#god I feel SO bad for him. and him LOVING Miguel sm through all of the bullshit his brother has pulled and how textually insecure Gabri is

[fellhellion]

It’s funny in the saddest way that the only time Gabriel has ever been the undisputed favourite is with Conchata AND EVEN THEN HE IS LOSING OUT SLIGHTLY TO THE SPIDERMAN SHRINE 😭

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part vii- choice

“hug me like the night holds the moon” - alexandra vasiliu

summary: fighting egyptian gods honestly isn’t that bad, especially when marc and steven look so good in their suits

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: language, violence, honestly i think that’s it, not much fluff but i’ll make up for it in the last part i promise

a/n: thank y’all for being so patient with me, this isn’t the last part, there will be one more bc i want the moon boys to meet the avengers 😏 also wondering how oscar isaac feels knowing he’s played some of the hottest characters to exist bc my miguel obsession is concerning 💀 i hope y’all enjoy, love you all sm, have a great day 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-your-cookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998 @seninjakitey @khaleesihavilliard @gaypoetsblog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @bitchotine

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“That’s fucking disgusting,” you murmur to yourself as three bullets fall out of your slowly-healing wounds.

Coming back from the dead was remarkably unremarkable, you think. However, the sensation of ammunition leaving your body on its own was rather unpleasant.

Heaving strained sighs, you wring out your hair as you make sure the room is empty.

“Ok, Taweret, what now?” you ask.

You don’t expect your body to seize up, and for her voice to leave your throat as you uncontrollably spew words.

“There will be an opening in a nearby wall to where Khonshu’s ushabti is at the Chamber of the Gods. Do you see it?”

You gasp, coughing from the intrusion. A few yards away, the bricks open, revealing a shady tunnel with glowing hieroglyphs. You still don’t fuck with small, dark, magic tunnels. But, you suppose you don’t have much of an option.

“Alright. I’m going in.”

The tunnel opens up to a massive chamber, and you can see Harrow and his team at the entrance, confronting what seem to be more avatars. You sneak past in perfect silence, weaving through tunnels on an instinct you suspect is controlled by Taweret.

Finally, you reach a wall of lamps. In front of each one is a tiny statue. Scanning each one, your eyes land on one that seems newer than the others.

“Surprise,” you singsong. “I’d recognize that ugly face anywhere. Now what?”

The same uncomfortable sensation takes over your voice.

“Smash it on the ground, it’ll free him.”

You raise the ushabti above your head before hurling it with some personal spite. It shatters on the floor, and the fog that emanates from it rises into a form.

“I do not sense Marc Spector in this world,” he announces. “He died fighting, no doubt.”

You raise a brow. “Yeah, no shit. Doing your dirty work.”

“It’s far from over. If Marc is truly gone, I am in need of an Avatar. Would you protect the travelers of the night-“

You wave your hands, cutting him off. “Would you shut the fuck up? I’m already Taweret’s temporary Avatar. Go resurrect Marc before I get Wanda to curse you.”

The god disappears in a cloud of dust, and you hear his voice echo from the main chamber. You listen in silence before a loud beeping interrupts.

When you look down at your gauntlet, the small screen displays words that make you audibly groan.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” you hiss, hurrying to the main chamber while also desperately trying to hang up the call. “Not the time, Nat!”

As you turn a corner, you come face to face with a squad of Harrow’s followers, and in your panic, you press the wrong button.

“Hey (Y/N)!” a chorus of voices say. Team dinner, shit again.

“Sorry guys, kinda busy right now!” you shout back, shooting down three people as you whip out a baton.

Wanda’s voice calls out through the fight.

“I felt your heart stop, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

Grunting, you throw a man into the wall before hopping on a woman’s shoulders to fling her backward.

Sighing, you tap the gauntlet, projecting the call so you can see their worried faces gathered around the phone.

“No biggie, I died for a little bit, but I’m all good.”

At the instant outburst, you wince. Probably should’ve chosen different words.

“Маленький паучок, ты такой мертвый, когда вернешься домой [Little spider, you’re so dead when you get home]!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off the term of endearment. With the room cleared, you run out of the Chamber of the Gods, right out the front of the Great Pyramid. Left and right, Harrow’s followers are judging the souls of civilians. Great. More headaches for you.

“Shit, kid. You need me and Buck to come over there?”

“He’s right, I’ll kill whoever did it.”

Firing blasts of energy from the gauntlets, you start taking down as many fanatics as you can. You’d rather not shoot them, but it would be easier, you have to admit.

“Did you at least die in a cool way?”

“Yelena, not the time.”

“C’mon, Cap. Let her have her fun.”

“Don’t start with me, Tony.”

“Guys!” you yell over the arguing. “I’m fine. We might have a new recruit, too. If he gets revived.”

Yelena gapes at the phone.

“You died together? Wow, pretty serious.” She wiggles her eyebrows as you strike down a man trying to grab at you. “Have you two kissed yet?”

You blush. “…Yes.”

The loud reactions have you cringing, but the blonde assassin grins.

“Awww… That’s disgusting. But I’m happy for you!” She shoves the phone to a very worried Natasha.

The redhead sighs as the team goes back to lighthearted bickering.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

You duck behind a corner, catching your breath. “Yeah, yeah Nat. I promise. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

She nods, and with one last goodbye, ends the call.

You slump against the wall you’re hidden behind, groaning and mumbling curses. When you peek out, you see a giant crocodile goddess swallowing souls.

“Oh, wonderful,” you sigh. “How the fuck am I supposed to fight that?”

“I have an idea!” Your voice says, once again not your own. “Plus, it comes with a rather fashionable outfit.”

Coughing as Taweret invades your senses, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t do those weird superhero costumes.”

“Please? It has wings- Ooh, and swords!”

“Ok, how about a compromise,” you suggest. “Just add the wings and swords to my suit?”

Apparently, the goddess is happy with that, because large metal wings form down your back, glinting silver in the candlelight. You can feel the handles of swords under them. When you wave an arm, the corresponding wing follows your movements.

“Oh…” you chuckle. “Sam’s gonna be SO jealous.”

Your moment of pure glee gets interrupted when a small white blur flies by, carrying a screaming man along.

“Ah. Glad to see you back, idiots,” you whisper to yourself, preparing to run over to where they fell. Instead, the wings boost you up onto the nearest building.

Taking a moment to balance yourself, you quickly adapt to the feeling of gliding on the metal wings and swoop in in time to kick Harrow’s ugly face before he strikes Marc.

Marc takes you in. The wings, the smirk on your face, the fact that you’re okay. He can’t help but be amazed.

When Harrow tries to strike again, you cross your arms, repelling the blast with the wings.

“Marc, are you-”

You get cut off by a tight hug and a kiss planted on your forehead.

“You’re alright,” he whispers, almost like he doesn't believe it. His hands hold you like you’ll disappear. He barely pauses before pulling you into a kiss, tension leaving his body as he sighs against your lips.

You smile. “I’m alright, it’s okay.”

In a flash, his suit changes, along with his voice.

“Wow, you look amazing. Where’d you get the wings?” Steven asks.

“Hi, Steven,” you chuckle as you turn. Harrow is finally standing up from where you knocked him on his ass, and dozens of his followers have gathered.

Steven perks up. “Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.”

It’s impossible to not grin at his antics. “Alright, let’s see it.”

You both break into a dead sprint, with you using the wings to boost you. The new swords fit perfectly in your hands, becoming deadly as you combine them with your baton training, twirling and twisting the blades as you slash through men.

When you turn around to check on Steven, you see Marc instead.

“It’s good to know you two are getting along now,” you chirp before charging forward, cutting down whoever you need to to get to the man at the center of it all.

You strike Harrow’s staff with both swords, tag-teaming him with Marc. You make a deadly combination. That is, until he slams the staff on the ground and sends you flying,

He holds you down, hand raised above you, before Steven tackles him away, leaving you to catch your breath.

The fight only escalates from there. Marc and Steven switch seamlessly, leaning into each others’ strengths. They fight Harrow to a standstill, holding him back from wrecking the world. Usual superhero stakes.

You, however, are preoccupied. Namely with ripping the doors off of vans and helping civilians.

A purple glow blooms behind you, and you can spot Marc holding back Harrow’s magic as you rush pedestrians away from the area.

Blocking bullets, you dive back into the fight as soon as you clear the area. But you don’t get far.

A stray blast of magic throws you to the ground. Hard. You groan as the tingling, nauseating feeling rushes over you. Your legs are too shaky to get up.

When you fight to raise your head, you see Marc. He took the brunt of the strike, evidenced by the crater he lays in. Harrow is stalking closer, raising his staff above him. When he brings it down, you can see the power leaving Marc’s body.

And you can’t have the first boyfriend (kind of? maybe?) you’ve ever had die before he even takes you out on a date.

The brick you hurl at Harrow hits his knee with careful precision, and he stumbles. With a vicious kick to his ribs, you knock him far enough away to help Marc up.

But it’s not Marc.

His suit may be the same, but the eyes are different. More tired. His posture is guarded, and the way he holds the crescent dagger is more offensive than defensive.

He says nothing as you head into the fray. Whoever he is, it’s the same alter that was on the roof in Cairo, and he’s ruthless.

Steven fights with blunt weapons. Marc fights with knives, but more on the defensive. Whoever this is… He fights like you.

You fight in tandem, whittling down Harrow’s strength until eventually, you break his staff over your knee and whoever’s controlling the body nearly kills him with the force he uses to take him down.

His eyes roll back, and Marc returns.

The fear in his eyes is enough to know that he has no clue what happened. He stands with your help, shakily surveying the area.

“That wasn’t you, was it, Steven?”

The other man fronts effortlessly, gripping your arm a bit tighter.

“Not a chance, mate,” he gasps.

“Whoever it was,” you say. “He’s been hiding all this time. And he’s definitely more violent than either of you.”

Far away, Ammit begins dragging an unconscious Khonshu away. You curse under your breath, watching the two giant gods disappear from your sight.

You turn to Marc. “Get Harrow. I know how we can stop Ammit.”

Dragging an unconscious man is easy work for him, and Marc tosses him onto an altar inside the Chamber of the Gods with little regard to further injuring him.

The chamber may be destroyed, but the magic still lingers. It’s residual energy, and takes a while to dissipate, you’ve learned. You’ve stumbled into Wanda’s red swirls and had horrible flashbacks for hours too many times to not learn your lesson.

“If you can imprison a god in a statue, why not a person? The power in this room should help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” You glance up to the ceiling. “Taweret? Got a spell for us?”

Instead of losing control of your voice, you can hear her in your mind, merely guiding your actions.

You nod after a few seconds. “Ok. She says to take my hand, and we can start the spell.”

The strange sensation is back, and this time you’re chanting in Egyptian, hardly understanding the words as a lavender glow wraps around the room.

It circles the statues of the gods. For how destroyed the room is, they’re still intact. It completes the loop, leaving Marc’s hand and ending in yours.

A lavender haze streams from the ceiling, funneling into Harrow’s mouth as his eyes snap open.

“You can never contain me,” he says, voice overlapping with Ammit’s. “I’ll never stop.”

Khonshu appears next to you. You’ve grown used to it now, barely reacting.

“Finish it,” he growls. “And leave neither of them alive.

As Marc stands above Harrow, knife at the ready, your stomach twists.

“While he lives, so too does she.”

“I have to finish this,” Marc whispers to himself. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

You furrow your brow. “Marc. You are free. This is your choice.”

Khonshu cuts in. “The choice is vengeance. We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound just like her,” Marc says.

He drops the man on the altar, and your heart swells.

“If you want them dead, do it yourself.” You can’t control the smirk on your face as he stares the god dead in the eye.

Right before he speaks again, he glances at you for reassurance. You nod.

“Now, release us.”