#Khonshu is messing with them

[ghostly-wisteria-tea]

One of the possible reasons to why I made MCU Khonshu's personality more dominant enough to "assimilate" and slowly influence 616 Khonshu's personality is that MCU Khonshu is an officially banished Deity from the Overvoid. As in, he can't enter the Overvoid and is stuck on Earth.

Now hear me out, this may sound like a bad thing, but this end up resulting in another thing for MCU Khonshu. Resilience, Adaptability and I have this headcannon that MCU Khonshu sort of, "evolved" himself to survive outside the Overvoid.

He has no followers (his Avatar don't count), no kingdom, no traditional worshipers, no active cult, or a temple, practically everything 616 Khonshu still have.

Technically speaking, MCU Khonshu is a homeless hermit, forever wandering the Earth but never able to reach home. What even is "home" to him anymore when he has been kicked out of them, both his mortal home in Egypt (the temples), and his immortal home (The Ennead/The Overvoid).

But he still survived, even on the smallest scraps, no matter how poisonous it is. Sure he may have gone a bit crazy from it, (understatement since he is basically a very unhinged batman). But he still manages to maintain his self-determination. In other words, his Form. Surviving out of sheer force of will, and even if he does need his Avatar, he can still act and think independently enough if he needs to.

616 Khonshu though, still have a following, an active cult, priest. A stereotypical god in the "glory days". I wouldn't exactly call it as a proper cult, in previous issues there used to be 3 high priest, which was probably written out. The god still have a traditional cult in other issues that still worship him. So theoretically, it should make him stronger. But another thing I noticed is now "formless" and abstract he have to be, and how spread out he have become to maintain that following.

He was put away yet still able to act like he never was away at all, as in, he can still communicate outside. In a way, existing in 2 places at once. But this results on him literally spreading out like slime.

MCU Khonshu in the other hand, was imprisoned and was never able to communicate outside of his ushabti prison. Once he is in, he is stuck. Ammit was never able to communicate outside of her prison, she never picked nor called Arthur Harrow. Arthur just decided in his own free will to make a cult for Ammit even when the man never even talked to the Goddess in the first place. Probably made stuff up just to charm people to join the cult.

So 616 Khonshu is more Space than Form, while MCU Khonshu is more Form than Space.

Both of which are a choice to survive.

By being more Space, 616 Khonshu can exist in different places at once, like being able to still communicate and affect Earth even when he is imprisoned in another planet. Like he was still able to talk to Marc in prison, in the MCU universe, that can never happen.

But for MCU Khonshu, he was banished so he had to force himself to maintain his form and whatever is left of his old self. Practically evolving to be sort-of independent from both the other gods, the Overvoid and the mortal followers. Becoming a hermit, an eternal wanderer without a home to return to.

Maybe I'm rambling again but try to compare Ice and Vapor.

Both are water, just different states of it. Ice is water when solid, when vapor is water but completely evaporated.

Ice have a more direct and physical effect, since it is concentrated and solid enough that it can be physically touched and wielded. You can stab someone with an icicle, using it like a knife. Then drop it and move on because there are better alternatives. Though you could say that it also made MCU Khonshu cold and hard, but if he wasn't he would melt and evaporate to nothing.

Vapor though is more, abstract in a way since you can't see it, but it is so spread out and thin that you can barely notice it. Until someone pointed it out or you have to really, really pay attention to the signs to things you can't see.

Harmless at face value, until you remember that it can still have an effect if it is in very, very large quantities, because you are breathing it in. It enters you and then becomes a part of you. Or you become part of it.

So what I'm saying, is that MCU Khonshu made himself more to Ice, so he can maintain some physical form and self-determination, at the expense of his following/cult.

While 616 Khonshu, made himself to Vapor to maintain the spread of his following/cult, at the cost of his physical form and self-determination.

So this is where MCU Khonshu resilient come to play. It is the result of MCU Khonshu trying to survive without his fellow gods, his worshipers while not being crushed by the elements of the changing world. This made him "hard as ice". But he made his own character by himself, without depending on anyone. He can survive without any attachments and not conform to the demands of both the immortal and mortal world.

Compared to 616 Khonshu, if you take away the cult, the followers. 616 Khonshu will eventually fade like air since he pretty much made himself dependent on all of them.

So when both characters go face to face, it is character to character alone. None of the cult, the mortal followers, nor the earthly attachments. Just them at their rawest form.

BUT 616 Khonshu doesn't have a solid Form in the first place, not as solid as MCU Khonshu. Like how a Termite Queen is vulnerable if alone since she depends on her soldiers for security.

So when it does come when for some weird shenanigans, 616 Khonshu tries to "assimilate" his counterpart to eliminate the competition and change MCU Khonshu to conform. Only to end up with a stubborn cockroach who refuses to die, and found himself adjusting to match MCU Khonshu's personality, not the other way around.

Vapor starts to finally have a Form. It's a very slow process but Vapor can turn to Liquid, then to as solid Form.

So very, very slowly. 616 Khonshu's own personality starts to conform and be more like MCU Khonshu.

[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.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

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.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

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...

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

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.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

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?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

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."

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Steven and period sex?

As you wish, dear anony! <3

Moody

Steven Grant x fem!reader

Warnings/Triggers: Period sex, p in v, mentions of blood, strong language, menstruation themes, comfort, fluff, wholesome, mood changes, mentions of Marc and Jake, reader being grumpy sometimes.

Roughly one week ago you had the urge to eat everything with atleast some chocolate in your path and realized your period had to come in the next few days. A silent warning for Jake, Steven and Marc that your grumpy week will start soon.

Yesterday, your period came as you predicted. You were running low on tampons and pads, and the boys were at home the whole day and you didn't wanted to annoy them to get some for you since Steven had strict rules when you're on your period.

- No going outside alone especially at the beginning.

- No showering or bathing with hot water.

- No caffeine because it won't mix good in your body while on period.

- Always have your heating pad with you.

- Ask them(!!) when you need something, no matter what.

- Try to get as much sleep as possible.

You despised the list but at the same time you were unbeliveably thankful for Steven.

What's worse? Jake and Marc are mentally glued to the rules as much as Steven is. Once you even threw the list into the trash and told Steven it was Khonshu who got rid of it. But it only earned some grumpy yapping from the god himself.

Of course they didn't believe you. Jake even went as far as to wrap a copy of the list up in foil and hung it onto the wall in your room.

Whenever you were grumpy or pissy, Jake found it funny, Marc did too a bit, but he knew his boundaries and only tease you when you were clingy. Steven was the one who would always make half of his mind pay attention to you non-stop. You couldn't tell what he seemed to have studied more, Ancient Egypt or your menstruation cycle.

Now you're sitting against the headboard of your bed, heating pad on your belly and some tea on the nightstand Steven made you before they left for a mission. Since they're on a mission today and you were in need of more stuff, you texted Steven to get them afterwards.

Steven?

Yes love? Need something?

Yes; Pads, tampons, chocolate since there's nothing left, something salty, some juice and pain killers. Thanks!

Of course love, I'll make it quick! Love you!

You usually hated yourself for asking them to get something for you, you didn't wanted to get pampered by them.

While you were waiting for Steven to return, you got up and headed for the kitchen to look for something good looking. At this point, it didn't matter what, you were in need of something snacky looking.

Opening the fridge, you immediately spotted a Strawberry milkshake but it had M.S slapped onto it. You let out a soft annoyed growl, looking around the fridge again until your eyes landed on a chocolate pudding, this one had 'JAKE' written on it.

"Fuck it." you cursed under your breath, swiftly taking the strawberry milkshake from Marc and the pudding from Jake. You'll promise to buy them the things back, and you knew even Jake and Marc wouldn't dare mess with you when you're on your period because you could become unpredictable. Back in your room, you smiled to yourself, sitting back on your bed and opening the pudding.

Steven came back awhile later, carrying the things you requested in a bag. "Love, I'm back!" he announced before entering your room, earning a surprised look from you as he saw you slurping on Marc's milkshake with the empty pudding which he remembered was Jake's on the nightstand. You just gave him an innocent smile and Steven looked a bit lost.

"Wow."

"Hi."

"I got the things you wanted."

"You're such a sweetheart Steven."

Steven nodded at the stuff you had snatched, "Got snacky?"

"Yeah, tell Marc and Jake I'll buy them new ones. And thank them with the best regards from me because it helped me out."

You could already imagine how Jake would tell Steven the exact price of his pudding.

"Uh-uh, all right, sure." Steven replied, walking over to you to hand you the bag. "Is this what you wanted?"

You took the bag and looked inside. "Yep. You are a life saver."

"Charming." Steven smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Aside from the cramps I get here and there I'm feeling okay." You got up, grabbing the neccesities for your period and went to the toilet while Steven took care of your requested snacks.

After you were done in the toilet you felt headache starting to plague you.

"Steven?"

"Love?" He was in the kitchen.

"You got those pain killers?" You asked, stepping inside.

"Got headache?"

"Yup."

"Alright, but only one."

"Steven!" you pouted, wanting nothing more than getting rid of the headache.

"Fine, take the whole thing." He threw the pain killers into your direction and you catched it.

"You're lucky I can catch, otherwise you'd have to hand them over to me."

"You're cute."

"Cute? My insides look like someone's shooting a horror movie."

"Don't worry, you'll get better soon." Steven only smiled.

You forced a mock smile, making Steven chuckle before you went to get a glass of water, one pain killer and chunked it down.

Taking a deep breath, you finished the glass, put it down and turned around to face Steven who was reading something, feeling a wave of regret coming at you for being grumpy.

"Steven."

He looked up.

You hugged yourself, making your way to him

"Stevy, I'm sorry for acting like an asshole." You said softly, hugging him from the side.

"It's alright, love."

"No." You insisted, resting your head on his shoulder. "One moment I'm like an ungrateful little shit and a second later I'm acting all sugarcoated like some puppy."

"It doesn't bother me at all."

"You're lying. Don't lie."

"I'm serious."

"No, admit it, Steven."

"Y'know what? You're cute."

"Shut up." You chuckled, hugging him tighter.

"Did you even sleep while I was away?"

"I couldn't." You mumbled into his shoulder. "Can you come with me? I need a comfort pillow."

Steven beamed "Of course!"

He got up and you two returned to your room, Steven got into bed behind you, pulling you against him to spoon you, resting his warm hand on your belly in hopes of making your cramps better.

"I can't sleep. But it's nice anyways."

Steven nuzzled your neck, buried his face into it and inhaled contendly.

Both of you just laid there, enjoying the moment. Your hormones were going absolutely nuts, and you felt yourself getting a bit horny too.

A small moan came out of you, one you thought you could hold back.

"You alright?" Steven asked softly.

"I-, yes. Yes I am." You lied, already feeling ashamed enough.

"Didn't sound like that. Need somethin'?"

"I'm good."

"You know the rules, darling. Anything you need, tell us. Anything."

"My hormones..."

Usually whenever you got horny while on period, you simply ignored them and they would go away on their own, but now it was difficult.

"You mean those sexy time hormones?"

"The what?" You laughed a bit.

"Want me to get into details?"

"God no, please don't."

Steven propped himself on his elbow, looking down at you. "I read about that, love. And I want to help you feel better."

You shook your head, "No, it's okay, I ignore them everytime."

Steven raised his eyebrow, "Sorry? You ignore them?"

"Yes. They go away." You shrugged.

"Darling..." Steven scolded gently, he didn't like how you were suppressing your feelings at all. "Might aswell add another rule to the list."

"Don't you dare."

"So you promise you tell us when you get a bit funky from now on?"

"I promise." You were crossing your fingers inside your head, you simply didn't want to make them pleasure you just because of your hormones.

"Good. And no need to be ashamed, it's your body after all." Steven smiled.

"But you know... blood?"

"We get blood on our hands most of the time, love." He laughed. "So, are we going to take care of your needs now?"

You hesistated for a second. "Alright."

Steven headed to the bathroom to get a towel while you laid down on your back and placed the towel underneath.

Steven moved onto the bed, laying on his side, moving his hand on your stomach. "Still in need?"

"Steven, now you've started it." You laughed.

"I see. Let me take care of you." He teased, moving to hover over you, leaning down to kiss your neck while his hand moved to slip under your panties.

You felt yourself becoming more needy as Steven started to grind himself against you.

"Getting a bit eager too?" You couldn't help but tease him.

"Can't help it, darling." Steven pulled back, kneeling down between your legs and pulling your panties down. The pad had only some blood stains and you were reliefed by it.

"Don't faint now, Mr. Knight." You chuckled.

"You better make sure to follow our rules from now on." He roasted back with a cheeky smile, his hand slipped down on himself to get his already hard dick out.

He positioned himself above you, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive entrance.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" He asked concerned.

"No." You smiled reassuringly.

Steven nodded before pushing his cock into you slowly, feeling the hotness surround him.

"Fuck you're burning hot in there." He gasped.

"Stevyyy..." You whimpered.

Steven started moving slowly, not minding the blood that's beginning to stain his cock.

"But it feels so good, love..." You could see Steven's eyes rolling back into his skull.

"F-fuck Steven, please keep going... faster." It simply felt too good and you felt yourself getting more horny.

Steven sped up, slamming into you hard and deep.

-

You felt your sudden orgasm approach really fast.

You gripped his wrist tightly, signaling your imminent orgasm. Steven's breath came out in gasps, and a moment later, you clamped down on him.

"God, it's so hot..." Steven moaned.

"Steven, please k-keep going, I-I'm-..."

At this point your body got turned upside down, just seconds after your first orgasm, a second orgasm ripped through you, coating Steven's cock even more as he was shooting his cum into you.

"Oh fuck..." You panted.

Steven pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

"Yeah you definitely needed that." He breathed.

"Phew... thanks for this, Steven."

"See? That's why we're here for you." He gently nudged your arm.

After some time calming down, you decided a shower was in order.

"Stevy? You don't mind if I take a shower, yes?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Absolutely, go ahead."

You got up, taking the towel with all the mixed juices with you and your panties and made your way into the bathroom.

"And no hot water, you hear me?!" Steven called out.

"Warm water!" You called back, turned on the water, adjusted the temparatur and stepped in.

-

Finished with your shower, you returned to Steven, who was still laying on your bed, waiting for you.

"How are your third degree burns, Stevo?"

He turned his head to look at you, patting the spot beside him. "I'll survive."

"And Marc and Jake? Are they complaining about being castrated?" You chuckled.

"Nope. But my, my, What a spirit you have once you let it out, love." He laughed.

"Can't complain." You grinned, slipping inside the bed next to Steven, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

"Now your cuddly side comes out, yeah?"

"Yes. That means you're not getting up until I say so unless you want me grumpy." You smiled, scooting upwards to tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

"You know I love being your comfort pillow." Steven ran his fingers through your still damp hair, making you melt into him.

You sighed contendly, "Steven?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I've told you this like every other time but thank you for bearing me during this."

"We love you, we could never not be with you."

"I don't deserve you guys. I mean, my body feels like it's tearing itself apart and all that..."

"Love, you mean everything to us. And just because you get your grumpy time every month doesn't mean we don't love you."

"Thank you. All of you." You kissed his cheek, feeling the tireness come over you before settling back down on Steven and let yourself fal asleep.

[templeofvengeance]

@spiderman2-99 (From here):

[1. I LOVE THIS 2. poor miggy deals with enough stress from a million and a half Peter Parkers I think Khonshu would do him in 3. the suit would be sick though]

[The idea spoke to me so here's some concept art--

I'd like to believe that if a million and a half Peter Parkers didn't break him, nothing could, but Khonshu does have a knack for finding messed up people and Making Them Worse]

[bitchyfoxymama]

Pegging The Moon Knight System - F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, pegging, sex,

this came from a convo me, @howaboutcastiel and @mccn-bcys had, i said pegging the moon boys and we threw around ideas. enjoy

Steven Grant 

“You want to do what love?” 

“I want to peg you” 

Loves it, like will ask you to do it when spicy time happens

Literally is a sobbing mess

So cock drunk he can't even form sentences 

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his orgasm

Mommy kink they all have it haha 

Marc Spector 

Is a no at first until you both sit down and talk about it and he sees you do it with steven first

Lets you try it for the first time and actually finds it enjoyable

Gripping the sheets moaning out loud 

“Fuck” he lets out the most delicious grunts and moans as you pick up speed

“You like when i fuck you dumb on my cock dont you baby?”

Loves when you domme him, enjoys just being able to let go and enjoy being taken care of. 

Is babygirl 

Jake Lockley 

Loves it the most out of the 3 of them. 

Enjoys when you are rough with him, loves the hair pulling 

However 

If you are slow and sensual with him? 

This man is gone 

Loves that when you are fucking him you slowly rub you hands against his cock. 

Whimpers, this man, the same man who is Khonshus fist of justice? WHIMPERS as you fuck him. 

Loves when yall do it infront of the mirror so he can show off for Steven and Marc

[moons-dunes]

Summon the Suit

For Kinktober- Prompt: Suit + Mask Kink

Kinktober Masterlist

18+ Only MDNI

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader

Summary: The sight of Steven in the Mr Knight suit awakens something in you. Steven finds out.

WC: ~2.7k

This work contains: slight mention of violence (nothing serious), reader is implied to be a mercenary, the boys are still working for Khonshu in this, inappropriate use of Steven’s batons, semi-clothed sex, sex against the wall, PiV, probably don’t do this in real life. Please let me know if I missed anything!

The last of Harrow’s disciples hit the ground, the attempt at avenging their deceased leader and goddess put to an end. For now.

You looked around at the unconscious men and women, satisfied to see them completely still save for the shallow rise and fall of their chests.

You wiped some blood from your cheek, the dark red smearing across the back of your hand from where the rings of your attacker split your skin.

Steven picked up his batons, letting them magically fade back into the suit.

The suit you hadn’t seen before.

Usually in these situations it was you and Marc working together to carry out Khonshu’s missions, much to the skeletal bird’s dismay.

This, however, had been a surprise attack.

A night out with Steven had turned into an ambush.

“You alright?” He asked as he ran over to you, gently placing his gloved hands on your shoulders. The mask covering his face disappeared, revealing his messy hair and sweaty forehead.

He was looking you over, eyes wide and frantic.

Thankfully neither of you had gotten hurt too badly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assured him, wiping your hand against your pants. “You?”

You knew they had Khonshu to protect them, but you still couldn’t help but worry for them. As much as you disliked the god, you were glad for the armour he provided them with.

“All good, yup,” Steven spoke softly, shrugging off his pristine white jacket. “Here, don’t want you to freeze before we get home.”

With all the adrenaline you hadn’t even realized you were cold until he draped the surprisingly thick fabric over your shoulders, warming your bare arms.

He wrapped his arm around you, hastily leading you in the direction of the flat. It wasn’t too far from where you two had gotten jumped.

“Not the best way to end date night,” Steven sighed as you two walked quickly, continuing to look behind the both of you to make sure you weren’t being followed.

“I’ve had worse,” you joked, making him smile a bit.

It didn’t take long to reach the building, and Steven quickly buzzed in.

It was nice to be back home, out of the biting chill of the night. And more importantly, away from anyone who wanted to hunt the two of you down.

Stepping into the lift, your eyes turned to the mirrors that decorated the walls.

Now that you two were safe, you took time to admire the sharp suit Steven was wearing.

The silky fabric almost seemed to glimmer in the fluorescent light of the lift, making each intricate detail pop.

You couldn’t help but to sneak a peek at how the tailored pants accentuated the curve of his ass, or how the vest hugged his waist.

Oh dear.

“You coming, love?” Steven asked with a gentle squeeze to your shoulders, and you realized the elevator doors had opened. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” you trailed off, forcing yourself back into reality. “Just tired.”

~~~~~~

It had been a week since you saw Steven’s suit, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You were having dreams about him in it; fantasizing about him fucking you with it on.

Khonshu was annoying, sure, but at least he had good taste in what he made his avatars wear.

The image of the bright white fabric, a beautiful contrast to Steven’s olive skin. How his dark curls got ever so slightly messed up from the fit of the mask.

He looked so sharp in it, and he seemed more confident when it was on. The way he skillfully flipped around was something you never thought you’d see from him, let alone how effortlessly he manoeuvred those batons of his.

And those damn tight pants. It was nearly impossible not to sneak a peek at his-

“Darling?” Steven’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“Huh?” You responded quickly, snapping your head to look up from your empty plate. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the… um… the… something. From work.”

‘Yup real smooth.’ You scolded yourself internally.

“Oh really?” He questioned, the corners of his mouth starting to form a subtle smile. “And what might that be?”

Oh god, he knew. He totally knew.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You felt your cheeks heating up.

“You weren’t very subtle the other night, love,” he confirmed that he knew, standing from his chair to come and stand behind you. “And you talk in your sleep.”

You swallowed hard.

“Steven, I-“ you tried to explain, but you really had no excuse. “I’m sorry?”

That definitely sounded more like a question than an actual apology.

His hands rubbed up and down your arms, and he leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, sending a shiver through you.

A gentle gust of air came from behind you, and Steven’s now gloved hands found yours.

“No need to be sorry, love,” he whispered in your ear, feeling the fabric of his mask rather than his lips against your skin.

You let out a quick shriek when the chair you were in was suddenly spun around, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

You were met with glowing white eyes staring into yours, a sight that had you clenching your thighs together.

You curiously lifted your hand and traced your fingers down the seam that ran down the middle of the mask, brushing across the raised crescent moon as well.

Steven brought a gloved hand to your face, resting it against your cheek and letting his thumb brush your bottom lip. The fabric of his glove slid across your skin, creating an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. You shifted in the chair a bit, feeling the unmistakable heat of your arousal growing.

“Come on, love,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you up, leading you to the sofa. “More comfortable here, yeah?”

He sat you down on the edge of the sofa, then knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Y-yeah…” you stammered a bit, unable to pull your gaze away from the glowing eyes that seemed to stare right through you.

He shucked his jacket off carelessly, revealing the dress shirt and vest underneath while you watched shamelessly.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?” He asked sweetly, his hands coming to rest on your knees.

“Yes! Yes, it’s good,” you stumbled over your words a bit, trying to get yourself together as much as you could. “Please, keep going.”

You heard him chuckle a bit, then his hands found the waistband of your leggings.

You lifted your hips so he could pull them down and off, tossing them to the side.

You were sure he saw the wet spot on your underwear when he pushed your knees apart, it must have been blatantly obvious.

He ran a single gloved finger over the thin fabric with a pleased hum, making your hips twitch as he barely brushed over your clit.

He flicked his arms and wrists outwards suddenly, making his batons appear. Your breathing picked up immediately, shaky and heavy.

“Make sure you tell me if it’s too much, alright my love?” Steven’s tone grew more serious, waiting patiently for you to answer.

“I will, promise,” you assured him, feeling a knot forming in your stomach from the anticipation.

He set one baton on the couch beside you, holding the other steady in his hand as he pressed the blunt end against your aching clit.

You gasped a bit at the feeling of the cold metal through your underwear, and at the much needed pressure against you. Your hips started grinding against the baton, letting the end of it rub against your clit over and over.

“Oh wow…” Steven muttered under his breath, watching your movements intently as he felt his cock starting to strain against his trousers.

The little excited breaths he was letting out were driving you insane, slightly muffled by the fabric over his face.

As much as you loved the mask, you found yourself wanting to see the look on Steven’s gorgeous face.

“Wanna see you, angel,” you somehow managed to say clearly, making him look up into your eyes again.

The mask disappeared, revealing his doe eyes and slightly parted lips. His hair was a bit messy again, a few stray curls falling over his face. The low yellow light of the lamp shone against his skin, creating a near golden glow.

You smiled down at him, taking in the view.

“My pretty boy,” you purred, making him blush a bit.

You bucked your hips against the baton a bit faster, feeling the wet spot on your underwear grow.

You caught sight of Steven’s free hand rubbing over the tent in his tight pants, slow but steady.

You froze your movements when you felt the rounded end of the baton push your underwear aside, teasing your wet entrance.

“Can I-“ Steven started.

“Yes,” you didn’t let him finish, bucking your hips up to coat the metal with your arousal.

You angled your hips into a better position for what he was about to do.

You tossed your head back and squeezed your eyes shut, going still as the baton stretched you out deliciously.

Steven didn’t push it in too far, careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, but it was enough to send a new wave of pleasure through you.

He stopped once the baton was about a quarter of the way in, holding it still so you could adjust to the new feeling.

The sensation was a bit odd, but not unpleasant.

It was oddly pleasurable.

Once your breathing evened out, Steven started to slowly pump the baton in and out of you.

You lifted your heavy head, looking down where the portion of it disappeared into you. You saw the glint of your juices in the light each time he pulled it back.

It didn’t take long for you to get used to the feeling, and despite the slow pace it made the knot in your stomach twist even tighter.

An idea passed through your slightly dazed head.

Your slightly shaky hand found the baton that had been discarded beside you on the couch, grasping it tightly.

Once you felt comfortable with the weight of it, and once you could steady your hand, you extended your arm to gently rest the baton against Steven’s cheek.

He gasped quietly as the cold metal touched his heated skin, the hand on his crotch losing rhythm for a second.

Right as you were about to run your idea past him, to ask him if it was even okay, he carefully took the tip between his lips. It was like he read your mind.

This man was going to be the death of you.

You let him control how far he wanted to take the baton into his mouth, holding it still for him so you didn’t accidentally hit his teeth.

He started bobbing his head in time with the thrusts of the baton in you, creating a symphony of the squelching of your drenched cunt and his sputtering moans.

His hand was moving quicker over his trousers, giving him the friction he so desperately needed just from watching you.

He angled the baton up a bit, pressing against the spot inside of you that made you let out a surprised but pleasure filled moan.

The sight of your dripping hole clenching around the baton had him more worked up then he could have imagined.

Your moans echoed through his head, going straight to his cock.

He needed you so bad.

He didn’t want to stop what you both were doing, but he was getting desperate.

He pulled his mouth from the baton in your hand with a slight pop, then carefully removed the other from your now thoroughly soaked entrance.

“Steven, what-“ you looked down at him with worry, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Shhh,” he shushed you gently, making the batons disappear. “Need you so bad, love. Can’t wait.”

He pulled your underwear down your legs, dropping the garment to the floor.

He rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms that were so often hidden by his big sweaters and jackets.

“Good lord, baby,” you breathed out quietly, completely immersed in the beautiful sight before you.

Steven looked you directly in the eyes as he took the fingertip of his left glove between his teeth, slowly pulling it off before repeating the action with the right glove.

He swiped two of his fingers along your slit, gathering your wetness before sticking out his tongue and making a show of licking them clean.

You swore you could have passed out right then and there.

He stood up from his spot on the floor, undoing his pants with his trembling hands. He let out a sigh of relief as his achingly hard cock was freed from the confines of the taut fabric, precum leaking from his purple-reddish tip.

You shimmied up the couch a bit, reclining against the back of the couch so Steven could lean over you.

You grabbed his tie, pulling him in for a messy and hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him as close as possible. You could vaguely taste yourself on his tongue, along with the faint taste of metal.

You yelped in surprise when he hoisted you up from the couch, his hands under your ass to hold you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, looping your hands behind his neck.

Steven walked you two like that until your still clothed back hit the wall, effectively pinning you between it and him.

You broke your lips away from his as he lowered you down onto his hard cock, pushing a small gasp from you.

He let out a heavy breath followed by a quiet moan, closing his eyes as he felt himself stretch you out. The warm wetness around his cock was invigorating.

You pressed your face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him and the now rather dishevelled suit.

Steven pressed you harder against the wall, giving him the leverage to put more power behind the thrust of his hips. You moaned into his shoulder as he started moving in you, your teeth grazing the fabric beneath your face.

You squeezed your legs tighter around him, holding on for dear life as he started hammering his hips up into yours. His lips found your neck, nipping and moaning against your sensitive skin as he pounded into you.

“Love I..” he choked on his words, murmuring in your ear. “I’m not gonna last very long. Feels so good.”

Your walls spasmed around him, making him let out a whine into your shoulder.

“Me either,” you managed to get out, pulling your head back to look him in the eyes.

He looked absolutely ruined; beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hair falling into his face. His eyes were dark and wide, absolutely full of lust and desire. You were sure you didn’t look much different.

You pressed your forehead against his, both of you shutting your eyes as your noses brushed together.

A couple more particularly hard thrusts had you tumbling over the edge, and Steven was falling with you.

You came over his cock as he shot his warm spend into you, making a mess of your thighs as his stuttering thrusts continued.

You both held each other tightly, riding out the high together. His lips found yours again, both of you gasping against each other.

Your mind was buzzing with pure euphoria; every nerve on fire. You didn’t even notice at first that you were back on the couch, still tangled together on top of Steven. He slowly pulled his softening cock from you, still holding you tight against his chest.

The two of you laid in content silence, soothed by the sound of each other’s heavy breathing.

You felt the mess you had made on the pants of his suit against your thigh, and you chuckled under your breath.

Khonshu wasn’t going to be happy about this one.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In the Eyes

summary: marc is dating the most competitive mario-kart player he’s ever met. and he loves them.

prompt: reader and marc are playing mario kart and getting very competitive (but still fun, no actual fighting). they both end up ordering pizza and snuggling up on the couch watching ancient aliens cause why not. idk

pairing: marc spector x gn!reader, implied reader x steven grant/jake lockley

contents: fluff, internal angst, cheating during mario-kart (a cardinal sin), food mention, cheesy love confessions

gif credit: @nowritingonthewall

word count: 2.5k

an: this is a little late but, happy year anniversary to moonknight! thank you to @juneknight for putting together this moonknight anniversary fic exchange. all the smooshes and all my love bb. and to my lovely friends in Marc’s girls i love uuuuu 🥰 (p.s. internal angst is a must with marc spector so sorry in advance)

moonknight masterlist | requests are open

Nights like tonight are the sort you look forward to all week. And they’ve started to become a staple in your relationship with Marc. It’s partially because you like to have specific things that you do with each of them— the other half is that Steven and Jake suck at MarioKart. Marc is the only one who’s any real competition and with your competitive nature, it’s a requirement for game nights such as these.

Marc shows up to your apartment on time, as always, and just the sight of you has all of the tension that habitually sits in his shoulders dissipating. You look mischievous, mouth turned up in a smirk that he can’t help but want to kiss. Although your eyes say it all– bright and sparkling– it's abundantly clear that you’re ecstatic about him being here. It's something he still adapting to but would it be so terrible for him to believe that you genuinely do enjoy his presence? Horrible no, but terrifying. Nevertheless, he’s trying and will continue to show up if only to see that twinkle in your eye, no matter how hard it is to believe that he is the reason.

His self-deprecating train of thought is interrupted when you reach for him, pulling him in for a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Marc melts against your mouth, a hand raising to cup your cheek. There’s nothing that clears his mind like the feel of your lips against his– he would happily give up oxygen to kiss you for the rest of his days. But eventually, you pull away, grinning at him.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, Spector?” You huff breathlessly into his mouth.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down on it teasingly before saying, “Ready to do the ass-kicking, actually.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Marc is all about routine, it's just who he is. It's the only thing he’s taken from his time serving that he is grateful for as it helps balance his mind– all of their minds. So when the two of you get the game loaded and make it to the characters screen he chooses Donkey Kong as he always does. Sometimes to mess with and throw him off a bit you’ll choose Donkey Kong. He has his list of backups– Link, Mario, and begrudgingly, Toad– but those never feel exactly right. Tonight you decide to give him a break, you’ll prove to him that you can beat him in his element or not.

The two of you are neck and neck on the last race, with Marc starting to lurch forward ahead of you. There’s a healthy distance between you, ample room for dramatic turns and frustrated bouncing without either of you accidentally elbowing the other. But, when he starts to leave you in the dust on the last lap around you know exactly how to distract him. Without taking your eyes off of the screen, you scoot an inch closer to him. He’s well aware of your movement, heightened observation comes with Khonshu but he makes nothing of it, focusing on making it to the finish line. The sly grin on your lips spreads and you shift even closer, this time your shoulder rubs against his. Marc stiffens, his grip on the controller fumbling a bit. It's the perfect opportunity for you to make your move, and you brush up against him again to ensure that he’ll glance over at you.

“What’re you doin’?” He asks suspiciously, and out of the corner of your eye, you see that for just a moment his eyes flicker over to you.

You grin, eyes firmly glued to the screen as you watch his character slow down. You pass him easily, your voice innocent as you say, “Nothing.”

When his eyes return to the screen they widen in disbelief as you cross the finish line a few seconds before him. “You cheated!” He accuses, looking over at you with narrowed eyes.

Your mouth drops open in feigned offense, “Did not!”

“Bullshit, baby, I know what you’re doing when you move closer to me.”

“You’re warm, I was cold.”

“Liar.”

“Alright, since you’re so sure, let’s go again. Best 2 out of 3. I’ll even sit on the ground this time, can’t cheat that way,” You insist, before shifting off the couch to sit crossed-legged between his knees.

As nonchalant as ever, Marc bends to wrap his arm around your waist and lifts you with no effort to place a pillow underneath your butt. The simple act of care contrasts with the competitive look on his face as he hands you your controller once more, “No funny business this time baby.”

He lets you get comfortable, waiting to strike. He’s trailing a few places behind you up until the last lap. You’re sure that you’ll win and halfway around the last pass you relax back against the couch. Unseen to you, Marc grins just before he starts to shift his knees back and forth.

“Hey now,” You quip, but you don’t look away from the screen or make any movement, assuming that he needs to readjust in his seat. But it continues and you glance up at him with a knowing look.

“Oh now, who’s cheating?” You ask, trying to lean away from his knees that he’s bumping into your shoulders.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over my impending victory,” He teases, nodding his head toward the screen.

When your eyes follow his over to the tv, you watch as he shoots you with a red shell before zooming away over the finish line. The shell disrupts you completely, and you’re passed by half of the computers. You end up in 7th place and huff in frustration, “Marc!

“Hmm?” He hums through a laugh, bending to press a kiss to your cheek.

You try your best to glare at him, but with his smile this wide and genuine, you can’t even hold the expression for more than a few seconds. “You only beat me because you cheated and I’m hungry.”

Marc frowns at you, setting his controller down on the coffee table before fishing his phone out of his pocket, “What? Why didn’t you say that before? What do you want— pizza?”

“Pizza’s good. I want—“

“I know, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What if I was gonna say something different?”

He looks up at you with an expression that says ‘really?’. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was upset, genuinely feeling impatient with you. But, in the time that you’ve gotten to know him— all three of them— it’s become much easier to read them. It’s always in the eyes. And when it all boils down, no matter what he’s feeling or saying, all you ever see in Marc’s eyes is understanding and adoration for you.

“Ok, fair, I wasn’t but if I wanted to?”

He shrugs, a knowing smile on his face, “Then I would know.”

Your cheeks warm and you rest your head on his knee, looking up at him with this soft look on your face that makes him feel melted. To know and be known. It’s all either of you have ever wanted.

Marc clears his throat to distract from the flush in his cheeks he knows is there, “While we wait…y’know, Steven told me about this show— we don’t have to watch it if it doesn’t sound interesting to you.”

“I’m listening.”

Marc goes into an entire spiel, using his hand as he and Steven always do, though Marc’s movements are sharper and smaller. You’ve known that Marc is nerdy by how easy he navigates technology, casually throwing out terms here and there that you never understand. But to see him like this, with bright eyes as he explains the contents of the show, it displays you that similarity between him and Steven that’s always buzzing beneath the surface.

“Are you talking about Ancient Aliens?”

He snaps, eyes going wide, “Yes! You know it?”

You resist the urge to cup his face and dust his cheeks with a flurry of kisses, a difficult feat when he’s looking so adorably excited, “Hell yeah I know it, I watch it with my dad sometimes. I didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”

“Who doesn’t wanna know about aliens? Atlantis?”

“You always poke fun at Steven for stuff like this,” You say matter of factly.

“That was before I gave it a chance.”

While you get the controllers put up and decide on an episode, Marc heads into your kitchen to get drinks, the tube of parmesan out of your fridge and the red pepper out your fridge knowing that these are all necessary for pizza night. When he returns, you’re curled into a blanket and he sets everything down on the coffee table before pressing in beside you, his arms caging you into his chest.

Both of you are distracted. Not by the usual attraction— that’s manageable. Snuggled together on the couch like this, you both feel it. There’s this pool of some overwhelmingly delightful feeling neither of you has felt before. You can identify it immediately as love. Pure and gooey, like the warm insides of a chocolate chip cookie. Marc on the other hand refuses to look it in the eye, pushing it deeper and deeper until it’s light and fuzzy, ignorable. The last thing he will do is love someone who won’t love him. It isn’t the same— this time he is simply unworthy, not easy prey to a wounded predator— but he’s been there and done that. That wound sits on his chest, refusing to heal no matter what he does.

You lean back, lifting your head out of the crook of his neck to look at him, “Marc?”

He paused the show and met your gaze before you finished saying his name, “Yeah, honey?”

The remote almost slips out of his hand at the look in your eyes. Could it be more? Marc’s only ever seen that look in the eyes of one other— luckily after everything he and Layla are on amicable terms. But could he really have something like that again? Is that twinkle in your eye what he craves so much that his bones ache?

Under his intense gaze your resolve flatters, your heart, feeling as if it will beat right out of your chest.

“I—,” You breath catches in your throat that’s suddenly gone dry. What if he doesn’t love you back? Losing him means losing Steven and Jake. It means losing the only love you’ve ever known. You swallow those words and opt for others, “Tonight has been one of my favorite nights yet. Thank you.”

He can hear it in your tone. He knows that isn’t what you were going to say and by the look in his eyes, you know that he knows. He stares at you for several moments longer, giving you a chance, hoping that you’ll take the plunge because he can’t. Not yet.

Eventually, the pizza arrives and that cuts some of the tension that’s in the room. Something is clearly off but neither of you can find the courage to say anything as you finish eating and the credits roll on the episode you’d put on.

You let him leave. You kiss him goodbye and watch as he crosses the hall to the stairwell, only closing the door once he’s down the first flight. You feel like an idiot— why couldn’t you have just said it? He was waiting, eyes practically pleading, and yet the words wouldn’t form.

It only takes two minutes for you to decide that this isn’t how the night should end. Fears be damned, he deserves to know— they all do eventually. So you grab your keys, knowing that if you’d left your door unlocked for even the short time it would take to get him back, Jake would scold you about it.

Despite the quickness of your decision to chase after him, Marc is well down the street once you make it out the front door of your complex.

“Marc, wait!”

He stops immediately, recognizing your voice even from so far away. His eyes scan the street when he turns around and as soon as they find you, he’s walking towards you, brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong? Did I forget something?” He pats his pockets, noting that his wallet and keys are there.

Maybe you’d decided to tell him what you were planning to say earlier and his heart begins to hammer again. His mind goes to the worst-case scenario, that maybe you weren’t going to confess deeper feelings for him. That you’re ready to be done with him, that he’s not worth it. That every disparaging thing his mother had ever said about him is true and you’ve just come to realize it.

“No, it’s just that I—“

“Yeah?” He prompts when you go quiet for a minute. His voice is fused with preemptive disappointment and he begins to prepare to leave the headspace, to retreat so far within that not even his alters can find him— Steven or Jake can deal with the aftermath of you. He’ll sulk and disappear like he had promised Steven a couple of years ago.

“I love you. I don’t know what I didn’t just say that before, I’d planned to but then you looked at me and it’s like I was scared all over again,” You whisper, eyes slipping down to look at the ground.

He tilts his head at you, his hand rising to cup your cheek. His voice is tender, and confused as he asks, “What do you have to be afraid of?”

“You know what,” You mumble, refusing to look up at him.

“That I wouldn’t want you? That I’d be stupid enough not to love you too?” He says the words as if they’re blasphemy like they’re the most ridiculous thing imaginable and you can’t help but look up at him.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

His other hand raises so he has both your cheeks in his hands, “Because it's complete bullshit, of course, I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, now come here,” He pulls you closer by his hand on your cheek, leaning in to press his mouth to yours. He kisses you fiercely, licking into your mouth with a fervor like never before. You match him, just as hungry and needy to show him how deeply you feel for him not just with words, but with actions.

He pulls away, breathless, “Steven’s saying we shouldn’t make out on the street.”

“Yeah, and what’s Jake saying?” You ask, though you can imagine his opinions on public indecency.

“You don’t wanna know.”

You giggle, before saying once more— firmly this time, unafraid to take the plunge because you know he’ll catch you, “I love you.”

“I love you,” He repeats, his mouth brushing yours as he says it.

You arch a brow at him, smiling against his lips. “Enough to settle who’s won and stay the night?”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” He murmurs cheekily through a grin, pulling you back towards your apartment.

It’s safe to say that you both got it.

moonknight taglist: @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @julydaydream, @welcometostayingawake, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @minigirl87, @campingwiththecharmings

[jake-g-lockley]

hi! i see that requests are open and i love your writing! could you do an imagine with all three moon boys based on the prompt “running into reader’s ex” thank you! <3

Vengeance (Moon Knight x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks for the ask, here’s the protective moon boys (I had to include the all powerful being too)

Warnings: Slight dark!moon knight, them being extra protective, swearing, mentions of bad mental health and unresolved trauma, Khonshu needs his own warning sometimes. 

Word count: 1.3k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You know, I really could have just driven us here.” Jake grumbled, one hand protectively clutching onto yours and his other arm slung around your shoulder.

You leaned into him as he guided you through the city’s bustling streets, your bag slung on his shoulder. You smiled at your fiance’s coddling, loving the attention that he brought with him whenever he fronted. 

The new bookstore that you wanted to visit was located in a cultural hub and you had a list of books that you wanted to splurge on. Steven was happy to join you on your spending spree, Jake was happy to carry all of your books and Marc was just happy that you were happy. The second you walked in, you sprinted away from Jake’s protective grasp towards the novel section, making him chuckle at your enthusiasm.

“Don’t go too far princesa, we’re gonna lose you to books, like we always lose Steven.” he joked, shaking his head at you.

“Jake, we are quite literally attached to the same body, what are you on about?” Steven grumbled. 

“I mean mentally, hermano.”

The second you were a bookshelf away from your boys, everything started going horribly. Your eyes landed on someone that made your hair stand on its end, goosebumps rose throughout your skin as you stood frozen, in shock. The person hadn’t seen you yet, instead talking to a customer. You back away slowly, turning the corner before you collide into a familiar chest.

“Aye, why you walkin’ backwards, sweetheart?” Marc questioned, the amusement in his tone fading instantly as he scanned your face. 

He instinctively put his arm around your shoulders and you buried your face into his chest, breathing in his calming scent. You started to count from one to ten, backwards and forwards again and again until your breathing calmed. Marc knew you were scared about something but he didn’t ask instantly, choosing to look at his surroundings to find anything that could have triggered you. You fisted his jacket and pulled him close when he shifted slightly.

“Not going anywhere, baby, we’re still here with you.” he soothed, rubbing your hair and kissing your forehead.

You were safe, you had Marc, Steven and Jake, you were fine. You focused on Marc’s voice, holding on to it like he was your rock as the memories started to flood to you. Marc began to rub a spot on your back that made you begin to tear up. 

“He couldn’t hurt you, not when your boys were around.” you thought to yourself. 

You were pulled out of your swirling memories by the call of your name.

That voice.

“Huh, I thought I saw you here.” said the smug voice.

Marc, Steven and Jake were absolutely confused. Marc looked between the man in front of him and you, trying to piece together what was happening.

“Hiding in the arms of another man like the whore you are.” 

You began to shake in Marc’s arms, fear creeping up your spine and dread flooding you. Marc was in shock. He couldn’t react to what this man had just called you, he just stood there, holding you tighter than ever. You wanted to tell them what was going on, or just pull Marc away from this mess, pretending that it never existed, but you couldn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?” Marc spat when he came to his senses.

A cruel laugh met your ears, your blood curdling at the sound, your heart racing as your brain began to shut down.

“I’m guessing the right slag didn’t tell you about me? I’m her ex.” 

Marc froze. Your ex wasn’t a topic they got to discuss. You had your own troubles, it gave you nightmares and horrible anxiety that plagued you worse than any disease ever. It haunted you but the boys hadn’t figured out how to bring the topic up, choosing to deal with the aftershocks of whatever you had gone through. They were happy with you, they didn’t exactly need a full rundown of your life to know that you were good for them. 

Marc was a little lost, trying to both focus on his own anger and pushing his alters to stay at bay. Khonshu had taken an interest in what was going on and had appeared behind the man that claimed to be your ex. No matter how much he despised the god he worked for, Marc felt relief rush over him, as if Khonshu had casted a safety blanket over them and flashed a reminder in Marc’s mind that he literally had the power of the gods. He swallowed his demons and took a deep breath. 

“I suggest you apologize to my fiance and I before I make your life a living hell, Mr… Vic.” he said, eyeing the man’s name tag.

“Hmph, what can you do? Like I care about her to apologize. She should be the one facing the music.” the man lunged forward and grabbed your arm.

Fear coursed through you like a wave as you felt yourself being pulled away from Marc but all you saw was a flash of white before you. You dropped to your knees as your eyes fell on graying bandages. You knew you were not staring at any one of the boys’ suits. Slowly you looked up and there stood your fiance’s body but he looked different, more dangerous than any of the three could be.

“What the fuck is that!” your ex screamed and looked around but no one came to his aid. 

Reassuring energy took over your fear and you now knew what was happening. Khonshu had taken over Marc’s body, his eyes shining bright and white like a full moon. Your ex was cowering now, his arms over his head as the possessed Marc stepped over your body, towards your ex. 

“Don’t hurt me, please.” he begged and part of you wanted to smile at the fear that was etched on his face.

“You’re going to pay for this.” boomed Khonshu’s voice and all you saw was another flash of white before your whole vision went blank.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up in your fiance’s bed, Steven’s worried and tired face forming in your vision. You tried to smile at Steven but it came out as a grimace as you tried to sit up, your head pounding.

“Shh, stay down, love.” Steven cooed, pushing you back down onto the pillows. 

“What happened?” you whispered.

“Well, our boss decided to show his full form, right in front of you and you passed out.” Steven said nervously, playing with the cuff of his sweater. 

“What happened to, you know…” you asked, fear edging you around you again. 

You were admittedly worried that the four of them had collectively done something irreversible and you stared at Steven with big scared eyes.

“Oh, let's just say that you’ll never have to deal with him again, my darling.” Steven said, his voice a tone lower. “And before you ask, no, he is not dead. Death would be mercy for him.”

Your mouth went dry but you didn’t question it. Instead your hands found the collar of Steven’s sweater and you pulled him down. His lips met yours gently and he pressed his forehead against yours reassuringly.

“I guess I owe the three of you an explanation.” you mumble.

“Only when you are ready, baby.” Marc’s voice slowed your heart and ebbed your anxiousness away. 

“We’ll always wait for you, amor.” Jake promised and with a soft kiss to your cheek he laid down and pulled you over him as you began your story, never feeling more safe in your entire life. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With the contact’s Marc had, wiping a person off the face of the Earth without killing them was probably the easiest thing in the world. All it took was a few calls, a little bit of money and Marc’s thoughts slowly started clearing. He didn’t care about the explanation you had for him, he knew your love was true and that fuelled him to do anything for you, no matter the consequence. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [6]

description: Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

word count: 14.5k

trigger warnings: gore/violence (as per) blood, nakedness? Fear of drowning. I have said this before, Dove has a dark past with themes that include abuse in a relationship (torment, manipulation, prostitution etc) drug use, please do not read this if this is not okay with you. Inspired by Last Night in Soho (dir. Edgar Wright) which is rated 18.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“So? What about the other gods?” Marc asked, witholding a heavy sigh as he looked over at Khonshu, Dove still nestled into his chest. The vibrations of his words rattled against her forehead, and she wished that for just a single second she could get a fucking break from the life she lived, from the virus that seemed to spread to every area of her life, from knowing the only denominator that linked every awful thing brought upon herself was her.

If it wasn’t her every waking moment spent pining after any scrap of kindness Marc could give her, then it was wishing Steven was here to talk to. He always knew how to make it better. How to cheer her up. He was a lot like Grace in that sense, that he knew exactly which part of her brain was troubling her and managed to weasel his way into the darkness, draw out the sickness and replace it with only good. And if it wasn’t wishing Layla would understand she was not a home-wrecking mistress, then it was her dreams being riddled by Grace, the one sore spot in her heart that seemed to never heal.

She was starting to forget what Grace looked like, she’d realised with a numbing pain. Started to forget where her freckles were, the way she smelled, the shades of honeycomb blonde in her soft locks. She was forgetting, an ailment no amount of healing armour could eradicate.

She’d rather be ripped to shreds all over again if she could see her in the flesh just one more time. Even as a ghost, even as a mirage, she’d take it all again.

“Are they just gonna stand by and allow someone to unleash Ammit?” Marc asked his keeper, his large hand still resting on her crown with a warm softness. She sniffed, pulling away from him with a troubled frown.

“To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath,” Khonshu explained, resting his goliath form in an oddly casual sprawl on an abandoned car.

“What’s the worst they could do?” Dove asked emptily, her tired eyes catching sight of the dead bodies for a split second before she quickly looked away, pretending her stomach didn’t lurch at the puddle of red sap that pooled beneath them.

“Anger them enough and they’ll imprison Seth and I in stone,” That had her head shooting up to the bird-like god, brain whirring at the golden ticket out of this whole mess.

“What?” She asked, stepping towards him, “You mean they can do that? They can relieve us of duty as your avatars?”

“See how you fair against Harrow without the protection of healing armour, little mutt,” Khonshu snapped, and the girl deflated on the spot. That was something she hadn’t thought of. Even if she were no longer Seth’s avatar, Harrow would still be planning on eradicating innocent lives. It was too late for taking back that duty now, she was in far too deep to bury her head in the sand now, no matter how much she’d wanted to.

How many moles had Grace had? Four, in a horizontal line from her ribs to her spine, or was it five? Fuck, what colour were her eyes? Blue, she knew, but what colour exactly, what shade, what hue?

“Alright, so what?” Marc bit back, throwing his hands up in defeat. He, too, had had the fleeting jump in his chest at the idea of being free from his servitude. “You got any good ideas?”

The god thought for a moment, his skeletal chest taking a deep, weighted breath behind its linen robes. A sigh of dismay.

“I have a bad one,” He said, and with a small movement he disappeared into the cool breeze passing over the two of them, as if he were nothing more than a pile of ash, or a thought thrown to the ether.

The two of them spared a glance at one another, Dove’s demeanour still shaken when Marc surveyed her with a soft, cocoa gaze. The wind picked up around them before either of them could speak, Dove’s hair whipping around her sticky face, catching on her cheekbones, the need to peel and scratch and gnaw at her skin overwhelming her with the texture, anything to get the damned blood off.

“What is he doing?” She asked, her hand subconsciously reaching out for Marc’s when the world around her began to darken. But not just for herself, she realised, but because the sun was disappearing.

No, that couldn’t be right. Throwing a squinted, pained look at the clear blue sky, the smell of the metallic tang on her skin slapping her in the face. Her eyes locked on the white orb in the sky that was indeed being devoured by a slightly smaller black circle moving in front of it, the moon. Khonshu was creating a solar eclipse. Switching the light out on an entire section of the world, drawing far too much attention to himself than would be allowed by the gods.

“Sending the gods a signal they can’t ignore,” His deep voice echoed around the clearing, the wind carrying the sound to their sensitive ears.

She felt Marc take her hand as darkness swept over them, unnaturally fast for any solar eclipse, tugging her back towards the town where cries of startled citizens were beginning to meet her ears.

“Come on,” He murmured, his warmth grounding her astonished mind, her eyes quickly adjusting to the shadow that swallowed the sands.

“I don’t know whether to applaud him for the guts or curse him for putting you in danger,” She mumbled, not missing the way their hands seemed to gum together from the equal amount of ichor on them. She didn’t miss the way Marc’s knuckles were blown open, the flesh around them sore and sliced from his fist fight with the mercenaries. She made a note to fix them later.

“That tends to be the way with Khonshu,” Marc replied sourly, the two of them taking a long set of old sandstone steps back down to the city.

She huffed, more agitated than he had ever seen her with a solid frown on her normally gentle forehead.

“Well maybe when all of this is over, we find a way to get rid of them both together?” She proposed, and he couldn’t help but lurch at the fact she saw a together for the two of them after all of this. Not together in love, he chided himself, but Layla had been the only other person to ever see him as worth sticking around for. It was nice to have Dove too.

Flashing her a barely there smile, he squoze her hand lightly. It fell the second he caught sight of the bird headed god and his jackal like companion waiting for them at the bottom of the steps as if they heard their devious little plan.

“That was abit over the top, don’t you think?” Marc sassed, keeping hold of Dove’s hand and steering her away from Seth’s looming gaze, even if to hold off his intruding presence for a second longer than necessary.

“Hurry, they’re gathering their avatars now,” Khonshu demanded, the two of the goliath gods trailing behind their own minions.

“Aren’t they scattered all over the world?” Marc asked, and Dove was glad he was here with her at least, she was sure by the way her stomach was twisting so painfully she would have retched her breakfast by now. She was going to have to meet more gods? Not just any but the Ennead, the effective high council of Egyptian Deities and plead their case to the ancient beings? The current track record set by the Gods she had met had caused nothing but misery for her short life, so the idea of introducing eight more to that mix sent her chest pounding.

“Yes, but for a meeting with the Ennead, a portal presents itself anywhere,” Seth cut in, halting the two humans in their step. His face, his presence, was not one that they simply could get used to. A chill ran down both their arms, and she felt him tug her just a bit closer to him.

“Okay, so where’s ours?” Marc asked, and as if to summon the portal in question, a low rumble only they seemed to notice rocked the earth beneath their feet, though it seemed too delicate to be an earthquake, too harsh to be oncoming footsteps. It was then that bricks in the nearby building began peeling away, crumbling in on themselves to form a long archway corridor. The walls were lined with hieroglyphs she was certain wasn’t part of that building, more likely wherever it was the portal led to.

“Last time I spoke to the gods, they banished me,” Khonshu spoke solemnly as the two of them stepped towards the doorway. A faint, amber light flickered against the symbols etched into the stone walls, illuminating them with a golden glow that reminded her of Seth’s staff.

“Join the club,” Seth growled with a bitter chuckle, and Dove fought the urge to point out the sheer amount of times he had slaughtered his own brother for power that had led to his banishment, but she thought better of it than to be the one receiving his wrath. “Our case against Harrow must be indisputable,”

The two of them hesitantly stepped forward, Marc subconsciously moving in front of her as if to want to head in there first, check if it was safe. But there was no time for heroics, and he didn’t doubt Seth wouldn’t have her defend herself if things started to go south. Hearing the two gods retreating behind them, Dove whipped around to see the beasts slinking off through a nearby street.

“Aren’t you coming?” It was perhaps the only time she would ever want the God of Death there to support her case. Though, upon thinking about it, she guessed Osiris seeing his killer may not go down well considering the god’s reputation.

He snickered darkly, throwing a glance to her over his muscled shoulder that rippled with corded tendons with every movement.

“You know I love a family reunion.

Dove’s jaw slacked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. They were so fucked.

Marc huffed, and the two of them stood looking down the long corridor with a shared hesitance. Once they went in, they were going in blind. Into a space where there were beings even more powerful than the gods they were bound to. Who knows what the Ennead were capable of, whether they were known to hold grudges around two exiled gods and the humans they deemed worthy of their service. Would they see right through her? Right through this innocent little marionette she played every single second. Would they see her for exactly who she was, would they see the chaos festering in her heart? The rot eating away at her bones?

“Ready?” Marc whispered, the sound barely meeting her ears. He looked over at her gently, eyes wide and anxious, though he seemed more worried about her than himself. Her eyes were glazed over, tired. Her hand was cold in his palm, yet she gripped onto him tightly as if he were the only thing she had to ground herself. She looked back at him, though he could tell she was far away, she wasn’t here with him, the same as this morning in the room, when her smile had cracked for just a single second and he saw the sadness behind her eyes that rarely appeared. He hated it.

She didn’t speak, just nodded and it was enough for him to draw her even closer, hold her hand even tighter.

The two stepped into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing down the long chamber, engulfed in a cloak of darkness from the lack of sunlight. It certainly wasn’t a new building they were entering judging by the erosion on the crumbling walls, though the hieroglyphs were surprisingly well preserved. A light flickered at the end of the passage, the only thing giving them any idea where to go as they clung towards one another. A large figure of a head came into view, starting small but the closer they got it became clear the figurine was actually huge, large enough to tower over both of them ten times over. She guessed by the head piece and the jewellery they were royalty, or at least the spouse of a pharaoh, well respected. Revered. A tomb for an esteemed member of Ancient Egyptian society.

She remembered Steven showing her a special edition guide to Egyptian myths they had in stock just three weeks ago, how he’d been waiting for them to get the shipment in for months since it was so low stocked everywhere else. He’d nudged her every chance he could get when they finally got to take their lunch break, turning his new prize to her to show her every diagram or photo or excerpt he could, telling her more facts that he’d read in other books, talking her ear off the entire train ride home too. She thought him the smartest man she’d ever met; thought his intellect, his sheer excitement to share his interest with her was the sweetest and most attractive thing she’d ever seen. He certainly didn’t make it easy for her to not kiss him silly right there on the spot.

Two more figures came into view, two behemoth statues flanking each side of the head, one a falcon, a distinctive crown atop his stone head, the other a woman with two large ostrich wings as her arms, curled around herself.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc’s head whipped to the side, Steven’s face reflecting in the polished golden engravings on the stone walls, his chocolate eyes lit up in wonder like a boy on christmas. His hands clasped together in front of him nervously, though his mouth was pulled into a gobsmacked smile, his gaze flicking around the enormous expanse of the room as if to take it all in at once. “Oh- my days. We’re inside- we’re inside the Great Pyramid of Giza,”

Marc’s head flicked to the room that opened up into a colossal square, unmistakably a pyramid built for the worthiest of pharaohs.

“Steven said we’re in-” Marc started, his voice low, gentle as if to not alert whatever it was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, only for her to cut him off with an equally hushed tone.

“Great Pyramid, yeah” She nodded, her eyes stunned and overwhelmed. Nodding towards the Falcon statue, she pointed with their joined hands, “That’s Horus wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt.”

“God of Healing and Protection?” Marc asked, recalling the few things he knew about the other gods. She nodded, her eyes never ripping away from the expanse of priceless relics in front of them.

“As a man, yes. Horus as a Falcon represents Kingship,” She explained, watching his eyes trail over her face with a strange look, softening just a touch more if it were even possible. Turning back to nod towards the other statue, “The woman with the ostrich wings is Ma’at, judge of the hearts of the dead. She represents justice and order, balance and morality. This was a Pharaoh who wanted the greatest of respects and fortune in his afterlife,”

Marc’s jaw slackened at her brain, practically seeing the cogs turning in her bright eyes, the flame from the torches dotted around the tomb giving her face a beautifully warm glow. She looked divine, as if it should be her with statues erected in her honour, as if she were the one who deserved a wonder of the world in her name.

“I think I’m in love,” Steven’s besotted voice came from the reflection behind him, feeling the alter’s eyes enraptured with her face just as much as he was. Marc nodded once, ripping his gaze away from her to focus on the unfamiliar territory ahead.

Now was not the time for childish feelings, he chided himself, though Steven’s words had cut him deep, confirming for Marc something he already knew. It wasn’t just a little crush he was in the way of - Steven was in love with this woman. And he was wrecking it, he was simply a wall in between two gentle creatures that deserve nothing else but each other.

He always knew he ruined everything.

A frown settled on his face, avoiding her gaze with a sneer as they ventured forward into the tomb.

“Come on,” He murmured, unclasping her hand and quietly stepping into the cold catacomb.

“One evening,” He had said, waving his finger in her face at the door like a master scolding its pup, “You girls can have one evening out,”

It was probably because the neighbours had started getting suspicious about the two girls that would sit in the window but would never leave, or perhaps it was a treat for being such good little victims and remaining complacent. They didn’t know. At first Grace had said it was a test, a test of loyalty. It wouldn’t be unlike him to give them a sick game to test if they really were faithful to his command. But perhaps it was a treat? After the two years they had remained in that house, remained together, this was the first time they were allowed outside that wasn’t the garden.

They were ecstatic.

Don’t be fooled, he was sure to collar the two of them before they could step foot out the door, his fingers squeezing just the slightest bit to tell them exactly what would be waiting if they were to run or go for help. Don’t be stupid, now girls, he reminded with a low grumble. And they were gone.

It had started with a brisk walk down the street, past the abandoned hotel that sat opposite their bedroom window, its welcome sign springing to life every evening even after its years out of business. The girls had a prance in their steps, truly with no idea where they were headed since they couldn’t see past a certain point from their spot in the window. Once the road turned into a long slope down, the houses getting bigger, the yards getting greener, the road getting quieter, was when it settled in that they were outside again.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Grace whispered, her head tipped to the heavens, the crease on her brow ironed out. She took a deep breath, her mouth pulling out into the biggest smile she had ever mustered, Dove swore she could count every single one of her teeth. “We’re fucking OUTSIDE!” She yelled, no doubt waking up the neighbours. It was dangerous, drawing attention to themselves, but Grace couldn’t care. The Summer breeze filled her lungs, the seven o’clock sun fell over her face in full force, the feeling seeming to be extra warm than what she was used to. Because there was no window there. Because they were free.

Until eleven, in four short hours, but they were free nonetheless. The birds had never sounded louder, the air never tasted so sweet.

She couldn’t help but join Grace in taking a long, deep breath, a laugh bubbling out her throat, loud and joyful. Perhaps the happiest she’d felt in years. Like slipping out of a cage, a bird with its wings spread. She rose her arms to her sides, feeling the wind whip entirely around her middle, and suddenly the two of them were running. The street was empty, save for the two sets of footsteps slapping against the concrete as they sprinted down the descending hill, their fingers brushing against each others every now and then before Grace reached over and clasped her hand tightly against hers.

They were free.

It wasn’t long before they’d reached the beach, the one mother showed her as a child, the one she’d been to when the boys were little. It was nothing spectacular, nothing like they’d see in a foreign country. The sea was cold as anything since it was still England after all, the sand was mostly rocks, but the sound of the waves rolling in on their little slice of heaven.

The two lay on the hard sand, shoes kicked off and fingers buried into the course grain, just feeling. The sea was far from lapping at their feet; though ice cold, they wouldn’t find it in themselves to care anyway. The freezing water would barely even scrape the surface of the elation they felt now, there truly wasn’t anything that could simmer the way their hearts pounded in their ears.

“Three hours left,” She reminded, only to have Grace tut her and swat at her arm.

“We won’t be late, stop worrying,” The blonde chided, sand sticking to the side of her cheek as she turned her head in the sand to see her companion, “Just breathe,”

She knew she’d meant ‘breathe it all in’, the day, the feeling of their cage door being blown open, but she couldn’t help but do as Grace had commanded and take a deep salty breath in.

The sun warmed her as the shore breeze cooled her. A balance. An equilibrium. Her mind was blank for the first time in a long time. The waves may as well have been the thoughts ebbing and flowing from her mind.

“In some other universe, this is our life every single day,” She finally muttered, as if too scared to speak it into existence and risk waking up from whatever dream they were having. Grace snickered, their fingers meeting once more. Grounding. Warm.

“Do you think so?” Grace asked, her cornflour eyes squinting in the sun, watching the way her friend’s eyes remained closed, soaking up the entire thing. “You think we’re together in other universes too?”

“I hope so,” She responded, her toes sinking into the warm sand just a touch more, clinging to the back of her bare calves. “I hope I’m with you in all of them,”

Grace smiled, and her eyes opened then, meeting the sky with a tired blink before she turned to where Grace was staring at her. The two simply looked at one another, as if looking in a mirror of themselves though their shell was entirely different. Like their souls had met an equal in their gaze.

“I don’t care which one I’m in as long as I have you,” Grace whispered, clenching onto her hand with a soft desperation. She sighed, turning back to stare at the sky, a new openness at the difference the vast blueness held from her bedroom ceiling.

“I hate that house.” She confessed, though Grace already knew she did. “I feel like I’m-” She welled up, and Grace shifted to rest her forehead on her shoulder, “I feel like I’m in a coffin. Like I’m in a tomb. Like I’m screaming and banging on the door but everyone assumes I’m dead already,” Her brothers. They never responded to her letters, texting was too risky. But the envelope with the money made it to them once a month, she always sent it with the hope they would understand, understand she hadn’t left, that she wasn’t gone. But perhaps she was. She felt already gone. Felt like a corpse walking. “Maybe I already am dead,”

“I would never let that happen to you,” Grace whispered, nuzzling her face into her bare shoulder, “Me and you in every universe, right?” She asked, nudging her arm against hers to make her point, “Cage, house. Beach, tomb. I’m with you in every one of them,”

Dove’s breath was caught in her chest when she saw the sheer size of the pyramid. They didn’t call it the Great Pyramid for no reason, she supposed, but the sculptures alone were some of the biggest pieces of art she had ever seen, larger than any relics they had at work.

Marc took a slight lead, heading towards the centre of the room, where the floor lowered into a pit-like square, the floor a cold stone and undisturbed. Nine smaller, seated statues lined the steps down to the trench, one for each of the Ennead they guessed quickly. Eight doorways, similar to the one they had just exited from, dotted the remaining walls. A slight flash of light came from two of them, where a young woman stepped through the door to the close right.

She was beautiful, Dove noted immediately. Her sepia skin glowed in the dark lamp light, her midnight black hair silk over her shoulders. She was effortlessly graceful, beautiful gold jewellery winding over her wrists and neck, her eyes fox like yet gentle as she peered at the two newcomers.

“Khonshu’s antics are unparalleled.” She said with an accent Dove couldn’t place other than the melody it spelled over her every word. “You must be his avatar,” She said with a glint in her eye Dove knew was not just from the fire light. She was only a single pace behind Marc by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, yet she felt entirely lost, as though she were just floating her way down to where the woman met them, her legs jelly and wobbling.

“And who are you?” Marc asked politely, though she could sense the wariness in his tone. Untrusting. Ready to make a run for it if it came to it. She saw how his shoulders held the tension he rarely seemed to displace, she wished she could simply shove her face in between his shoulder blades, hug him like she had in the room. Feel him relax under her touch. She wished they were anywhere else but here. Anywhere but where the walls seemed inevitable, seemed to seal in around her, their very purpose to keep the dead inside.

“I’m Yatzil, Avatar of Hathor,” The woman announced, nearing the pair with a smile. Friendly, Dove noted, but she saw the way Marc tensed even further as she reached them, a look of plain fear flashing over his expression, as if she were about to be snatched away from him by the relatively kind looking woman. “Goddess of Music and Love? Surely Khonshu mentioned her,”

Marc shook his head slightly, a grimace on his battered face, “The gods aren’t exactly his favourite topic,”

“Not even when they are old friends?” Yatzil pushed, and Dove straightened up when she saw the playful way the avatar studied Marc with. Something boiled in her chest, something hot and sour, like her lungs were trying to choke her from the inside out. She didn’t like the way she was looking at Marc. To say he was hers only to look at drew even more tumultuous feelings in the pit of her stomach, but unlike Layla, who could barely stand the sight of him without steam blowing out her ears, she was interested. She was flirty.

She wanted out of this sinking ship already before she did something she would regret.

The woman looked over Marc’s shoulder then, only just noticing the shadow that seemed to peak from behind him, her eyes wide yet calculating, a vast contrast to Marc’s furrowed brow that glared at everything.

“And who might you be?” Yatzil’s voice was mellow as she took in the new figure, her gentle gaze never wavering. Perhaps she wasn’t so much flirting as she had guessed, and she wanted to chide herself for getting so worked up so quickly. Maybe she was just overly friendly to everyone, being the Goddess of Love and all that.

She was almost embarrassed with how quickly she had become possessive over Marc. It was hard not to when she was accompanied by an extremely attractive man that seemed to draw eyes everywhere he went. She thought she had enough trouble with Steven and Dylan, let alone a Goddess.

Chancing a look at Marc, the two of them agreeing solely with a single silent exchange, she told Yatzil her name.

“I’m Avatar of Seth,” She confessed, not missing Yatzil’s face tightening, her smile becoming a tad more forced. Her once gentle eyes became intrigued, looking the girl head to toe, before turning back to Marc.

There it was. The turn. The moment she realised she was not to be trusted. That she was rotten to her marrow.

“I did not know Seth had a new avatar,” She said, all traces of warmth gone as she surveyed the younger woman with a new suspicion, “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Marc cut in, sensing Dove’s anxiety by the way she fidgeted with her fingers, grabbing her hand back into his own to stop her from picking at the skin around her thumb. He hated it when she did that, saw how sore it made her digits, how she would bring band aids with her in her bag in case any of the scabs broke skin, “It’s not why Khonshu called this meeting,”

“Yatzil,” A voice called down to them, and it was then that the pair realised the rest of the avatars had made it, standing behind each of their podiums that represented their gods. They looked like regular people, though she supposed so did she and Marc. That was the point of them. It made Dove wonder if there were hundreds of them out there, if she had walked past them in the street before, thinking nothing of them.

Yatzil gave them a strained smile, leading them towards where the four other avatars stood, waiting to pass conviction on the two of them. She couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter after that stilted introduction, as though they were heading to a chopping block with cuffs and a bag over their head, the avatars facing them all judge, jury and executioners.

Her trial was over before she had opened her mouth. Just the very sound of Seth’s name had set Hathor on edge, let alone when she faced the god Seth had repeatedly assassinated. His own brother, Osiris. Or even his sister, Isis.

“Have they told you how this works?” Yatzil asked calmly, heading to the steps towards her own podium, where Hathor’s proud statue watched them approach, a pair of long cow horns straddling a large sun disk signalling her seat.

“Not really,” Marc answered for the two of them as Dove naturally fell behind his shoulder, gaze flicking to the new sets of eyes that peered down on their lowered figures. She hated the way they picked her apart with their unfriendly glares, vultures circling a carcass waiting to dive in and clean her off to the bone. They would have her for breakfast any second now. “Is there somethin’ we should know?”

No, they wouldn’t. Marc would never let that happen. Marc would protect her. She trusted him with every fibre of her being, trusted him as much as she trusted Steven. He would protect her.

“I try not to fight it, it’s a strange sensation but you’ll get used to it,” Yatzil said vaguely, bunching her rust coloured dress in her hands to ascend the ancient steps, her satin-like hair rolling down her back as she turned away from them. Her head flicked back jarringly, Hathor’s spirit consuming her body smoothly, as did the other avatars, the humanity flickering from their harsh stares and swirling into a bright white, the gods taking place in their vessels.

“In attendance,” Yatzil’s voice was still the same, though it held a new level of power, a confidence that only an other worldly being could carry, the clarity of a creature that had seen the earth for thousands of years, “Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor. To hear the accounts of Khonshu and Seth,

A cold spread down her spine, minimal compared to the other few times Seth had taken her body as his own, gentle almost. A soft whoosh of power flooded through her vertebrae, spreading up her neck and through her throat, releasing through her lips as a small sigh. It was benign, as though there was simply a hand stroking down her back compared to the leg numbing force he usually took her with, the kind that made her head dark and fuzzy, the force of being locked out her own body, this felt nothing like that. Perhaps Seth was on his best behaviour in front of his older brother who they both knew could exile the God of Death to stone.

Tormenting and breaking a young girl's mind did not send the message of urgency the four of them needed the Ennead to understand.

She felt Marc’s hand twitch in her own, causing him to drop her palm once more, and she guessed Khonshu had also taken his place inside his avatar. Yatzil would have had a heart attack had she been put through what Seth had tormented her with if she thought this was a ‘strange sensation’.

The weight of Osiris’ glare fell upon her shoulders, and it became clear there was no love lost from the God as she looked upon his frown.

“Brother,” The growl emitted from the human man’s throat, a sneer tugging at his lips, “I trust this is your doing, you and your newfound play thing,” He eyed Dove’s cowering body with disgust, a calculating scowl on his relatively young face. The man couldn’t have been older than thirty five, dressed in a smart business suit and a face that not a single laugh line marred, as though he hadn’t smiled a day in his life. Fitting, she thought snidely, for a god so serious.

Yet those thoughts felt like Seth’s. And with it brought a new wave of peril, unlike the one that came after she would black out. Could he hear her thoughts? Had he buried herself into her head, her only place of solitude? Or maybe was her brain just that cruel all on her own?

“You should be on your knees thanking me, brother,” The words spewed from her chest unprompted, and it took everything in her not to clasp her hand over her mouth to stop it. It felt like someone had reached into her lungs and dragged the accusation up her oesophagus. It was a clap of thunder that echoed around the enclosed chamber, a dark cry that met her ears, leaving her gobsmacked that that was her voice.

“And why is that, brother?” A woman to Osiris’ right, his sister-wife Isis, snarled. Dove wanted to sink to the floor and beg for forgiveness from the two deities that looked at her with a disdain that tainted her skin. She wanted to plead for them to send her home, send her away from all of this mess, just please stop, stop looking at me like that. But instead what came out was the voice, his voice, ripping from her throat with a ferocity that was nothing like hers.

“Were it not for me, dearest sister, and Khonshu, we would not be here meeting to discuss a matter that threatens us all,” Seth’s growl seemed unnatural coming from such a small creature, her eyes wide and afraid as she cursed at the gods with his tongue. Whether it were Seth speaking or not, she was the one they looked to with hatred.

A slender, dark-haired man flanking the other side of Osiris, undoubtedly their son Horus, snorted bitterly, his eagle eyes gazing down the steps to the woman whose head snapped to him.

“You threaten us all, Set. You and your chaos. Your need for vengeance.” He spoke with an Irish lilt, his mouth sneering just as well as his father’s, “It is clear by your actions there is no end to the darkness and turmoil you wish to cause mankind, as well as to your own kind.”

Osiris raised a hand to his son, taking over the brunt of the reprimanding. Dove didn’t doubt this had been what it was like for centuries, she knew the pain of being the oldest and having to mother her own brothers. Though, exiling them to a stone for all eternity for endangering lives was a new concept even for her.

The eyes narrowed in on her as Osiris puffed out his chest to speak, his voice a calm command that rattled her bones.

“It is our job in these vessels to remain unseen, to keep the peace between our world and the humans,” He was rather quiet despite the petrifying effect he held over Dove, the way his and every other god sized her up as she quivered in her place. “Do you not hear how they cry out? That is fear. You scare them, brother, for your own personal enjoyment. We have long since understood you love the taste of their horror. Imagine the hatred they would feel if they saw what lay beneath that young flesh.”

Dove’s eyes lined with tears. She knew the insults were directed at her counterpart that could hear them just as well as she could, that she felt bristling uncomfortably in the back of her mind at the sound of the offence, yet the darkened eyes and sneers they accounted her with churned her stomach in guilt as if this were her own trial. Her own sentencing.

They would fear her if they knew who she really was. What she really was. And the sick part of her knew the darkness had laid under her skin long before any of this. She choked on the words Seth tried to force out of her, gritted her teeth for him to keep quiet, to just let the onslaught end. Let her sentence be carried out, let her be hung, drawn and quartered under their resentful gaze even if to let the pain end, just let it end, just let me go, release me from this life-

“Alright now-” Marc’s voice was fuzzy behind her, the slightest step he took forward towards the gods was stopped by Osiris’ angered voice, a firm look snapping to the new culprit.

“And you. You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us Khonshu,” Just like that, their attention had been stolen from the pitiful girl that shook in her spot as if no more than a street dog, mangy and yet guilty looking. “And you know we despise your garishness,” He continued, Marc stopping in his place to hear what the high immortal had to say, “Your showy masks and weapons. But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone.”

“Spare me your self-righteous threats,” Marc’s voice was a strained call of anger. Clearly Khonshu had a lot to say to the council, Dove mused to herself behind a weakened expression, “I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you,”

“We have not abandoned humanity,” Horus chimed in, a pinched glower on his young face, “They abandoned us. We simply trust our avatars to carry out our services without calling undue attention to ourselves,” His eyes shifted back to the young woman who gulped under his fire. “Is this why you’ve resurrected the one who caused them so much pain? In the name of aiding the humans? Look at the bloodshed that has already been drawn under her hand,”

He nodded to the state Dove was in, the gummy redness that stuck to her arms, that buried under her nails, that smeared across her face. There was no denying that she had caused such a massacre. There was no running, no hiding from their judging eyes.

“Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods. Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm. Seth has been the only one brave enough to unleash his strength on those who deserve it,” Marc jolted back as Khonshu left his body, a deep draw of breath expanding his lungs. Dove’s eyes flicked to him in sorrow, seeing the toll the god was taking on him, even if just for a second, the urge to bury her face into his arm and ask to go home overwhelmed her.

“The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man,” Osiris spoke calmly, though the order was clear. The two of them were to submit, to yield under their commands.

“We will decide our best course of action,” Tefnut cut in, under the guise of a glamorous earth-brown woman, her shirt a pop of reds and oranges that brought out her hooded dark eyes even in the lowlight of the tomb. Her gaze was just as intimidating as the others, though she looked at Dove with something more akin to understanding than the rest. The eyes of an elder, who had seen more than the others. A wisdom that only came with thousands of years on the earth they deemed unworthy of their protection. “Speak your purpose,”

“We call for judgement against Arthur Harrow,” Her own voice constricted at the rage that had now overcome Seth’s words, the vitriol that settled under her skin, that boiled her blood for a fight that was not hers.

“The charges?” Came Isis, in the form of a placid, moonlight woman, her doe-like, hazelnut stare serene yet piercing when accompanied with the disappointed purse on her cherry blossom lips.

“Conspiracy to release Ammit,” Khonshu’s exclaim ripped its way through Marc’s chest as a single tear dropped down the man’s tawny cheek from the effort in which the god tore at his psyche.

“That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu,” Osiris said seriously, bringing his hands together as if to search himself for guidance. The man took a deep breath, a silence settling over the room for a moment, the five avatars awaiting to hear their superior's judgement.

She practically felt Marc’s heart pounding in his bones, heard the way the deep breaths rattled his lungs, how his chest burned with effort. She was glad for them at least that Seth had listened to her plea to hold his, her, tongue, allowing Marc to take the brunt of the conversation. She knew the recklessness of the god would only dig them their own grave, that they would be left with little to no hope of taking on Harrow without his help.

Osiris sighed, looking to one of the smaller doorways burrowed into the side of the pyramid. “Let us summon the accused,” He ordered, an orange flicker of light emerging from the catacomb. Dove felt her chest seize at the whoosh of fresh air that came through the doorway, hearing two weary footsteps making their way towards them, scraping against the sand that dusted the hard, stone floor.

And with them, Arthur Harrow appeared.

Handsome for a man of his age, yet his eyes were soulless blue pits, little to no remorse for his schemes behind them. Instead, he seemed to be excited, jumping for the chase, the cat and mouse game the three of them had going. He seemed almost animated to see their newest intervention to halt his plans as he stepped into the tomb, a fake look of bewilderment on his older face.

His hair was greying wisps around his jaw, his suit a plain mahogany two piece that dragged against his espadrilles. He slowly stepped towards them with a cold stare, his jaw clenched in a hidden smirk as he sought the attention of the Ennead.

“So I see from Khonshu’s current makeshift avatar, the purpose for this meeting must be nefarious,” He said plainly, the false innocence in his expression causing a hot anger to wash over Dove’s face.

This time it was her own. Seth was still there, dormant behind her cranium, still seething from his reprimanding from his older brother, twisted with hate at the sight of Harrow, but the overwhelming feeling of outrage was hers.

“Not to mention this poor little soul Seth has taken as his own,” His blue pools of nothing slid to her, the dare to retaliate set and matched in his eyes, “The young one knows nothing of the trouble she’s causing, this is business well beyond her understanding,”

A threat. A call for a challenge. A taunt for her to show what she hid from the world, what festered inside her this whole time. What he had seen with a single touch of her wrist the first day they’d met in the museum.

There is a darkness in you.

And then it was that night all over again. It was the screaming, it was the pure, visceral hatred she had felt for him, for the man that had put her there. It was knowing she was never going home, that she was never going to see her sweet niece grow up to run rings around her teachers. It was knowing her brothers wished for nothing to do with her. It was knowing every one of her letters went unanswered.

And chaos, oh there is chaos,

It was remembering Grace’s laugh through a sob and the fact she would never hear it again. It was the way the light from the abandoned hotel sign next door lit up her room with red, something she had always hated, she could never sleep for the brightness of it. Then again, she struggled to sleep anyway. It was the red of the shoes the girls wore, the other girls, the others from the club. The emerald room, the way they watched her dance like a puppet on a string before things truly went wrong.

Something wicked this way comes.

It was knowing her brothers couldn’t stand the sight of her because of him, because of the choices she’d made for him. For love. She wanted to scoff. It was the men that came at night, the ones that she saw in her dreams even now, the ringleader of them all being the one to tell her what a good little lapdog she’d been for him. The one she’d called boyfriend.

It was the knife, it was the blood. It was the body that burned as she’d torched the house in her escape.

And I see you are truly something wicked.

“You know exactly why we are here,” Khonshu cried from behind her, though Harrow took no notice of the call, his mouth twitching to fight off a smirk as he saw the way her chest deflated at the sight of him, knowing he knew her. He knew her, the way Seth knew her.

The way she was terrified even now that Marc and Steven would someday know her.

“Rip his tongue out,” Seth hissed into her ear, chomping at the bit to be let out from the slight control she had over him in front of the Ennead.

“I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice.” Harrow turned solemnly to the gods, the nervousness falling over his face like a performance. “But speak, old master, to the point,”

“Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?” Khonshu accused, Marc’s body being seized by the god’s might. Dove grabbed his wrist in her own when she saw his chest heaving heavier by the moment. The man looked as if he might throw up any second from the weight of it.

“I was in the desert, but if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the nile” Harrow said calmly, his hands weaving together in front of him to solidify the guiltless ploy he was giving, “Khonshu has searched for Ammit’s tomb since he ensnared be into his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia and his-”

“COWARD,” Seth struck her chest with a lightning bolt of fury, the growl drawling from her throat in a volume that made her jump, Marc glancing her way when he felt her fingers clutch him ruthlessly, “Filthy, conniving CRAVEN,”

“Do not trust the word of shamed gods,” Harrow countered, turning to glare at the pair that looked at him helplessly, their chests pounding with the strain of a deity overtaking their vocal chords, “These two are unhinged, as willing as one another to cause destruction in the human world. And as for their avatars themselves,” Harrow huffed, though a smarmy smile shadowed his face as he looked between the two of them, “Well, they are about as unwell as the gods they serve,”

“How do you mean?” Hathor asked, a small frown scrunching her gentle almond eyes.

Harrow considered the two of them, his piercing gaze falling on the young woman first, a hint of malice flicking over his face as he watched her squirm under his ruthless stare, as if waiting for the killing blow, waiting for him to run a sword clean through her sternum. Get it over with, her eyes pleaded, let this be done, shoot me between the eyes and set me free.

“This girl,” He began, her breath catching in her lungs, “She seems innocent enough, what with the crocodile tears and the deer in headlights look about her,” Harrow gave her one last sneer, before turning back to face the gods with a faux woeful look plastered on his face, “But this fawn is in fact the hunter with a loaded rifle. I have seen what she is capable of, the anger and vengeance the tortured soul wishes to unleash on those who stand in her way, the corruption in her heart- it’s no wonder Seth found her suitable for his needs,”

Her mouth had gone dry, she realised as she swallowed roughly, tears burning behind her eyes, she felt Marc staring at her. Fuck. He saw her, he saw right through her. And if he saw her, then what would Marc think of her? What would he see if he were to crack open her muddled little mind and peer in? He would hate her. And oh god, Steven-

Her throat bobbed with a silenced sob, her chin wobbling pitifully.

“And as for him- This is a man who literally does not know his own name.” Harrow continued his onslaught, making Marc clear his throat uncomfortably at the fact his biggest wound was bared open for the taking, the scar that wouldn’t close having salt poured into the crevice. “He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector-”

“LIAR!” Khonshu’s agitated attempt at regaining composure was thwarted by the glisten in Marc’s lost, cocoa eyes that seemed to do nothing but watch as his chest was pried open.

“Employment records under the name Steven Grant,”

“Stop,” This time it was Marc speaking for himself. His voice hoarse from Khonshu’s yelling, yet it was more of a wounded yelp, a plea for mercy from the man who knew everything about him, knew all of his darkest corners, and threw it out in the open for them all to see.

“I have seen him speak to himself-”

“Shut up,” Marc yawped, an animal in a cage yowling for release.

Dove felt the anger begin to rev under her skin once more. Marc had been immovable since the moment she knew him, the moment she saw him in her bedroom stiff as a rock as she’d hugged him. Had rarely shown anything but a cold indifference, if not the occasional smile. He had been the only thing keeping her sane between the entire situation, the one person she trusted to quite literally drag her back from the depths of death a thousand times over. Because, while he was a moody sod most days, it was Marc. And Marc would fight tooth and nail for her.

“I have no idea how many personalities he must possess,” She felt Marc weaken under the hold she had on his wrist, “The man is clearly insane,”

It was happening in slow motion. Just as Marc crumbled into a disheartened sigh, the frustrated tears welling in his eyes, the final chord holding together her growing temper snapped. She felt her vision blacken for a moment, as if she had taken a long blink, which she wished she had in hindsight, she’d read on the internet closing your eyes and taking a deep sigh temporarily relieves stress. Something about giving the synapses a moment to process information. But she hadn’t. And neither did she feel the imposter crawling up her spine the way she did when Seth wanted her body as his own. No this was her, this was her entirely alone.

By the time she had come to, she had taken two quick steps towards the snide man, fingers outstretched for a sharp slap across his high cheekbones when she felt five metal claws hugging her fingertips, the razor edge of each enough to take a sizeable chunk out of his face had she made contact.

But she didn’t. Because no sooner had she gotten an inch away from doing so, her hand was stopped by a cerulean ring cuffing her hand mid air, preventing her from moving in the slightest.

Osiris. His hand held the same bluish-grey energy between his two fingers as he seethed down at his younger brother’s avatar.

“We will not tolerate violence in this chamber,” He bit, forcing the girl to her knees to face him, her head hung to the floor. She felt Marc’s eyes burn the back of her skull, his legs itching to approach, to wrap her up in his embrace, if only to protect her from Osiris’ hate. She chewed her cheek in guilt, when a thought quickly struck her as she looked to her knees ashamed.

Her suit, the one Seth usually donned her in. She was in her suit. She had never summoned her suit before, had steered clear from the fact entirely actually, yet the material was stretched comfortably over her skin as it was all the other times Seth shoved her consciousness aside to make room for his own deeds.

But she had summoned it herself.

“It brings me no pleasure to tell you these are two deeply troubled individuals. Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way he abused me, the same way he aspires to abuse this court. As Seth is preying on a chaos-filled, young woman whose only goal is nemesis. Take action before it is too late,”

Dove tuned him out, her own internal crisis weighing far heavier than the insults Harrow was hurling to her. She had brought out the Hellhound herself. Not as Seth’s puppet or as his doll for toying with but as herself. As a reflection of what she wanted to do to Harrow.

For the first time in almost a decade, her body felt like it was almost her own again.

“Let us speak to Marc Spector. He seems the more reasonable of the two,” Horus ordered, and Marc almost scoffed at them had he not been so hurt by Harrow’s words, not been so defeated by the doubtful looks the Ennead had in their once cold glares now that his illness had been revealed. “Are you unwell?”

It was direct. Inescapable. And yet he didn’t care for their judgement anymore, just the fact she seemed uncomfortable being forced to her knees so harshly, a mongrel forced to sit quietly for a bone.

“I am.” He breathed hoarsely, “I am unwell. I need help. But that doesn’t change the fact that this man is-” Marc could barely finish his sentence without trailing off in angered tears as he glowered at the floor, knowing there was very little he could say to change their minds, “Would you just let her go? Please?”

“This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu-”

“This is not about my feelings, I am not the one on trial here, nor is she. It is him,” Marc seethed at Hathor, Yatzil, who’s pitiful eyes bore into his skin, flaring his anger, god would he just let go of her, look how her head hung low, how her knees pressed painfully into the cold floor, how she was forced to submit, “This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second,”

“He has committed no offence,” Osiris ruled coldly, tired, as if the situation bored him completely. “This matter is concluded.”

And that was it. The bonds that held Dove into low obedience were ripped away from her, her hands finding the floor gently as she stayed there, her head dipped to glare at the stone, the anger ebbing and flowing at her hot face like the banks of the Nile.

“And brother?” Dove’s head perked the slightest amount, though it was not her, but Seth responding to his counterpart on his behalf. She looked up at the god through broken, reddened eyes, a tear glistening on her cheek that she let fall to the ground with no fight. “Cause chaos like this again and you’ll be begging for a ushabti when I’m finished with you,”

With that, the avatars were returned to their bodies with moonlight white eyes, a jolt in every one of their spines, before they began heading back to their portals with not a single word uttered between them. As if Marc and Doves lives hadn’t just been raked out for all to see, all to judge. All to sentence.

Walking past the girl still crumpled in defeat on the floor, her heart too heavy to lift herself, Harrow watched Marc’s angered eyes carefully, a final sneer on his shit-eating expression.

“I’d leash that bitch of yours before she hurts anyone else, Spector,” He murmured, loud enough for the two of them to hear, not loud enough to cause a scene.

Like a dam breaking, her shoulders sank in on themselves, Marc quickly rushing to meet her on his knee, a warm hug wrapping around her where he could, just as she expected.

“Hey come on, we need to go, princess,” Marc whispered to her, and she could do nothing but give a sad nod, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, a sob crawling up her throat that felt even more present when she saw her clawed fingertips staring back up at her, “I’m sorry I tried, I tried to push him down, I-”

“Shhh,” Marc soothed, nosing her hairline, “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault,” He murmured, hands going under her arms to lift her off the ground carefully. She stood, not without clutching onto him, gently of course since her suit and weapons made it difficult to not hurt him, and the entire idea that she had conjured it herself seemed tainted by the way they had looked at her. The way anyone would look at her if they knew.

“Marc,” A voice whispered, but Dove was too lost in her own self pity to take note. She felt as if she was back on that beach, her eyes lost in a canopy of blue, the wind cold on her skin. Lost in the world, yet seen, too seen, by those gods, by Harrow. Too trapped in her past, in what she’d done, knowing there was nothing stopping what Seth wanted her to do. Feeling for the first time, with the suit around her that she had summoned, she had ownership over herself, feeling as if she entirely wanted nothing to do with it.

Release me, release me from this wretched body, release me from this head, take me from this pain with a quick death.

Yet.

Keep me here, grant me control, let me greet my own demise.

An equilibrium yet to settle. A scale tipping to and fro, a puzzle with no solution. A set of coordinates with no longitude. Continuing. Unanswering. A person missing half their soul.

She, impossibly so, felt worse than she had when she woke up.

She found herself again laying back on the hotel bed, staring at the white, plaster ceiling. After Marc had spoken with Yatzil about a possible solution to finding Ammit before Harrow and his followers, the pair of them had headed back to the hotel in silence. Well, Marc had attempted to make conversation as he led her to the taxi, but it was clear from her lack of response, only broken by the occasional sniff or nod of her head, that she was in no mood to talk.

Taking a deep sigh from her place on the cot, she lifted her hand to run over her tired face when she was stopped by a crusted sap rolled up between her fingers at the touch, and she let out a clear gasp, jumping up from the sheets.

In the daze of it all, she’d forgotten she was covered in blood under her suit that she coaxed into disappearing before the taxi pulled up. Her face, hands, legs, all smeared with the sticky substance that now stained the white duvet.

“Fuck, oh fuck, for bloody fuck sake, fucking shit-” She swore violently, bunching her fingers into fists at the sight, Marc ducking into the room from the small balcony faster than she could let out another curse.

“What’s going on?” He took one look at her sad eyes, the way the redness smattered over her face, guilt flashing in her expression as he saw the mess on the sheets.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll have my guy tip the cleaners, it’s no biggie,” He brushed off, taking a step towards her, attempting to uncurl her fists manually with his much larger hands that had just as much blood on them. Though, it was mostly his from where his wounded knuckles were now weeping. “You should probably take a shower though, we’ll raise too many questions looking like this,”

She barely nodded, eyes glazing over as she understood what he was saying. Clean yourself up, you’re scaring the locals.

“They only have a bath,” She murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes, scratching at the blood that quickly dried on her arms, picking at it like the glue that stuck to your skin as a kid making crafts, coming away in thin, onion peel layers.

“I’m sorry if it’s not the nicest hotel around, but my guy did his best-” Marc snipped slightly, watching her face scrunch up in frustration.

“No, no, not that, it's lovely, I’m just-” She took a deep breath in, her lungs rattling, her throat constricting with the secret she’d never had to tell. He’d think she was ridiculous, a woman of her grown age. “I can’t take a bath,”

“Of course you can, I’ll go run it for you now,” Marc headed for the bathroom, sick of this back and forth. He just needed her clean, needed to get that shit off of her, get rid of that guilty look in her eyes, needed to fix everything-

“No, wait,” She stopped behind him as he turned the brass tap, hot water gushing into the luxurious, square bathtub that had been built into the nude marble, stacks of ‘freebies’ and candles lining the edge. This was definitely meant for a honeymooning couple wanting a sexy week away under the Cairo sun, banging in every room, not two people who were barely friends possessed by gods and racing to stop the end of human lives. “Wait, Marc,”

“What?” He barked, turning back to face her with the first annoyed glare he’d given her all day. She knew the pair of them were at the end of their tethers, and that he was trying to care for her in the way Marc always did, the kind that only half the time involved actual any affection. “Look, I know it’s full of rose petals and shit, but I’m trying, princess,-

“It’s not that it’s-”

“I know it’s shit but it’s the best we’ve got, and I know Steven would have gotten you somewhere better-”

“I’m scared of water, Marc,” He shut up at the sight of her deflated expression looking at him through embarrassment, shut up at the sight of her squirming on the spot at his irritated rant.

“Huh?” He hissed, utterly thrown off by her words, feeling as if he hadn’t heard her correctly, “You’re fine with water, you’ve showered at Steven’s before. Is it me? I can go if you want privacy-”

“No, Marc just stop, please,” She mewled, turning her head to her hands ashamed, picking at the skin that had come loose, no matter if it pained her so. “It’s not you, I- I can’t be underwater, like under under water, not like showering when it’s only there for a second, it’s more drowning than anything, so baths are just a no go,”

But she sounded far away. Because the realisation for Marc had set in, the understanding of being scared to be held down, to feel the water rising up your legs, past your knees, up into your lungs. And then he was back in that cave again, he was feeling the water trickle in, he was screaming for RoRo to talk to him, to take his hand, he was hearing his brother’s little body splashing, hearing the water crowd his throat, drown out his cries for help. He was climbing out of that wretched cave soaked and running back home to tell his parents what had happened.

Taking a laboured breath to remind himself he was in the bathroom, with her picking at her nails, the tap running being the only sound between them for a moment. Sighing heavily, he fought the tears that burned behind his nose, forcing them to be swallowed down in the interest of helping her.

“What if I stayed?” He asked, her head shooting up to look at him in shock, mortified he was being so brazen. Rolling his eyes at her naïveté, he continued, “I’ll turn around and just sit on the toilet seat, but I’ll stay. Make sure nothing bad happens,”

She went quiet for a moment. She needed to get clean, get this forsaken muck off her, it was driving her insane. The smell of it alone, fermenting under the hot sun, was turning her stomach, not including the fact she felt rotten every time she thought about where it came from. Those bodies, that boy.

She nodded, the hot water steaming up the window by the time she’d decided.

“Okay, yeah. I suppose that would be okay,” She murmured to herself, fidgeting nervously. “You’ll just sit right there?”

He nodded gently, his hands coming to pull her fingers from mauling themselves, “Absolutely. Right there.”

“And you won’t look?” She asked shyly, eyes batting up at him through tired lids, to which he smiled slightly.

“Not a peak, now come on, bath’s almost full,” He ducked out of the bathroom to allow her to get undressed, not missing the way her fingers seemed to cling to his hand for as long as possible before he left. “Call me when I can come in,”

“Okay,” She replied through the thickness of the door. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her clothes into a neat pile under the sink, despite the fact they were wrecked with the same red gunk she was going to have to scrub off her skin. Switching the taps off gently with two squeaky turns, she held onto the bath edge with a deathly tight grip. It was only a foot of water, and Marc was right there. He wasn’t here anymore. Bath’s had once been her favourite part of the day. She loved a bath, had never felt so relaxed. She wanted to scream at the way her chest locked up as she stood in the water.

It was piping hot, scalding her skin, and maybe it was the punishment she deserved for all the blood she’d shed. Maybe it was the toll she had to pay to get clean.

Sinking to her bottom, she couldn’t help but clench onto the side of the bath for support, eyes locked on the way the water swayed towards her. It was just a bath, she’d had one millions of times before him, he wasn’t here to-

“You can come in,” She called, conscious of the way her back was to the door, swishing some of the french lavender bubble bath in to make the water milky, obscuring any sight of her body he would have caught a glimpse of.

Not that he would try. Marc was much too respectful for that.

He came in wordlessly, shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air in the bathroom. Plonking himself down on the toilet seat, he saw her hair spill over the lip of the tub edge in his peripheral vision, but little more.

For a moment they were both silent, uneasy at the new atmosphere created. The humid air was thick in their throats, the excuse they gave themselves as to why they weren’t talking. Marc inhaled the sweet vanilla and floral notes of the bubble bath, cursing himself when his mind ventured as to that being what she would smell like all evening.

“I’m sorry the room is so…” Marc trailed off. What was he to say, so clearly meant for two people on a nonestop fuck-a-thon? Aside from the fact the minifridge was stacked with whipped cream and chocolate spread, not for breakfast he’d had to explain to her, the bedside table full of condoms, the bathtub filled with rose petals, it was very obvious they stuck out like two sore thumbs with their rare and short affections in a place like this.

“What? Straight out a porno?” She quipped, earning a short laugh from him, symphonying the splash that came as she began scrubbing at her arms finally.

“A high end porno atleast,” He corrected, the tension in his shoulders loosening when he heard her giggle.

“Right,” She drawled, leaning over to grab the chamomile scented soap, “No one’s getting stuck bent over a tumble drier any time soon in a place like this,”

Maybe it was the fact she couldn’t see him, or it was the least shitty thing that had happened all day, but Marc couldn’t help the way a laugh, a real, chest tightening laugh, spilled out his throat. It was completely out of character for his glacial demeanour, usually the best she’d get is a smirk he’d try to hide or a huff through his nose. But it was a true, amused laugh. She smiled, despite the water coming away pink in her fingers as she scrubbed.

A brief moment passed over them where the only sound came from her hand dipping in and out of the water. This wasn’t so bad, she supposed, if she ignored the way her stomach rolled with bile every time she felt herself slipping further into the water. The milky pool itself wasn’t what scared her, it was the waiting to be pushed under, held under despite her clawing and scratching at his arm. It was his way of keeping her in check, reminding her even in the bathroom she was not permitted to privacy, to her own thoughts. She still felt his hand weaving its way into her hair, shoving her down until the water rushed up her nose, the gasp she’d let out choking on the exotic scented liquid. It was all just another one of his little games, and when she’d resurface, spluttering and clamouring out of the tub, he’d simply laugh and tell her to stop locking the door.

She hated the smell of that soap anyway. Too rich, too perfumed, too fake.

“I used to bath my brothers when I was younger,” She said after a while. She didn’t know why, or what had made her think about it, or why Marc needed to know, but she said it anyway.

“Yeah?” He replied, sounding distant as he picked at the blood under his own fingernails. “How many?”

“Four, all younger,” He blew air out of his cheeks solemnly, “We didn’t have much money, it was just my dad and he could never keep a job to save his life. I tried getting a job but turns out minimum wage for thirteen year olds is pennies,”

Marc stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. He had yet to ever hear her talk about brothers, or parents, or anything other than Steven and how much she wished he was here. That and of course why James Bond is a chauvinist, though he knew the first one was much dearer to her.

“Sounds rough,” He bit out, feeling the need to remind her he was still listening. He saw her shrug from behind the curtain of hair that fell behind her, obscuring his view.

“We got by. I was hungry some nights, but we were happy. They were happy. That’s all I cared about,” Marc felt a guilt gnawing at him. Sure, after RoRo passed his mother became a beast that had yet to release him from her claws, but they had never worried about money. Their house was easily three stories high, he had a meal three times a day, Elias always took him out to buy a new toy when Wendy had been particularly cruel. Birthdays, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, he always had whatever he wanted. Anything, except his mother’s love, but that couldn’t be bought, could never be earned back for what he’d done.

He felt disgusted with himself for being so self piteous about his childhood when Dove had barely afforded to eat at risk of her siblings going hungry.

“I used to get Matty in there first, he was the oldest. Only a couple years between us but he loved when I would give him his toys the others weren’t allowed to play with. We used to have to share everything, clothes, toys, school books, so having his own boat in the tub made him feel special.” A smile, achy but good, passed over her face, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the thought of the life she hadn’t had in so long. “He knew he had to be quick because there was only one tub of water to last all five of us, so we used to play ten rounds of I-spy and then he’d have to get out. Eventually he’d pick the most difficult thing to spy so I’d never guess and he’d get to stay in longer.”

Marc stopped then, watching the back of her head with a silent stare, quickly understanding she was in her own world entirely. “Then it was Sam’s turn, he was a year younger than Matt. He hated getting shampoo in his eyes so insisted I washed his hair for him, even though he made me swear to never tell his friends because it would damage his street cred,” She chuckled to herself, sounding far away from where Marc cracked a small smile, “Kid was seven years old and thinking he was tough enough to take on the world.”

“The other two?” Marc prompted with an ache, a need to know more. More about the little Dove that tended to her hatchlings, to her nest, whose voice sang with something he had never heard from her, a sad kind of happiness he never thought possible.

“Joey was next. He’d start to complain that the bath water was getting cold by this point so I’d sneak some water in from the kettle. He was a little younger than us, I think mom and dad had thought three was it for them. But two years after Sammy, out popped Joey. Fattest baby you’ve ever seen. Refused to speak until he was three, and then suddenly he was blurting out full sentences.” She smirked, eyes glazed over as the pink swirled into the water, beginning to run out of where it dried in clumps in her hair. She would need to wash properly, she realised. Wetting a flannel, she held it behind her, careful not to get any droplets on Marc’s leg. “Marc?”

He snapped out of the reverie he felt he shared with her, his head filled with the image of four little boys, a mirror of her. Maybe their noses were a little bigger, their jaws sharper, but their hair would fall over their shoulders the same way, unless she’d trimmed it for them. He pictured her running ragged after them, reminding them to floss, to tidy their rooms, to do their homework.

“Yeah?” He asked, taking the cloth from her hand.

“Would you be able to get the…” Blood. Blood. Blood. “Stuff out my hair please? I can’t get my head under but it’ll dry soon if I don’t get it now.”

“S-sure,” He said softly, almost caught off guard that she was inviting him to get even closer to her nude form. Setting a towel on the floor, he turned the small bin over to give himself a seat as he gently ran the wet cloth over her locks. He would need to use shampoo probably, there was some on the side of the sink but he refused to push her. “What about the youngest?”

“Micheal,” She said, her voice pure with sweetness. “He was definitely a surprise. Came three months early, came out kicking and squealing like he had a vendetta against the world.” She chuckled to herself. “He was so tiny I could get away with washing him in the kitchen sink. Matty would say we could peel him and put him in a stew with the rest of the potatoes. But he was so good, he would follow me around when I got home from work, even when he turned into a teenager he would never leave for school without hugging me and making sure I had lunch. I never did, but I would lie because otherwise he would worry too much about me,”

The crimson seeped out of her hair with every brush of Marc’s hand against the locks, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up hearing her bliss. She was different like this. Yes, she was usually happy, bar the few times she had gotten teary over the blood and gore, but speaking about her brothers made her glow with something new. A bliss he hadn’t seen in her yet. One he wished he could cling onto with everything he had, keep her wrapped in like a bubble of her happiest memories.

“By the time I got in the bath it was cold, like fully cold. And the water was dirty, I tell you three boys and a baby get into so much mess than I’d give them credit for,” She continued, her eyes fluttering closed at the way he gently stroked her head, stopping every once in a while to re dampen the flannel in the water. There was no way he could see anything since the soap had made it so cloudy, but she didn’t think she could find herself to fully care with how loose her body felt, floating under the heat. She found herself trusting him enough to lean back into his hold, relax under his touch instead of flinch. Because it was just Marc. And Marc would never do that.

She tipped her head back to give him an easier access to her scalp, sighing when his fingers seemed to pick at a clump, removing it manually when it wouldn’t release with the cloth alone. Her stomach flipped as to a guess as to what it could have been.

Flesh? Brain matter? You tore those men to pieces like the savage you are, it’s no wonder Osiris said the people were scared of you, you’re beastly, disgusting loathsome creature who deserves every bit of pain Seth gives you-

“Four brothers and a father? You and your mother must have been ripping your hair out in testosterone,” He said, gently smoothing the tangles out of her tresses, continuing to wipe at the tangles until the water ran clear.

“Just me. Mom ditched when Mikey was born,” She said calmly, though she felt his hands stutter as she did. “It’s fine. She believed that giving her son’s biblical names meant god couldn’t see her drug benders. I think she forgot her kids could though,”

Marc hesitated. Words, some that he couldn’t fathom putting together, caught in his throat. He hated the pity people would give him whenever he were to divulge his own secrets he kept hidden in the dark rooms of his mind even Steven had no access to.

“Please say anything except I’m sorry, otherwise I may have to give you a big wet slap across the mouth,” She quipped, relieved when she heard a small snigger, finally. She’d hate to lose that calm, carefree version of Marc she’d had this evening. Hate to scare him off like the spooked rabbit he was, send him racing down into his dark burrow again. “But yeah, it was grisly being the only girl until Billie was born,”

“Billie as in another brother?” Marc asked with a confused frown.

“Billie as in my niece,” She replied, making a gentle start to clean the gummy resin off her face, “She was named after Billy Joel when Matty lasted all of one week being sixteen and got a girl pregnant. Girl bailed on the kid as soon as she was born, Matty felt like he could do a better job of it than our dad could, and Billie was family. Although she somehow got it in her head that she was only allowed to listen to Billy Joel since that’s where her name came from,” She snickered, remembering the countless mornings she chased the naked toddler as she screamed ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’.

“How old is she?” Marc asked, the water running mostly clean now, yet his gentle pawing at her hair had yet to stop, more for his own state of mind now than her own. She was so soft, soft everywhere. Even the way she sighed into his touch, the few times his fingertip had met her neck, met the top of her spine. Soft, warm; inviting, addicting. Clean, good, pure, god she was heaven on earth. Fixed, he could fix it, fix her hurts.

“She’s…” Dove quickly counted in her head, coming up with a thick throat when she figured the answer. “Nine. She’ll be nine now,”

Nine. She’d missed so much of her little life, she’d barely been at school when she’d left home. Missed her losing her first teeth, missed her learning to ride a bike, missed moving to bigger school.

She’s better off without me. Dove chided sourly, though tears built in her eyes.

“You see her much?” He prompted, letting the short bout of silence settle over them as she rinsed her face carefully.

“No, I uh-” She cleared her throat, her head tilting down to play with her fingers, picking with her thumb nail under the rest, “My brother’s don’t speak to me anymore,”

Marc froze. This, unlike the other time he’d been ready to apologise, felt like dangerous territory. While her mother walking out had felt like passing news to her, this felt like a rope unwinding thread by thread, getting ready to snap in his face at any point.

“Oh,” He eventually came up with, stuck between wanting to ask more and wanting to keep his distance. A tug of war between himself and wondering what she wanted him to do. What Steven would do. “How come?”

“Just you know, life got in the way. We all said some things, did some things,” She sniffed, her eyes closing as she skirted around the truth, “Truthfully I don’t deserve their forgiveness even if they did want to talk,”

“Come on now,” Marc reasoned, his eyes filling with a softness only she saw, his fingertips caressing her scalp with a gentleness he didn’t know his battered hands could muster. “I’m sure that’s not true,”

“It is,” She cut him off definitively, “I think, sometimes, maybe I was just born wrong. Like I just came out the womb rotten. Like I deserve the way the gods looked at me today, like I’m every bit as revolting as Harrow says I am,”

“Hey,” Her head flicked over her shoulder at the anger in his tone. She hadn’t meant to spill, hadn’t meant to overflow her brain like that, have the words jump right out her throat. Maybe she was too relaxed here. She expected judgement, or disgust, or pity. But no, Marc just looked pissed. “That is not true, do you hear me? Everything he said about you is wrong,”

“But if he’s wrong, then why does all this happen to me? Why does it happen if I don’t deserve the badness?” She asked him quietly, because Marc knew all the answers. Marc knew everything, always knew what to say even if he didn’t realise it.

He took in her damp, clean face that stared up at him in naive grace. Her eyes gazed right up at him into his soul, seeing past every defence he had tried to throw up against her, everything unintimate between them gone as she soaked away the blood.

“Sometimes these things just happen to people. Sometimes there is no deserve,” Marc said after a moment to chew on his words. His hands cupped her face gently, her eyebrows furrowing as his thumb wiped the wetness from her cheek that rolled down in a couple glistening bubbles. “You are amazing, do you hear?”

She was silent.

Marc, in what was possibly the most tender thing he’d done since he’d first met Layla, slowly leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, a held breath exhaling on his clavicle, cold unlike the warmth of her cheeks.

He drew back, the scent of french lavender and vanilla invading his lips, tasting sweet on his tongue.

And yet the pit of guilt only sank in Dove’s heart at the gesture. The pit that devoured her every second of every day. She didn’t deserve his kindness, his sweet words or his saccharine kisses. Marc would hate her if he found out what she was, who she was. If he knew the reason she left home, left her brothers.

If he knew she was a murderer.

MCU

@blackcat420---69

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery8895-blog @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child d @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo @sxftie-mari @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @seraphimcollections @katboops @kmhappybunny240

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

[sasheneskywalker]

dc/marvel crossover fic recs

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone The last thing Peter sees is Tony's horrified, heartbroken expression leaning over him. The guilt in his eyes is almost worse than the burning pain that's taking Peter apart piece by piece. The world starts to go dark.

There's a flash of gold and green. For one moment, he finds himself standing amongst the Guardians and others. And then darkness again. It feels like blinking; an extended period of nothingness that ends as abruptly as it begins. One moment there’s nothing, the next there’s light.

“Easy,” a woman says. Her words are gentle, and carry a slight accent that he can’t place. "I'm called Wonder Woman. What's your name?"

Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Gotham City & Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Batman & Spiderman

Revenge is a Word I Haven't Yet Defined (I’m not sure I’m worthy of such theatrics) by OliOcelot After the Lazarus Pits and a year of training with the League, Talia sends Jason to Gotham for revenge. Except Jason isn’t as deep as she thinks. The thing is, he expected to see Bruce - Batman - and be livid. He let him die, replaced him. He should be mad.

He isn’t.

In the end, it’s hard to think of yourself as being replaced when you died. So yeah, he’s angry, but he’s not angry enough for revenge. Not like Talia wants him to be.

So he focuses on Red Hood and cleaning up Crime Alley, and scraps any ideas of revenge he had left. They’re unnecessary. Counterproductive, in fact, because now that he’s actually seen Bruce, all he really wants is to go home. Maybe have a conversation or two about how bad Bruce and Dick messed up, but at home.

Instead, he gets caught up in world altering magic from some criminal in over his head, and Jason finds himself tumbling through universes into a New York filled with heroes that he’s never even heard of and a lack of Gotham and Metropolis that can only mean one thing. This isn’t the world he knows.

All he wants is to get home, to make amends, to try again. Too bad none of them know he’s gone. Not that anyone would think to look for a dead boy.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

To Dig a Grave in Winter by OliOcelot The Winter Soldier isn’t the only Asset that Hydra has. This will be their downfall.

Or, Jason Todd rose from his grave only to be taken by Hydra and turned into a living weapon, known as the Gravewalker. Meeting the Winter Soldier might just make it worth it.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply | James Bucky Barnes (Marvel) & Jason Todd (DCU), James Bucky Barnes (Marvel)/Jason Todd (DCU)

in labyrinths of reflections by blackkat With the incursions imminent, Khonshu steals his avatar away to another dimension, where there's little risk of the universes colliding.

Marc is unprepared for Gotham, but it's probably safe to say that Gotham is equally unprepared for Marc.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Marc Spector & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Steven Grant

no map to my own treasure by blackkat “I think this is yours.”

Bruce doesn’t even have to look up. He already knows precisely what this is about. Containing a sigh, he rubs the bridge of his nose, and says, “If he bit you, I can pay for the emergency room visit—”

“I did not bite him,” Damian says, outraged.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Marc Spector/Bruce Wayne

Knaves All Three by Ginevra_Benci After Ultron, Avengers Tower hosts a good-will gala to fundraise for post-Incident NYC.

Local lawyers Nelson & Murdock, fresh from saving Hell's Kitchen from the ravages of Wilson Fisk, get an invite.

And.

Bruce Wayne’s in town.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark & Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers/Bruce Wayne, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson

The Spider and the Samovar by Ginevra_Benci There's a new player in Eastern Europe: the Spider has been making a name for himself and has caught the attention of the Outlaws.

Jason Todd makes contact.

Well. He tries to.

G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Natasha Romanoff

Bats Out of Hell by Jedi_Olympian Dick and Tim find themselves in a bit of trouble. Multiversal trouble. Needless to say, their boyfriends are not happy about it, and the universe they find themselves in is unlike any they've found themselves in before.

Or Dick and Tim get thrown into the MCU and meet the Avengers.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

If It's A Highway by there_must_be_a_lock Bucky’s been running for a week when the supposedly-untraceable burner phone he stole from a HYDRA warehouse starts ringing. He’s in a gas station bathroom off a remote highway close to the Croatian border, getting ready to bleach his hair; the ringtone bounces shrilly off the bare tiles and makes his jaw clench tight.

[Or: the one where Bucky is hired to train Jason, and he ends up learning a thing or two himself.]

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes/Jason Todd

There but for Grace go I by AutumnHobbit Frank Castle comes to Gotham on the trail of some human traffickers who picked the wrong city. Imagine his surprise to find he isn’t the only one out for their blood. When things turn sour he decides to get involved, which leads to a lot of unexpected drama.

And he thought New York’s costumed paraders were bad.

Not Rated | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Frank Castle

The Five Stages of Neighborly Affection by AlannaLioness, phonecallfromgod, youshallnotfinditso Between Matt being back from the dead, Nelson & Murdock 2.0 and a fancy Manhattan apartment from his (former) sharky boss, Foggy feels like he's doing pretty well keeping the vigilante nonsense in his life to a minimum.

Or he was until he moved next door to Tim Drake.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake (Minor), Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (Minor), Minor or Background Relationship(s)

running in the shadows by dukeaubergine Jack Drake dies during one of Tony Stark's "taking responsibility" phases. The Bats aren't happy about this.

Tim is pushing to come home, and in the meantime be an NYC vigilante right under Stark's nose, when the Sokovia Accords knock over the whole board.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Avengers Team & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Tony Stark, Tim Drake & Wanda Maximoff

Shake the Devil Out of Me by thepartyresponsible The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Phil Coulson/Jason Todd

The Dawn Will Break Before You by thepartyresponsible “Okay, heartbreaker,” he says, “how much to put the tires back on the car?”

Jason rolls his eyes and gestures at him with the lug wrench. “Why don’t I just beat you up and steal your money? Is this the first time you’ve been to a bad part of town? Don’t show me your wallet, asshole. Come on.”

The man heaves a heavy, aggrieved sigh and starts pulling out bills. “Five hundred?” He tries. “Six? We can go to an ATM.”

“You are mugging yourself,” Jason says, oddly impressed. “Holy shit.”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

Give Thanks to Broken Bones by thepartyresponsible The bodyguard is incredibly well-respected in the superhero single parent community. He is also, Tony’s realizing, something of an asshole.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

birds fly (why can't I?) by SafelyCapricious The apartment in Gotham that Natasha gets — all cash and no ID required — is a shithole.

But it’s her shithole.

Well, hers and the cockroaches’, she supposes, as she turns on the flickering light in the bathroom and at least a hundred of them scurry out of view.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Jason Todd

Five Supersoldiers Walk Into a Bar by bittercape He spots him through the binoculars, far away and disappearing fast. Logan is, more than anything, a hunter. He knows how to watch, and he watches the sniper moving away, after a single well-placed shot. He moves just like Barnes did. Everyone has a particular way of moving, if you know how to watch. And Logan, as mentioned, knows how to watch.

Logan knows it cannot be him, knows he died, falling from a train. No normal human could survive that. And yet …

He drops down from the watchtower. He’ll catch hell for this, sure. But he has to know.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Logan (X-men) & James "Bucky" Barnes, Logan (X-Men) & Natasha Romanov, Logan (X-Men) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Slade Wilson, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Slade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Slade Wilson

five, six, just for kicks by bittercape “Good evening,” Jason says, because he does have manners when he wants to use them. “Talia al Ghul sent me for training.”

“Right,” the man says. “You’re here for training with Deathstroke.”

“Yeees,” Jason says. This seems more than a little eccentric. “And you are Deathstroke?”

“Yes indeed!” the man says. “It is I, Deathstroke!”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd & Wade Wilson, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

In The Oddest Places by withthekeyisking After pulling Steve Rogers out of the water, there's not a lot that the Soldier knows. But going to ground? Yeah, he can do that.

If only there wasn't another super soldier trying to get in his way.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes & Slade Wilson

[angel-of-the-moons]

Ligyrophobia

Moon Boys (Jake focused) x Mama!Reader (Feat. Khonshu and Victoria!)

TW/CW: fluff!

A/N: This just popped into my head because i suffer from this as well and God damn it I needed fluffy Khonshu

Note: This ties into my mini-miniseries, "Small Surprises". Just a drabble on Khonshu's tough bitchy exterior chipping away because Victoria is adorable and he's secretly a big ass softie

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dreary day. Another storm sweeping over London, blotting out the sun's rays behind the angry dark clouds.

You and Jake had run out to gather things to make for dinner, and Victoria didn't want to venture out with you. She had a bit of a fever and a sniffle, and you were hesitant to leave her behind.

You and Jake were flabbergasted when Khonshu had offered to babysit her.

Jake was hesitant to leave your precious child alone with him, but... even he had to concede the point when you told him that as a protector of the innocent, he would never hurt Victoria.

He had sneaking suspicions that something else was going on with you in particular, as even Steven was far more protective of you than usual.

But... here he is now, with your sickly daughter who sniffled and rubbed at her eye as she huddled beneath her desk, her plush scarab clutched against her chest as though it could ward off the booming thunder from outside.

The power had blinked out, so the flat was dark, only the dim light from outside provided any illumination, which seemed to frighten the child more.

He kneeled down, peering at her.

"You can come out. It's only thunder." He said, trying to keep his tone gentle and quiet. She was a child after all, and it was natural for children to fear things outside of their control, and things they did not yet understand. Especially children like Victoria (and Steven).

Victoria shook her head and cried softly, burying her face in the stuffed toy, her feet curling and rubbing together again, and again as she rocked back and forth, noises bubbling up beneath her tiny sobs.

"Little one--" Khonshu's voice was cut off when a loud crack of thunder shook the flat.

He looked towards the window to see the heavy rain pelting the glass with loud patters, the wind shaking the glass.

This was a bad one, he couldn't help but wonder what triggered this.

His head snapped back to look at Victoria when she hiccuped and began wailing, rocking back and forth, her breathing so quick and ragged he was afraid she would faint.

Her face messed and streaked with... ugh.

But... he couldn't deny something inside of him tugged at the sight of her so tiny and helpless, afraid of what her little psyche could possibly label as some sort of monster outside her home.

Khonshu sighed and reached down, his voice low and soft.

"Come here, little one." He says gently, his large hands curling around her tiny body and pulling her out from her hiding place.

He wasn't surprised when she squirmed and cried, trying to get free to go back to her "safe place". He let her flail, to fight him, until he sat back, cross-legged and cradled her against his body.

She sniffled, her breathing broken up by little sobs as she finally relented, body tense as Khonshu held her, his robes flowing around the two of them, creating a buffer between Victoria and the storm outside.

She snuggled against him instinctively, drawn in by the warmth he exuded, but still made little noises and groans as the thunder roared outside.

Khonshu cradled her back with his hand and pressed her a little tighter against his chest, feeling her rub her cheek on his robes and bandages in a manner similar to how she would stroke her cheek on you or one of your lovers.

"Hush." He murmurs softly, petting her curly hair in an effort to calm her. "You are safe."

She didn't respond. She didn't usually talk when she was having a meltdown, often only rocked and made odd sounds in an attempt to work off her frightened or nervous energy; and it was difficult to break through to her mentally when she was like this.

Khonshu sighed.

And then... began humming.

It was a small melody, but one he remembered well. Hathor would often pluck her harp and sing it to him before he was sent into exile. He remembered being present during the feasts and festivals in her honor, her followers often sang the same song and performed it in the streets.

His deep, vibrating voice seemed to soothe her, little bit little, judging by how she relaxed against him, the tension in her body loosening as he gently rocked her, humming the heavenly song to her.

While this moment was happening, however, he didn't notice the monitor in the corner, the little red light blinking.

He did not know that it automatically switched to battery mode when the cord was disconnected or the power was switched off.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jake squinted at the bottles of vitamins, trying to figure out why one bottle was more expensive than the other when their ingredients were the same.

"Ay, paying for brands is so fucking stupid." He growled, ignoring the weary looks from people as he cursed in Spanish.

He plucked a bottle of the shelves and held it up, clearing his throat so the pregnant young lady next to him would look.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything...." He said awkwardly. "But which bottle of these is better? Would you say?"

The young woman seemed a little nervous at first, until she spotted the bottle on question, and realized he was looking at the same shelf of vitamins she was.

Her left hand rubbed her belly as she shyly took the bottle from his fingers, turning it over, and looking at the facts on the back of the bottle.

"Oh! For these, you can just get generic. They have the same stuff and are cheaper." She chirps.

Jake sighs with relief as he replaced the bottle with the recommended one. "Sí, that is exactly what I was saying."

"You're.... shopping for someone?" She asked.

"Ah... Yeah." He laughed a little stiffly, dropping the bottle in the basket he clenched in his fist.

"My fiancé."

"Aw... how far along is she? Er--I mean, I don't mean to assume, I was taking prenatals before I got pregnant just for the health benefits, uh..." She floundered.

Jake flashed her a charming grin, his beard creasing around his plush lips. "She's due sometime in the summer. Only found out a week or two ago."

"Oh! Congratulations!" She smiled, relaxing a bit.

"Gracias," Jake chuckled. "Our little girl is going to be excited--we hope--when we tell her."

"Aww... I hope everything works out for you guys." She giggled, grabbing a bottle of vitamin gummies for herself as well. "Well, maybe see you around!" She chirped once more before cutely waddling away.

Jake grinned again, he couldn't wait to see you waddle like that. Like a cute little penguin.

"Jake! Jake!" You panted, apparently having run with the shopping trolley just to find him. The panicked edge in your tone had him immediately on alert.

"What's wrong? What is it?" He asked, dropping his basket in the trolley to hold your arms in his palms.

"The power's out at home." You heaved, holding up your phone.

He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Did something happen? Was Victoria all right? Did Khonshu do something--

"You have to see this." You say, interrupting his thoughts as you swiped your password in, opening the app to the baby monitor. You weren't out of range just yet, as the shop was relatively nearby, and you'd purposefully purchased that expensive monitor because of the large signal range it had.

You turned your phone around, a face-splitting grin on your face as you showed him the most recent clip recorded. The monitor, when you weren't looking at the receiver at your bedside, uploaded clips in five-minute intervals to the app for storage for you to look at later.

Khonshu and Victoria were highlighted plainly in the night vision mode. Victoria was curled up in his lap and Khonshu was... was singing to her. He didn't understand the words he said out loud, assuming it was some ancient language that Steven could only decipher; as his large hands patted her hair and back, rocking and soothing her like one would do for a baby.

"....See? Who was right? Told you she'd be fine with him." You grin slyly, a hand over your ear, awaiting the inevitable.

"Okay, okay, mierda." Jake ran a hand through his curls, shaking his head at you. "You were right. Maybe the old bird is... coming around."

"Victoria has a way of charming everyone." You giggle, looking at the recording with a glimmer in your eyes.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your belly, thumbs tracing your soft curves beneath your shirt.

"Yeah, well... I'm willing to bet her sibling will have the same charm."

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Blood is only the appetizer, honey

Vampire!Marc Spector x fem!reader

Edit: I messed up the timer I'm sorry!!! >:(

Cw/triggers: Blood, nsfw, possessive!Marc, smut, p in v, dub-con vibes because of blood loss.

A/n: Okay, wow, he's so scary. But it suits him!! I guess?

Marc has been looking for a delicious snack for hours now. It's ironic how tonight Khonshu had no available mission for him in order to get a bad guy to snack on, and now with each passing second his hunger grew. Despite being already late at night and not a single soul was outside anymore, he still kinda wished some miracle would happen and some stupid mugger would want to jump him just so he can feed.

Of course there was always the option for him to drink animal blood but he would rather die if he could than drink that because he hates it and it tastes like shit how he calls it. Now he's just wandering the streets with his hands in his pockets, kicking empty bottles and cans on his way.

As Marc turned a corner something catched his nostrils. A sweet scent, causing his nose to twitch. He knew the scent, it belonged to people who had a particularly sweet blood. Marc glanced around, trying to figure out where the source is, following the smell until he was close enough to spot someone.

You.

Marc smirked, his fangs elongated at their potential rich prey. Marc's mouth began watering up, he couldn't believe his luck. His seemingly insatiable hunger is now going to be temporarily stilled by your sweet blood.

He began walking after you. You were completely oblivious of his presence behind you, he felt a bit like a creep if he was being honest but he couldn't help himself!

While walking he occasionally bit the inside of his lip, getting desperate for a good place to drag you in for feeding while also trying not to drool on the ground because he felt like a feral dog walking after you.

Finally, he spotted an alley you were about to cross, thinking now or never.

He increased the pace, clamping one cold hand down on your mouth and grabbed your arm with the other, leaning his face next to yours so he could speak into your ear.

"Shh, don't make a noise," he spoke lowly "it'll be quick."

He dragged you into the alley, pressing you against the wall, keeping you there with his knee pressing against you.

He couldn't resist leaning in close, ignoring your protests and struggles with ease, taking a deep breath to inhale your sense-blowing scent. "You smell so good. So freaking good." he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

His breath was warm but his touch was cold, almost too cold.

Marc's fangs were fully extended at this point, your smell was driving him insane, his ears picking up the flow of your sweet blood making them ache.

"I would have already bitten you," he breathed you in again "but," he exhaled slowly with a slight tremble in it "your smell is just too good to be true."

He pressed his lips against your skin, trailing upwards until they were right at your vein.

You began struggling against him, whimpering into his hand, confused what's going on and scared to death.

You felt him grin against your skin.

His lips moved beside your ear once more. "Oh, you're scared? Good, makes your blood all the more sweet." he spoke eerily.

You shook your head frantically.

"Alright, I'll remove my hand but don't you dare scream."

Marc removed his hand slowly, allowing you to speak.

"Am I going to die?"

He gave a confused look. "What? No. I just need to satisfy my hunger."

His lips were back at your neck vein, giving a gentle kiss, letting his pointy fangs graze your skin.

"W-wait, don't do this please!"

"Do you want a feral vampire running around because his victim told him no?" he snorts. "I don't think so. You might want to satisfy his needs so he won't do anything stupid."

He opened his mouth, pressing his sharp fangs against your skin, making you gasp. "And I couldn't let someone as delicious as you slip through my fingers."

Marc squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. "Try thinking about something nice."

Before you knew it, his fangs pierced your skin, sinking into the vein, causing a sharp hiss to come out of you.

Marc's eyes almost rolled back at the sweet taste of your blood. "Oh fuck... you taste heavenly." he moaned, feeling something different than hunger stire up in him.

He drank slowly at first, then went for deeper swigs of your blood. You felt yourself getting lightheaded, trying to weakly shake him off, causing him to press his body against you as his swigs slowed down.

You unintentionally let out a moan at his body weight, feeling the subtle bulge in his pants pressing against you, feeling him grinding slowly.

"Feel that, honey?" his fangs retreated into his gums, his tongue came out to lick the wound close, some of your blood was staining his lips. "Told you you're the special kind of victim."

"Are you done?" you slurred out from the blood loss.

Marc smirked. "With your blood? Yes. For now. But you? No."

He starts undressing you, exposing your core to him, running a finger along your folds, finding them a bit wet.

"Your blood was only the appetizer. Now comes my real need."

He unzipped his pants, reaching inside and pulled his aching cock out.

Spreading your legs, but keeping you steady so you won't fall, he positioned the tip at your wet entrance, rubbing against it, letting you feel how practical hot his dick is despite his almost ice cold skin.

As he pushed inside, you couldn't help but slump against the wall, moaning by how he's stretching you.

"Fuck, I knew you'd be fun. I don't think I will–" he stopped from speaking further. Now that Marc had you, a sweet one, he didn't want to let you slip away. He's thinking about keeping you.

He set a steady pace, angling his hips so he's hitting the spot deep inside you, making you flutter around him deliciously.

Marc feels you getting more wet by the second, the lingering sweet taste of your blood on his lips made this impossibly pleasurable.

Despite your blood loss, your orgasm was on its way fast, betraying your earlier struggles.

"Look at you," he pulled out almost all the way, just to slam back into you "getting fucked by a vampire in some dirty alley."

Marc was panting, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his release.

Your orgasm almost knocked you out from the intensity of it, your pussy gripping him like vice and your juices coating his cock.

"There you go, sweetie- there you- fuck–"

He shot his hot cum into you, breathing heavily and leaning his head against your shoulder.

Marc pulled out shortly after, watching his cum trickle down on the ground.

He was still holding your shoulder, steadying you. "I'll help you get dressed back and you will come with me."

"Come with you?" you look back at him, exhausted.

Marc grinned. "I'm not letting you slip away. Now that I have you, I'll keep you."

[oddballwriter]

Dwelling in the Night

Series Masterlist

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Summary: There's a new vigilante figure out on the streets at night. And there's also a new neighbor on the same floor as Steven and the rest of the boys.  

Warnings: Mentions of blood, dead bodies, crime, all that. Reader is a vampire so it's implied that they consume blood and all that. Also, Y/N kills, but the act is never actually written or depicted. Steven being dumb and clueless for reasons of the plot. This is mostly Steven-centric and Marc-centric but Jake's here too but doesn't really do anything for the plot other than simply have some lines that progress the plot. Gender-neutral reader with they/them being used for them. Heads up, it does get a bit confusing in one part but I think it's fine.  

Author’s Snip: I wrote this in one sitting and it's currently 1:30 am. Honestly, anything to stall my studying for an exam for one of my classes. I wrote this fucking unit of a shot involving my love for vampire Y/N's just to do it.

Notes: Please appreciate vampire reader. We need more of that in the x reader community. I as a reader would love for that to happen more often. Thank you.

Word count: 2,600~

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

The system took pride in their patrolling. Even if it was still doing work for Khonshu, they were still free in what they did when coming across a criminal rather than being yapped at. It brought a sort of satisfaction of taking, or at least scaring, another threat off the street. But things were getting weird, and slightly disturbing.

Criminals had started to drop like flies with a theme of them being found in dark alleys with bitten throats, but there was never any blood to be found that made sense with their wounds. Just their pale corpses with looks of fear or shock in their glazed-over eyes.

Jake admired the simple tactic of scaring off would be scum by the fear of being the next person in the obituaries, but he had to admit that the method of doing that was unsettling. He just killed them and let whoever came across the scene be shucked with cleaning the mess.

Marc worried that this other party wasn't actually someone necessarily on "the right side" and this was an actual threat to the public that just so happened to have a streak going with having their victims coincidentally being criminals.

It wasn't until they came across two cases that proved that worry otherwise.

The first was a girl they found running around the alleys in a panic. When they went to her and asked if she was okay, she was babbling about something in her panting. "There was this guy! He dragged me into the alleys, he held up a knife to me and was threatening me!" she explained pointing in the general direction, but she kept talking "But this... in the shadows, there were these two glowing lights, like eyes! And this person came out from there and grabbed them." she said. "I just ran off I didn't know where to go! They were blocking off the way to the street." she exclaimed.

It was actually Steven who was fronting then. He helped her calm down and led her out of the alley system and back in to get the perp and maybe help whoever got him away from the poor woman. But when he found the guy, he was like all the others he and the system had heard about.

Dead with a bitten throat, fear on their face, and hardly any blood in the pool for it to make sense.

The second was with Marc himself. He dropped in on a duo of muggers who cornered a young man, getting a left hook in on one of them. But his buddy ran off into the dark and dank alleys to get away. Marc needed to do a few more punches to get the first down and out before chasing after the second, but he swore he could've seen a figure follow after them in the corner of his vision.

He heard the sound of what must have been the guy's scream as soon as Marc moved on.

But when Marc got there, he was already on the wet brick floor writhing and grabbing at his neck. He saw them. A figure in the shadows where the backlights couldn't reach to show them in all say for a silhouette, had ducked into another alley. "Hey!" Marc called to them before chasing after them. But when he turned the corner, they were gone, only seeing a complete dead end.

When Marc came back to the guy, he found him trying to breathe through a gargled, and bitten, throat. He tried his best to help the guy since he was still alive. Unfortunately, bites to the jugular weren't kind injuries to those who are dealt them.

🩸🩸🩸

"I don't understand," Steven mutters as Marc slides back into their flat after patrolling and finding a few more crooks who came across this other person. "Why the injuries to the neck? And how is there hardly any blood?" he questions, "There's nowhere for it to go. There's nowhere for them to go. They just come out of nowhere and pick these blokes off and leave in such a short moment.".

"I don't know. And I don't think I want to know. This freak's keeping the load easier for us by doing whatever they're doing with these guys." Marc says, emphasizing the word 'freak'. "Hey, watch who you're calling a freak, amigo. We aren't exactly normal either." Jake says, mostly joking. "Yeah, sure. But we're not the one who's having our guys come up without a drop of blood left in them." Marc defends.

A crash is heard from nearby, in the flat next door.

"The hell's going on over there?" Marc muttered to himself as a reaction to the sound, but Steven said a name almost instantly.

"Who?" Marc asked.

"It's Y/N. They're our neighbor. They moved in a few months ago." Steven answered. "I've never heard of them." Marc comments before Steven quips back with "That's because you two hardly meet anybody.".

"Give me the body for a bit. I want to check on them. That sounded like something big fell over." Steven requests. Marc shrugs and switches out after briefly instructing "Put the body to sleep when you're done.".

Steven un-summons the suit, steps out into the hallway, steps towards your door, and knocks. After a beat, the door opens enough to have your head pop through, but not enough to show the rest of your flat like a fully opened door would. Which he didn't really mind, you always did this whenever he or anyone would knock. "Hello." Steven greets you with a little smile.

You look worried at seeing him in front of you. "I heard a pretty loud noise come from your flat. Is everything okay?" Steven asked. "Yeah. I'm so sorry. I knocked over a shelf." you answer. Steven is shocked for a bit, "A shelf? My word. Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to help you lift it back up?" Steven stresses as he moves to the side to peak into your flat to see how bad the damage is. But you quickly pull back in and tighten the width of the open door to a sliver , making him unable to see the inside with a "No!".

He pulls away, startled at the sudden reaction.

You open the door back up to step out again. "I'm sorry about that." you timidly apologize. "It's fine. I can pick it back up on my own. Thank you for offering to help and for your concern." you say. "There's some blood on your hand." Steven notices. You pull your hand behind your back at the realization. "It's fine. I'll clean it up myself." you blurt out as you go back into your flat with a quick "Good night, Steven." before closing and re-locking the door behind you, all before he can properly react.

"Good night?" Steven repeats back in confusion.

"That was weird." Marc comments, exposing that he had watched the whole thing go down. "Yeah. They... are a bit strange. They don't really come out most of the day." Steven explains. "Why were they up this late?" Jake buds in, having seen it all too. "It's nearly four in the morning and they look wide awake and aren't in any pajamas." Jake adds.

The next time Steven saw you, you were bringing a huge box into your apartment a few days after that night.

"Need help?" he asked. "Sure. It's actually really hard to drag around." you admit. As he picked up the other end of the large, and heavy, box and walked with your pace into your flat you spoke. "I'm sorry about the noise and acting weird a few nights ago. I was just embarrassed from having woken you up." you explain. Steven gently huffs, "No need to apologize. I wasn't asleep anyways. I was pulling an all-nighter like you were." Steven reassures. You look at him for a moment, "Oh right. Yeah. I do that a lot. I do better with work at night." you remark.

You two manage to get the box past some things it would have bumped, into and into the space between the space of your bedroom and living room. That's when he sees that there's no bed there in your bedroom area, glancing at the box to see a depiction of a bed frame.

"Changing furniture?" Steven asks. "Yeah. I already sold my old one." you say. Steven quarks a brow, "When? Have you had to sleep on your sofa-?" he asks as he turns towards your living room area before interrupting himself with a "Woah!".

There in the area, where a coffee table should be, was an authentic-looking coffin. "Quite the decor there." Steven comments with a breathy little chuckle. "Yeah. I like the look it had." you claim.

Looking around your flat for the first time, Steven could see it. It wasn't exactly goth per se, but there was a weirdly somber and antique look to your decor. It had that same attic look that Steven's did, but you had an attic feel of that of an abandoned house that was left for the dust bunnies to call home. Almost haunted house-esk with the draw curtains adding to it all.

"Is someone in there?" Steven jokes, mostly to himself. "No." you stutter out, "But it does still open." you mention as you walk towards it to show him by lifting the lid.

And, wow. It was real. It still had the pale pink padding and even the pillow inside of it, still pristine as ever, ignoring a couple of scratches on the outside wood.

"Impressive. How'd you even get your hands on this?" Steven asked. You thought for a moment, most likely trying to recall the answer to that question. "Some funeral places have spares that never got sold. So they sell them for a much cheaper price." you say.

Steven nodded as he took another look at the coffin.

"Well, it really is a nice touch." Steven complimented. "Thank you." you reply with a sigh.

🩸🩸🩸

Again.

And again.

One alley crawler dead and paled out after another.

Finding the bodies seemed to become a normal accordance for the boys when they were out doing their rounds around the city. Whoever this was at least started to lean the bodies against the wall after doing the deed now so that there wasn't just some corpse in the middle of the alley's street.

He was still finding the people this person 'saved' too. With them saying the same thing each time. Talking about a person in the shadows with a pair of glowing eyes being the only visible thing about them and then having gotten whatever criminal tried their luck yanked away into the said shadows with a scream echoing as the victim ran to safety.

They never see the actual person though. They don't seem to wear a costume like they do. No mask. No suit. Their only identity keeper they have being that of the shadows that exist beyond any light sources. The only sign of it being them is just the animal-like glow of their eyes. And one brutal calling card for those who came to see where they were.

Tonight was different.

Marc heard the sound of gunshots and rushed to the scene. But he found someone running for their life trying to leave already. He grabs a hold of them, thinking it was a person escaping a forceful mugging till they tried to aim a gun at him. Thankfully, he manages to subdue them.

"That thing tried to get me!" they shouted frantically as they attempted to get loose. "You gotta let me go, man. I don't want to be another body found around here." they beg.

"They tried robbing someone." a voice rings through.

Marc, and also the person he was holding down, looked towards where it came from. He notices the eyes first, with their white pearly glow surrounded by the rest of their shadowy form. The eyes almost looked like the system when they wore their suits, though it was dimmer, just enough to pierce through the darkness, and looked more like the glow was coming from the irises than the whole eye.

"I stopped them before they could pounce. This one was holding more firepower than most. I didn't want to have to risk it." the voice spoke again.

It felt a little haunting. The glow was almost disarming somehow, and their voice was calm and collected as it naturally echoed through the walls of the buildings, and sounding almost familiar. Marc stood there just staring at them till the person he was holding started thrashing harder in his hold, "Let me go, that thing's going to fucking kill me! I swear to god!" they pleaded.

"You're in his court now. You aren't my issue anymore." the silhouette says looking towards the person from where they were before looking back up at Marc.

"Sorry about me leaving my actual catches around." the silhouette apologizes. "I have nowhere to put them." they add as an explanation.

"Why kill them?" Marc questioned, speaking before really thinking. "You kill some of yours don't you, Moonknight? I don't see why you're judging me." the silhouette remarks. "I meant in the way that you do. I just kill them and leave them. You do... something to them." Marc speaks, hesitating for a second at the latter end.

The silhouette stays silent for a second seemingly striking their eyebrow from the way their eyes move. "I have reasons to do it that you probably wouldn't like to hear." they say. "We're doing the same work either way. My method is just more intense than yours tends to be." they comment before slipping back and disappearing into the shadows.

Marc calls out a "Wait!" but gets nothing in return.

He's just left alone with a scared shitless would-have-been mugger and more questions.

🩸🩸🩸

"Hey!" Steven calls out as he does a brief jog over to you in the hallway. "About time I catch you out in the day." Steven jokes. "Oh. Hello, Steven. Yeah. I needed to run some errands." you say, giving an explanation for the rare occurrence. "Good thing you've come back. It's been overcast all day and would rain at any minute." Steven comments.

"Anyways. I knocked on your door yesterday but you didn't come to the door at all." Steven mentions. "Oh. Really? I'm sorry. I'm usually asleep in the day because of my all-nighters." you claim.

"Really? You've got to be the hardest sleeper then. You're like the dead in there. I knocked hard for a while." Steven explains. "So I've been told." you nervously laugh. "You must be real tired if you usually sleep in the day then," he comments. "Yeah. But I have to deal with it." you say.

"What did you need?" you ask.

"Oh. Nothing from me. I was told to tell you, by the landlord, that there would be a check of the fire alarm system next week and that some might go off." Steven explains. "They tried to knock on your door the day before I knocked, but I guess you were asleep." Steven says. "Yeah. I probably was." you reply, "I'll send them an e-mail or something telling them about my sleep schedule." you mutter to yourself.

"Well, nice running into you. Go get yourself some rest." Steven says as he bids you goodbye by patting your shoulder. "Be sure to wrap yourself in something warm too. You're a bit cold." he adds.

[m00nsbaby]

Heartbreak feels so good.

Jake Lockley + Khonshu x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. Mentions of violence and being hurt, angst, mentions of kidnapping, cursing.

Word count. 4.7

Summary. He left as quickly as he appeared in your life.

No, in fact, you took it upon yourself to remove him from it, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of him.

You never regretted it; your love was never above your morals, and you could live with that even on days when it felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. But there was something about the nights that made you miss him more.

The way the moonlight bathed you through the window was a constant reminder that it wasn't just your imagination trying to save you from your impending loneliness. He had cradled you in his arms, or perhaps, you had cradled him in yours, who knows.

Now, you were left with a life without them.

Without him.

Not waking up to the sound of your alarm was a strange way to start the day, not as strange as the rest was going to be, but it was quite fitting for the situation.

The headache came in stabbing waves, and opening your eyes was the icing on the cake, although fortunately, everything was dark. Had your nap gotten out of hand? It wouldn't be the first time you slept for 24 hours straight.

Everything was relatively calm, with one tiny detail you noticed after a few seconds. You weren't in your room.

In fact, you had no idea where you were.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." you whispered as you pushed the sheets over your body. A sharp pain ran through your entire leg, combined with one on the opposite side, at the level of your ribs. "Shit!" you said again, this time with a slightly louder tone.

This should be the part where you cried; your mind immediately went to the most logical conclusion at the moment: years of walking around the city at night with your headphones on had led to this, a kidnapping.

A pretty stupid kidnapping if you thought about it because many of your things were still in your pocket – your phone, headphones, some crumpled dollars. On the bureau across the room, some of your belongings were resting too; you recognized your purple folder decorated with stickers, but it seemed to have barely survived as it looked more damaged than usual.

You also took a moment to look at yourself. You were wearing only a long T-shirt that wasn't yours, way too big for your body, but it gave you the freedom to notice that your ankle and leg were bandaged, and you could also feel the slight pressure of the fabric around your ribs.

"You woke up." You almost screamed in fear when a figure that you could barely distinguish appeared at the door, speaking with a curious accent.

Of course, your first reaction was to grab the first thing you could find and throw it with all the force you could muster, considering your broken leg and ribs. He barely managed to raise his hands to shield himself from the glass of water that shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor.

Jake had forgotten how much things hurt when he wasn't wearing the suit.

"Ouch! Okay, okay, okay, I understand!" He raised both hands in a gesture of innocence, taking a step back but staying close to the door frame. "I get it, really! You're scared, it's weird, I know, I know, just let me… No!"

There went his favorite lamp. And worse, it didn't even serve as defense because you ended up groaning in pain, clutching your ribs.

"Please, stop throwing things!" Jake looked sadly at the broken lamp for a few seconds before looking at the empty space in the room. He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were listening to someone.

He nodded silently to nothing and then sighed.

Great, you got kidnapped by a crazy person.

"Just let me explain, okay?" He didn't want to intimidate you further, although he doubted it was even possible. He crouched down to pick up the three pieces into which the object had shattered; the last thing he needed now in his apartment was this mess. "Please."

You had seen enough movies to know that sometimes the best option for survival was to be kind.

"Okay." It was the only thing you said as you tried your best to sit on the bed in a more comfortable position.

"Have you heard of that strange vigilante with the white suit and ridiculous cape…"

If only you had heard Khonshu's reaction as he cursed Jake from the corner of the room.

"Well, not so ridiculous cape, who's been on the streets for a few months?"

You pursed your lips and had to force yourself to continue the conversation. Of course, you knew him; you sometimes shared photos of him on the internet, the few that were available and of poor quality. You even remembered commenting "He's so fucking cool!!!" on some fan page.

Those with at least 15 followers.

"Yeah, the one who looks like a mummy on steroids."

"Wow, that's new."

"What does he have to do with you kidnapping me?"

"You're not kidnapped."

"I can't leave."

"Technically, no."

"Then I am kidnapped."

Jake sighed, giving up.

"It was an accident; you ended up in the middle of one of his missions by mistake. You got injured, although you probably already felt that."

"And that's why you kidnapped me?"

"Ay por dios." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You have a broken leg, you twisted your ankle, and you have some broken ribs. I couldn't leave you like that; you lost consciousness quickly."

You nodded slowly; it was clear you weren't convinced yet.

"So you just decided to be a good Samaritan? You could have taken me to the hospital, you know, instead of kidnapping me."

"They'll ask questions at the hospital, and that will lead to the police. I couldn't take you there."

"Plus, I don't have medical insurance."

"Well, I didn't know that, but it's one more point in my favor."

"It's still not a good enough excuse to…"

"You're not kidnapped!" His accent became more noticeable as he lost his patience; that was interesting.

"So, the masked guy is an idiot who leaves the injured because of him to their fate."

You didn't have the strength or energy to argue anymore; this whole situation was a joke without humor, although it didn't sound so impossible.

You once read about someone who wanted to sue Spider-Man for the same thing. Or had it been Daredevil? Too much pain in your body and too many superheroes with red suits.

"Technically, no."

"Technically, yes."

"He's taking responsibility for what he did."

Your eyes met his, and he cleared his throat.

"You're lying; you just don't want me to scream or call the police."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Prove it."

The last thing you saw before losing consciousness for the second time in 24 hours was the shining white ceremonial suit in the darkness, with a faint glow that seemed to emanate from it.

The good side was that technically, you weren't kidnapped.

The second time you woke up wasn't as difficult as the first. The headache had almost completely faded, and at least now you had a clearer context of where you were, partially, but less lost than before.

"Hello again." Jake looked at you from a chair next to the bed, holding a book that he was frowning at. He looked like a child who had discovered that not all books have pictures.

"I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller," you whispered without moving from your spot.

Jake thought about how lucky you were not to see Khonshu; otherwise, you would have woken up with a giant beak in front of your face and two empty eye sockets examining you.

"You'll feel better someday," he joked, flipping a page.

"So, this is your fault?"

"Technically," that damn word again, "it's your fault for not watching where you walk."

"You're an idiot," you said, eyes closed, not raising your voice.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." It wasn't fine; you were in the most bizarre situation you had ever experienced. "At least did you stop the bad guy?"

"I killed him, actually."

You opened one eye and looked at him. He looked back at you.

"I was kidding."

"To joke, you have to be funny."

Khonshu laughed, and Jake wished he could rip his own ears off; it was a sound he hadn't liked for some time now.

"I'm Jake Lockley." The boy leaned slightly to offer his hand in greeting. "You don't have to tell me your name; I read all your papers. The ones that survived."

"My backpack?"

"Didn't make it."

"That hurts more than my leg." You confessed, bringing both hands to your face. "Or my ribs."

"I'll get you another one."

"I don't want another, Jake Lockley." You still had your face covered with your hands. "I want to cry."

"You can do it, I won't judge you."

"It's me who's judging you." Your voice broke within seconds; the fatigue was finally starting to hit. "Why couldn't Spider-Man rescue me?" The sob you let out was ridiculous to Jake, who had to contain himself from laughing.

"I'll get you an aspirin." He placed the book on the bed, getting up from his chair. "Do you like juice?"

"Pineapple," you replied between sobs.

Jake left the room with a smile on his face, while Khonshu, in complete silence, continued to watch you.

By the third day, you had already assimilated many things. The main one was that, according to the internet, broken ribs take approximately 6 weeks to heal, a sprained ankle takes 12 weeks, and the legs, if lucky, take less than 8 weeks. So, you were looking at a minimum of 6 weeks there before Jake would agree to let you go.

The logical part of you eventually accepted the deal; you knew you didn't have family or close friends who could take care of you now that you could barely move.

"Are you comfortable?" He placed you on the individual sofa in his small living room and arranged the cushions around you to avoid any discomfort.

That was something you had gotten used to, being carried by him, having his hand around your waist while he helped you walk to the bathroom, and his scolding in Spanish when you tried to move on your own.

"Maybe if you had done it shirtless, it would have been more fun."

"Que graciosa." He rolled his eyes as he handed you the TV remote. It was rare for him to be home at this hour, but you didn't mind the company.

He sat on the larger sofa, ready to watch whatever you chose. Of course, you didn't stay quiet for long.

"How does your suit work?"

"Nanotech."

"Bullshit. Why would you have a nanotechnology cape?"

"It's a complicated explanation."

"I have time. About 1,008 hours."

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Sometimes more."

"There's a God involved. Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon."

You nodded in silence, watching him attentively. At this point, it was probably impossible for any regular citizen dealing with superhero stuff all week to be surprised by any kind of story.

"He saved me." Thankfully, Marc couldn't hear this, or he would beat up his own body to hear such nonsense. "I work for him, he granted me the healing suit and all that." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"So, you can see him?"

"More than I'd like, yes." He didn't let you ask more; he spoke quickly when he noticed your intentions to dig further into the story. "Do you like instant noodles?"

"I love them." You watched him closely as he stood up from the sofa.

As he passed by you on his way to the kitchen, you stretched a bit to take Jake's hand and stop him.

Your request for a glass of pineapple juice was completely silenced by Khonshu's voice.

Hathor. It resonated in his ears.

It lasted a few seconds, but Jake felt suffocated. At least 3 different images, and in all of them, you were there. Or so it seemed; your clothes didn't match anything he had seen before, and the only clue he got about what was happening were the angles from which he saw you.

In the last one, you were underneath him, or so it seemed.

Then, an overwhelming feeling of sadness flooded his chest.

"Jake?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"Deja vu," he said, blinking a couple of times. He let go of your hand and hurried to the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you as much as his small apartment allowed him.

You were sitting on the neatly made bed, wearing a dress you didn't love, especially when it revealed the bandages decorating your leg. But it had been Jake's choice, who decided after a week that maybe you couldn't live solely in his shirts.

However much he liked how petite it made you look.

He seemed so excited about the idea of getting clothes for you that you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You hummed softly as you browsed through your music library when the bedroom door opened. You didn't expect Jake back so early.

"You came back quickly. What were you—" When you looked up, you fell completely silent.

That was Jake, but he wasn't?

His expression was tenser, so was his posture, but more importantly, his iris had a bright white color, except for the outer circle.

Something in your mind clicked immediately. Was this what he meant when he told you that Khonshu wanted to meet you? If it wasn't for the obvious, you'd think this was some kind of prank. You were never a person sensitive to the supernatural, but you could swear that the entire energy of the place changed as soon as he appeared.

"Is that you?" You whispered as he took steps closer to the bed. He was examining you, just as he had been doing since you arrived, but this was the first time you could feel it.

He nodded silently.

"Thank you for saving me." You smiled, which sent a shiver down the god's spine. "Jake told me it was you who asked him to do it, so thank you."

He sat on the bed, right by your side, and you moved your phone aside to show that he had your full attention.

"What were you doing?" Just when you thought Jake's voice couldn't get any deeper, Khonshu managed to surprise you. His voice sounded like it had an extra layer of depth.

"Listening to music, waiting for Jake to come." Your eyes were focused on his, and no matter how much you wanted to look away, it was physically impossible, as if they had a magnet that instantly drew you back to them.

"There?" He was aware of the technological advancements of humans, but both Steven and Marc had the most basic phones one could find nowadays.

You nodded, chuckling softly as you took your earphones to carefully put one in his ear and the other in yours.

"Wanna try?"

He nodded, silently.

"I'm going to press play, okay? So you won't be caught off guard." For a moment, he felt stupid because someone… No, not someone, a human was treating him like he was made of glass.

He didn't complain, especially when the music began to play.

The cable of the earphones kept you close, and you stared as he closed his eyes. His brow furrowed unconsciously; there was something new and intense about listening to music that way.

It felt so intimate and sounded so clear that Khonshu was reminded of the wonders humans were capable of.

Flashbacks, just like the ones Jake had experienced a few days earlier, flooded him. In these flashbacks, a beautiful young woman spun around him, dancing with complete joy, making him laugh and follow her clumsily.

"Hathor, that's enough." He didn't recognize his own voice inside his head. The girl took his hand, and he held it steady so she could twirl around on her own axis, her hair going everywhere as the music filled both of their ears. "Isn't it wonderful, Khonshu?" It was like listening to you. "The music?" "You are wonderful, my dear." His human body responded in amusing ways to the girl, blushing his cheeks and feeling what some called butterflies in his stomach.

The memory disappeared before he could receive a kiss from his beloved.

He blinked rapidly when he opened his eyes, trying to bring himself back to the reality where you were looking at him, with a million questions in your head.

"Dear?" He murmured one last time before his daydream vanished. In a matter of seconds, he stood up, causing you to startle in surprise.

"Khonshu?" Your voice mixed with hers in his mind, sounding almost identical. The corporeal being increased the intensity of everything by 200%, and it almost made the human body he had borrowed faint.

He fled from you, fled from the house.

And Jake never told you that accepting Khonshu into his body to let him get close to you felt like having his bones broken one by one, making him feel claustrophobic and disgusted.

In the second week, there was a moment when you momentarily thought you were in the presence of Khonshu because of the expression on Jake's face.

He looked upset, scared, and anxious, all bundled up together. It was 3 in the morning, and you were on your second glass of water while leaning against the kitchen counter, still sore but becoming easier to bear.

"I thought you wouldn't come today," you whispered with a faint smile as he got rid of his cap, letting it fall anywhere in the living room. He didn't respond, following you into the kitchen and looking at you intently for a few seconds.

Up close, you could see that his eyes were red and irritated.

You didn't say anything when he hugged you. Not even when he squeezed you in his arms, causing your ribs to ache. You just raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort.

It was only then that you noticed Jake was trembling.

"And is your job to be a vigilante?"

"My job is to obey Khonshu." He rolled his eyes, certain that you had had this conversation on previous occasions. He could hear the cereal crunching in your mouth as he waited for his to soften with the milk.

Steven deprived him of the few pleasures in life he could have, without even knowing it. Unfortunately, real milk was one of them.

"And what do you do for him?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"How can you eat the cereal like that? Doesn't it feel like it's scraping your palate?"

"How can you eat it when it turns into a thick, disgusting soup?"

"Good point." He took a spoonful of his cereal. It was just right.

"In the daylight, you look completely different."

"How so?"

"I don't know, you just do."

Jake didn't say it out loud, but it was quite funny considering that he was, in fact, someone quite different, or something quite similar.

"How's your leg doing? Do you think it's getting better?" An expert at changing the subject.

"I think so. Some days it hurts a lot, but it's only been two weeks and a few days."

"Are you counting the days to leave?"

"Yes." You pursed your lips, and Jake looked away before you could correct yourself. "Because I don't want to leave."

Since you arrived, you took over Jake's bed against your will. He insisted on sleeping on a sad inflatable mattress that squeaked every time he moved.

One early morning, you felt the mattress sink beside you, and you didn't even have time to be startled because the scent of your temporary roommate's cologne filled your lungs in a matter of seconds.

"Are you okay?" You whispered without turning to look at him, keeping your eyes closed even when you felt him wrap an arm around your waist. "Okay, you can sleep here then," you continued when you received no response to your first question.

He pulled you closer to his body, and you didn't protest; instead, you turned to bury yourself in his chest, seeking more of his warmth. It seemed the pain was more bearable when your muscles warmed up.

Jake moved away from you, just enough to see your face.

You opened your eyes as he held your chin and gently pulled it to bring you closer to him. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes again were those enormous white irises fixed on you.

He kissed you. He kissed you until your lips hurt, and your chin from the firmness of his grip. But you didn't want to pull away; there was something so familiar about his lips that you wondered if it was because they were actually Jake's lips or if there was something more that you weren't understanding.

You could swear he caressed and kissed you for hours, although the next day you had no evidence to confirm whether it was a memory or a strange dream.

"Have you ever considered quitting?" You stirred your cereal in your plate, refusing to look up at him.

By week number 4, your encounters with Jake had become increasingly rare. He was quiet, distant, never with you, but more aggressive than usual, and his shirts filled the washing machine with blood, making you feel nauseous from time to time.

Wasn't the suit supposed to be worn during his missions? What kind of missions was he taking?

"Quit?" he echoed.

"To stop working for him." You felt uncomfortable mentioning his name after countless nights spent kissing, of which you weren't even sure if Jake was aware because he never brought it up.

He was aware. How could he not be when every night he felt physically and emotionally crushed?

"I can't do that." And he was right. If it were up to him, he would flee without caring about the consequences, but Jake was there for the sake of Marc and Steven. He had no problem with his efforts going unrecognized by them; he knew they were better off not knowing he existed.

"Why?" You gently lifted his chin with your fingers, making him look at you. It was a way to remind him that he wasn't alone, that you were there.

"I can't," he repeated softly. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against your hand as a puppy would.

You leaned in and, this time, when the edge of the table pressed against your ribs, it didn't hurt as much. You kissed the boy's lips.

"It's killing you." It was the last thing you said before getting up to collect the almost full plates from the table.

Jake had a kind of day off as your stay was coming to an end. Your body was hardly hurting anymore, and for several days, you could walk on your own. Now, all that was left was to enjoy your last time there, and you were doing just that.

Your legs were resting on top of Jake's while you both watched a silly program about people addicted to eating strange things.

"You should be on there for eating softened cereal," you said, trying not to laugh as your cheek was pressed against his chest, his arm around your shoulders.

"And you should be there for drinking pineapple juice like it's water; that stuff is going to kill you," he retorted, rolling his eyes but laughing.

"I'll die happy," you clarified, clearing your throat after a moment of silence to get his attention. "Jake?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go."

"Then don't go."

"You know I can't do that." And yes, he knew. He knew you couldn't stay in his apartment forever and that even if you continued whatever you had, there was no guarantee you would still be interested in him from a different perspective.

How would you react to knowing about Marc and Steven? Or about the things he did at night when his hands were stained with blood?

"You won't push me away, will you?" Jake had never heard himself so vulnerable, but a few days ago, he had realized that it was worth lowering his guard when it came to you. "I don't want to be alone."

"I won't, Jake." You whispered with a small smile, extending your pinkie finger to him.

He intertwined his pinkie with yours, trying not to laugh.

"Pinkie promise," you said, squeezing his pinkie with yours.

You didn't find out what happened on the show beyond that person who ate dressing with everything. You were too distracted by Jake's lips to pay attention to anything else.

For the fourth mental breakdown of Jake that you had to witness, you were fed up. Not with him, not with the repeated breakdowns, but with knowing that it was Khonshu who was tearing him apart. Sometimes physically, always mentally.

"You have to let him go," you said as soon as you saw him enter through the door, his white irises betraying that you were speaking to whom you wanted to talk.

"I can't," his voice echoed in your head, you were so used to hearing him whisper or not speak at all that it took you by surprise, indeed.

"Set him free, Khonshu." Your tone was threatening. Poor foolish girl, just because the deity never showed you what he was capable of didn't mean you were an exception. His rules were always fulfilled, for better or worse.

To him, your voice also merged with that of his former beloved.

"You're killing him." Your hands pushed him in the chest, you couldn't remember ever feeling so angry before, it burned inside you.

He didn't flinch.

"Dear…"

"I'm not her!" You exploded after a few seconds. "I'm not Hathor!"

"I'm not going to free Jake, we have a deal."

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid deal. He deserves to be free."

"You know nothing about him." His body leaned slightly to look at you, he tapped your nose. It was a condescending gesture, making you feel like a little child. "He's a broken man, my dear," he continued before you could correct him. "Even if I set him free, he would never be happy with that. He is created to protect other lives, not to live his own, do you understand?"

His tone was so calm that it scared you, but you didn't back down.

"And what do you know about being happy, huh?"

Oh, you were going to hit below the belt.

"You lost the one you loved, and you will never get her back." You spat the words without looking away. "No one will ever care about you again."

Lie. Lie. In fact, he had managed to convince you that you could be devoted to him in a short time, but Jake had become your priority even faster.

"You are free to leave." He swallowed hard, but the carefree expression on his face didn't vanish. There was still something more painful about it, as if it were Jake himself telling you this. "You're just a weakness for him, it's better if you go now before it's too late."

The eighth week was spent in your home, your empty and cold apartment that suddenly felt so unfamiliar to you.

Every morning, you would watch your cereal soften with the milk until it became repulsive. Apparently, your appetite had vanished without warning.

You avoided touching your phone because every time it was on, you would find missed messages and calls from Jake. Did you miss him? With every bone in your body, but you couldn't live knowing that Jake was slowly being torn apart, it wouldn't be good for you.

You simply hoped that he had found your note saying goodbye and thanking him, and every night you prayed to the moon that he was okay. That he wasn't hurt, that he would find a way out of where he was.

Perhaps that way, both of you could be happy together.

The truth was that you left him shattered. He questioned himself a million times about what he had done wrong and why you had suddenly fled without letting him know. Every night, his heart ached, and coming back to his apartment was the worst part of the day. He had never noticed how lonely and dark it was until you were gone. Whenever possible, he tried to locate you with his phone, and sometimes he read your old messages where you asked him to bring something special for dinner or simply more of the pineapple juice on different occasions. Although he supposed, based on your words in the letter, that you had left thinking you were doing him a favor, the truth was that he had never felt so lost.

[avengerscompound]

Shared Experience - Chapter 13

Shared Experience - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  smut (MF, oral sex, come play), blood-drinking

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Rose Astor

Word Count: 2562

Summary:  Rose Astor met her end in 1920, joining the ranks of the living dead two years after the birth of Steve Rogers.  A century later the two meet in battle - a beacon of light clashing with a creature of the night.  Despite their differences, the two bond over their shared life experiences.  Can a vampire become an Avenger?  Can two such different beings create a life together?

Chapter 13

Rose arrived home feeling exhausted, confused, and a little hopeful.  The fight with the dhampir, Blade, had taken it out of her, but it was the information that he’d dropped that had really rattled her. There could be a chance to have a somewhat normal life again.  She’d be able to see the sunrise.  Steve wouldn’t be forced to live a nocturnal life, just to be with her.  He wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded he was dating a corpse.

Unfortunately, it was housed with the one person who wanted her kind dead more than anyone else.

Steve followed her in looking just as confused as she was, with a whole heaping of frustration thrown in.  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?  What’s a priest of Khonshu?  Who are the Bloodstones?  Why do so many people want you dead?”

“Because I’m a vampire, Steve,” she snarked as if he hadn’t just asked a series of reasonable questions.  She flopped onto the sofa chair and sunk into it, her back curving awkwardly in the seat.

She huffed as she saw the look of hurt cross his features.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “Khonshu is the Egyptian god of the moon.  His priest is known as the Moon Knight.  There has always been at least one.  I think sometimes two.  They are guardians of those who travel at night.  Vampires are considered a threat to those travelers.  So they kill them without warning or mercy.  Of course, I only know this secondhand.  Marcellus used to taunt me with that when he kept me as his pet.  He’d tell me I wouldn’t stand a chance in the real world.  Moon Knight or the Bloodstones would kill me right away because I was such a feeble vampire.”

Steve sat down on the couch, sitting right forward, and leaning his elbows on his knees, as he looked directly at Rose.  “Who or what are the Bloodstones?”

“A monster-hunting family.  There are other monster hunters.  I’ve come across some in my time.  But never a Bloodstone.  The Bloodstones are allegedly so good at it, that they catch monsters and then hold a contest to see who can kill them first.”

“That’s barbaric,” Steve said.

“It is,” she agreed.  “If it’s real.  But if it is real, what they count as monsters isn’t just things that threaten people.  It’s anything humans might consider monstrous, even if they don’t hurt people at all.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  It’s hard to know what’s real, and what’s just a fairy tale when everything about your kind directly comes from fairy tales.  I thought Blade wasn’t real until today.  How messed up is it that feeding from someone giving birth will turn their child?”

Steve sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead.  “So do you think that Blade was telling the truth?  That this Moon Knight has a way for you to go out in the daylight?”

She shrugged. “He could just be setting me up and putting me in the path of someone he thinks could kill me when he couldn’t.  But he wasn’t lying.  If he found me, it won’t be long before someone else does.  Your blood helped me against him.  But if it’s a whole group of hunters? I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should stay in the tower until we can figure this out,” Steve suggested.

She frowned.  He was right, but she had always felt safer and more at home in this townhouse.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “But not tonight.  I’m not going to make it there before sunrise.  In fact, I should probably start preparing to sleep for the day.”

He nodded and got up, holding out his hand to her.  “Do you know where the priest of Khonshu is?” he asked.

She huffed and shook her head.  “I don’t know.  From what I’ve heard, he travels around a lot.  He might have a base of operations in Egypt.  But I had heard here in New York and in London too.  You might be able to look it up.  Try Moon Knight.  Try Priest of Khonshu.  And try - Midnight Mission.  I’ve never really looked into it.”

She pushed herself off the chair again and ran her tongue over her teeth.  The fight with Blade had taken a lot out of her.  She was going to wake up hungry.  “I’m going to need to feed when I wake up, honey,” she said when Steve got up to follow her.

They went back out to the hall and she made her way upstairs.  “Do you have blood here?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think so.  I mostly eat at the tower.  Or -” she pointed at him, made a click sound with her tongue, and winked at him.

“I’ll make sure there’s something here when you wake,” he said.

She looked back at him with a smirk. “Will it be you?”

He chuckled and rubbed her back.  “Maybe.”

By the time she was up in her room and washed up, the pull to go to ground was strong.  “You stayed up all night with me,” she said as she approached Steve.

“Mmm… I’m pretty tired now.  I’ll sleep and then get to work.  Don’t worry.  The serum means I don’t need much sleep,” Steve replied.  He cradled her cheeks and smoothed his hands down her neck.  “Good night, my love.”

“Good day, my life,” she replied and leaned up, kissing him deeply.  His arms circled her as they kissed and she melted into him.

When she pulled back, the need to go to ground was almost irresistible. She quickly stole one last kiss and then disappeared into her coffin.  It wasn’t long before she’d slipped out of consciousness.

When consciousness returned to Rose, she found Steve waiting for her, sitting at the edge of the bed.  It was a rare occurrence given that he was usually still working when the sun set. She launched herself at him, letting him catch her and wrap her in his strong arms.  “Hello to you too,” he chuckled, nosing her cheek.

She hummed, inhaling his scent.  The scent of his blood and the sweat on his skin, made her salviate and her fangs extend.  “I like waking up to you being here,” she hummed.

He ran his hands down her hair and pulled back looking down at her.  “I found some leads,” he said.

She sat back excitedly, taking her hand in his.  “What did you find?”

“Well, for starters, there is a Midnight Mission in the city,” he said.  “When I went, the person running it was a little standoffish, but as soon as I mentioned vampires they told me everything.  I think if they knew I wanted to help a vampire and not hunt one, they might have been a little more closed off.  The Moon Knight is a man who has a few names, but his primary residence is in London, though he does travel.  They said they’d contact him and have him meet up with me here.  I’ll receive a call when he’s in the city.”

“I wonder if he’ll help me,” Rose mused.  “What if he comes all this way and ends up hunting me?”

Steve reached over and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “Then we’ll protect you,” he said, and the corner of his lips quirked up.  “Not that you need it. I’m sure you’d give this ‘Moon Knight’ a run for his money.”

She laughed and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.  The scent of his blood and the steady beat, as it was pushed through his veins, was almost overwhelming when she was this close, given how hungry she was.  Her fangs extended and her mouth began to water, but she resisted the urge to bite him.  The moment of tenderness was needed far more than the need to feed.  “Can you imagine?” she asked.  “If he helps.  If there’s a way for me to walk in the sun again.  We could have a normal life together, Steve.”

He hummed and nuzzled into her hair. “It would be amazing, Rose.”

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have the midday sun on her skin.  The brief moments of dawn and dusk she’d been experiencing lately had been like heaven, but she still couldn’t quite access the memory of what even more of that felt like.

Her tongue danced across her fangs and she sat back and looked at Steve.  “I’m sorry to ruin the moment.  Did you bring me something?  I’m so hungry and you’re starting to smell like lunch.”

Steve pulled his teeth between his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You are my lunch?” she asked, grinning at him.

“It’s been a few days and we have something big coming up,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her closer to him.  “Besides - we had our time together cut short yesterday.”

She giggled.  “Oh, Steve,” she purred, bringing his hand up to her face and kissing his palm.  “You dirty boy.”

She looked at him, parting her lips slightly so he could see the bare hint of her fangs.  “Where should I start?” she asked.  She ghosted her lips along his palm and stopped at his wrist.  The veins on his wrist were very prominent, and when her lips skimmed over them, she could feel the beat of his pulse through them.  “Here?” she asked and swirled the tip of her tongue over the inside of his wrist.

Steve shivered and his pulse quickened under her tongue.  There was a twitch of his fingers and a very subtle shake of his head.

“No?” she asked, moving closer to him, her hands going to the collar of his shirt.  She deftly started to unfasten each button as she straddled his lap.  She leaned in, ghosting her lips from his collarbone up his throat.  “I wonder where you want me to bite you?”

When the last of his buttons were unfastened, she pushed a hand in her hair and gripped it, dragging his head back.  She skimmed her fangs up the length of his jugular.  His heart was hammering in his chest.  It called to her, making her mouth water.  “Was this it?”

Steve tried to nod, but she held his head steady.  He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing so that it pushed his throat against her fangs more, the points dimpling the surface of his skin.  “Yes,” he breathed. 

She let his head go and pulled back.  “No, I don’t think so,” she said, climbing off his lap and sinking to her knees in front of him.  She unfastened his pants as she looked up at him.  He returned her gaze, his eyes blown out black with lust, but his brow furrowed in confusion.  “What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking,” she said, grabbing the waistband of his pants and underwear and yanking them down. “That there is a perfectly good artery in your leg.”  She didn’t pull them off, just leaving them bunched around his ankles.  He was already rock hard and his cock stood tall, bobbing against his stomach. “You see,” she continued as she ran her thumb up the inside of his thigh to the apex.  “The femoral artery runs right up here.  I think, Stevie, I might just like to sink my teeth into it.”

Steve swallowed again and nodded emphatically, lifting his hips and spreading his legs. His cock was starting to leak and it left a sticky trail over “Please, Rose.”

Rose wrapped her hand around his thick cock and began to pump it slowly as she pushed his leg out wider.  Her teeth scratched along the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh, making his cock drool over her hand.  His pulse was thundering, calling to her.  She opened her mouth wider and sunk her teeth into his thigh.

Steve let out a roar and fell back, his hips lifting into her mouth and his cock throbbing in her hand.  The blood gushed into her mouth faster than she was used to.  The arterial blood pumped into her mouth and she used her tongue to slow the flow, her fangs stopping it from rushing out faster than she could handle.  It was cleaner with a hint of ozone compared to what she was used to.  The rush of the flow meant this wouldn’t last long, and judging by the way Steve was writhing neither was he.

“Oh fuck… fuck, Rose.  Oh…” he mewled.  His cock felt like heated granite under her palm, he was so hard, and each time she moved her hand up and down the length it pulsed and more precome ran over her knuckles.

When her hunger was almost sated, she started to ease her fangs out of him, lapping her tongue over the wound.  He moaned and bucked as she did, but it wasn’t until the blood had completely stopped flowing that she pulled back.

Steve was completely out of it.  He was bucking his hips into her hand, and his hands were above his head, gripping the sheets.  Every single one of his muscles was pulled taut and his back arched off the bed.

Rose moaned at the sight of him and ran her tongue over her lips.  He was so goddamn gorgeous and he let himself be so vulnerable with him.  Rose felt blessed.  She leaned down and wrapped her lips around his cock.  She had never gone down on a man before and she wasn’t completely confident about her technique.  Especially considering she was hyper-focused on keeping her fangs retracted.  Thankfully, Steve was so close it took almost no effort on her behalf.  She suckled on the head and worked her hand up and down his shaft.  Steve bucked his hips up hard, pushing his cock right to the back of her throat and he came. The action might have made her choke if she still needed to breathe.

She pulled back, closed her throat, and caught everything he gave her in her mouth.  Swallowing would be bad news for her, so she held it, and when his cock stopped pulsing, she pulled off.

Steve grabbed her hand and pulled her up to him, looking up at her with a dazed, fucked out expression, but he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.  She blinked at him for a moment and then leaned down, spitting his own come into his mouth.  As soon as he swallowed she was kissing him again, passionately and deeply wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him.  His arms wrapped around her too and they stayed like that, kissing and holding each other until their lips went numb.

Finally, she broke the kiss and settled her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart slow down and return to its usual steady drum.  “Wow,” Steve said, lazily stroking her hair.  “That was… amazing.”  He looked down at her, catching her eye.  “You didn’t come.”

She patted his chest.  “Later, honey.  I just drank a lot of your blood.  You need to recover.”

He let his head fall back and he hummed.  “How’d I get so lucky?”

She looked up at him with a smile.  “See, Steve. I was thinking the same thing.”

// NEXT

[moonknightly]

we’re so lost we can’t help but to think

mk system x reader, but mostly marc x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: this is angsty af i’m sorry lol. childhood trauma and abuse, mentions of death and grief, possible suicidal ideation if you squint, major anxiety and panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of hospitals, unedited writing

excerpt: “It just makes him feel like you’ve been expecting this, like you’ve always known that being with him would only end in tragedy.”

Steven has his own body again. Marc thinks he’s looking in the mirror at first but no, he definitely has his own body. There’s nothing to bounce his reflection off of, no glass wall between them. He’s just there, standing in a white room that reminds him so much of the hospital and Marc’s head hurts and he wonders if he’s dying again. The pounding is so intense.  

He blinks a few times, like maybe that will clear everything up, like maybe he’s just hallucinating because of this fucking migraine but Steven is still there, looking at him like he’s just as confused. Marc looks down at his clothes just to further confirm but they’re wearing different things and Marc can’t feel his curls hanging in his face like Steven’s are.

Were Steven’s curls a mess though or is that just what Marc is used to? He looks up again to double check but the scene has changed. Steven is still there, but so are you. There’s another sharp throbbing in his head and he groans, closing his eyes for a moment or two in search of some relief and when he opens them again you’re both sitting in chairs.

You’re both tied down, ropes binding your arms to your sides and securing your backs to the chairs. Marc’s feet won’t move, no matter how hard he tries to run forward they just won’t move. He’s glued to the spot, not mentally but physically. He just can’t move.

“Marc, what’s going on?” Steven asks, his voice quiet and timid. Not at all what Marc is used to coming from his alter. Steven has always been the brave one.

You say his name too just a second later, tone panicked and he hates it. He hates watching you struggle when he knows he could have you out of your binds in five seconds if he could just get his fucking feet to move.

“I don’t know,” he breaths, feeling his own chest swell with anxiety and panic. He really has no idea. “Are you, fuck, are you hurt?” He’s trying so hard to keep himself from falling into a panic attack.

“No, no don’t worry. We’re fine,” Steven says, trying to keep them all calm but especially Marc, just like he always has. “Aren’t we?”

His question is directed towards you and even though you’re still struggling, you nod, forcing yourself to take deep breath after deep breath. You don’t even seem to process that your boyfriends have their own bodies, not really and Marc doesn’t think that's a good indication of where your head is at. He just wants to fix it but he’s stuck.

There’s movement out of the corner of his eye and his head snaps to the left. He sees Harrow walking into the room and his stomach instantly fills with dread, chest on fire as anger ignites and burns in his veins. He thought he was dead, shouldn’t he be dead? He remembers Jake and the limo and-

Fuck, he doesn’t know where Jake is. His head is too quiet.

Or is Jake the reason it’s pounding?

He doesn’t know, doesn’t have time to think about it for too long because Harrow is getting too close to Steven and to you and he doesn’t fucking like it. He doesn’t fucking like that he’s stuck in place and for the first time in forever he doesn’t fucking like that he doesn’t have Khonshu’s powers to save him.

“Stay away from them,” Marc growls, voice low and dangerous and eyes piercing.

Harrow looks almost amused and that only makes him angrier.

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to tell me what to do, are you Marc?” he hums, stepping behind Steven. He’s calm, just like he always fucking is, his voice holding its usual arrogance and assertiveness. “I don’t think you’re really in a position to do much at all.”

Helpless. He’s calling Marc helpless and it’s like a punch to the gut, an unwanted reminder of everything he’d ever done wrong and how he had to create another person to carry the weight. Marc physically bites his tongue so hard blood fills his mouth.

“Just let them go.” His voice is desperate and he hates it, honestly, but he needs them. He needs them. “Please.”

“Oh Marc,” Harrow laughs, shaking his head as he moves behind you, fingers trailing along your shoulder and it makes Marc bristle. He wants to break Harrow’s wrist. “I can’t do that.”

Marc grunts as he tries to get his feet to move again but it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Nothing ever goes his way.

“Why not?” He feels stupid asking but he doesn’t no what else to do or say and fuck the last time he felt this helpless was in the cave-

Gods, his head fucking hurts.

“Because,” Harrow sighs, like what he’s about to say pains him but his face, his expression gives him away. It doesn’t. “You never paid for your sins.”

Marc furrows his eyebrows at the same moment you do, but Steven’s eyes widen. At least one of them understands. Marc doesn’t want to ask, and he doesn’t have to. Harrow keeps talking.

“All of the hurt and pain you’ve caused everyone. Your mother’s sorrow-”

“No,” Marc snaps, shaking his head. “No, I fucking paid enough already-”

“-that you caused when you took your brother’s life.”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault, I was just a kid-”

It had taken you and Steven and Jake so long to get him to believe those words. So long.

“You could’ve saved him if you’d tried hard enough. But you were only worried about yourself.”

“Marc, don't listen to him.”

“He’s lying to you.”

He’s trying. He’s trying not to let it get to him but he’s losing, he’s failing. Again. He always fails.

Harrow’s moving closer. Taking step after step until he stands right in front of Marc, just a few inches away but he still can’t move. Marc wants to reach out and wrap his hands around his neck, he wants to feel it snap under his fingers, he wants it to fucking stop.

“All of those lives you’ve taken-”

“I only killed people who deserved it,” Marc rushes out, trying to defend himself to someone who didn’t care. “I wasn’t a monster. Not like you-”

“But they still weigh you down, don’t they? You remember every single one of them. I know you do.”

It’s true. He isn’t wrong.

“So what?” Marc snaps, his chest heaving as he tries to keep himself from collapsing in on himself. He wishes Steven could take over, he’s not used to feeling like this anymore. Never so intense and in the moment. “You’re going to kill me and make them watch? Make me pay for my sins or whatever?”

Harrow laughs, tilting his head to the side as he regards Marc for a moment or two. “Steven really is the smart one, isn’t he?”

Marc’s eyes flash to Steven and his alter looks horrified. Whatever he’d been thinking, Harrow must’ve just confirmed it. Again, Marc doesn’t need to ask. Harrow beats him to it.

“I’m going to kill them. One of them. And you have to choose.”

Marc’s stomach drops. The fire in his veins turns to ice and fuck it still burns but it’s not anger, it’s horror.

“No. No, you can’t do that. Not them.”

Steven has his eyes closed and you’re so quiet and still. Like you’ve already accepted it. Marc knows you’re just trying to be brave for him, to make it easier for him but it doesn’t, of course it doesn’t make it any easier. It just makes him feel like you’ve been expecting this, like you’ve always known that being with him would only end in tragedy. It makes him feel sick to his fucking stomach.

“Not them. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harrow sighs again, taking a few steps back from Marc now, walking back towards you. His fingers trace your jaw and once again Marc wants to feel his fucking bones snap under his fingers.

“It really is such a shame, isn’t it?” Harrow mumbles. “How much destruction and chaos you bring to those around you. How they have to suffer because of the choices you’ve made.”

“Kill me. Just kill me, please just fucking kill me.” Marc doesn’t want to see their faces amongst everyone he’s killed, doesn’t want to live with their ghosts. “Don’t make me do this.”

He’s begging and he doesn’t even care.

“We’ll be fine Marc,” Steven says, nodding his head even though tears fill his eyes.

When Marc looks at you, you’re trying not to cry too.

“Don’t worry about me baby,” you whisper.

“No!” Marc yells, shaking his head rapidly, hands clenched into fists. He hits himself in the side of the head as the pounding becomes more intense, as the anguish he’s feeling in his chest starts to suffocate him. “You can’t make me do this. You can’t, I won’t, please just fucking stop. Kill me kill me kill me, not them. Please not them.”

“Only one of them has to die Marc,” Harrow hums while he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “Just one.”

Marc starts hyperventilating. He can’t, he can’t possibly fucking choose who will die and who will live. He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t he-

“Just pick me Marc,” Steven mumbles, nodding again. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay without me. I’m not really real anyways, am I?”

“No. I can’t-”

“Baby it’s okay.” Your voice is so gentle, so sweet. Marc doesn’t deserve for you to still be so kind, not with your life on the line. “You need him. You don’t need me.”

“That’s not true. I can’t fucking, fuck I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.”

“Save her,” Steven says. “Save our girl.”

Marc can’t hear them anymore. He can’t hear anything. His head feels like it’s being split in two, pulled apart and set on fire. His vision blurs and the stark white walls fade away to black nothingness and the feeling that washes over him is utterly familiar, that feeling of being alone. He’s alone now. He has nobody, not even Jake. He’s alone he’s alone he’s alone he’s-

Awake. He’s awake. And he’s gasping for air, each breath that he tries to take not near enough. He’s sweating, his shirt and the sheets and his pillow completely soaked.

And you’re there. Sitting up beside him, your hands in your lap because you don’t like to touch him without permission, even after a nightmare when all you want to do is reach out and hold him you never want to touch him without permission.

You’re there. So does that mean-

“Steven?” Marc gasps, eyes snapping shut while he continues to pant and try to catch his breath.

“I’m right here,” he says. Marc glances towards the mirror in the corner of the room just to make sure, not that they need the mirrors to communicate anymore but it just makes him feel better and he’s there. He’s right there.

“Jake?” he says, voice just a subtle croak.

“Who do you think woke you up?”

He’s there too. The pounding, the migraine, it was Jake. He’d been there the whole time.

Marc sighs, hands coming up to his eyes, palms digging into his sockets as he rocks himself back and forth for a second. Breathing is becoming a little easier, just a little. You’re there and Steven’s there and Jake’s there. You’re all right there and safe and Harrow is dead. He’s dead and you’re all okay.

“Honey what’s going on?” you whisper, voice shaking just a little bit.

Marc reaches out immediately, pulling you into his arms, almost wrapping himself around you. You curl up instantly, one hand moving up to run your fingers through his hair while the other starts pushing his shirt up and over his chest, just trying to get him out of his sweaty clothes.

He lets you. Even though he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, he lets you take care of him. He reluctantly lets you make him a cup of tea, some special blend that Steven swears by and he sips on it while he watches you change the sheets. He lets you get him into the shower and he silently begs you to climb in with him, and you do.

You wash his hair, his body, and then you hold him underneath the boiling water, your fingers tracing up and down his spine. He finally cracks, finally tells you about his dream and he’s crying by the time he’s finished. You just hold him tighter, let the water run cold and then dry him off with the fluffiest towel you own. You don’t say anything until you have him back in bed, wrapped up in clean sheets and the softest blanket. He feels spoiled.

“You know nothing like that is ever going to happen, right baby?” you say softly, searching for his hand, intertwining your fingers once you find it. “Never. Not in a million years my love.”

“But what if-”

You shush him gently, softly, shaking your head. “It won’t. Steven’s safe, I’m safe. We’re right here baby.”

“Someone could find out,” he mumbles, his heart starting to race again. “Someone could find out what I did and go after you.”

“And you’ll protect me. You always do.”

His bottom lip trembles. He hates that it trembles. “But what if I can’t save you?”

He feels like he’s going to break down again. He can feel it bubbling up, the anxiety and the panic and he thinks it would be better if Steven took over, if he could just hibernate and wallow for a few days in his head and not have to deal with any of his emotions head-on.

But you don’t let him. He doesn’t want to leave you, not now.

“Am I in danger right now?” you ask, voice still so soft and so gentle.

“You could be-”

You stop him again, shaking your head. “Am I in danger Marc?”

He hesitates again, a sigh passing his lips, the tips of his fingers tingling. “No.”

“Then we don’t need to worry about this right now, do we?”

You have a point, he guesses. Sort of. Even if his anxiety doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always going to worry about it, always going to worry that something bad will happen and he’ll fail and he’ll lose you and-

“Marc baby get out of your head and just be here with me.”

You make it sound so easy. You do make it easy. Steven and Jake encouraging him make it easy, make him feel even better, more secure.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be completely comfortable or sure that nothing would happen to you or to Steven or Jake for that matter, not really. But you always do everything you can to remind him that it’s all going to be okay, and you’ll jump the obstacles when they come. You’ll tackle them together. He’s not alone.

Marc doesn’t really fall back to sleep that night, and neither do you. You stay up with him and let him talk about anything and everything, watch the anticipation for the moon to go down itch at his skin, watch the calm that comes when the sun starts to rise and stream in through the windows and cast a golden shadow across white sheets and his tan skin.

The morning is even easier. It always is.

But you’re what allows him to see it day after day. You always are.