#Moon Knight AU

[runa-falls]

thinking about living in a 1950s suburbia with my perfect 3-in-1 husband, living in our little fantasy world without a care in sight.

every day, he goes to his nondescript 9-5 and i stay home cleaning...well, nothing really because our home is constantly clean -- and occasionally baking pies, just waiting for my love to return.

it's like i can't remember a day before this routine.

--

...wait. actually --

--

everyone in town knows what a charmer marc is (they aren't aware of steven or jake) and what a perfect housewife i am. we're the golden couple on the block, always happy and friendly.

he comes home with a small bundle of flowers and a sweet kiss, acting like he hasn't seen me in a decade when really its only been a handful of hours.

i have dinner all prepared for him...though i don't really remember preparing it -- maybe the time passed quick because i'm so used to doing it? -- i lead him to the table, all excited to see his reaction.

we eat the meal while exchanging stories of our day, shyly glancing at each other as we know where the evening will take us. even when we do this routine every day, the spark hasn't been lost between us. our love just continues to grow as we spend more time with each other.

--

of course, we don't know that we're trapped in a "perfection bubble"

but even if we did...would we care? :)

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor 

  🌔Summary- You, a long lost descendant of Hathor,  crosses paths with Moon Knight. A chance for Khonshu to reconcile with his past and a chance for the boys to have a future. 

  🌒CW-18+,MDNI, Explicit smut, angst, hurt, comfort, canon typical violence, god and goddess powers, mentions of parental abuse, past domestic abuse (not physical), healing old wounds, healing your inner child, eventual happy ending. 

WK-1.2K

A/N- This idea has been bouncing around in my head for months and now I’m finally tackling it. Don’t have a set schedule for posting or an idea for how many chapters so it should be a wild ride for my moon babes.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Moon Knight Masterlist]

Prologue

He steps into the coffee shop holding a newspaper over his head to shield himself from the rain. He’s sporting that scowl between his brows as he grumbles under his breath. 

He takes his fingers through his hair trying as best he can to smooth his hair out of his face. No flat cap today. 

The barista doesn’t understand as she tries to make conversation. It was so obvious to you in the beginning and yet people who greet him everyday don’t even notice. 

Hmmm coffee with sugar today…interesting. 

He says something to the mirror next to the register about buying a new coffee pot as he taps his foot and waits. His arms crossed as he scanned the room. 

It’s Pavlovian the way he drifts to you and sits next to your table. The one he doesn’t even know is saved for him. 

“This tastes like crap.” He sets the mug down like it personally offended him. 

“You’re a little nicer when you have tea.” Marc looks over at you, but you don’t look up from your book. “Although decidedly more grumpy than when you have black coffee.” 

He clears his throat a little before speaking. “I’m sorry, did you say something to me?”

You pick up your pressed sunflower bookmark and place it gently between the pages. “You’re much nicer on the days you have tea.” 

He feels warm suddenly, when your eyes meet him. The heat is almost too much as he shucks off his jacket. Maybe the coffee was stronger than he thought because he’s sure he can hear his own heartbeat. 

Steven did tell him to take a break. 

You smile at him and place the book in your bag as you stand from the corner table and exit. You squeeze his shoulder once as you wave goodbye to the barista. 

He stares down at where your hand was, it’s seared into him. Like the ache from a sunburn. 

Well that settles that mate

“Settles what?”

She has that effect on all of us

****

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. 

When he sees you again and recognizes the barista as she smiles at him. Her cheeks are red and she stammers a little over her words. 

He can’t focus on anything but that table next to you. He wants to get to that table before anyone else does. 

You can tell it’s him when he walks in. His hair is combed back and he’s wearing that black jacket you love that fits him like a glove. 

Your eyes flit briefly to the register where the girl who is absolutely smitten with them tries to compose herself enough to not ruin his coffee again. 

He’s nervous 

There’s two open tables, the one next to you and one by the drafty door. You meet his eyes as he weighs his options while he waits for the girl to finish his coffee. 

There's that warmth again, it’s too hot in here. He removes his jacket and sheepishly heads toward you. He gently places it in the seat beside your corner table that looks out onto the street. 

“I would never let anyone take your spot.” He’s certain this time, you’re speaking to him. You don’t look up from your book The art and architecture of ancient Egypt. 

They call his name twice before he heads back to the counter to collect his coffee. 

You take a few notes and bite down on your pen as you think of what to say next. He can see the indentation where you bite the pen. The way your lips rest carefully on the edge. The way your brow furrows when you’re thinking. 

He finds himself exactly where he wants to be in his seat. With nothing to say.

The hot coffee somehow cools him down from the flames burning inside. He closes his eyes and is drawn back to the last time he remembered it tasting this good. 

When he opens them again you’re smiling at the barista shooting her a thumbs up as she claps her hands in delight. 

He swallows thickly, he’s never been this nervous. Not even as moon knight. 

“I’ve seen that book before.” His voice somehow sounds foreign even to him.

You flip it over and glance at the back and laugh. A sound he could definitely get used to. 

“I would hope so, Steven let me borrow it.”

She’s almost finished it, I just gave it to her a few days ago. 

You resume your book as if you didn’t just say the most earth shattering thing for his fragile mind to hear. It shouldn’t come as a surprise with how comfortable you are in his presence. 

You know he’s dangling off a cliff and you might as well just give him that push he needs to let go. 

“That reminds me.” You dig through your bag for a moment before sliding a small leather bag toward him. “I haven’t seen Jake in a few days, it looked like he might need it.” 

Marc shakily opens the bag to reveal a leather patch kit. He takes three deep breaths before zipping it closed. 

If you’re going to sit there like an idiota at least say thank you. 

“Jake said thank you.” Shit. Why would he say that out loud? 

“De nada.” 

You know. 

Sì she knows. 

Was he that closed off after Layla that they didn’t want him to meet you? Maybe they were scared he’d run you away. It’s shocking to have Jake partnering with Steven to keep secrets from him. 

Then again, maybe you weren’t a secret. 

You can tell he’s genuinely surprised and a little uncomfortable but Steven and Jake told you that was to be expected. This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him, where he didn’t recede from the front. 

Long enough for him to finally start opening up to you. Asking your name and how long you’ve known him, them. 

You and Steven bonded over tea and your love for ancient Egypt. He was helping you prepare for your interview with the museum to become a curator. 

Jake would give you rides to the library or home, when the weather was particularly bad. 

He can place it now…that scent that lingers on his clothes from time to time. Your perfume, a mixture of vanilla and lavender. It’s overwhelming his senses now as you lean in and laugh at some off handed remark he said. 

You must be comfortable enough to hug them, to press your body close to theirs. Close enough to leave a trace of you on them for days on end. It’s exhilarating and maddening all at once…to know he’s closed himself off from you for so long that you’re practically strangers. 

Except you aren’t. 

You’re much more than that. The way you reach over and trace a new scar on his brow. Staring at it like it personally offended you. Your touch burns and lingers long after you’ve placed them back in your lap. The look on your face like you’ve possibly crossed some boundary with him. He desperately wants you to touch him again. To leave a mark not unlike his scars. 

“I thought he was supposed to heal you?” 

It’s evident he’s missed more days with you than he can conceive. He can feel his chest constricting even before the words leave his mouth. “Who?”

“Khonshu.” 

The bird looks on from a building high above the street. He’s not sure how you could’ve forgotten that you’re the one who’s supposed to heal them. 

🌕Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒

Taglist- @chichimisaki @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor

[gin-stan]

MoonKnight Headcanons *Modern AU*

Lets get the obvious out the way.

Disclaimer: This is written as if they had separate bodies, so triplets I suppose.

Steven

Steven would major in Egyptology and Archeology.

I can see him traveling the world studying ancient wonders but specializing in the Egyptian ones.

He graduates with a double major; travels around the world, eventually making notable discoveries and finds. And retires as a professor.

Unlike his brothers, he chooses to stay a little more grounded. He may be the only person alive who likes busy work; grading papers, and all that.

Something about "peeking into the brilliant minds of today's youths."

It's fascinating to him and brings back memories of his time as a student.

He tends to be bit disappointed, though... his students are a creative bunch, but their grammer and spelling give him a headache. The ideas are there, but the execution is flimsy at best. But nothing that can't be fine-tuned and workshopped!

He becomes a tenured professor, and many of his colleagues come to him for advice on how to motivate their own students. He almost cried (he did cry) when the staff came together and celebrated his birthday. Gave him a vegan cake and everything.

Students even threw him a little suprise party.

They decorated his classroom and everything. He was so moved his gave them extra credit (they were hoping for a free exam grade, but they still love him).

ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Marc

Majors in Archeology or becomes a firefighter. I can't really see him being a police officer, but I do think he'd want to go into a field where he helps people.

The chief of the station practically takes Marc under his wing because he sees himself in Marc. Basically, he becomes a father figure to him and teaches him not to be so self sacrificial and hot-headed.

Marc continues being on field duty until he's forced to retire by his team due to old age. Or they force him to take a desk job, which he absolutely hates.

He becomes chief of the station by the end of his career thought. (Previous fire chief long passed/retired).

He's very respected and loved by the members of his station despite how thick headed and stubborn he can be. He's tough but fair, just like his previous mentor.

Jake

Jake is just as smart as Marc and Steven are, just in a different way. He applies himself and graduates college with a double major in mechanical and electrical engineering.

(This one is a bit up in the air in what he'd do after, but I really think he'd get a degree if he could).

Or he'd major in law and business!

He'd become a private investigator and help the little guys who can't afford a big-time lawyer. (He directs them to his friend Matthew Murdock and his buddy Nelson).

And he investigates shady business practices even if it means doing it in not so legal ways. Such as "dealing" with Slumlords price gouging the rent or not having the building up to code.

Jake has had many run-ins with the law before, so he knows people, and those people know people.

That's why he studied the law, memorized it, just so he could break it (within reason) and beat those greedy big timers at their own game.

And well, next thing you know, the building was having repairs done, and the rent was down to an affordable price. And no one (except the client) is any the wiser.

Other jobs include:

If he's running low on cash (or wants some drama), he'd catch cheating spouses.

He'll even take missing persons reports; ones the police gave up on and said, "were lost causes." He has eyes and ears out on the streets, just for the occasion.

For better or for worse, his success rate is above 50%.

Much to his dismay.

It gets to him sometimes, but he's lucky he has Marc and Steven to bring him out of the deep end.

[avenirineva]

What If: Mark Scout was...

"There is chaos in you..."

"I can't tell reality from a dream-"

"Mark, you created me...."

☽ ○ ☾

[marsmarten]

moon upon the itsy bitsy spider au

AU where Khonshu zeroes in on Peter and decides “yeah. i’m nabbing that one.”

peter gets possessed by khonsu and made into a patron of his along side moon knight, who are definitely and 1000000% not at all thinking of smooching the other. totally.

i’m writing this AU with @majorstumbles who is an amazing creator, everyone please go check out their stuff bc we will be posting more moon upon the itsy bitsy spider content pinky promise <3

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath.��It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Marc Spector…

Tagging: @autismsupermusicalassassin

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Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

➳ NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } marc and emma arrive in the same wing of the same mental hospital at the same time. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x marc spector, emma harper x steven grant, and emma harper x jake lockley { contents: } mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, first meeting, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. } { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. Marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. { author's note: } I recently finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your story DOES deserve to be told. { word count: } 969 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

They’d been admitted the same night, after lights out, two frozen bodies sitting in the darkened day room waiting to be assigned a bed.

It was unusual for two people to land in the same wing at the same time, let alone this late at night but that’s just how it happened.

She sits quietly, fully believing she’s in some kind of limbo between this life and the next – that somehow this was just how her brain was processing her passing, waiting to be judged.

She wonders if the man, slumped in the chair half a dozen feet from her is also recently deceased. Or so she believes.

He seems sullen and she wonders if perhaps he’d taken his own life to end up here in this seeming waystation.

Despite his deep scowl, she finds him beautiful. And then she thinks to herself, maybe he’s an angel and it’s some kind of test to see how she’ll interact with him.

As his eyes rise to hers, his frown etches further into his features. “You're staring…” He mutters, rolling his shoulders tensely.

“Sorry—” Emma apologizes, tearing her eyes away. “I was just—wondering if you were okay…” She mumbles softly.

“Would I be here if I were okay?” He replies.

Emma confuses his meaning, again thinking maybe this in the afterlife. And again, she thinks he must’ve taken his life.

‘Marc—come on, she seems sweet…’ A voice in his mind says, whose worried expression reflects from the window to the hallway.

“How can you possibly tell that, Steven?” He mutters again.

When he speaks to someone that doesn’t appear to be in the room, she starts to turn the options over in her mind.

Maybe he’s hearing voices like she started to this morning before…before it happened…

Or maybe she just can’t see the person he’s speaking to because that person is on a spiritual plane she can’t comprehend yet.

Still, she’s sure it’s all a test.

“Who is Steven?” she asks gently, trying to help.

Marc’s eyes flash to hers again, that seem to look on him with such an innocence that even he can’t see her question as malicious.

“Is he here too?” She asks, looking confused but somehow so compassionate.

This in turn confuses him.

‘I don’t think she’s here for the same reason we are, mate…” Steven says within their headspace, looking at the girl with such soft regard.

There’s a small pout at Marc’s lips as he studies her. She radiates a kind of sensitive and soothing energy that belongs far away from a place like this.

He can’t help but soften along with Steven.

Another presence moves into focus in their shared space. He takes one look at the girl and feels his own protective nature kick in.

‘Who’s this?’

Marc doesn’t realize how long the silence has lingered between them until Jake speaks.

All the while, she continues looking softly at him, occasionally shying away her eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me…” Emma breaks the silence.

Marc shakes his head slowly, somehow finding himself more worried about her than he is about himself at this point.

“What’s your name?” He asks, tempering his voice.

She swallows, tucking some hair behind her ear. “E-Emma…” She rolls her lips in, causing dimples to dip lightly into her cheeks as her eyes glance away shyly again.

Jake watches stunned from the reflection beside Steven.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he only softens more. “I’m Marc…” he introduces himself.

Emma eyes rise to his again, nodding slowly.

Her mind is already moving on, asking quietly, “do you know how long we’ll be here?”

Marc mistakes her meaning, just assuming it must be her first time on a psychiatric hold.

“72 hours—they have to—”

Emma’s already talking over him, more to herself but audible enough for the three of them to hear. “Three days? Like Easter?” She wonders aloud.

Marc’s eyebrows pull together, his mouth hanging open a little. “huh?”

“Easter—” Emma repeats. “Jesus came back to life after three days…”

‘Oh I—Marc I don’t think she knows what’s happening at all…’ Steven tells him.

Marc blinks slowly, but continues to soften, “do you know where you are right now, Emma?”

She shakes her head quickly and her shoulders pulling up to her ears, “I think it’s—well it’s kinda like limbo, right?” She pauses, furrowing her own brow. “We’re waiting to be judged…” She does her best to explain.

An ache goes through his chest, somehow his situation seems to pale in comparison with hers.

“No, Emma—” He starts, but is abruptly cut off when the floor staff comes to collect her first.

Fear seems to come over her face and it’s all he can do to stay in his chair, knowing that causing a scene would end badly for one or both of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow—okay?” Is all he can get out.

“Tomorrow?” Emma questions in a daze.

“Come on, Emma—let’s get you settled…” The woman ushers her out of the door. “Someone will be back for you in a minute, Marc.”

This does nothing to ‘settle’ Marc at all, in fact, even after they get him situated in a room he still can’t stop worrying.

And so there he lies, in the dark on his side in a twin sized bed that feels a little too small, wrapped in thin hospital blankets, unable to get his mind off of the beautiful girl somewhere in a room along the same hallway.

The same beautiful girl who likewise lies in the dark, wondering over an angel named Marc and what will come of her.

Of one thing was certain for both of them, sleep wouldn’t come so easily tonight.

[blushnik]

Patrons' most voted Drawing of the Month turned into a little comic x3 Bonus panel (that I hopefully won't get yeeted for is below)

Uncensored on my Patreon as usual (link in the bio💙)

[martreblogs]

Spider-Man/Moon Knight AU

sequel(?) to this post

co-written by @majorstumbles

w/c: 420~

warnings: none(yet), maybe count the ominous bird man. maybeee. he will be a legitimate trigger warning soon enough lmao

a/n: this was something that was so briefly discussed mid last year with stumbles who so graciously entertained the idea, and we recently started making new AU Marvel ideas and I proposed this one today. we will be writing together in the coming snippets of this story, soooo. Hope y’all eat well

Peter never wanted to be something like…this. He was bitten by a spider, got ONE ego boost and then someone that he loved more than anything is dead because he messed up the one time. Or had a bunch of tiny mess ups leading to one slightly larger mess up that got his uncle Ben killed. Either way, it’s his fault. 

He hates it. Hates the world for it, hates himself for it, hates everything that led to it and he genuinely feels so much hatred for fate that it damn near consumes him. 

It’s the night that Peter wakes up with a cold sweat. Or at least, he thought that he woke up. 

He’s 19 now, no longer 15, and living life day by day, nearly aimless if not for May’s gentle (but firm) encouragement for him to go to college. He doesn't enjoy it, but it's a distraction from his completely worthless life for now, isn't it? 

He’s been having…dreams. Sometimes it's nothing, but it's not ‘nothing’ if he knows that he’s asleep right? It’s something, a numbing lack of sensation that makes him wake up disoriented and confused. Sometimes it's everything, his senses overstimulated with something akin to blaring TV static but so painfully loud and piercing that he wakes up shuddering. 

It’s the one time that any sense is made in Peter’s dreams that changes everything. 

It was a dream within a dream, as he realizes later. It’s why even though he thought that he woke up, and instead of launching out of his bed because of how overwhelmed he was, he sat up in a desert, chest heaving and feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin. 

As he came to grips with this unfamiliar environment, Peter examined his surroundings. The sky was an ultramarine blue, the stars brighter than he's ever seen and the Moon looking like it was out of a movie, the sand a faint purple tone, lavender maybe? The sand doesn't feel quite like sand, doesn’t feel very coarse or grainy, but Peter’s mind is grasping at anything to make sense of the scenario. Where the hell was he?

And in front of him standing plainly in the sand, tall and overbearing, is the answer to his question in the form of the moon god, Khonsu.

Of course, Peter didn’t know that then, but he certainly would become aware in the coming days. Peter blanched at this freakish looking bird-man, who’s draped in traditional Egyptian garments and looking thoroughly otherworldly.

“Peter Benjamin Parker. You lowly, lowly little man. You can keep living like a sad human with capabilities that you constantly keep under check for whatever less-than-logical reason, or,” the being remarks with his words laced with pity and sarcasm, “You could be more. For me. How does that sound, Peter?”

[ivystoryweaver]

Jake Lockley Dance Instructor hc's

My Masterlist

Jake is the most popular dance instructor at the studio

He can teach anything ballroom or Latin, but everyone loves to see those hips sway

His favorite dance is the Cha Cha, although it's the slow and sensual Rumba that sweeps his lady partners off their feet

Despite his love and natural aptitude for Latin dances, he is actually quite good at the Foxtrot

^ To that end, little old ladies, who are all more in love with him than the young ladies, proudly parade around the dance floor when an old Foxtrot plays

Jake has the highest sales in the studio, the area and even the state. It takes exactly one lesson to want to buy a whole dance program with him.

He is the perfect gentleman - professional, composed, always neat and tidy, and he smells divine.

However, he is so devastatingly handsome, some women like to think he flirts with them. (He doesn't, he's just charming)

The middle aged women get catty and jealous about who takes more lessons with him, who gets the best lesson time slots, and who gets the most dances with him at a social mixer

Jake wins every competition he enters

The studio has a strict non-fraternization policy that Jake adheres to religiously. On the dance floor, he can make a woman believe she is the most special girl in the world, but he's never crossed the line, ever. He has no trouble getting a date outside the studio.

This all goes right to hell the day you walk in for your first dance lesson.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Join the tag list (or tell me your tagging preferences by fandom and NSFW/SFW)

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌒Chapter Summary- You and the boys celebrate your new job. Marc’s past trauma threatens to derail what the other so desperately want with you. Khonshu makes his presence known in only ways he knows how.

🌔CW-18+,MDNI,NDFW, friends to lovers, Angst,Fluff,Insecurities,flashback sequence, POV switch, inaccurate depiction of DID,kissing,lots of flirting.

🌑WK-4.2k

A/N-I hope you like our first installment. I don’t know why I love writing Marc so angsty but I promise he will come around. Steven takes the lead in this because I’m a sucker for him and Jake is his ever charming self.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Chapter 1

  ”I am the one who guides the great ones who are lost and exhausted on the roads of the reborn…

Who guides those who are lost in the underworld,

I am Hathor, Queen of the northern sky,

Who watches over the reborn,

I am a haven of tranquility for the just,

A ferry for the chosen.”

You never imagined you’d find yourself running through the halls of the British museum. You couldn’t contain your excitement of finally being told you got the job. You knew Steven would be leading a tour but he insisted you find him when you got the results. Good or bad. 

  The curator that was retiring was highly impressed with your knowledge. You thought the job offer would be to assist. You were ecstatic when she told you she wanted you to take over the catalogue of all the new exhibits in the museum. 

  It always came natural to you, the research and the fascination of every ancient civilization. Egypt in particular held your interest. There was a connection you couldn’t describe when you thought about it. Having met Steven and bonding over your shared obsession made you feel a little less awkward. 

  You always felt a little more like yourself around them. 

  Steven could invariably sense it before he even laid his eyes on you. It always started the same - a subtle yet undeniable sensation. A cascade of warmth starting from the top of his head emanating through his body. It was indescribable the reaction you elicited from each one of them, all varying in forms. 

  He’s meandering through the new Hatshepsut exhibit on a break in between tours when you find him. All bright and blazing smiles, hardly able to contain your excitement. He already knows what you’re going to tell him. You didn’t need his help but Jake would’ve called him all sorts of Spanish curses if he had turned down your request to help prepare for the interview at the museum all those weeks ago. 

  Some might call his love for ancient Egypt neurose but that’s what led you to him. It’s very likely you would be another stranger to him if his obsession hadn’t caused him to start his incessant babbling that fateful day in the coffee shop. 

  A beautiful creature like you, arguably the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Sitting in the shop he regularly frequented, seated in the corner to catch the only ray of light. Illuminating in your hands a special edition novel on some obscure topic. You quietly giggling to yourself as you read. 

  Jake stayed uncharacteristically quiet while Steven rambled to you about all the secret facts that were never printed. This was his forte and who was Jake to overtake this conversation that you seemed to enjoy. You took to him like you were long lost friends. 

  You took to all of them (well most of them) with such great ease…but one thing at a time. Let’s start with Steven. 

  Your sweet Steven, his posture slightly slouched. Hair a little disheveled and clothes not very firm fitting. But right now he’s standing tall, deft hands in his pockets and his hair with a bit of product. He always took care of his appearance as a tour guide. He stood a little straighter, spoke a little firmer…more assured. 

  He’s looking at you like that now as you approach him. A slight smirk on his face because he knows but he wouldn’t dare ruin your moment. 

  It’s hard to describe the feelings you have when you’re around them. It’s much easier to express how you feel when you’re not with them. Incomplete, fragmented,dimmed. 

  It’s like the opposite of a heartbreak when you see him. 

  “I have some great news.” You’re bouncing on your feet as you half whisper, trying not to draw attention from the other people in the exhibit. 

  She’s adorable 

  Jake is ever present when you are around and Marc as well but he mostly stays silent. 

  “I got the job.” You clap your hands over your mouth to suppress the squeal that you want to let out. 

  It feels wrong not to hug you at this moment. He’s not sure how you’d feel about it now that you’re coworkers but the way you step closer, he can’t resist as he pulls you into his arms. 

  You melt as he mumbles praises into your hair. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of citrus and vanilla as he realizes this is the closest your bodies have ever been. A different kind of warmth spreads over him now as he breaks away from you before ruining this moment with an awkward explanation about the male anatomy.

  “I’m so proud of you.” He says while he still holds your hands in his, a safe distance from you now. 

  “I couldn’t have done it without you Steven.” 

  He nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt as the redness creeps up his neck at the compliment. 

  “Nonsense love, you’re a natural.” 

  It was a regular term of endearment from him but it always made you all giddy inside. You never read too much into each of their special names for you. The countless times Jake called you hermosa or when Marc let the occasional sweetheart slip from his lips. 

  You nervously fidget with the hem of your blouse as the conversation lulls for a moment. “Well I should let you get back to work.” You reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it as you hear a sharp intake of breath. 

  He watches you briefly as you walk away, he’s stuck in a trance trying to process what just happened. 

  “We should celebrate!” He didn’t really mean to shout it at you. The way all eyes turn to him including you has him wanting to crawl into the nearest sarcophagus. 

  You smile at him as you exit the exhibit and the light in the room dims a little as he patiently waits for the responses from his head mates about how bonkers he is. 

  His phone buzzes lightly in his pocket and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name appear on the screen. 

  You:My place or yours 

  Mine-S

  Steven can feel Jake and Marc at the forefront,along with a mixture of emotions.

  Worried,jealous,excited,anxious. They may be unique in their own way, but they share a brain and a body. Steven wasn’t usually the vanguard in these situations but something about you makes him feel confident. A way he’s never felt before, and he’s never been more sure than he’s been about you. 

  ****

  No one drinks your tea hermano.

  Steven huffs as he opens the door to the small coffee shop on the corner. “Whatever you say mate. I know I didn’t drink the last of it.” He doesn’t normally get this miffed but he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately with all the new responsibilities. 

  You wanted those responsibilities.

  Buzz off Jake.

  A poor old woman turns to him wide eyed. Steven quietly apologizes to her as he tucks his cold hands in his jumper. He just wanted to get some hot tea and be on about his day. Unsure of what he would even do…most likely research for the tours. It sure beats being yelled at by Donna who thinks she’s still Stevens boss. 

  The barista offers him a polite smile as he steps up to the counter. “I’d like the rooibos chai tea please.” He slides her some bills before she can tell him the total and quickly steps aside. 

  It’s warm and his hands are clammy. He rolls up the sleeves of his jumper as he idles by the window, somehow in everyone’s way and not in the way at all. He doesn’t remember it being a particularly sunny day when he left the flat but it seems the shop is ten shades brighter. 

  He glances around nervously as he hears some soft laughter just to his left. A book. A girl. In the corner. 

  Talking to strangers about Egypt at work was one thing. For starters he got paid to do it and he truly loved it. It’s an entirely different thing to do in public, some might say peculiar to strike up a conversation unprovoked. It’s no matter anyway as his feet carry him to your warm nook in the shop. 

  “That copy must have cost you a small fortune.” He says as he slides into the seat next to you. 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it at a thrift store.” You turn it over in your hand as you brush your fingers down the spine. “Obviously I had to snatch it up before they realized what they had.” 

  He knows he’s the one who approached you but now he can’t actually believe you’re talking to him. Without even missing a beat. You haven’t returned your attention back to the book as you stare at him like you're studying his movements. Your eyes sparkle as you lift your coffee to your lips and blow before taking a sip. 

  “So what chapter had you particularly giggly over here.” He teases as you hold the book against your chest. 

  You lean in and he forces himself not to look at your slightly open blouse.“I’m afraid the god of Min is not one to be discussed out loud.” Your breath ghosts over him as you whisper in his ear. He can feel the heat flush over his body from your close proximity. 

  You slide the book towards him and tap your finger on the page. He tries to focus on reading it but he notices you haven’t pulled away. 

  Min was often depicted as a mummiform human man with an ithyphallic (uncovered erect) penis. Wearing a crown adorned with two feathers. In his left hand he holds his penis ( although this is usually only apparent in statues because of the perspective applied to two dimensional images in Egyptian art) in his right hand he holds a flail up above his shoulder representing power and fertility. 

  You lightly tap him on his shoulder and he looks up to see you gesturing to the young barista excitedly waving him over. She’s a bit squirrelly when he approaches to retrieve his coffee and he thinks perhaps she’s consuming too much of the shop's supply. 

  What are you doing hermano?

  I haven’t the slightest idea mate.

  Well keep it up, it seems to be working.

  He doesn’t want to intrude but he sees you smiling brightly at him as he returns to the table. You’re still on the same page not having resumed your reading. 

  Steven sits and sips his tea, he hums in approval and he’s grateful it sat briefly because at the moment he’s plenty warm. 

  “Is that the chai?” You ask inquisitively as you flip back a few pages with a puzzled look on your face. 

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorites. In fact I don’t make it at home. It’s just—.”

  “It never tastes the same.”  You steal the words right from his mouth as he glances down to your coffee in question. “Sometimes I enjoy the occasional cup of coffee. It reminds me of home” You say with a sheepish expression. 

  “Where’s home?” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

  “I don’t mind at all. Washington.” His eyes go wide and you smirk into your coffee. “I know I’m a long way from home.” You say it with a far away look in your eyes and he silently curses himself for being too forward. 

  You flip frantically back and forth through the pages as you scrunch your nose in frustration. 

  She’s cute 

  Ya he’s aware and he’s thoroughly wrecked at any future attempts to match this turn of events for a day off from the museum. 

  “Looking for anything in particular?” He leans in a little closer as he scrubs his sweaty palms on his pants. 

  “Yes…it’s just.” You cease your movements and lean back against the soft cushion. “I know these books leave out so much information. They claim to be special editions but I know there’s more to it than this.” You point at the page like it’s personally offended you. 

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” You raise your eyebrow at him and it’s quiet for a moment. 

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” 

  “Ask what love?” It slips out but you don’t falter or grimace at his words. 

  “Ask me why I’m so far from home.” You look at each other then, it’s just a millisecond of a flash in your eyes. The iris is bright yellow and then gone. His heart quivers a bit and he thinks he may be having a mild heart attack. 

  Calmáte

  He takes a shuddering breath and shucks off his coat. “S’ not really my business I guess.” 

  You’re so focused on him. Like you’re learning every tick and line etched into his features. The way you stare at him like he’s a statue to be studied. It’s maddening and a little unnerving but he doesn’t want you to look away. 

  “Can you tell me why all of the statues of Min are depicted vastly different from all these photographs?” You slide the book toward him but he closes it as a smug smile adorns his face.

  “Well the European scholars of the Victorian age were a bit more…conservative.” He adjusted his pants unconsciously before continuing. “They had most of the phallic members on the statues removed when they were discovered. It nearly wiped out all known history of Min…but you can’t erase the mind.” You chuckle as he taps his finger against his temple playfully. 

  You sigh sympathetically and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you. “Poor Min.” 

  Steven lets out a raucous laughter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The old woman from before seated at a table nearby shushes you both and Stevens face turns deep red. 

  You duck your head close to his. “It’s not like we’re in a library.” 

  Ya he’s a goner 

  “Another fun fact, that’s likely not in your book.” He drops his voice a little to not disturb anyone else. His excitement is threatening to boil over at your willingness to listen. “It’s rumored that Min was in charge of overseeing the women while the king and his men were at war. When the men returned from battle all of the women were pregnant.” You cover your mouth in shock. “It gets worse.” 

  Your leg brushes his as you adjust to face him better and he nearly chokes at the brief contact. “The king had his arm and leg chopped off in retaliation.” 

  “Why not his.” You gesture downward but his eyes stay fixed to your face. 

  “Well…funny you ask. The king told the men to remove his er…you know. The men thought it was too magnificent so they made him a god. That’s the rumor at least.” 

  MIN WAS A FOOL

  Steven stiffens at the bird's sudden presence as he’s perched in the corner. Unsure as to why he’s here. Marc made it clear to leave Steven alone when it comes to moon knight duties 

  You’re staring at him with a mesmerized look in your eyes. “How do you know so much?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve always had a knack for researching and always found Egyptian mythology fascinating. I used to run the gift shop at the British Museum, but now I’m a tour guide.” 

  You shriek in surprise and the old woman abruptly stands with her newspaper, muttering under her breath as she exits the coffee shop. “I’m interviewing for a job there next month. How serendipitous.” You say the last part half whispered. 

  “Wow, that is quite the coincidence. What’s the job? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

  “The curator position has an opening. It’s always been my dream to work there.” Steven glances up nervously at Khonshu who still hasn’t left. 

  DON'T MESS THIS UP WORM

  “I could ugh…help you prepare. If you’d like? I’m sure you know your stuff but if I—.” 

  “I would love that so much. Thank you.” You say enthusiastically as you clap your hands together. 

  You reach into your purse to pull out your phone. “I’m here most mornings around this time.” You hand it to him sounding a little apprehensive. “But I should have your number just in case.” 

  “Of course love.” He punches in the digits trying to calm his shaking hands. He hands it back to you as you look it over. 

  “Nice to meet you Steven.” You slide it back into your purse along with your book. “I should be going.” You wave at him as you slide out and head towards the door with one last glance over your shoulder at him. 

  He exhales as he drops his head back, the cafes a little colder and his heart rate slows to a normal pattern. 

  ****

  Steven frantically stacks his books against the wall after he’s checked on the vegan pot pie in the oven. He’d managed with Marc’s help to attempt a new recipe without burning down the flat. 

  She’s been here before Steven just relax 

  “I just want it to look nice. She’s not just coming over to study.” Despite Marc’s insistence he calms down, he can sense his nervousness. 

  Jake feels it too. 

  You’ve been over countless times, laid out on the floor amongst the books that adorned their home. You and Steven rambling for hours about the ancient texts or the hidden tombs. Swapping ridiculous facts that the other hadn’t heard. Jake often had to remind you both to eat or drink something. 

  Marc would front occasionally…mostly to remind Steven that the body had other duties to attend to. There was always an awkward avoidance on the days after you’d see Marc. 

  But tonight feels different. You were coming over to spend time with them, not just pick Stevens brain for loads of useful knowledge. The way you touched him today and the look in your eyes told an entirely different story than your budding friendship. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself before you arrive so he tries to keep his hands busy. 

  Jake has to give it to him, the flat has never been this clean in its entirety. He notices some newer candles have been lit but decides to keep it to himself. 

  Just remember she likes us and take deep breaths

  “Thanks mate, I sure hope I know what I’m doing.” 

  ****

  “Steven, you've outdone yourself.” You slide the empty plate forward and take a sip of your wine. 

  It never gets old, hearing your praises. You were always so grateful and appreciative of anything they would do for you. 

  “Marc helped as well.” His eyes meet Marc’s in the reflection of the mirror. 

  You brush your hand over his tracing the veins along his arm. “Well tell him I said thank you.”

  Marc wasn’t avoiding you per say. He just thought it was important for Steven and Jake to experience what he once had. Something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to mess it up again. 

  The conversation moves comfortably to the couch, where your feet are curled up beneath you as you animatedly tell Steven about the wonderful interview. Some old sci fi movie on in the background that he can’t bother to pay attention to when he could simply watch you. 

  You finally take a breath and realize how close you are. Knees touching as you adjust against the worn leather. He looks at you as if he wants you to continue. You thought he’d be sick of talking about this stuff by now but he looks as though he’d let you go on for hours. You can’t ignore the feeling from earlier and you hope deep down that what you’re about to do doesn’t ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

  If it does, you suppose it’ll make your work relationship less complicated. You aren’t even sure what the policy is on dating. You’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. 

  “Love is everything alright?” He asks as he places his warm hand gently on your thigh. 

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” You chuckle softly as you look at the fish tank. Gus swimming in the front staring at you. 

  “Did you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” His hand traces soothing circles on your thigh and he feels you shudder. He moves to withdraw but you grab his hand,lacing your fingers with his. 

  He slowly raises your arm, kissing the back of your hand as his lips linger there for a moment. ‘Go on’

  “I just…wanted to thank you properly. But we were in the museum.” Your voice is suddenly so timid. 

  “We’re not in the museum now.” His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he waits. 

  It feels like all eyes are on you, and not just Stevens. He’s waiting for you to cross that bridge, giving you the opportunity to say that this can stay exactly what it is and he would be content. 

  You inch closer to him as you rise up on your knees, the couch creaks as you face him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as you roam over his chest, mapping it with your fingers. His dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as you lean in and press your lips to his. 

  Warmth blooms across his chest at the first feel of your touch. It’s so gentle and experimental as you both share breaths. He releases your hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest. 

  “You’re welcome.” He murmurs against your lips as you chuckle in between opened mouth kisses. 

  You can still taste the wine on his tongue as he methodically takes the lead. Much more assured of himself than you’ve ever seen. 

  You yelp in surprise as he swings your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap. You lean back with your hands braced on his chest as it rises and falls beneath you. His hands flex at his side as his eyes roll. 

  “Mírate, eres tan hermosa.” His pupils are black as he bites his bottom lip. 

  “Hi.” You say breathlessly as his hands find their way to your hips. He pulls you in as your noses touch, waiting for permission as you nod. 

  He’s consuming and precise in his movements. His lips crash into yours as you instinctively grind your hips down. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so different from Steven and yet so exhilarating knowing it’s the same body. 

  I wasn’t quite finished yet

  Jake chuckles as he trails kisses along your jaw. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to share.”  He tilts your head to the side as he bites and nips at your chin. “To be continued.” 

  His hands flex again and he relaxes beneath you. A blush creeps up Stevens neck at the position you’re in. You adjust yourself and brush against his hardened bulge in his pants. A soft whimper leaves his mouth as you experimentally roll your hips again. He’s slack jawed as he watches you with hooded eyes. You’re beautiful just like this. 

  Your nerves start to get the better of you and he notices your trembling. He gently unwraps your arms from his neck as he places a kiss on each palm. 

  “We don’t have to go any further love.” He breathes in the scent of your perfume, heavy on your wrist. “I like this. What we’re doing now.” 

  You place your hand on his rapidly beating heart, quite the juxtaposition to his outwardly calm demeanor. You’re so content to stay like this…so you do until your eyes fall heavy. Lips chapped from kissing as the candles go out on their own. Curled up under the broadness of their body as they wrap you up into them. You push the thoughts away before sleep claims you of not having seen Marc, you want to thank him…in time. 

  ****

  The golden sun bathes you in a warm embrace as you rustle amongst the robust reeds. Your fingers trace along the silky fabric of your dress as the breeze brings scents of jasmine to awaken you softly. 

  The crunching of grass with each deliberate step, a gentle symphony beneath the weight of someone weaving through the emerald blades. As they move it casts a shadow along your tranquil resting spot. 

  You hear a faint laugh as you open your eyes. A tall majestic man stands before you, adorned in blue and gold. His dark locks sit beneath a nemes crown. He crouches down beside you as he lays his crescent staff amongst the grass and pulls you close. He rests his head atop yours as he hums quietly to himself.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” 

  ****

  You stretch your sore limbs, having fallen asleep in such an awkward position. Fragments of a dream linger in your mind briefly. Your eyes adjust to the light in the flat and you’re acutely aware of the lack of warmth against your back. 

  There’s a soft quilt draped over your form and you pull it close as you sit up on the brown leather couch. It’s silent in the flat, the only sound over the quiet hum of Gus’s tank is the sound of your beating heart as you brush the tears away with the blanket you’re holding tightly to your chest. 

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🌙Comments and reblogs are much appreciated 🌒

Taglist- @romanarose @chichimisaki @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @queerponcho @melodygatesauthor @faretheeoscar @22carolina08 @villainfan @clairewinchester14 @brighterthanlonelywords @astrosphereblog @casa-boiardi

[gin-stan]

Kamen Rider: Moon Knight

I'm not sure if this format for pictures is good, or do people like more condensed ones...hmmm.

I love KR, and I love MK, and their MCU transformation gave me a perfect idea for a KR AU.

It's still a WIP, but this is what I have so far in terms of design.

[majorstumbles]

The Moon Upon The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Moon Knight POV

Collaborators:

Mars- @marsmartens - Masterlist

Masterlist:

Chapters:

Chapter One: The Discovery

One-Shots:

Art:

A/N: On my collaborator’s posts, you might see me referred to either as Major or Loki, either of these are fine to refer to me as, one is simply my username and the other is my chosen name!

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 2 (I've Got You Under My Skin)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,326

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: another night, another guest.

----------

The Paper Moon is open to all walks of life– every culture, creed, and color is welcome through the doors of your lounge. This is usually a happy truth, but these days you’ve been harboring a clockwork headache when that cab driver stops by.

He gives you the base courtesy of sticking to a schedule: around 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jake will waltz in on the heels of James Wesley and whatever company he has in tow. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Jake sits at the same back table while Mr. Wesley conducts his business. And every Tuesday and Thursday, you play nice as you check in on your patrons. Including the cabbie.

“Another stellar set, Ms. Songbird,” he lilts as you give a courtesy nod, brushing past his table in the hopes of keeping things brief.

“Thank you, Mr. Lockley.” Your voice is tense as you breeze by. Jake Lockley, you’d learned from the wait staff: the legal name for the thorn in your side.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind his presence as much if he didn’t insist on making it known every evening. You had learned to expect him in the crowd whenever you’d hear a high-pitched whistle ringing above the applause each night. The sound grates at your resolve and forces you to plaster on your stage-ready smile a bit longer every time you make your rounds.

“Hey Songbird,” he calls out after you. “Have a drink with me?”

“A drink at my own bar? How inspired.” You press your lips into a firm line, the rest of your face broadcasting your disinterest to no avail. Every week he asks; every week you say no.

“Suit yourself,” he sighs, always backing down but never taking his eyes off you. It’s one thing to be watched onstage; it’s another to feel his gaze on the ground level. You feel a bit of relief every time you see him walk out with his client, tipping his hat to you at the end of each evening. His smile remains undeterred, no matter how cold a shoulder you offer.

It’d be damn near charming if you trusted it.

----------

Today’s not the day to let your guard down, the unmarked letter in your hand reminds you as you pace around the backstage corridor. It’s the third of its kind you’ve received this month. You worry your lip between your teeth as you pour over its contents, even though you know them by heart.

“To whom it may concern….” “...property acquisition…” “...would be in your best interest…” “...other businesses under our care …”

“‘Our care,’ that’s rich,” you mutter. “Remind me to stop opening the mail during business hours…”

“Uh, okay?” Mauricio agrees hesitantly as he rounds the corner. “Was wondering where our ‘fifteen-minutes-to-curtain’ call was, but I see you've been busy.”

“Oh good golly, is that really the time?” You fumble to put the letter back in its envelope. “Haven't even finished my makeup…” you trail off as you head to your dressing room, your drummer right behind you.

When you open the door, you see a small bundle of flowers sitting on your side table. Oh for crying out loud.

“How many times do I have to–” you're muttering to yourself again as you take the flowers in hand, moving swiftly across the room.

"What are you doing?" Mauricio sputters.

"If that man thinks he can weasel into my good graces with a few pretty flowers-" you huff as you drop the bouquet in a wastebasket. "–he's going to be sorely disappointed."

"Those were– those were mine." Mauricio admits softly.

You freeze, turning to him. "Really?"

He scoops up the bouquet. "I wanted to surprise you. Guess I should've left a note," he chuckles.

"Oh, Maurie, thank you." You rush over to bring him into a hug. Sometimes he's too sweet for his own good.

".... This is from Mr. Lockley." Mauricio breaks away to hold out a single white rose he'd been hiding behind his back.

You sigh. "He's a persistent son of a gun, isn't he?"

He nods, dimpled smile growing by the second. “I think he's swell, miss. The boys think so, too.”

You turn the rose over in your hand. “I want you to be careful around him, Maurie. We don't know what he's about.”

“I think he's made it pretty clear,” he laughs.

“Hm. Perhaps.” You raise an eyebrow. "And I suppose you both brought flowers because...?"

Mauricio brims with excitement, taking the rose back and bundling it with the bouquet he'd gifted. "Mr. Lockley sounded real set on gettin’ you something sweet," he starts. He puts the flowers in an empty vase on your vanity.

"I didn't mean to steal his thunder, but I like it when you smile." He wipes his hands on the front of his pants and his expression drops a bit. "You haven't been smilin’ as much these days, Ms. Songbird."

You busy yourself with the fallen petals at your feet. “I smile all the time, what do you mean?”

“I guess I'm saying… there's you onstage, then there's, I dunno, you -you. They smile differently, s'all.”

He's right, as much as you hate to admit it. You look over at the flowers. “Well, thanks for giving me a reason to smile for real, Maurie.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “My mind's a bit out of sorts tonight. So thank you.”

The youth's dark brown eyes fill with concern. “Anything we can help you with?”

You shake your head, moving back to your vanity. “Nothing to worry yourself over, darling. Just make sure the boys are set. We have a show to put on.” 

He nods and leaves your dressing room. As you apply your lipstick, your hand trembles.

----------

Wednesdays have become your favorite part of the week: the day you catch your breath between visits.

In the time before the first half of your set, you make your usual rounds to each table.  Eventually you work your way to the front of the seating area, where you see a familiar silhouette beside the stage. A pair of dark glasses are perched on his nose, which crinkles as he smiles at the sound of your footsteps.

“Mr. Murdock,” you greet him warmly, taking his extended hand. “Always a pleasure.”

“Hey, kid.” He squeezes your hand in response, still beaming up at you. Even in the dimmed lounge, Matt Murdock’s smile can light up a room. 

“Come off it,” you huff in mock annoyance. “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice.”

“It sounded urgent, of course I’d be here. Do you have all the paperwork together?”

You eye the empty seat next to him. “I have a whole file waiting for you backstage… I’m sorry, is Franklin not joining you this evening?”

“Not tonight, but I do have another guest coming. Is that drink still on the house for a new plus-one?”

“Any friend of Nelson & Murdock is a friend of mine.” You brush a few stray hairs from his forehead. “Is this a guest for business or pleasure?”

He laughs, waving your hand away. “I suppose that depends.”

“Well, as long as they’re a fan of good music, they’re welcome here anytime,” you hum as you straighten his collar. “I swear, Matty. It wouldn’t kill you to dress to impress.”

“You dote too much. I’ll catch up with you later.” You leave him to his drink, making a mental note to demand his dress shirts for a routine tailoring.

The dinner rush brings the usual crowd, and you eye your friend’s table every so often. The seat beside him is still empty. You wonder if Matt was just pulling your leg and wanted to keep both complimentary drinks for himself.

But you don’t have time to ponder that. Instead, you scribble a few notes down and pass them out to your bandmates.

“Ah gee, boss, changing the setlist again?” Your pianist whines, scanning your notes. He didn’t ask tonight, but last-minute song requests are a longstanding favor to Matt when he has a lady to impress (which is often). For the sake of his mysterious guest, you swapped in some softer, more romantic pieces.

“Jackie, don’t tell me you’re not up to the task?” You eye him sternly. “Half the gig is improv anyway, and these are all songs we’ve done before.”

Jackie’s budding protest is silenced by the bassist via an elbow to the ribs. Arguing with you is never worth it: a lesson everyone learns sooner or later. Some take longer than others. 

Rubbing his side, Jackie concedes. “Whatever you say, boss.”

You wink. “That’s a tune I like to hear.” Smiling sweetly, you lead the band's procession to the stage.

“Good evening,” you croon into the microphone, “and welcome to The Paper Moon. I’m Ms. Songbird, this fine-feathered crew beside me are The Jays– let’s have some fun tonight.” You flash a rehearsed smile so dazzling it can be seen from the farthest table in the lounge, and you scan the room with anticipation. The moments before a performance are so precious; even with a setlist, anything can happen the moment that first note is played. Every night, you revel in the possibility. 

A familiar two-toned whistle draws your gaze to Matt’s table right below the stage, where the seat beside him is no longer empty.

Hat resting on the table, chin propped in his hands, you find yourself staring down at the face of none other than that infuriating cab driver bearing a grin so wide you hope it splits his cheeks.

Fighting to keep your smile from turning into a grimace, your eyes snap back to the middle of the room. “This first song goes out to one of our favorite patrons… and his company,” you add, your voice betraying your restraint with a crack. You don’t look down, but you just know that damned cabbie is smiling even harder.

Despite the rocky start, you and your band pull together another unforgettable night of music. You perform with your eyes closed more than usual; you refuse to give Jake Lockley the satisfaction of serenading him with your best love songs.

Once the music portion of the night is through, all the frustration you’d pushed down swiftly rises to the surface as you watch them pal around right under your nose. You rush to the floor level to get this over with.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt out, glancing between Jake and Matt. Your friend’s eyebrows raise at the outburst.

“Last I checked, this is a free country. I’m allowed into most businesses.”

“No, I mean– it’s not Thursday. You come on Thursdays.”

“Why Ms. Songbird, I didn’t think you cared enough to keep tabs on me.” He leans his head on his hand and stares up at you. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

You want so badly to snap back at him, but instead you look at Matt. “ This is who I changed our set list for?”

“In my defense, I never asked you to,” he grins.

“You didn’t tell me you were so familiar with our lovely hostess here, Murdock. Seems you have more pull with the house than you let on,” Jake muses in surprise.

“A privilege he’s bound to lose if he's not careful,” you say through gritted teeth. Like it or not, Jake is a guest. And you still have an image to uphold. “How’d you have the pleasure of running into this one, Matthew?”

He barely has time to respond before Jake's leaning in farther, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, chin up, doll– can’t say I’m too surprised he’s a friend of yours. Always has a knack for finding the pretty ones, this guy.” He nudges Matt’s side, who’s far too quiet for your liking.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” you huff.

“‘Course, I keep him around for that brain of his, not so much the mug.”

“He's my lawyer,” you say in unison. What makes your brow furrows leads Jake to bark out a laugh, shaking Matt in his grip as he tugs him closer.

“What are the odds of that, eh Murdock?” He beams up at you. Your frown deepens. “He's helped me with the occasional run-in with the law.”

“Oh, so you're not just a smart-mouth but a criminal, to boot?” 

“Nothing but a few civil suits, doll. Got off clean every time.” He winks as you cross your arms, glaring at Matt.

“You have interesting taste in company, Mr. Murdock.” You turn on your heel and head backstage.

“No kidding,” Jake continues to laugh as you walk away. Once you're out of sight, his smile falters. “So when you said you had a friend in show business–”

“Yeah.”

“And when I told you about the dame I've been eyeing at this new lounge–”

“–I knew exactly who you were talking about.”

“So you've been letting me parade around like a putz this whole time? ” A smack upside the head earns Jake a kick to the shin beneath the table.

“That, my friend, was all you. I mean bravo, you were in rare form tonight.” That signature smile returns as Jake pushes a hand through his hair. “I should probably go smooth some feathers. Catch up with you in an hour?”

Jake downs the rest of his drink and stands when Matt does. “You know I love our little talks.” Casting a final glance towards the stage door, he adjusts his jacket and moves from the table.

Matt catches his elbow. “She’ll come around.” He almost sounds convinced of it himself.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got other fish to fry tonight. Promise I’ll save you the big ones.”

Shaking his head, Matt makes his way backstage. “I’m starting to think some of that vitriol isn’t unearned.”

They part ways– Matt heading backstage, Jake to the moonlit streets. 

Bigger fish to fry, indeed: all swimming in the Kingpin’s tank. 

----------

A/N: thank you to everyone who has expressed enthusiasm over this little passion project!! it's been so fun putting it together, and i'm looking forward to sharing more with you. expect to see more of our favorite lawyer in the future (we have fun here)

as always, thank you for reading &lt;3

tag list: @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[traveller-of-the-knight]

I POSTED A NEW FIC ON MY INTERNET FAMOUS AU!!!

It is Moon Knight's TikTok account bitch!

Here it is!!

Sneek peak:

Jake films in an alleyway where some cats are hanging out.

"People belive that this music can remind cats that they were worshipped in ancient Egypt, let's test it out!" He puts on a kind of generic ancient Egyptian song that sounds kind of spooky. The cats stop what they are doing and all look at Jake "¡a la mierda!" (Oh, shit!). The cats move very slowly and take a defensive position, arching their backs. "¿?Gatitas?" (Kitties?). One of them does a very deep and very angry and very long meow, he is probably the leader. Then all the cats meow together, maniacally and jump to attack Jake. "¡Ay no! ¡Ay no! ¡Gatitas!". The cats keep screaming, some of them have attached themselves on Jake's clothes with their nails and bite and scratch him. "¡Ay! ¡Ay! ¡Bastardo!" (Ouch! Ouch! Bastard!). Jake starts running on the main street and everybody looks at him, taking photos and videos. The video cuts.

Jake films himself out of breath showing us his destroyed clothes. His hat is also not quite in place. As he does that he looks like he is in pain again. He puts his hand on his back and grabs something. He shows his hand on the camera we can see him holding a small kitten by the back of it's neck. The kitten meows angrily on camera. Jake looks totally done with it and he puts it on the ground. The cat tries to attack him again so Jake hisses it to assest dominance. The cat leaves. Jake turns the camera back to his face, looking surprisingly, even more done. He looks like he is trying to put together something to say but he really can't figure out what so he ends the video.