#moonknight imagine

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

→ premise: marc could get possessive, very possessive infact and when that happens he cant seem to hold back.

→ pairing: marc sceptor x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, face sitting, thigh biting, oral [f receiving], nicknames [mine, my girl, sweetheart], possessiveness,

→ a/n: kinktober 06

Marc tended to be a little hotheaded and possessive when it came to matters involving you. It was normally Steven taking the brunt of it, though it made no real sense for him to get jealous. Though in instances that didn’t involve Steven, you were normally able to pull him aside and calm him down.

this was not currently one of those times, the two of you were attending a work party at your office. A coworker of yours had practically pulled you from Marc's arms to go talk. Though his version of talking was him flirting relentlessly and trying his hardest to get you to leave the party with him.

By the time Marc found you again, he was seething in anger at the man. As he walks up he starts noticing your coworker was flirting with you and trying to touch you. Marc had been tired and ready to go home so he let his possessive nature take over, though he knew once it did it was hard to shut off.

“Yeah, hey bud she's with me and we're leaving now” he nearly growls out at the man as his hand snakes its way around your waist when he walks up next to you. His sudden and fuming presence beside you makes you jump slightly though you were grateful for the save.

With a small scoff and not so cleverly hidden eye roll, your sleazy coworker stomps off. You barely have time to question the latter half of Marc’s statement about leaving before he rushes you towards the exit.

The ride home is silent besides the soft hum of the car and the sounds of the night flooding the air through your open window. Marc tight knuckled the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as his gaze was fixed to the road ahead. You’d normally be worried or scared in a moment like this with someone else, but with Marc you knew he wasn't mad at you. He was protective as well as possessive and so he was more pissed off at your scumbag coworker who didn't seem to grasp the concept that you were taken. You were sat clenching your thighs, he looked so good in that damn button up shirt you made him wear to the party that you were ready to stay home, so you were more than happy to be headed back.

In the blink of an eye you’ve made it back home and Marc is quick to jump out of the car and rip open the passenger car door, pulling you out of the seat and throwing you over his shoulder. “Guess I’ve just gotta mark you up sweetheart, that way you go into work tomorrow and all those men you work with know you’re my girl” he explains as he walks towards the house, holding you up on his shoulder with one hand on your waist and the other across your thighs right under your ass. You loved when he marked you, proudly showing them off when you could, though you could never show them off at work sadly, and he knew that.

“Marc I could’ve just walked inside on my own- hey!” He cuts off your protest with a short but solid smack to your ass.

You let out a huff and try to ignore the ache settling deep in your core at the action, your pussy already aching for his touch. You’ve never told him although he already knew that you secretly liked it a lot when he’d get like this. It made you feel wanted, even if Marc had no problem telling you and showing you in a million and one other ways just how much he wanted and loved you.

You let out a squeal when Marc drops you on your back onto your shared bed, you bounce slightly catching yourself by leaning back onto your elbows. Marc stands at the foot of the bed, eyes already full of lust and lidded as they raked over your body. “Strip sweetheart, you’re gonna sit on my face” he commands, his voice oozing with impatience.

You move fast to peel your clothes off along with your soaked panties, quickly un-clipping your bra and letting It fall off your shoulders, discarding it all on your bedroom floor. He's on you within the blink of an eye, maneuvering your bodies so he is laid out on his back, your thighs either side of his head and your pussy hovering over his face.

“My girl, all fucking mine nobody else’s” he growls and grabs ahold of your leg, opening his mouth and biting the inner plush of your thigh. You let out a gasp in both surprise and slight pain, squirming in his grip. He switches over to your other thigh when he is satisfied with the mark his teeth leave behind. He hums against your thigh as he bites down, rubbing softly at your leg to try and soothe you. The pain morphs into pleasure the more you get used to it, the indents of his teeth in your thigh makes your core tighten.

While you're lost in your own train of thought, Marc’s mouth lets go of your thigh with a small pop. He licks over the mark of his bite, a smirk growing on his face, he knew they wouldn't show as you couldn't wear short skirts to your office but he has never been more graceful for an HR rule than that one. Being pleased with his marks he now focuses all his attention on your leaking cunt above his mouth. With his grip on your legs he pulls your body down onto his face, licking a strip through your folds, drinking up your slick.

You moan out in response as your hips involuntarily grind against his mouth. “Mhm! Fuck Marc.. baby~” you whine out as his nose nudges your clit when his tounge licks and pushes through your folds. Vibrations float through your body as he tries to mumble out something against your pussy. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you use that leverage to pull his face away from you. “What was that love?” You question, using the shirt moment his mouth is off you to catch your breath.

“Maybe I’ve gotta put a ring on ya’ finger, that way those assholes at work will definitely know your spoken for, that youre all fuckin mine” he groans and pushes against your grip to dive back in and resume his mouths asssult on your throbbing cunt. His tongue pushing through tour slit distracts you from his statement about potentially proposing to you. Finally giving your aching clit attention, wrapping his lips around it and sucking, even biting softly at the bundle of nerves. His teeth send shivers down your spine, your thighs slightly shaking at either side of his face, he uses his hands gripping onto your legs as leverage to pull you even further down, forcing all your weight to be put on his face.

→ a/n: this wasn’t proofread, i rushed it and i kinda hate it lmao but I needed to get this out, i can already feel my effort and motivation for kinktober dwindling a bit.

[lokisremainingsanity]

their gf when the moon boys get into trouble

imagine marc and jake getting into shit again and steven is the good boy he always is so mornings go like this

[takenbypeter]

Not A Date, Date

Steven Grant x reader

Words: 883

Author’s note: this is an old fic I’ve had in my notes since last summer

You don’t know why you said yes.

Well actually you do. You said yes because, well, it’s Steven Grant the cute man who was the whole reason you kept going back to the museum. Steven Grant, the cute gift shop merchant who kept giving you information about Egypt despite him being glued to that counter. He was cute, adorably charming with his accent and he was quite the looker.

But you?

You didn’t think of yourself in that exact light. Actually in this moment you were staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror.

You were wearing an outfit which you’ve worn a few times before but this time something about it wasn’t sitting right.

As you turned to look at your back you couldn’t help but point out every bump that showed.

And while you stood there you couldn’t stop your arms from grabbing at your upper back beginning to feel slightly grossed out.

Before your thoughts could get worse, you quietly shook your head and headed straight for the closet. First changing your top into something a little baggier then of course that meant you had to change the bottom to match.

You went back to the mirror and turned around feeling slightly better at the view but something still felt…off.

As you stood across from the mirror your hands came in front cupping each other. One hand on top and one hand on bottom and like that you squeezed your fingers tight only for a few moments as you stared at yourself your brows beginning to crease in the mirror.

And after thirty seconds of that you realized you couldn’t do this. Maybe not tonight, maybe not ever.

Reaching for your phone you sat on the toilet lid and typed out a message to Steven.

“Can’t make it tonight,” you spoke as you typed and you set the phone down. Upset at yourself for the possibility of disappointing him, you felt this would actually be better for both of you. Expecting a text notification you were surprised when your phone rang instead.

Picking it up once more you noticed it was Steven calling.

You thought about ignoring it. Just forgetting everything happened but instead you hit the answer button and put the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hi, this is Steven. Well you probably knew that,” you couldn’t help but smile a little at his clumsy mannerism, “but am I reading your message right? You want to cancel. Five minutes before our date?”

You looked up at your ceiling staring at the blank color taking in some air, “yeah sorry about that.”

“Did something come up? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No. Absolutely not,” great now you hated yourself for making him feel this way. “I just…” you closed your eyes head finally swaying down. “I know this may be hard to believe, or it might be easy to believe, I don’t know. But this is my first date.”

“…It’s your first date?”

“Please don’t make fun of me—“

“No of course not, I would never—“

“I already know I’m gonna mess up somehow. I’ll say something wrong or do something really weird,” your eyes roamed the room trying not to break down.

“And we’re going to a classy restaurant. Steven I still order from the kids menu. I barely know how to use a fork for a salad,” you shook your head just picturing how horrible the night is going to go.

The phone was silent and for a moment you were worried you’d lost him.

“I’m in front of your door, can you open it so we can talk face to face, please?”

You pressed your lips together in thought before you went to your front door. And once you opened it you saw those curls and big brown eyes staring at you as his phone was still pressed to his ear.

Bringing the phone down you hung up and he did too, shoving his own back into his jacket pocket. Your eyes drifted down to the small box he had in his hand, no doubt a gift for you.

“Steven thank you for everything but I don’t think—“

“I’m canceling our date.”

“Huh?” That statement got you.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. It’s done it’s cancelled.”

Honestly you did not expect that to happen so easily you expected more of a fight.

“Oh, well thank you and I’m sorry, I was actually really looking forward to it.”

Steven rocked on his feet as you talked. “It’s alright,” he looked to the side, blowing air out of his mouth, “so…got any plans tonight?”

You peered at him curiously.

“Because we could walk around town, just the two of us, no pressure.”

You knew what he was doing and frankly you were sort of grateful for it.

“And by the end of the night we’ll see what we can call it,” he added and you grinned at his proposal.

Nodding you said, “let’s do it,” and Steven grinned back at you. “Oh wait let me grab my things,” you disappear back into your house only to reemerge soon after. And with your bag on your shoulder and the door shut you finally were ready, “let’s go.”

[januaryembrs]

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard. 

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already. 

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears. 

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger. 

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line. 

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about. 

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour. 

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard. 

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl. 

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?” 

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog. 

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails. 

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy. 

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven. 

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. 

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in. 

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was. 

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode. 

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous. 

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was. 

He was just a kid. 

They were just kids. 

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult. 

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him. 

And if that had been true, then where were they? 

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering. 

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours. 

Which was when he ran to get his dad. 

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank. 

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks. 

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier. 

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son. 

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together. 

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave. 

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about. 

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien. 

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,” 

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other. 

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do. 

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him. 

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military. 

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell. 

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was. 

-

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life. 

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again. 

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning. 

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,” 

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it. 

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left. 

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated. 

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” 

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here. 

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person. 

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,” 

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly. 

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together. 

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias. 

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway. 

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard. 

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. 

She was a mother. 

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers. 

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body. 

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again. 

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?” 

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself. 

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite. 

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him. 

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight. 

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.  

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked. 

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way. 

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely. 

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,” 

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?” 

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave. 

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in. 

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.) 

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful. 

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-” 

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely. 

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset. 

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes. 

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them. 

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Asking the moon boys about NNN

What if you asked them about doing NNN?

Jake:

November 1st -

"Hey Jake do you know about NNN?"

"Yes why?"

"Are you doing it this year?"

"Bold of you to assume I'm participating in such sins..."

"It's a challenge... for men... you know?"

He gives you a knowing look, he knows exactly what you mean, he's not stupid. "I know, mi amor. And you know what? Fuck it, I'm accepting it."

You chuckled. "Really?"

Jake shrugs. "You know I'm very patient?"

You would think he just uses Marc or Steven for relief but Jake could actually do it. You know Jake isn't lying, and his patience really shows off during november. But expect him to get you back as soon as it's december 1st.

December 1st -

"Mi amor!" Jake almost sing sang. "Stupid challenge is over! I won! Now my reward?"

Marc:

"Hey Marc, you doing NNN this year?"

Marc almost choked on his own spit. "What?!"

"No Nut Nov–" he cut you off before you could finish it.

"Uh I know that, why do you ask?"

You shrug. "Just asking if you're doing it. You up for that challenge?"

"You're asking me to do the impossible?" he gives you an exhausted look.

"That's why it's a challenge, Marc. Did you forget about it yesterday?" you laughed.

"That's one month. One. Month." he says, running a hand through his face.

"Yeah that's 30 days. 30 days." you pointed out.

Marc gave you a look. "Couldn't you have told me about it yesterday??" he asks.

You furrowed your brows. "But yesterday was October 31st, why–" you stopped mid-sentence, realizing what he meant. "You can't be for real..."

Marc grinned wickedly at you. "I could have prepared myself."

Your jaw went slack. "There's no way you could have prepared yourself for 30 days without."

"I could have tried. Now this month is going to be such a torture for me." he sighed.

"Not for your balls?"

Marc raised an eyebrow and scowled at you. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't come up with something, he just threw himself back against the couch, looking like he's questioning his existence.

Marc is definitely not a fan of No Nut November, acting like he's having an existential crisis going on, and you should expect him going feral as soon as the clock hits midnight on november 30th.

December 1st -

You heard the front door open, acompanied by his voice.

"Honeeyy, where are youuu? It's december!"

Steven:

"Steven," you smiled, sitting down next to him on the couch, who was eating a bowl of cereal "you know it's november now, right?"

He put the spoon down. "Yeah, why're you askin'?"

"Are you going to do the NNN challenge?"

Steven looked at you, confusion written all over him. "Wot?"

"No Nut November." you explained.

He frowned but he tried to hide the smile threatening to show. "Wow, what?"

You grin. "A challenge."

"And what is the challenge?" he asked, getting curious.

"It's in the name. Basically a challenge for guys not to, well... nut."

Steven had to hold back his laughter. "Yeah I'm not doin' it, forget it."

You raised an eyebrow. "It's only 30 days."

"Do you actually think some guys wouldn't just wank off behind the back? Seriously."

You wanted to argue but couldn't. "You can try?"

"Not happenin' love."

"So you're confessing you're too horny?"

Steven's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? Aight, fine, I'll do it."

You smiled, proud of yourself. "There you go. Maybe it won't be that hard for you."

Steven shot a dirty smile. "Whoa, hey, I catched your pun."

December 1st -

Steven knocked gently on your door. "Love? You hear me? November is over, can we get goin' again? I've got a big problem..."

[character-babblings]

mdni 18+ only

everyday i wake up

(this is a oscar isaac character home)

welcome to my moonknight headcanons (also, yes i'm always down to elaborate or discuss)

Steven Grant, my sweet boy:

steven is actually working on skills in the bedroom. he's 100% branching out thanks to you. he's an eager and ready to learn student.

he's not entirely inexperienced but he's just so deeply obsessed with you. the way your clothes just always looks so good on your. hugging your curves and always bringing out your eyes. he may be biased but he thinks you're easily the most perfect woman in the whole world.

and the way you moan for him is just as perfect of course. steven 100% prefers to be face to face with you when it comes to sex. he has to see your face when he does anything.

and he's obsessed with how vocal you can get. when he's eating you out (honestly his favorite most of the time). the way your hands play with his hair as he'll lick and lap at your pretty clit.

"oh good steven. you're so good. such a good boy." and he's like putty. you cannot tell me that this man doesn't have a praise kink. bless his heart. he just wants to make you so happy. the way he flicks your clit with his tongue with hooded eyes because he's lowkey playing with himself with one hand while one dances at your entrance.

"steven. i need your fingers. please?" and he's just ready to please as he plunges his fingers in you. hair starting to become wet with sweat as an idea bubbles in his head. inserting two fingers into before removing his mouth.

"you have the prettiest cunt, love. it's so delicious and warm. i can't wait to put my dick in here." he tries. and he damn near cums his pants watching your eyes roll as you let out the most earth shattering moan. his eyes widen as he abandons your pussy all together. he didn't expect that.

"oh? do you like it when i talk like this? that's awfully naughty of you darling..." you're beginning to squirm as you wrap your legs around his torso. "steven just fuck me now please! you whine as you reach to take hold of his face to kiss him. and with that he's back to being a whiney mess at your words.

"fuck alright love."

Marc Spector: Resident dom (fight me. fight me rn)

absolutely dom. only a handful of times have you ever had any control. and that's fine because he 100% knows what he's doing obviously. he's gifted in the eating and bossing department.

he's got you on your knees in front of him just ramming the fuck out of your face and relishing in the gurgles and choking sounds your mouth is making. one hand in your hair and the other on the back of your head.

"oh what a good girl you are. good fucking girl. hey, relax your throat more. there you go little slut. swallow around my dick." he's tapping the side of your face before pulling your face off his dick. "you alright sweet girl?" he asked as he checks your face. he's revels in how ruined your makeup is as you nod at him, you're the one eager to please him now. he smiles almost darkly at you before grabbing you by your neck.

"good. because i didn't forget what a fucking brat you were today." he states as he drags you over to the bed, pushing you on it. "you have five seconds to strip. whatever's left on is getting ripped." he sighs taking his pants off. "you know i love you, but the way you acted today...i should have bent you over right there." he states as you assume the face down ass up position. reaching over to grab your face before

"remember i don't like brats. that shit may fly with Steven but never me. and i know Jake doesn't tolerate it either. so do me a favor. act like your brain actually fucking works." he warns as he lets go of your face. sitting up fully before beginning to pound your shit.

"let me enjoy this, don't make a sound. you make a sound and that's one more orgasm i'm giving you."

Jack Lockley: Hard dom.

(thank god this dude got minimal screentime bc idk how to act)

as aforementioned he's got a 0 brat tolerance. absolutely don't give this man attitude. he won't hesitate to smack your mouth a little or grab you by your face harshly before whispering to behave with a stone hard face.

he also will never hesitate to find a secluded area to fuck you hard in. he's fucked you against the window of both yours and his place for sure. no balcony is safe honestly. he loves to leave so many marks for the other two guys to find. he also has a safe word because when i say he gets rough i mean it.

he's choked you so hard he's made you pass out a hand full of times. then he'll patiently wait for you to wake up before continuing on while you whine and complain wondering why he stopped. muttering about how you're such a whore who only thinks about his dick.

he's giving your face a smack when he detects a little attitude. talking about "what was that? did you wanna say something little girl?!" and making you repeat yourself.

"your brain is fucking gone huh pretty girl? is that why you're talking to me like this?! i know i've fucked you out but talk to me like that again and i promise you that you can watch while i take care of myself." he literally growls as he grabs your hair and brings your head up so his hot breath hits your ear.

"because next time, i won't be nice and let you cum for the rest of the week." he says while releasing you.

(a/n please tell me this is a safe place for my moonlight slut thoughts please please please)

[brightjimini]

some recent fanfic recs☑️

for: moonknight, batman/battinson/ jason todd/ cod

some are 18+ (please just dont read if you are not):***

the link is my short amazing *sarcasm* review, jokes aside go read them and show them love. also most of these are longer fics! (i think all are x fem!reader if yall want a gn!reader let me know)

moonknight 🌙

this whole series is 10/10 by @januaryembrs

the way jake is portrayed *heart eyes* by @phantomspiderr

just dropped their whole mlist here so you can binge read by @st4rymoon ***

i am a sucker for hurt comfort by @vintagemulti

batman 🦇

most prob already read this series BUT ILL NEVER GET OVER IT by @jangofctts ***

i just love sad bruce by @the-wintershade

nightwing longtime friend reader x bruce on pollen need i say more by @imaginedisish ***

the way bruce is portrayed A M A Z I N G by @vigilvntes

normally im not really into pregnancy fics but this one ooooh the tension, the angst, the buildup… by @afro-hispwriter *** (just read everything she wrote while your at it)

jason todd ♦️

recently did not read that many red hood fics😞

i actually have not read this one yet bcs of school but it is long and it sounds good by @lightwing-s

cod 💀

this series has me in a chokehold zombie apocalypse universe reader x single dad ghost with a KID now that i think about it its so genius to put ghost who is always kinda cold with a kid in a situation like this and reader by @nsharks

now the legend cod writer made a merman price fic.. im sold ofc by @halcyone-of-the-sea

i hardly see colonel reader fics and i found out i like them (x ghost and angst) by @bits-and-babs ***

[brokebonewritings]

Help Me Remember You

Marc Spector x Fem! Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, language, slight gore, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are given a second chance at life after dying. After waking up in the hospital, you find that Marc has no recollection of you or your relationship.

Word Count: 3.5K

masterlist || navigation

A hand grasps your shoulder, as you stand on the sidewalk close to your flat in London. You couldn’t remember how you got there, but you turn your head to see who it was. A man stood tall next to you with a grim look on his face. With a shaky breath, you follow where his eyes lay. There on the ground, was you. Lifeless. Your eyes staring towards the sky. Towards the moon.

You look back up at the man. “Who are you?”

“Anubis.” He says, giving you his full attention. “I came for you, sweetheart.”

“What about Marc?” You ask, turning back to look at yourself.

“They will learn to live without. They have done it before.”

Before you can respond, he is gone, and you are in a new place. You stand in a gleaming white space, the afterlife you realized. A man stands in front of you just a few yards ahead. You can’t help but feel a sense of comfort radiating from his direction. As you begin to walk towards him, you see the small table and scales set upon it.

“Osiris.” You say softly, and bow your head.

“Yes, child.” He replies, “I am sorry we have to meet like this.”

Nodding, you kneel before the table and he does the same. Osiris reaches out and places a feather on one side of the scales while gesturing for you to place something on the other. You see a knife laying in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you take it and plunge it into your chest. Though there is no blood or pain. Reaching inside, you grab your heart and place it upon the scale.

The room falls silent as the scales tip ever so slightly, the feather barely moving. You hold your breath, waiting for Osiris to make a decision. After what feels like an eternity, he looks up at you with gentle eyes.

“Your heart is light, my child. You have lived a life of love and kindness.” Osiris's words wash over you like a soothing balm, filling you with a sense of peace.

As he stands up, you follow suit, feeling weightless and free. Osiris extends his hand towards you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“Welcome to the afterlife, where your soul will find eternal rest.”

You ever so slightly reach out your hand, before taking it back. “But this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He chuckles softly, a sound like distant bells floating through the liminal space.

“Destiny is a fickle thing, my child. It weaves and changes, guiding us down paths we never could have foreseen.”

“Please I have to go back, I know there is something I need to finish.” You plead, not realizing tears had begun to fall down your cheeks.

Osiris's expression softens as he observes your distressed state. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch bringing a sense of calmness over you.

“I sense a powerful yearning within you, a yearning that transcends even death itself.”

With a gentle smile, he motions towards a shimmering portal that has materialized beside you. “If your heart truly calls for it, the path back to the mortal realm awaits. But remember, the threads of destiny are tangled and mysterious. Be prepared for what lies ahead.”

You take one last look at Osiris, gratitude in your eyes before stepping through the portal. The world around you blurs and shifts, time and space bending to accommodate your return.

As you open your eyes, you find yourself in the hospital. Rightfully so, you had been strangled by a madman. You reach your hand up to feel the brace around your neck.

“Don’t move too much, darling.” You hear an unfamiliar voice before a nurse steps into view.

She has a kind smile on her face as she checks your vitals and adjusts the IV drip by your bedside. You try to speak, but she shushes you softly.

“Your vocal cords are very damaged, dear, you’ve been through quite an ordeal.” She says softly, “but you’re safe now. The police caught the man who attacked you.”

Pointing at her pen, she obliges also handing you a small notepad. You scribble a quick note asking about Marc.

The nurse pauses, a shadow crossing her features before she responds, “I’m sorry, dear. There was no one else found at the scene.”

Your heart sinks at her words, grief welling up inside you. He hadn't known you were attacked. You clutch the pen tighter, before writing his number.

“Would you like me to call him? Is he your emergency contact?”

You nod as best you could, and she nods back. “I'll be back in a moment.”

The nurse steps out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lie in the hospital bed, flashes of memories flood your mind - moments shared with Marc, laughter echoing in your ears, his warm embrace enveloping you on cold nights. 

The beeping of the machines fades into the background as you drift into a haze of longing. Minutes feel like hours until the nurse returns, a somber expression on her face. Your eyes never leave her face, searching for any sign of hope or despair.

“Darling, Was this the right number? The bloke who answered said he didn’t know who you were.”

As the nurse's words sank in, a wave of panic washed over you. How could Marc not know who you were? You had spent countless days and nights together, sharing your deepest thoughts and dreams.

Frantically, you motioned for the nurse to dial the number again, hoping it was just a misunderstanding. You listened intently as the phone rang on the other end, each tone echoing in the silence of the hospital room. Your heart pounded in your chest, the seconds stretching into eternity until finally, a voice answered.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded gruff. It was definitely him.

“Hiya, it’s me again. Listen, dear, she is very sure that this is the correct number.” The nurse tries.

“Fucking christ, I already told you I don’t know who that is. Did this woman get hit in the head or something?”

You wince at the harshness in his voice. He definitely doesn’t remember you. You wave at the nurse, and scribble another name onto the notepad asking her to say it to him.

“She can hear you, you sorry bastard. She just wrote another name on the page, says Jake Lockley.”

There’s silence on the opposite end of the line. After clearing his throat, he asks, “Which hospital is this, I’ll be right there.”

You feel a mix of relief and confusion as Marc agrees to come to the hospital. Maybe there was a mix-up, a misunderstanding that could be cleared up once he saw you. The nurse smiled reassuringly at you before stepping out to wait for Marc's arrival.

Hours pass, each minute feeling like an eternity as you anxiously wait for Marc to arrive. Finally, the door opens and in walks a man, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. 

“Are you y/n?”

You try to speak, but your damaged vocal cords only allow a hoarse whisper to escape. Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. His expression shift, looking much softer, but still no recognition. Though you immediately know who you’re about to talk to.

Scribbling on the notepad, he slowly walks over and sits in the chair next to your bed. He looks over to see what you wrote.

Steven. Please remember me.

He looks up at you with his doe eyes. “How did you know it was me? How do you know about us.”

Fiancé

“But I don’t know who you are. How could we be engaged if I’ve never met you?”

You hold his gaze, willing him to remember, to see beyond the fog that clouds his memory. With trembling hands, you reach out and touch his face, tracing the lines as if to etch your presence into his very being.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to convey years of shared memories and love in a few fleeting moments. You point to the engagement ring on your finger, a symbol of the promises made and the future planned together.

His eyes flicker with a hint of recognition, a spark of something familiar dancing within them. He takes your hand in his, gently running his thumb over the ring as if trying to unlock hidden chambers of remembrance.

“I... I don’t understand,” he stammers, his voice laced with confusion and a tinge of fear. “How can I be engaged to someone I don’t remember?”

You scribble on the notepad again.

I died, I met Anubis and Osiris.

“You met Anubis and Osiris?! How is this possible? How are you here?!”

You smile, this is the Steven you remember. They gave me another chance, but when I came back you didn’t remember me

Something in his eyes flashes, and the hard expression returns. Marc was back, his eyes searching your face for any sort of recognition. Your heart ached at the disbelief and confusion in his eyes.

His hand recoils from yours as if your touch burned him, his features contorted in a mix of fear and disbelief. You watch helplessly as the connection you once shared with him slips further away, like sand sifting through your fingers. The weight of your heartache presses down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

“I can’t... I can’t do this.” His voice is barely a whisper, filled with a turmoil you cannot comprehend. He stands abruptly, knocking over the chair in his haste to distance himself from you. “I need to go.”

You reach out to him, the words trapped in your throat as you watch him move towards the door. This man before you, who was once your anchor in the storm, now feels like a stranger walking out of your life.

As he reaches the threshold, he pauses for a fleeting moment, his back still turned to you. “I’m sorry... I don’t know who you are,” he says softly before stepping out. 

The door closes behind Marc, leaving you alone in the silence of the hospital room. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, wrapping around you like a shroud of sorrow. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks as you try to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

You clutch the notepad to your chest, feeling the indentations of the words you had written in haste. Memories of your life together with Marc flash before your eyes, each one a painful reminder of what once was. The engagement ring on your finger glints in the dim light, a symbol of a future that now seems uncertain.

As you lie there, staring at the blank walls of the hospital room, a sense of numbness settles over you. The sounds of the machines humming fade into the background as you slip into a state of disconnected solitude. The world outside continues to spin, indifferent to the ache that gnaws at your heart.

Hours turn into days as you remain in the hospital, your voice slowly coming back to you. Janice, your nurse, had quickly become a good friend. Helping you contact your landlord, and trying to get Marc to come back. Each time getting the hard no.

"Y/n, I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," Janice said softly, placing a comforting hand on yours. "But you're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for Janice's support during this tumultuous time. Despite the ache in your heart, a sliver of hope bloomed within you at her words.

After almost a month in the hospital, you were released. You got to go back to your life. Not entirely, but for the most part.

As you stepped out of the hospital, the sunlight felt harsh against your skin, like a stark contrast to the dim confines you had grown accustomed to. 

Everything looked different, even the familiar streets seemed alien as you navigate your way back home. The weight of Marc's absence pressed down on you, a constant ache in your chest that refused to dissipate.

Your home was almost the same as it was before the incident. A bit cleaner, since Janice stopped by to collect your post, and check on the flat. Despite Janice's unwavering support and encouragement, there were moments when the loneliness threatened to consume you. 

The silence of your apartment echoed with memories of laughter and whispered promises, now replaced by a deafening void that seemed impossible to fill.

One evening as you sat by the window watching the stars, you see a figure on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

The figure was familiar, a silhouette etched in your memory like a ghost from the past. Despite the distance and the darkness shrouding their features, you knew without a doubt who it was. Marc. He stood there, his form outlined by the faint glow of the moon, his gaze fixed on your window.

A surge of emotions welled up inside you, and you know he saw you notice him. Your heart pounded in your chest, as you got up and moved to lay in your bed.

The sight of Marc on the rooftop stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you, pulling at the threads of hope and heartache that had woven themselves into the fabric of your being. His sudden appearance after weeks of absence sent a surge of questions racing through your mind, each one vying for attention in the chaos of your thoughts.

As you lay in bed, unable to tear your gaze away from the figure on the rooftop, a sense of longing welled up inside you. Could this be a chance to bridge the chasm that had formed between you and Marc? Or was it simply a cruel twist of fate, dangling the possibility of reconciliation before you only to snatch it away once more?

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness that lingered between you like an invisible thread.

The figure remained on the rooftop, unmoving yet a silent presence that seemed to bridge the gap between your past and present. You lay there, caught in a limbo of emotions that threatened to unravel the fragile threads holding you together.

Eventually, a soft knock at your door broke the stillness of the night, startling you from your reverie. With hesitant steps, you made your way to the door, heart pounding in anticipation of who may be on the other side. As you turned the doorknob, you were met with a familiar silhouette backlit by the soft glow of the hallway lights.

Marc stood before you, uncertainty etched across his features as he searched your eyes for a sign of acceptance. Before any words could be spoken, you found yourself enveloped in his embrace, the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones like a soothing balm.

Tears welled up in your eyes as weeks of pent-up emotions threatened to spill over the edge. You didn’t know what was happening, but you needed this.

As you stood in the doorway, locked in an embrace that felt both foreign and achingly familiar, a sense of hope bloomed within you. The raw vulnerability in Marc’s touch mirrored your own, a shared language of unspoken apologies and forgiveness that transcended the barriers of time and memory.

In that moment, as the world outside faded into insignificance, all that mattered was the connection between two souls reaching out for each other across the expanse of uncertainty.

The embrace with Marc felt like a lifeline, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness that had clouded your heart for so long. As you clung to him, the walls you had built around your emotions began to crumble, giving way to the flood of feelings you had buried deep within.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Marc’s voice trembled with emotion, his words a whispered confession that hung in the air between you.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze as tears streamed down your cheeks. “I don’t understand…” Your voice is still hoarse.

"I was lost, Y/n. Lost in a storm of confusion and fear that clouded my judgment," Marc's voice cracked with emotion, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to cup your face. “But I saw him. He told me everything.”

“Saw who? Marc, please. You remember me?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t, but please let me.”

The sincerity in Marc's eyes tugged at your heartstrings, a flicker of hope igniting within you despite the lingering doubts. His vulnerability laid bare before you, an unspoken plea for a second chance that resonated with the deepest corners of your soul.

With a shaky breath, you reached out to touch Marc's trembling hand, a silent gesture of understanding and acceptance. “Was it Osiris?”

He nodded, “We went searching for him. Khonshu, the old bastard, actually helped me.”

Osiris? The name reverberated in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. Memories long buried stirred within you, whispers of a past that seemed almost surreal. And yet, here was Marc, standing before you, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions.

You’re brought back to reality for a moment, and realize you’re in the open where your nosey neighbor is probably spying on you. “Do you want to come in?” You ask Marc, and he nods.

Closing the door behind him, you lead him to the living room and sit next to him on the couch. “I just don’t understand why you came back. You know I was actually beginning to accept you not coming back.”

"I know I've caused you pain, Y/n. And for that, I will never forgive myself." His voice wavered with emotion as he continued, each word heavy with the weight of his confession. "But meeting Osiris...it made me realize I fucked up.”

You studied Marc's face, searching for any hint of deceit or manipulation, but all you found was raw honesty etched in his expression. A part of you wanted to push him away, to guard your heart against the possibility of hurt once more. But another part yearned for the closure and healing that only forgiveness could bring.

“I can't erase the past or the pain I've caused. But when Osiris showed me the truth... I couldn't stay away. Everything leads straight back to you.” You see a stray tear run down his cheek and he explains himself. “I know I don’t remember you. We all don’t remember you, but we want to.”

Your mouth felt dry as you listened to him speak. As you gazed into Marc's tear-filled eyes, a surge of compassion welled up inside you. You feel his hand take a hold of yours. His hand trembles in yours, but the touch grounds you in the present moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Don’t say anything, just…” He sighs before continuing. “Help me, Help us remember you.”

As you sat there on the couch, silence enveloping you both like a protective cocoon, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath and when you opened them you saw him still sitting there. No trick of the mind or anything.

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. A flicker of relief passes across Marc's features, gratitude shining in his eyes. Without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid that you might disappear if he lets go.

In that moment, as you find solace in each other's arms, a sense of unity washes over you. The past may be shrouded in shadows and uncertainty, but the present holds the promise of rediscovery and redemption.

“Let me kiss you.” he whispers softly.

You hesitate for a moment, “but you hardly know me.”

“y/n, I know I’ll remember you. Let me kiss you.”

Uncertainty begins to swirl within you like a tempest. However, his eyes ignite a flame of trust in your heart. Leaning forward, you meet his lips in a tentative kiss, a gentle exploration of emotions that have been suppressed.

In that fleeting moment of connection, you feel a glimmer of recognition as if a door to the past has been cracked open, allowing fragments of forgotten moments to seep through.

As the kiss deepens, a sense of familiarity washes over you, intertwining your souls in a dance as old as time itself. The weight of unspoken apologies and unshed tears melts away in the heat of this newfound intimacy, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that binds you together in shared longing and hope.

When you finally pull away, breathless and trembling, Marc's gaze meets yours with a mixture of yearning and uncertainty, as if seeking validation in the depths of your eyes. For a moment, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the echo of his touch lingering on your lips.

“I will remember you,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, “I promise.”

With a silent nod, you offer him a small smile. “I know you will. I’ll help you.”

join my taglist!

Taglist: @guacam011y

[jayden-killer]

Bonita.

Paring: jake lockley × fem! Reader.

Genre: smut to Angst to fluffy

Warnings: sex, dom!jake, sub!reader, p in v with no protection, use of safe word, panic attack, low self-esteem, reader being insecure about herself, jake being so lovely with reader.

A/N: It's a bit rushed at the end, but i couldn't think of a better ending lmao

~°~

Hot hands rambled on my body as I was merciless fucked by my boyfriend, Jake. He had no mercy when it came to sex, an animal caging his prey with his strong arms. It felt so good, his cock buring inside of me, sliding in so easily thanks to my wetness. He was so big I could see the bluge forming on my lower belly. That could have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I could hear thunders outside, rain droples hitting the window outside.

–Jake, Jake, please...– I managed to say in tiny whispers, his hand now moving to grab my neck, lightly squeezing it. He didn't apply so pressure at all, just to keep my mind altered. His other hand squeezed my hip, with such force, to keep my body glued to his, his chest pressed against mine. He was forcing me to take every inch of him.

–What is it that you want, cariño, mh? I thought you were finally shutting up.

–I need to c-cum, please Jake, I can't..!–

–Now, you should take a look at yourself, you're so beautiful like this, preciosa– I could see him smirking, making it me difficult to keep my composure even if I was being fucked so good at that moment. He moved a piece of hair from my face and stopped. My chest panted, trying to make my lungs gain air. I thought he was done until he slapped me lightly on my tight.

–Turn around, I want to fuck you in front of the mirror–

He gave no time to me to change position, manhandling me with little force. He let my back press against his chest now. He panted into my ear and positioned his tip on my lips again, sliding in one more time with no obstacles. This position allowed me to see Jake's movements better.

Slap, slap, slap.

Skin to skin. We were so sweaty, but that was so worthy of the moment. His well-brushed hair now sticking to his forehead, his well-toned chest glistening in sweat, his eyes filled with lust...that was driving me crazy.

–....so pretty, I can't control myself, mierda, que chiquita tan obediente, tan linda– It seemed Jake was more talking to himself in mutterings than to me I couldn't process entirely what he was saying, but he didn't stop. The more he fucked me with force, the more he rambled.

–I love you, so pretty, never letting you go, never, s-so fragile, my doll, my girl, my sweet girl...–

I never stopped to look into the mirror, Jake's eyes eating me as If I was the best dessert served. But, those phrases. Panic begin to settle into my mind: was that just nonsense? What If he loves me just for sex? Does he love me? Does he find me pretty and all of that stuff?

What if..

Does he..

He can't be serious.

He doesn't love me.

He doesn't.

I'm a mess. He can't love a mess like me.

A utter piece of shit.

I'm so useless.

Oxygen seemed to leave my body as soon as I was thinking all that stuff. I could sense the tension being to rise, and my mind started to be foggy. Dwelling on my fake thoughts.. even my head was spinning lightly.

–Jake, Jake...– I called him, but no response. He was losing himself in the sex. Then, again.

–Jake, please, s-stop..–

He kept fucking me. I couldn't do this. He was going to hate me if I had stopped the sex. Panicking more, I let the safe word slip out of my lips, in a whisper-shout, and Jake immediately pulled out, he hugging my body.

–Preciosa, que pasa? Que te pasa?–

Tears streamed out, and I knew it was impossible to stop tears, and Jake knew I was having a panic attack. I remember the moment I warned him about my anxiety disorder, which sometimes carried panic attacks and anxiety. He knew what he was dealing with, and told me that Steven was suffering from it, too, and that he would handle the situation the better he could. Jake gently took my body, now facing me and caressed my head.

–Princesa, calm down, breathe slowly, okay?–his hand cupped my cheek. My teary eyes looked into his. He seemed so calm... how could he do that? Was he pretending to be calm?

Worse, was he pretending to genuinely care about me?

–Bebè, i got you, okay? Breathe slowly. Follow me, take baby steps. One step at once–

He let my hand lightly touch his chest, allowing me to feel his heartbeat. Has he said slowly? I need to breathe slowly, or else...

My mind was still spinning and panicking, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was so scared that even what Jake asked for seemed like a complicated task. But I tried. I needed to try for him. So I breathed in, and out. In and out. In and...-

–ya pasò, tranquila

My eyes landed on his and I was met with warmth. He helped me sit on the edge of the bed, placing soft hands on my back, and rubbing it in gentle circles. He didn't back away, never. He was always there to help me, to listen to me. Sometimes I wondered how I'd managed to date a soul like him. It felt too much like a fever dream than reality. So Jake asked me what happened, if he triggered me with something, and I took deep breaths again, before actually explaining the episode.

–It was not you. Of course, Jake, it is never you, you make my heart flutter every time–I say in chuckles, -I hate to admit it, but it is strange to feel..good-

I felt Jake's eyes soften more at my words. He made a sign, as to say "keep going".

–Sometimes my mind thinks its not okay to deserve actual love from someone else. And destroys me with little thoights which grow more, and more in..something explosive– A sigh escapes my lips and I rub my eyes in exasperation. Jake's quick to grab my chin and make him look to me.

–Bebè, I know what you're saying. And I know what you are feeling.- He pauses, adjusting himself on the edge of the bed, sitting closer to me, now grabbing my hand and placing it on his tight-You don't have to say that, please. I don't know what you've been through, but I sure know a thing- His tone is sad, and worried, even though there's no lack of confidence in what he says.

–First, I love you. You're incredible in all ways. You're good-natured, kind, empathic, reliable..and I can go on!– A chuckle escapes his lips. He never fails to amaze me. -I must admit, when you first kissed me, I was the one to think that I didn't deserve your love. But you made me think that again-

I nod at his words, smiling. –Whoever put those shit of thoughts in your head– he gently placed a finger on my forehead –I'll remove them with my own hands!

–You know it can't be truly possible, right?– I ask, chuckling

–You want me to die! Like, disassembling my brain, like the doctor in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein–

–So? It's going to be fun!– His hands find my sides and Jake starts to tickle me in fast and hard, and I have no choice but to let out bursts of laughs.

–I surrend! I surrend! Let me go!- I loudly laugh, but the smirk on Jake's face says otherwise.

–Only if you promise to let me cook you my special dish and let me treat you like a queen deserves-

I frantically nod and his tickles chase down, letting me regain my breath and sit one more time on the bed. He chuckles at the sight, and his eyes seem to soften once more. The next thing he does is hug me, tight and close to him. I can hear his heartbeat. Fast. So fast.

–Promise me you'll talk to me whenever you're feeling down. Do you understand? You don't have to face it alone. I'll do everything to make you understand you deserve it–

A pause.

–You deserve the love–

And I promised him, I would reach out for his help. For me.

For us.

[whatthefishh]

Tell us ur soft Steven thoughts pls

Hehehe

I’m just thinking about how cozy he is, how open and vulnerable he is about his thoughts and feelings, and how comfortable he’d probably try and make you feel. How much he would stumble and apologize over his word choice in an effort to say the perfect thing. How he would smile and watch your face for a reaction, any tell that he said the right or wrong thing, eyes taking in your expressions carefully with his own smile hanging halfway off his lips.

Thinking about how his clothes look like a mess sometimes but it’s usually because he tries to maximize the amount of time he spends in bed, if you were to be there with him. Just to hold you for a few more minutes, to make the day a little more bearable.

Thinking about him making dinner, trying to get it done before you get home and frantically running around the kitchen for different spices, running to the fridge for the parsley to garnish the soup.

He’s the type of guy to add a single flower in a small vase to your small at-home dinner, tongue in between his teeth as he focuses on perfecting the moment.

I could go on and on, to be honest, but that’s all I’ll leave you with as I enjoy the leftovers from dinner 🤭

💛 ty for asking nonnie

[keenzinemugstudent]

Okay but has anyone made a sub Steven Grant x Tall reader, maybe the moon boys x tall reader story yet or I'm just looking hard enough? I would write it but lord I can't id faint form embarrassment

[lostalioth]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

→ premise: it was meant to be just a simple quick visit to your sweet boyfriend at work, a regular thing on your days off, something steven looked forward to. especially when the both of you snuck off to the bathroom.

→ pairing: steven grant x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, against the wall sex, bathroom sex so semi-public sex, creampie, nicknames [baby, love, darling]

→ a/n: kinktober 11

It was merely meant to be a short visit to Steven, your lovely boyfriend, at his job in the gift shop. You just missed him and wanted to see him, you didn't intend for it to end with the two of you sneaking off the bathroom.

“Darling I really need to get back to work, my boss won't like that I'm gone so long” he groaned out, his voice soft as his breath fanned across the back of your neck. His body betrays his words however as he makes no move to stop pinning you against the bathroom wall. His hands grab onto your hips as he drills into form behind. Your chest up against the cold tile wall, your hips bouncing off of his making a slapping sound that filled the echoey bathroom alongside your whines. Your knees grow weaker and weaker the closer you get and the faster and harder Steven thrusts inside you. “Mm baby please just a little longer im s’close” you whimper out about too loudly, the words slurred as your head was going hazier from the pleasure.

Steven's large hands leave your hips, one comes up to cup over your mouth muffling your loud moans, the other drifts between where your bodies are connected and rubs at your clit. “As heavenly as you sound love you‘re gonna get me fired if you aren't quieter” his voice trembles as he can feel you clench around him in response to him silencing you. His eyes screw shut in bliss as he can feel your cunt trying to milk his release from his aching cock. “Gonna cum baby oh fuck-” your words come out mumbled and broken from beneath his hand though Steven can hear you enough to understand.

“Cum for me darling” he moans out, his hips speeding up even faster trying to push you right over that edge. His cock hitting just right deep inside you and his thumb playing with your bundle of nerves you cum hard on his cock. Biting your lip to help further muffle the wanton moan that threatens to escape, it comes out as a strangled desperate whine instead. “Good girl baby, fuck im gonna cum okay love?” He grunts out as his hips falter in rmyth fucking you through your high. With an almost pathetic sounding whine leaving his lips, Steven’s orgasm hit him, shooting hot ropes of cum inside you. After a minute or two when the both of you catch your breath he slowly pulls out, the mixture of his cum and your own leak out of you, trailing down your thigh.

“Maybe you should visit me at work more often darling” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss at your exposed shoulder. You smile sweetly at him as he quickly works at cleaning you up best he can before he goes back off to work with a short but loving goodbye kiss.

→ a/n: i have never written for steven, this is really short and kinda ass as i rushed it cause its like 2 days later than when i wanted to post this, im trying to get back on track and not fall further behind so there will hopefully be another kinktober day posted today as well.

[mikrowrites]

fate goes pt. 6

marc spector x avatar!reader

summary: y/n is reunited with someone she never thought she’d see again; as shait and khonshu fight against ammit, y/n, marc, and steven fight to stop harrow

warnings: angst, fighting, violence, fluff, language, dark themes, death, EPISODE 6 SPOILERS

a/n: the last part! thank you so much for the love for the series! also warning, this deals with someone dying in a hospital, so if that’s a trigger be warned!

“fate goes as ever fate must

fate is the only one that’s just and i trust

fate goes as ever fate must

ashes to ashes

dust to dust” - fate goes, the ninth hour

Y/n pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, humming a gentle lullaby as she sat next to the bed, her other hand grasping that of the patient.

Her internship at the hospital brought her to the hospice wing, where death surrounded her daily. Yet, she knew in her gut that their times were set and she couldn’t change it; instead she could respect the process and the execution of fate.

Y/n had begun to believe in fate as her studies in medicine continued. Science was factual, but fate was sacred. It was unmoving and constant, and perhaps that was a comfort to her in a way.

She continued her humming, gently rubbing herself the patient’s hand as they slumbered. Unlike many other patients, this one had no family photos, no flowers or gifts or get well balloons. Y/n had noticed this and found herself frustrated by the idea of a patient seeing the end of their days alone. So she had sat for hours with them, awaiting their fate.

“You care so much, don’t you child?”

Y/n gasped, the chair screeching across the linoleum as she bolted upwards. The patient’s eyes were open, glowing a golden light, their lips moving with every word. She backed away slightly, her voice quivering. “Who-who are you?”

The patient cocked their head to the side. “You’re a curious one, Y/n L/n. I’ve been watching you for a while now. You care for people so much, yet you don’t fear death. Curious indeed.”

“What do you want from me?” Y/n asked quietly. 

The patient’s head turned to face her, the golden eyes boring into her. “How rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself.”

The gold flickered out, as well as the lights as the room was plunged into darkness. Y/n used her arms to cover herself, as if the room were to implode into her, crushing her. Her breathing was erratic as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Don’t be scared child. Open your eyes.” 

Y/n slowly lowered her arms, as a hand rested gently under her chin, guiding her gaze upwards. She met the gaze of a seemingly humanoid person, decked in gold and jewels. Below the waist was a serpents tail, the scales shining with every movement as the being cracked a smile. “I am Shait, the god of fate and fortune.”

She was shell shocked, staring up at the god in their splendor. All she could muster out was a quiet peep of: “Hi.”

The god seemed amused, “You are the most unusual being I have ever met, Y/n.”

“Is um, that in a good way or a bad way?” Y/n questioned. 

“A good way, I assure you.” The god responded. “What do you know of the gods of Egypt?”

She shrugged, a little less tense. “Not much, sorry.”

“The gods are very much around and existing in your modern human world, but we do not interfere with earthly events. We instead rely on avatars to carry our will.” Shait explained. “We look for those who exemplify our morals and relish our beliefs. You, Y/n L/n, are who I am looking for. You are kind but resolute. Gentle but passionate. Intelligent and level-headed. You accept the tides of life and how the rivers of fate flow.”

“What does this mean?” Y/n seemed to plead. 

Shait faced Y/n. “Y/n L/n, I want you to be my avatar.”

“Me?” She sputtered, her brain clouded with confusion. “I can’t be the best choice.”

“I have seen billions of people on this earth, read their hearts and seen their inner thoughts. You are the best choice. We can allow peace to those who fate commands, and allow for the fortune to bless those who deserve it.” The god spoke. 

“Y/n L/n, will you be my harbinger of fate, my disciple of fortune, and guide to those who pass through the river of life? Will you protect fate with you might and see to the people around you justly, to become my avatar?” 

She thought for a moment, before meeting the gaze of the god. 

“Yes. I will.”

Suddenly she was plunged backwards into darkness, flinging out her arms and crying out as the void swallowed her whole, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest as she felt her retinas burning with a spectacular light. Her body fell backwards down, down, down, her limbs flailing for some kind of control. 

Y/n sat up with a start, gripping the side of the hospital bed as she breathed heavily, gathering her bearings. She gasped, holding out her hands as she watched her veins course with golden light. 

“Go on. Rest your two fingers upon their forehead.” 

She perked up at Shait’s voice in her ears, turning to the patient as Y/n realized the room was filled with the sound of a monitor flatlining. She reached forwards, pressing her index and middle finger onto the patient’s forehead, Y/n’s eyes glowing as suddenly numbers began to appear in her vision, counting like a time clock until they finally clicked into place. 

Y/n stepped backwards, the golden glow dimming before disappearing from her eyes and veins. She exhaled, before wetting her lips. 

“Time of death, 3:25 AM.”

Y/n soared through the night sky of Cairo, her golden feathers gleaming in the moonlight. Her eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Three large gods grappled slowly with each other, Khonshu and Shait vs Ammit. Y/n was almost in awe watching it, if it weren’t for the fact she needed to find Harrow and end this once and for all. 

Her peripheral caught a glow of purple, Y/n immediately positioning her wings to dive down into the streets, setting her sight on Harrow. She soared down, positioning her body as she rammed her feet forwards, slamming them into the man as she sent him flying. She cast her eyes down to see a figure on the ground before her feet, suddenly her mind reeling in recognition. 

The Moon Knight, Marc Spector, looked up at her in a reverie, the girl fixing him with a smirk as he uttered her name. “Y/n?”

Oh if they weren’t in a war, Shait would be chewing her out on this one. 

Harrow stood angrily, directing a blast of purple light from his cane to her. Y/n turned to him, using her golden wings to shield herself, instead sending the blast back into him. sending the man tumbling back. She glared at Harrow before letting the wings retract, lowering her arms. 

Y/n barely had time to turn before she was met with Marc, his face revealed, racing to her. “Y/n! Y/n, oh baby.” He pulled her into his arms, the woman grasping for him like a lifeline. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“Marc.” She sputtered out, the man pulling away to hold the sides of her head in his hands, taking in every aspect of her. “How’d you get back?”

Suddenly Steven took control, looking her up and down. “Wow, you look amazing! What are you wearing?”

Y/n smiled softly at the man, before they turned, noticing Harrow rising from the ground and his men ready for a fight. Steven turned to her excitedly. “Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.”

“All right, show me what you’ve got.” she nodded to the men. 

“Yeah?” Steven asked with a gleeful smile.

“Yeah.” Y/n affirmed. 

Both of them dove into action, Steven into a sprint and Y/n soaring forwards, careening into the fight. They both fought against the forces, as their godly counterparts battled above them. 

A while into the fight, Y/n found herself pinned against a car, using one of her wings to shield herself from an onslaught of bullets. She squeezed her eyes shut, the violent clinking of metal invading her hearing until--it didn’t. She looked up to see Marc causing a complete massacre. He cut down man after man, until it was him and Harrow, the man continuing to beat the other avatar down until he was bringing the staff down to his head. “No!” Y/n cried out. 

Suddenly Marc stopped, his body going rigid and the blade of the staff mere millimeters from Harrow’s forehead. The man looked around, seemingly horrified at the scene around him. 

“Marc?” Y/n called, sheathing the wing she was previously using as protection. “What was that?”

“I blacked out.” Marc was confused, his eyebrows furrowing. 

They both suddenly looked up to see Ammit best Khonshu in battle, Shait being thrown to the ground. Y/n’s chest clenched in fear when the god did not rise back up. “Get Harrow. I know how to stop Ammit.” She quickly ordered. 

Marc nodded and grasped Harrow’s shirt in his fist, Y/n leading them as they both soared into the sky, racing to the pyramid to save their gods and their world. 

Once inside, Marc threw Harrow’s body onto a piece of debris, stepping back to Y/n. She sighed, stepping towards them. “The power of the room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body. Quick, grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

The man was quick to grasp her hand, relishing for a moment in the familiarity of their touches intertwined, before he followed her lead in reaching their free hands upwards. Y/n’s body jerked slightly as her arm began to glow purple with a sacred energy, Marc the same. And as though they had practiced it every moment of their lives, they began to chant a spell. 

They stopped when Harrow’s eyes opened wide, a voice not of his own emitting from his lips. “You can never contain me. I’ll never stop.”

Y/n and Marc gasped in relief and release when the spell ended, binding Harrow and Ammit. The woman heaved for her breath, feeling Marc’s hand gently on her back as he also regained the air in his lungs. 

“Finish it. And leave neither of them alive.”

Both looked up to see Khonshu tower over them, Y/n feeling Marc stiffen. She looked over to him as she felt his palm leave the small of her back, the man stepping up to Harrow, hovering above him as he unsheathed a blade. Marc gripped the man’s shirt, reeling his arm back to end the task. “I have to finish this. If not, I’ll never be free.”

Y/n stepped forwards, calling out his name. “Marc!”

Marc turned to look back at her, lowering his arm slightly. She stepped forwards, resting her hands carefully and softly on his limb which tightly grasped his blade. It was then he noticed Shait standing some feet from them, watching idly as their avatar spoke once more. “You have a choice. You are free. This is your chance to determine your fate.”

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

“Now you sound like her.” Marc responded to the god, letting Harrow’s body drop. Y/n lowered her hands away, allowing the man to approach his god. “You want them dead... do it yourself.”

Shait lowered their head in acknowledgment. “Fate goes, Marc Spector.” 

Marc nodded to the god, before turning to Khonshu. “Now release us.”

Khonshu turned, meeting the cold stare of Y/n. The god took note of how the avatar of Shait could pose a threat; whether it be her control of fate and fortune or her fierce, protective love of Marc. He looked to Shait, as if to ask the fate of this outcome. The god simply nodded. 

He turned to Marc. “As you wish.” 

Y/n watched as the control of Khonshu began to wash from Marc, the room building up into a blinding light. Marc caught one last glance of the love of his life before he was thrown into his head once more. 

His eyes flicked open, dim sunlight cracking through the windows as he gathered his surroundings. Marc once more laid in his bed, in his flat in London. He sat up groggily, speaking up. “Steven? You there?”

“Mmmhmm.” Steven tiredly responded, the men taking in the room around them as though it would disappear at any moment. “Can’t believe it worked.”

The man was quickly frightened by a sudden movement next to him, turning to his left. His face softened, Marc taking over the body as he stared down next to him, a slight smile on his face. Y/n turned over in the bed towards him, her eyes fluttering open as a yawn escaped her mouth. “You’re both so loud, five more minutes of sleep please?”

Marc chuckled, leaning forwards and pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “Sorry. We’ll make you some breakfast then, yeah?”

Y/n smiled blissfully, her eyes closing as she snuggled up into the blankets. “Sounds amazing.”

He smiled back, before standing from the bed and muttering to Steven. “I can’t believe you live in this fricking mess. Y/n’s gonna whoop your a--”

Suddenly his ankle restraint pulled against the frame, knocking the man over and off his feet, slamming into the ground. He looked up briefly, groaning in pain. Quiet giggles could be heard from the bed behind him, and though he was annoyed and his body hurt like hell, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

Looks like Y/n’s fortune-luck-shit didn’t rub off on him. 

Harrow was shoved into the limo, letting out a laugh at the sight before him. “Khonshu. You can’t hurt us.”

Khonshu sat across from him, a pressed white suit clothed him as he sat cross-legged, casual before the trapped goddess. However, it was the person next to Khonshu that Ammit noticed with curiousity. 

She sat next to the god, seemingly human, yes, must be an avatar. Her eyes glowed a shining gold, her veins running like rivers under her skin and coursing with the same glowing hue. She was expressionless, her glowing empty eyes boring holes into Harrow. 

“Yeah. You wanna know something?” Khonshu spoke. “Marc Spector truly believed that after he and I parted ways, we would be done. That I’d be done with her?” He gestured to the girl. 

Harrow rolled his eyes, making the talking motion with his hand annoyedly. Yet something unnerved Ammit as the girl narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Why would I ever need anybody else when he has no idea how troubled he truly is?” Khonshu remarked. “And don’t worry; Y/n isn’t home right now. She won’t know a thing that happens here.”

“Ah... Shait’s doing.” Harrow noted, the girl, Y/n, raising her fist up to knock on the window, as if giving a cue. 

“Meet my... friend,” The girl spoke in a foreign voice. “Jake Lockley.”

The divider in the limo rolled down, revealing Marc Spector. But no, this was not Marc Spector, Ammit saw that clearly. He was different. This man--this was anger, vengeance, and violence incarnate. Jake spoke in a dark tone, the Spanish rolling off his tongue. “Today is your turn to lose.”

Jake raised a gun, giving a sickening smile as Harrow and Ammit begged him to wait, to reason. 

Y/n did not flinch as the gun went off, splattering a minimal painting of blood onto her face. She leaned forwards, her fingertips glowing as she rested them upon the mutilated forehead of the body, her eyes seeming to glow even brighter, her veins like a golden fire. “It is done.” She spoke to Khonshu. 

The limo drove off, with a fate met. 

[takenbypeter]

Weird Nicknames

Steven Grant x reader

Words: 375

FLUFF BINGO

It started early.

“Good morning moon boy.”

“Here you go love bug.”

“This is for you, my baby faced beauty.”

“See you later fuzzy wuzzy.”

At first it all seemed like a great joke, calling him silly nicknames throughout the day, each one slightly goofier than the last. But it wasn’t the funnest prank when all day, after each name he would just respond with his usual wide toothy grin to each name.

“Hey can you please hand me that?” You asked, pointing his attention to the book that lay on the shelf close to him. Without missing a beat Steven reached up and grabbed the book you had been reading since yesterday and passed it to you.

“Thanks, boo boo bear,” you thanked, taking the book from him.

You thought that would earn a strange look from him but all it got you was another one of his famous smiles.

That’s it.

Dropping the book beside you, you shook your head unable to take it anymore. “Okay, why won’t you call me out?”

Steven looked at you, standing with confusion forming on his face. “Sorry. What?”

“I’ve been calling you these dumb, weird names all day and you haven’t called me out once. No strange expressions, no comeback of your own.”

Steven’s eyebrows pressed together crease deepening in the middle as he seemed to be in thought.

Your shoulders dropped a new sort of realization hitting you, “you didn’t notice?”

Steven quickly refuted the idea, waving his hands in the air, “no, no. Trust me, I noticed.”

You giggled a little at his fast movements and he breathed out a smile at the sound. Collecting himself he sat down across from you on the mattress in his room.

“I guess I didn’t say anything because,” he shrugged unsure of why he reacted the way he did. “I guess I don’t care what you call me. The fact is you call me and I love that.”

Although you felt some shyness to his words, you could feel the warmth of your heart melting at his confession.

“Oh Steven,” you sighed, shaking your head and lifting your hand to meet his arm. “Come here you goofball,” you said, before leaning to press your lips to his.

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO MASTERLIST

DESCRIPTION: She’s all Steven can think about in between the missing days and the American man inside his head. When Harrow’s jackals leaves Marc with a difficult choice, his hectic life is spun out of control as Seth, God of Violence and Chaos, comes to reap his reward in the form of a woman from Soho with a dark past and a crush on Steven Grant. (Lightly inspired by Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter) 18+ DARK PAST. Sex trafficking/prostitution. Grooming. Explicit. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Abuse ex-boyfriend/lover, death, murder, gore, drug use. Any smut written will be consensual sex only, but there will be some implication to dubcon content. PLEASE CHECK WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. AGAIN MINORS DNI. * = smut warning

STEVEN GRANT & MARC SPECTOR X (EVENTUAL) AVATAR!READER. Friends to lovers trope (Steven Grant) Sunshine x Grumpy trope (Marc Spector), Light smut, explicit language, no use of Y/N, goes by nickname Dove. I ADORE LAYLA EL-FAOULY so she is still in the narrative but as Dove’s reluctant friend. Female!reader. AFAB!reader. I am English and do not have DID but have tried my best to do all the research I could on the themes I talk about (Ancient Egyptian culture/history/language. Experiencing DID etc) but if I am misinformed and offend anyone, know I am truly sorry and am more than happy to hear anyone’s corrections in my inbox and will do my best to fix it!

main masterlist

CHAPTER ONE - Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted.

CHAPTER TWO - She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death.

CHAPTER THREE - With Marc and Steven captured by Harrow's men, Layla has no choice but to work with her ex-husbands mistress to get them and the scarab to safety. But things take a turn when Seth comes to reap his reward.

CHAPTER FOUR - Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment for the second time covered in blood with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?

CHAPTER FIVE - Marc and Dove adjust to their new mission: catch Harrow before he can release Ammit and for the love of gods don’t let Seth have the body again.

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

CHAPTER SEVEN - Marc, his ex-wife and his supposed mistress head to Mogart’s to find Senfu’s sarcophagus, whatever could go wrong when the god of Chaos wants to be involved?

CHAPTER EIGHT - Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest. Why does Dove look so guilty?

CHAPTER NINE * - Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

CHAPTER TEN - Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.

CHAPTER ELEVEN -

CHAPTER TWELVE -

CHAPTER THIRTEEN -

CHAPTER FOURTEEN -

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -

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[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

I was thinking. So imagine in Moon Knight, when Layla gets horny, she goes to him, still thinking it's Marc, when it's actually Steven. Like she has no clue at all, goes over to him, kisses him and all that letting him know she wants him.

Meanwhile Steven is just sitting there, shocked, overwhelmed with every feeling possible, tensed up, can't speak because of the shock of knowing he's about to do a number with Layla. She keeps going, Steven gets even more shocked, kind of wishing he could just disappear but on the other hand enjoys it but doesn't know how to express it!

Poor Stevy about to get banged but is overwhelmed😭