickly moved from the thing in your living room to him.

"It's okay, your okay. Let's just calm down. Okay? Deep breathes." He spoke quietly though there was a tinge of panic in his voice. Only it wasn't his voice though. His accent was gone, replaced by that American twang you'd heard once before. You nodded gently, mirroring his breaths as his grip left your head.

"There you go..." He smiled before the frying pan you'd grabbed made contact with his temple. Steven caught himself on your counter as you darted towards the door. You stumbled, falling back as the bird skull stomped into your path. Scrambling back you scuttled into your living room.

"Y/n! Please, please just calm down a second!" Steven called as he approached again. Panic was still flooding your system and you hurled a book from your coffee table at him. He dodged, pinching his nose as the bird creature seemed to laugh at him.

"Steven could you..." He began. You watched with another book in your grip as he shook. Suddenly without anything concrete changing you were looking at Steven again. Your neighbours soft eyes, concern more exaggerated in his expression. Posture shifting inwards as his hands raised in surrender.

"Cheers mate. Hey Y/n!" He whispered softly, accent returned.

You froze as he moved, almost stumbling over your cat as she strode past. Your eyes darted to the monster still hunched in front of your door before snapping back to Steven approaching.

"Your alright yeah?" He almost cooed, his hands hovering in the space between you two. "Just a lot ain't it?"

You kept staring wide eyed between him and the giant bird skeleton. Some how believing if you just stayed quiet and still that they'd evaporate and you'd wake up. Both remained firm in your space as your cat let out a friendly meow. The skull head shifted and nodded down at the cat before she wandered back towards you.

"See? Ol' Khonshu ain't nothing to be afraid of. Come on let's sit a moment." Steven continued. He moved slowly into the space as your cat brushed against your legs.

"There isn't time for this worm!" Khonshu boomed causing you to flinch again.

"Oh piss off you!" Steven barked shooting him a scowl as he took a seat on your sofa. You lowered yourself slowly into the arm chair opposite. Eyes still glued to the floating head above Khonshu's shoulders. He grumbled but in a second the space he'd been in was empty.

It took a while for Steven to calm you down and when his suit dissolved away he set you off again. His eyes kept casting down to the glass table between you both. He'd scrunch or tut before his eyes found there way back to you.

"What are you looking at?" You asked.

"Hmm? Oh it's... oh this is going to sound quiet strange..." He fumbled.

"You did that before, at my work and again in your flat." You pressed.

"It's...well Marc's there." He said.

"Marc's in my coffee table?" You asked.

"Well yeah but hmm maybe Marc's better at explaining these things..." Steven mumbled before his back straightened.

"We share this body, we're the avatar of Khonshu." The second Steven, Marc said. He shifted his eyes a second, shoulders slouching again. "Bloody hell! Don't sugar coat it!" Steven cursed.

"Khonshu, the big dead bird?" You ask, mind feeling a little numb by this point.

"God I hope he heard that!" He laughed before Marc seemed to take his place again. "Yeah, look it's not safe to stay here. You've bound yourself so we're gonna have to move the timeline up a lot."

"Wait bound!?" You squeaked. The wound still itched on your palm and you stared down at the eye.

"I'm sorry Y/n but your involved now. That mark binds you to Wadjet, protector of Ra, if we don't get you to... What are you doing?" Marc paused his speech. You rose, walking past the sofa towards your bed.

"This is a horrible nightmare, I'm going to go wake up now." You mumbled more to yourself than either of them.

"Y/n wait! We don't have time for..." Marc's voice faded behind you and a strong grip took your arm. You spun tugging your arm but it remained in his bruising grip.

His face was sterner than before, bordering on a scowl as he tugged you along with him. You tried to protest but he seemed to be pointedly ignoring you now. So you opened your mouth to scream.

He surged against you, hand firm over your mouth and behind your head again. Though it was more painful than before and he had furious look to him now as he hovered an inch from your face. This wasn't Steven or Marc.

"Tonto del culo, they are trying to help you! So just shut up and move!" He snapped at you. He was American like Marc but it sounded different. You were about to dig your heels in when his head snapped to your window.

You heard it too, several cars pulling up outside. Your window was ajar and you could hear people getting out and moving towards the building. Something about that terrified you and you met this other Steven's eyes.

He understood you weren't going to scream now and let you go. Well his hand left your mouth. His other hand was still firm on the back of your neck and he used that to push you with him. You were directed towards your front door when you started to object.

"Wait my cat!" You whined but he was cursing and shoving you.

"They don't care about your stupid cat." He bit and you relented to his shove. At least he closed your door behind him though before he ushered you down the hall. He didn't turn back into Steven's flat though, instead pushing you aside a moment.

In front of one of the vacant flats he paused, flipping up the door mat and revealing a single key. He entered the flat, before turning back and grabbing you. He pulled you in when you heard the lift move, they were coming.

He locked the door before grumbling across the room. You took a second to look around the space. It was bare, no hint at a person lived here bar a bag he grabbed from the living room.

He turned a hard stare back across the room at you making you jump. You rushed over to him facing the door when you heard the loud ping of the lift in the hall. You spun back to him when you felt something land on your shoulders.

He'd placed a long coat over your shoulders and was now opening the window. You shoved your arms through as you suddenly remembered you were still only in your pjs.

"Bueno, paths clear." He said as he pulled his head back into the flat. He scowled at you again before he continued. "When we get outside, you are silent. You follow me and stay close." He commanded.

Behind you heard a smash, the door to Steven's coming off its hinges, and you jumped. The firm grip on the back of your neck returned and he was pushing you through the window. You didn't protest, taking his direction and climbing out and down the fire escape.

Once you'd passed low enough Jake followed out above you. Your slippers weren't exactly the kind of shoe you'd have chosen to climb down the ladder in. They were slipping against the metal and it made you cringe.

Another scowl was aimed down at you but there wasn't much you could do about that. You turned you attention to the ground coming closer bellow. Ignoring the way you could feel his glare burning holes in your head. You really missed Steven right now. Hell you'd take Marc.

You manged to reach the bottom, the other man sharing their body jumping down next to you. You paused there a moment waiting for his next move. This move was taking a flat cap out the bag and slipping it on over his curls. Then he took your hand in his.

You moved to pull from his touch but his grip was firm and his cold eyes made you still. You let him keep your hand, shuffling after his long strides around the building and trying to keep your breathing from rising.

The cars were in sight now. 3 big dark windowed vans. There was a man stood by the doors the to your building now too. He was trying very hard to look causal but his constant vigilance gave him away. You turned your eyes from him when he glanced to you but you could see him straightening up in your peripheral.

"Keep pace. The taxi on the corner is mine. Just a couple more feet." Scowling Steven whispered. You nodded but you heard the man shout across the street at you. He was jogging over when your companion broke from you. You staggered back on the pavement as his fist connected with the man's nose.

"TAXI NOW!" He yelled as the first gun shot rang out. You were barely moving when his body was against you, pulling you close. Shielding you as he returned fire and ran.

You stumbled with him, letting him shove you into the car when he got there. You ducked low in your seat as he rounded to the drivers side. Turning back to the building you watched armed men rush out.

You screamed when the automatic weapons turned on the car. Your companion now swearing vividly as he started the car.

"If you didn't mean so much to..." He grumbled before shoving the gun at you. You shrieked fumbling as he held it against your chest. "Point and shoot." He commanded as the window by you lowered.

"What!?" You shrieked. He let out a volley of curses as he sped off. One hand steering he grabbed your hands on the gun pulling you to point the gun out the window.

"Point." He said, spinning the wheel with his other. Ahead a van raced towards you but the taxi drifted from its path. Zipping down another street you were now pushed half out the window. His hand gripping you by the coat as you leaned out. Another van was closing in behind you, a man leaning out its window.

"And Shoot!" Your companion called and you fired. The kickback was worse than you'd anticipated in the seconds you had. Still you held firm, both hands gripping the gun to you as you recovered.

There was a bullet hole in the van behind you now. On the front wind shield, drivers side. You heard a cheer from your right as the van swerved and crashed against some parked cars. Scowling Steven pulled you back firmly into your seat but he was grinning wildly now.

He gripped your shoulder, jostling you before he took the gun from your white knuckled grip. He put it in his lap before leaning across you and tugging the belt down past your hyperventilating face.

"Seat belts."

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

just a thought: medical reader ends up pregnant but she doesn't dare to tell the boys

love your writings, keep up the good work 😘

You're so sweet, blowing kisses back at you!!😘

Am I allowed to do it with a moon knight god twist? :)

Your choice

Steven Grant & Marc Spector x med student!Fem!reader

I have no clue if that's how the moon knight gods work or if Taweret even has such abilities ._.

Warnings/Triggers: Mature themes, pregnancy themes, interactions with Khonshu and Taweret. Open ended.

You were able to sweet talk Steven and Marc into letting you buy some 'girls stuff' at the store. One of those things was a pregnancy test. And since you're smart enough not to do it at their place, you ended up doing the test inside a public toilet. Your period was almost two weeks too late, and this lead you to buy the test. Of course you had to wait for the result, so you texted Steven you were coming a bit later because you had to go to another store. Thankfully you didn't had to wait long for the result. You glanced down, hoping it wasn't positive since you weren't even ready to have kids.

Positive

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you bit your bottom lip hard enough to almost make it bleed. You began sweating from the realization. Leaving the restroom stall, you washed your hands and splashed some cold water on your face to calm down before leaving.

As you arrived back home, your hands were shaking a bit and you tried to ignore it. Steven was sitting on the couch, eating something and watching tv.

"I'm back!" you announced, holding up the bag with your things, trying to sound casual despite the news you had earlier.

Steven looked up, giving a tired smile. "Hey. Did you manage to get everything?"

"Yes." you smiled, trying your best to not act suspicious. "I'll go get something to eat if you don't mind." you didn't wait for his answer, you went to the kitchen, feeling a hunger for almost everything strike up in your stomach.

Meanwhile Steven let Marc front because he went to sleep. Marc joined you in the kitchen, wanting a cold drink. He walked past you, not noticing what you put on your plate before opening the fridge. As he opened the fridge he saw a good portion missing from the food, especially the fruit and sweet stuff they got a few days ago.

Puzzled, he turned to you. "Uh, honey?"

"Yes?"

"Did you-" As he walked over to you, he saw the plate you had filled with all the stuff that has been missing. "Oh damn. Jeez girl, you pregnant or why the raid on the fridge?" he joked.

Your eyes widened for a second. "No. It's my period." you lied.

"Oh." Marc simply answered. "Well uh, enjoy your... weird period fetishes." he snatched a fruit from your plate and made his way out.

That night, you spent the rest of your day in your room with the food, searching online for tips. You were internally praying the test was a false positive but on the other hand, your period being due for almost two weeks now had you in doubt.

For the next few days, you acted like you were on period, you didn't wanted to tell them. You didn't even know how they would react. One day after spending the day in your room, looking around online like some crazy maniac again, you remembered the god Marc and Steven had on their side. Maybe he can offer you some help? Heading out of your room, you saw Steven sitting at the desk in his study corner, reading something.

You walked over to him. "Steven? Can I ask you something?"

He looked up. "Of course, love." Steven smiled warmly at you, giving you his full attention.

"Is it possible to talk to your god? The old bird?"

"You mean Khonshu? Why do you want to talk to him?"

You bit your lip, glancing around nervously. "I uhh, need some advice from him."

Steven leaned back in the chair. "Advice? From a god like Khonshu?"

"Mhm." you nodded eagerly.

Steven let out a laugh. "Did you do something?"

You fiddled with your fingers. "No. I-I need to hear what other gods have to say for... for medicine."

Steven looked so lost. "From those ancient gods?"

"Yeah... they had different methods for healing and such. I need them... to study, you know?"

Steven let out a heavy sigh, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I ask him, go into the kitchen and wait for him."

You thanked him and walked into the kitchen, closing the door behind you. It wasn't long before the room was covered in some black fog and finally Khonshu came into view.

"Hey there, captive little bug." Khonshu said in an amused tone, definitely not caring that you were kidnapped by his avatar.

"Hey Khonshu. Can I ask you something about uh- girly stuff?" you asked a bit shyly.

Khonshu sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. "Ask, bug."

"Can you use your magic to make me un-pregnant?"

Khonshu tilted his head slightly. "Oh. You're awaiting a small bug, yes?"

"Yes. Please tell me, I'm not ready for kids and I don't know what to do!" You replied with distress.

"We have a goddess. Her name is Taweret, goddess of women and children. She has such powers. But in order to meet her, you have to let me use my powers on you and you have to sleep after I did it."

"Thank god! Khonshu I owe you one."

Khonshu chuckled. "You're welcome, little bug." he said in a friendly tone, before he started using his magic on you in order to meet Taweret in your sleep. As soon as he was done, he just disappeared as fast as he came, not even bothering to say goodbye to you.

You left the kitchen, seeing Steven standing up from the desk and stretching his back. "How did it went? Did he annoy you?"

"No. He was pretty chill with me."

"Do you mind telling what you wanted from him?"

"I asked if he could..." you paused to think, coming up with making your period stop. "Make my period go away. Turns out he can't and it's just nature."

"Well, he's right though." Steven said, putting a book away.

"Anyway, I'm going to sleep. Good night Steven and good night Marc." you smiled, waving at him.

"Good night love. We love you."

Back in your room, you immediately got into bed falling asleep a few minutes after.

Suddenly you woke up, standing in the middle of a beautiful garden, birds chirping and the flow of water could be heard. Slowly, you made your way through the garden, flowers were blossoming all over the place, it looked very holy and so beautiful. As you ventured further, you soon came across a tall figure with their back turned to you. The figure must have sensed your coming and turned.

It looked like an Egyptian... Hippo?

"Are you Taweret? Goddess of women and children?" you asked carefully.

Taweret smiled, sweetly making her way towards you and extended her hand. "Hello fellow traveler. Did you look out for me?"

You shook her hand, nodding. "Yes. Khonshu brought me here. He said you could help me with... something..."

Taweret's tongue poked out to wet her lips. "Ah, Khonshu, the grumpy one who's acting like he's in bad mood every time?" she laughed.

You smiled, immediately liking her already. "Yes, that Khonshu."

Taweret smiled back, her ears flopping around as she did. "So, what is the 'something' that bothers you?" she asked politely, interlinking her fingers infront of her.

You took a breath. "I think I'm pregnant... my period is due for two weeks now and I made a test, the result was positive.."

"Oh. I understand. Do you want to carry a child?" she asked, her voice was filled with understanding and a bit of concern.

"I am not ready for a child yet... I'm even attending medical school... I haven't even thought about having a family yet..." You said, looking down.

"I see... you're still young and having a child needs some planning. I totally understand if you aren't ready. I had many woman come to me, you're not the only one."

"Can you do something?" You asked, your voice was trembling slightly.

Taweret nodded. "Yes I can."

"But what would happen to the child? Is it like... abortion?"

The Hippo shook her head. "No. Abortion kills the unborn. What I do however, will take the unborn out of you, and gift it to another mother who wishes to have a child." she explained.

"And what happens with the looks of the baby? Who will it look like?" you asked.

"Don't worry, the child will take on the looks of the last male a mother has slept with after it has been gifted to her."

"What will happen to me after you completed your 'gifting'?"

Taweret put her hands together. "In your case, you say your period is due, so when you wake up from your sleep, your period will start."

"I understand." you nodded, Taweret took a step closer to you.

"But after you agreed, there will be no turning back and you have to get pregnant again naturally."

Taweret took a breath and moved her hand close to your stomach, holding it there to look back at you.

"Do you wish for your child to be gifted to a mother who wants a child or do you wish to keep it?" Taweret asked, giving you time to answer.

"The choice is yours."

-