#steven and khonshu are outside of the ring

[avocadoart]

7 graphic novels (one more I plan to buy), 3 comics, 1 book, 1 poster, 1 Funkpop, another funkopop my beloved bf has got me :3, 1 keychain my beloved bf has got me :3, 3 pins, one homemade badge, 1 DVD, and one autistic brain. I love moonknight

[belovedspector]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (At Least, It Used to Be)

Pairing: Jake Lockley x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jake can’t help but notice you when you become a regular at his favorite diner.

Content: Fluff!

A/N: Title is from “I Never Planned on You” from Newsies. I’ve never written for Jake before, and I haven’t read the comics, so I don’t have much to go off of, but I figured I’d give it a shot. I hope I did okay! Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

Jake Lockley knows his place. He’s the protector of the system, keeping Marc and Steven out of harm’s way and doing Khonshu’s dirty work. He doesn’t have time for “earthly pleasures,” as Khonshu had once put it. He doesn’t really have a life outside of protecting his alters and the travelers of the night, and he’s fine with that. He’s content to lurk in the shadows if it means Marc and Steven getting to live their best lives. He treasures what interaction he does get, when he’s driving his cab through the city or getting food late at night after a mission. He tries not to dwell on it, though; there’s no sense in mourning what he can’t have.

Jake notices everything. It’s his job, to always be on high-alert, even when he’s not the one fronting. So, when you start showing up at his favorite diner every Friday night like clockwork, he notices. He observes from afar. From that first time you walked in, the bell tinkling to announce your presence, he’d been…interested in you. He’s not sure why—it’s not like you pose a threat. You should fade into the background, just like everyone else.

But, you don’t.

Jake can’t help but take note of everything you do—the way you always say your “please”s and “thank you”s to the waitress, your soft laugh, your sweet smile, the ungodly amount of sugar you put in your coffee. He’s good at watching people; it’s part of his job, after all, so he’s able to absorb you and your habits without drawing suspicion from you or anyone else. Some might call it creepy, but Jake means no harm, and he can’t help his…infatuation with you. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

One night, he finds himself rambling as he drives around the city. He likes to talk out loud to himself in the safety of his cab; it gives him a chance to make sense of his thoughts, and it’s not like he has anyone else to share them with.

He starts off by talking himself through the details of his upcoming mission, but he soon finds his mind wandering to bright eyes and the scent of coffee. You.

“She’s really something, huh?” Jake says to himself. “I—I don’t know what it is about her. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I think you humans call it a ‘crush.’” Khonshu suddenly appears hunched over in the back seat of Jake’s cab, and, if he was a less skilled driver, Jake absolutely would have crashed. As it is, he jumps almost imperceptibly in his seat, swerving the tiniest bit before regaining control of the vehicle.

“What?” Jake asks, not even sparing Khonshu a glance in the rear-view mirror. He’s used to the god’s antics by now.

“It appears you have a crush, Jake Lockley.”

“I don’t get crushes,” Jake protests. “Don’t have time for that shit.” He grips the steering wheel more tightly, the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles.

“You’re right; you don’t have time,” Khonshu agrees, “so I suggest you nip this little problem in the bud, before it interferes with our work.”

“What, you want me to kill her?” he deadpans.

“No, nothing that extreme. I was going to suggest finding a new diner.”

“But I like that diner.”

“Then you’d best find a way to ignore the girl.”

With that, Khonshu disappears, and Jake mutters some choice words about the bird in the quiet of his car.

It’s Friday night again. Jake sits alone at his usual booth—in the corner, with his back to the wall, so he can continually scan the entire diner for any threats. He alternates between sipping at his coffee and taking bites of his blueberry pie while scanning the newspaper.

The door opens, the bell ringing along with it, and Jake instinctively looks up.

It’s you.

Jake casts his eyes back down to the sports page. Khonshu had given him orders, and he intends to follow them.

His plan is going great. He’s not thinking about you, not even a little bit. But, shit, now he’s thinking about how he’s not thinking about you. Does that count as thinking about you?

Jake returns his coffee cup to the table with a little more force than necessary. He can feel a headache coming on.

Get it together, Lockley.

He looks up again to do another sweep of the interior, when he notices you’re not sitting in your usual spot. No, you’re…walking towards him. Surely, you’re just going to use the bathroom past his seat, right?

No such luck. You stop at his booth, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped in front of you.

Slowly, Jake moves his eyes from his newspaper and allows them to find yours. He’s never seen you up close before, and, God, you’re even more breathtaking when he can see the sparkle of your eyes and the way your lips curve upward into a soft smile.

“Um, hi,” you start, rocking a little on your feet. “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you had a pen?”

Jake’s not very well-versed in pickup lines, but he’s pretty sure that can’t be one, right? He stares at you for a few beats, dumbfounded that you’re really speaking to him, before he pulls himself together.

He clears his throat and answers, “Uh, yes.” He reaches for the pen he always keeps in his jacket pocket and hands it to you.

He can’t help but notice the way your soft, warm fingers brush against his as the pen exchanges hands.

“Thank you!” you say, and you sound so sincere. “I just wanted to do today’s crossword. I’ll have this back before you know it.”

“Sure,” Jake forces out as you turn on your heel, back to what he’s begun thinking of as “your” booth.

He goes back to his own paper, definitely not thinking about you and your sweet smile and soft hands. It’s by complete coincidence that the next page he turns to has the daily crossword puzzle. He’s never been much for puzzles; that’s more Steven’s thing. Still, he takes a look.

Across 1. An infatuation with another person

It’s five letters. It can’t be anything other than “crush.” Jake groans. He scans the rest of the clues and notices they all seem to revolve around love. It dawns on him that Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. So, maybe the universe isn’t totally fucking with him, after all.

Jake has just about finished his pie when you come bounding over. You don’t wait for him to look up before you’re speaking.

“Thank you again!” you say, placing his pen back on the table near his coffee cup.

You’re already turning to go back to your booth, but Jake can’t just let you go. Screw Khonshu’s orders, he thinks.

“Wait,” he calls to you. He half-expects you to ignore him, to keep walking away, but you do turn around and take a step closer to him. Shit, now he needs to think of something to say to you. “That was, uh, fast,” he says lamely.

You beam at him, and it’s just about the prettiest thing Jake has ever seen. “Oh, yeah, I used to do them with my dad all the time, so I’ve gotten pretty good at them.” Your eyes drop to his newspaper that sits forgotten on the table, still open to the puzzle page. “Oh, do you do crosswords, too?” you ask, and you look like you’re genuinely interested in his answer.

“Oh, uh, not really.” Jake’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck nervously. Since when does he get nervous?

“Ah,” you say, nodding wisely, “you must be more of a Sudoku guy.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Great conversation skills, Lockley, he chastises himself.

“Well, thanks again for the pen. I hope I didn’t keep you from your Sudoku for too long…” You trail off, and Jake realizes, belatedly, that you’re waiting for him to offer his name.

“Jake,” he provides, putting on his most charming smile.

You smile right back, telling him your own name.

“Pretty name,” he remarks.

“Thanks, I got it for my birthday.”

Jake just stares at you for a moment before the joke lands, and then he’s laughing—like, genuinely laughing. He can’t remember the last time this has happened.

He notices you seem a little flustered. Maybe he laughed too hard? Maybe it wasn’t even a joke, and he just totally misread the situation? Maybe—

“Wow, I don’t think anyone’s ever actually laughed at that one,” you say with a slight chuckle of your own.

“I liked it,” Jake says honestly, as if you couldn’t already tell. Before he can second guess himself, he’s asking, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh!” A look of surprise crosses your face. “Um, yeah, I’d like that. May I?” you ask, gesturing to the bench seat across from him.

“Please,” he says with a wave of his hand.

You slide into the booth as Jake gets the attention of the waitress and orders two coffees.

“Anything else?” the waitress asks, looking between the two of you expectantly, pen ready against her notepad.

“The pie’s really good,” Jake tells you. “My treat.”

You seem hesitant. “Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“Come on,” he encourages with a smile.

“It is really good,” the waitress chimes in. 

“Well, okay,” you relent. “One slice of”—you look down at the table to scan the menu briefly—“chocolate cream pie, please.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress says with a smile and a click of her pen.

The time passes quickly, and the conversation between you and Jake flows as freely as the coffee. All that’s left of your pie is an empty plate with a few stray crumbs. You’re laughing at some comment Jake made when you glance down at your watch.

“Shit,” you say, your brows furrowing together in worry.

“Everything okay?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” you say. An apologetic look crosses your face.

Jake checks his own watch. 2:53 am. He really should be getting back home, so Steven and Marc can wake up in the morning without suspecting anything.

“Can I drive you home?” he offers.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You shake your head. “I’m just a couple blocks over.”

“It’s late. I’d feel better if I knew you got home safely.”

“You’re sure it’s no trouble?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not at all,” he says with a smile. He’s smiled a lot tonight.

“Well, lead the way,” you say as you both exit the booth.

Jake throws a wad of cash on the table—more than enough to cover the coffee and pie—and walks you to his cab parked out front.

“You’re a cab driver?” you ask, sounding intrigued.

“I am,” Jake says as he opens the passenger’s door for you.

You pick up right where you left off at the diner, intermittently giving Jake directions to your apartment. He doesn’t want the night to end, but, soon enough, he’s parking in front of your building.

You start to unbuckle your seat belt but pause and turn to him. “Hey, can I borrow your pen again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Jake says, digging it out of his pocket and handing it over once more.

You take it with a smile and reach into your pants pocket. You pull out a crumpled napkin and quickly write something before handing both the napkin and pen to Jake.

Jake looks down to find your name and phone number written on the napkin.

You smile, looking a little shy. “In case you want to see me before next Friday,” you explain.

Jake doesn’t even think about the implication that you’ve noticed him at the diner every week, just like he’s noticed you. No, he’s too excited about the fact that you want to see him again, maybe even to go on a proper date. He hopes you can’t tell that he’s blushing in the dim glow of the cab’s ceiling light.

“Good night, Jake,” you say, finally unbuckling your seat belt and opening the door.

Normally, he’d do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for you, but he’d been too caught up in this surreal moment. Next time, he thinks, because there definitely will be a next time.

“Good night,” he echoes, still in a bit of a daze. He watches as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, making sure you’re safely inside before he pulls away from the curb.

Jake will deal with Khonshu’s wrath over disobeying orders. It will be more than worth it, if it means getting to see you again.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

I'm Tired

Franchise: Marvel (Moon Knight)

Pairing: Marc Spector & Steven Grant x male!reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, swearing, blood, angst, guns, severe injuries, angst, sad Marc, angry Marc, sad Steven, DID I MENTION ANGST

Summary: A mission in Guatemala goes perfectly. Well, not so perfectly.

A/N: get your translators out, it takes place in Guatemala and there's a lot of Spanish and I forgot to write down the English translations and I don't speak Spanish so I just used Google Translate (I'm sorry if I got anything wrong); also, reader used to be the avatar of Osiris but in the same way Mrc/Steve/Jake are the avatar of Khonshu, like he went on missions and had powers and stuff

The mission was a success.

Khonshu had you, Marc and Steven deal with a drug ring that had been terrorizing a small town in Guatemala. The ring was taken down, the threat was neutralized, and the town was safe once again. Everything went according to plan.

Until it didn’t.

You were already pretty busted up after your scrapes with the members of the cartel and you were wishing you still had Osiris’s protection. You were limping, favouring your left leg; your arm was definitely broken in at least three places; and there was blood everywhere. As you were walking to meet Marc and Steven outside, you heard shuffling behind you.

“Marc?” You murmured quietly, hoping it was one of your moon boys. “Steven?”

Instead, you were met with a member of the cartel that you hadn’t yet neutralized. Before you can react, the man draws his gun and shoots you twice in the gut. Without further ado, he runs off into hiding.

You’re too surprised to react any way other than shocked. Your hands fly up to cover your stomach as blood pours out between your fingers. You gasp for air and blood trickles from your lips. You stumble into the wall for support. Your senses stop working; you can’t hear anything other than your own ragged, uneven breathing. Your vision blurs, clears, then blurs again. You vaguely think you can hear your boys calling for you, but you can’t be sure.

You slide to the ground, still clutching your bleeding stomach. A figure kneels next you; judging by the cape you think you see, it’s Marc.

Your ears are ringing. If he’s talking to you, you can’t tell. His firm hands cup your cheeks, tilting your head to look at him. You blink your bleary eyes, begging silently for them to focus. Coughs suddenly wrack your body and you almost double over when more blood leaves your mouth. Marc’s talking is still muffled, but he picks you up with no argument from you.

Your good arm is pressed against his chest and your head falls onto his shoulder.

“…Breathing,” Marc says. It’s the end of a sentence and your hearing only returns to hear the last word. “Just keep breathing, baby.”

“M-Marc,” you say weakly.

“Hey, there you are,” Marc says through a nervous laugh. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Where…” You interrupt yourself with another cough. “Steven?”

“I’m gonna get you back to the car and then I’ll let Steven out, okay?”

You nod slowly, burying your face in his shoulder. “Hurts,” you whisper. Your forehead is pressed against the bandage fabric of his suit.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, I promise. We’re gonna get you help.”

“Layla?” You ask softly.

“I’ll call her, it’s alright. Just stay awake for me, okay?”

Though it feels like an eternity, you reach the car where Marc had hidden it before you went in to take out the drug ring. He manages to get you into the front passenger seat. Your head droops tiredly as Marc takes a step back. His suit dematerializes and a moment later, a worried British accent meets your ears.

“Y/N?” Steven asks, leaning into the car to look you over. “Oh my days, I didn’t want it to be as bad as it looked… we’ve gotta get you to hospital, love…”

Marc takes the body again, shuts the door, and jogs back to the driver’s side to get the car started. You can feel yourself slipping out of consciousness as the drive begins. The vibrations from the rough terrain mixed with the heat inside the vehicle threaten to lull you to sleep.

“I’m tired, babe,” you whisper.

“No, no, no, stay with me, stay with me,” Marc says. He reaches over to you and takes your hand in his, despite the coating of blood over your palm and fingers. “We’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, we’re getting help. You’re gonna be okay.”

The numbness you had originally felt begins to fade and you wince, screwing your eyes shut as pain begins to wash over you.

“M-Marc, it… it hurts…” The car bounces over a bump in the road and you gasp in pain, your head hitting the headrest, which definitely isn’t good for the already pounding ache that already resides there - you might have a concussion.

“Just hold on, baby, we’re almost there.”

You don’t entirely remember what else happens on the way to the closest hospital. It’s all a blur, even as Marc pretty much carries you into the emergency room, yelling in Spanish for anyone’s attention.

“Necesitamos un doctor!” He hollers. “Por favor, necesita ayuda, por favor!”

Somehow, you find yourself on a gurney. A drop of blood drips from the corner of your mouth when you start to cough again. Everyone around you is shouting in Spanish. You can’t entirely understand them; Marc only just started teaching you and Steven how to understand Spanish about a month ago. One nurse in particular has their hands putting pressure on your wounds to keep you from bleeding out more than you already have. You know Marc is with you because he’s still holding your hand, refusing to let go of you.

“No lo dejes morir, no puede morir, por favor,” Marc begs the doctors, keeping his firm grasp on your hand.“No puedo perderlo.”

“Vamos a hacer todo lo que podamos, señor,” one of the nurses says. “Puedes decirme tu nombre y el de él?”

“Soy…” Marc hesitates. “Soy Marc Spector. Se llama Y/N L/N.”

“Sr. Spector, voy a necesitar que mantenga la calma, por favor. Cuidaremos bien de él, pero necesitamos que lo sueltes por ahora, de acuerdo?”

“Marc,” you groan, your face scrunched in pain. “Don’t go, please, don’t go.”

“I have to, baby, I’m sorry. They’re going to take care of you, okay? I’ll be there when you wake up, I promise.”

Very reluctantly, Marc lets his hand drop from yours. He watches the nurses roll your gurney down the hallway until you turn a corner. That’s when he breaks.

He stumbles back into the wall, sliding to the floor and burying his head in his hands. Silent sobs begin to wrack his body, tears streaming down his face. His fingers rake through his hair and his eyes are already burning.

“I should’ve been there,” he murmurs half to himself and half to Steven’s reflection on the floor. “We should have been there.”

“Marc, we can’t blame ourselves for this,” Steven says gently. “All we can do is hope we got there in time for him to be okay. All we can do is wait.”

“Sr. Spector?”

Marc looks up to see one of the doctors that had rolled your gurney to surgery. He quickly composes himself, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands and pushing himself to his feet. “Sí? Puedo ayudarlo, doctor?”

“Puedo hacerle algunas preguntas sobre sus heridas? También tengo papeleo que necesito que llenes. Solo necesitamos toda la información que podamos recopilar para poder ayudar a su…?” He hesitates.

“Mi amigo,” Marc says, awkwardly and reluctantly, “pero es más o menos de la familia. Lo amo, sabes?”

“Eres familia, esencialmente?”

“Sí.”

“Nuestros cirujanos lo están cuidando mientras hablamos. Podemos sacar el papeleo del camino y podemos mantenerlo actualizado sobre su condición. Suena bien?”

Marc nods numbly. “Sí, gracias. Puedo encontrarte en la sala de espera? Solo necesito usar el baño muy rapido.”

“Seguro. Estaré esperando. Tómate todo el tiempo que necesites. Justo por este pasillo, la última puerta a la derecha.”

“Gracias.”

Marc treads down the hall and slips into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He braces his hands on either side of the sink and stares into the mirror. “Steven?” He says in a small voice. He watches his reflection change, showing Steven pacing nervously.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Steven murmurs. “You know you can’t let me out yet, though, right?”

“I know, I know,” Marc says. “I wish I could. I don’t know how to deal with this, I don’t know what to do with myself.” He cards his fingers through his hair. “Y/N’s hurt bad and I couldn’t stop it and I can’t fucking fix it either.”

“Marc,” Steven says in a surprisingly calm tone. Marc looks at him in the mirror. “We will deal with these emotions, I promise. But right now, I’m sorry, but you have to go out there with that doctor and get the paperwork sorted. I’m still gonna be here, obviously, but you’re the only one of us that speaks Spanish.”

“Fine, I know.” Marc turns on the tap. He washes the blood off his hands, then splashes some water on his face. “When we get home, Y/N isn’t going on missions for a long while, even after he’s fully healed.”

“It’s not his fault he got shot, Marc!”

“I know it isn’t but he got hurt while I had the body and I can’t let it happen again! I won’t lose him, I can’t lose him.”

“He was an avatar.”

“Yeah, was, Steven. Past tense. He can’t heal the way he used to anymore.”

Steven is silent for a moment. “Call Layla,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“She needs to know too, she cares about him. Call her.”

A shaky breath escapes Marc’s lips as he leans against the sink, pulling out his phone. He finds Layla’s number. His hand is trembling when he brings the phone to his ear. His other hand grips the sink almost hard enough to break it. His knuckles go white.

Layla answers after four rings.

“Marc? It’s like two in the morning. What’s going on?”

“It’s… it’s about Y/N,” Marc says slowly, trying to keep his breathing regulated. “He got hurt on a mission. Really, really badly hurt, and I couldn’t stop it, and-”

“Where are you?” She asks quickly. “I’m coming.”

“Hospital in Melchor de Mencos. Guatemala.”

“I’ll get the first plane out of Mexico City, I can be there in 7 hours. How is he?”

“They, they took him into surgery soon as we got here. I gotta go fill out paperwork ‘cause I’m the only one fluent in Spanish,” Marc explains.

“You can’t even let Steven out?”

“Not yet. Not until the paperwork’s done. You’re coming?”

“Of course, I’m coming. I’ll see you in seven or eight hours.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay, see you then.”

Layla hangs up and Marc shoves his phone in his pocket again. He clenches and unclenches his fists over and over again, trying to keep his cool. His eyes feel like they’re on fire and he still can’t control how much he’s shaking. There’s a lump in his throat that won’t go away.

“All you can do now is sign the papers, Marc,” Steven says gently from the reflection. Marc looks up at him. Steven’s eyes are red and his face is shiny with fresh tears.

“Sign the papers,” Marc replies softly. He takes a deep breath, unlocks the bathroom door, and walks back down the hallway to the waiting room.

————————

Marc falls asleep in an uncomfortable chair after all the paperwork. He’s gently shaken awake and he opens his eyes to see Layla.

“You made it,” he murmurs.

“You told them about me,” she replies, sitting beside him.

“Well, I didn’t know if they’d let you in otherwise. Better safe than sorry.”

“What exactly did you tell them?”

Marc sits up properly, rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness. “Told them you were family. Figured then they’ll let us see him sooner after he gets out.”

Layla hums in response. “How’d the mission go?”

“It was perfect until some fuck hurt Y/N,” Marc says bitterly. “If that guy was still there, I would’ve killed him.”

“Marc…”

“He hurt him and I couldn’t-”

“Hey, don’t do that to yourself,” Layla says, gently putting her hand on his arm. “Thinking like that isn’t gonna help anyone in this scenario; me or you two or Y/N. There’s nothing you could have done and it’s not your fault. As terrible as it is, shit happens. I’m here for all three of you. It’s going to be alright. Unfortunately, all we can do now is wait and see the results, you know?”

Marc sighs, carding his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. We just wait."

————————

Both of them end up falling asleep in the waiting room even though they’d told themselves that they’d stay awake.

A nurse wakes Marc and Marc wakes Layla.

“Is he okay?” Layla asks.

“He is asleep,” the nurse says through a thick accent. “Painkillers. He spoke English. Not many doctors knew what he was saying. He was asking for Marc, Steven and Layla.”

“That’s us,” Marc says. “Can we see him? Please?”

“He will not be conscious just yet, but yes.”

The nurse leads us down a few hallways to Y/N’s room. “If he wakes, do not overwhelm him. Be gentle,” he adds.

“Muchas gracias, señor,” Marc says, silently stepping into the room with Layla on his heels. Marc has to brace himself against the wall at the sight of you.

Your left leg is propped up and casted, another cast encasing your entire left arm. Your forehead is bandaged and the lights are mostly off in the room - a concussion, Marc assumes (and correctly so). You’re too bandaged up to need to bother with a hospital gown but, save for your propped up leg, your lower half is covered with a blanket.

“Shit,” Marc whispers, though he’s not entirely sure if it was him or Steven that said it. He’s pretty sure he’s got the body right now, even if part of him wishes he could hand it over to Steven. Not yet. He wasn’t going to hide from this, as much as it hurt to see.

He’s slow in his movements to sit in the chair to the right of you. Layla pulls up a chair next to him. His trembling hand reaches out to hold yours closest to him. He blinks back tears, gripping your hand unintentionally tight. His thumb brushes over your knuckles and he bows his head, covering his face with his free hand.

“My fault,” he murmurs almost inaudibly. Layla frowns a little.

“Marc-”

“It’s my fault,” Marc stresses.

Knowing there’s no use arguing with him, Layla gently squeezes his arm. “I’m gonna get some air for a minute.”

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ll be back, I promise. You want a coffee?”

“What, you mean the shitty vending machine coffee that all hospitals have?” Marc asks sarcastically. Layla nods. “Yeah, sure. I could use the caffeine. Maybe one for Steven too?”

Layla smiles gently. “I’ll be back soon.”

Minutes after Layla’s gone, Marc still hasn’t said a word and you’re still unconscious next to him. He knows the doctors say you’ll be alright, but he can’t help worrying anyway.

————————

You could hear the people in your room before you could see them.

First, it was doctors speaking Spanish. It all sounded like gibberish to you, despite Marc having taught you some Spanish a little while back. It was after they’d gotten you out of surgery, before the extra painkillers they’d pumped you with. You hadn’t had the energy to open your eyes to confront the doctors, so you’d passed out again.

Then, it was two voices - familiar voices. Voices so agonizingly familiar that you’d silently prayed to the gods that you could open your eyes to see if it was who you thought it was. Then, you passed out again.

The third time, you don’t hear much, just someone shifting beside you. Something - no, someone - is holding your right hand. It’s no doctor, you can’t feel the latex gloves they all wear. It’s calloused. It’s a hand you’ve held before.

It’s one of your boys.

You finally, finally, manage to open your eyes. You tilt your head to the right. Your gaze is blurry at first. You blink a few times before managing to get a clear picture of the man in the chair next to you. His head is bowed but he’s gripping your hand like you’re about to disappear.

“Fuck, Y/N, if you die, I’m gonna kill you,” a rough voice says. American. Marc. He sounds like he’s been either crying or sleeping or both for quite a while.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up,” you mutter. Your throat is bone dry.

Marc’s head shoots up so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t break his neck. You shoot him a weak smile before you start coughing. He immediately lets go of your hand to reach for the pitcher of water on the table next to the hospital bed, filling one of the little plastic cups stacked next to it. He passes it to you. You manage to stop coughing long enough to down the little cup of water. It soothes your parched throat immediately.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you mumble. “Desert.” You clear your throat and thankfully you don’t start coughing again. “Hi,” you add awkwardly.

“Hey,” Marc says, though he can’t hide the way his voice cracks a little. His eyes are glistening. You frown worriedly.

“Marc, baby…” you whisper. You reach your hand up to wipe away a couple of stray tears from his face. “Don’t cry for me. I’m here. I’m here, my love.”

“I thought… we thought that we were gonna lose you.” His voice is thick with emotion and you wish you could wash away his pain right then and there.

“You won’t lose me. Not if I have any say in it. Come here.”

He wipes his face with his sleeve as he pushes himself to his feet. “What?”

You scowl teasingly up at him. “I wanna kiss you but I can’t exactly move, dumbass, you need to come to me.”

A smile tugs at Marc’s lips as he leans down to press his to yours. Your good hand reaches up to hold his cheek as you practically melt into the kiss. When Marc pulls away, you try to chase after his lips, but you push yourself up too far. You wince and lay back down, gasping in pain. Concern flashes over Marc’s face.

“Are you alright?” He asks quickly.

“Mhm,” you murmur through clenched teeth. “Just moved, moved a bit too much.”

“Should I get a doctor back in here?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths, trying to relax your tense body. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay.” You pause for a moment. “Is… is Steven there?”

Marc’s body language changes, and you know you’re looking at Steven now.

“Oh my days, I was so worried,” he says. He leans forward and kisses your forehead, then your cheek. He almost pulls away completely, but you grab the collar of his shirt with your good hand and pull him down to kiss you on the lips. The kiss lasts a solid few seconds before you let him go. You smile a little as he sits back down.

“I’ll be okay,” you say quietly, holding your hand out. He slips his into your grasp, giving it a squeeze. “It’s like I told Marc, I’m not going anywhere if I can help it, Steven. You’re stuck with me.” You chuckle a little. “Sucks to suck.”

Steven rolls his eyes fondly. “I’d like to see you living and breathing on this earth for a little while longer, thank you very much.”

You smile gently. “I love you both.”

“We love you too, Y/N/N.”

“You’re awake!”

You turn your head towards the door and your grin widens when you see Layla holding a tray of three shitty vending machine coffees.

[A/N: no, she totally doesn’t almost drop them when she sees that you’re conscious, I dunno what you’re talking about…]

She puts the tray on a table and rushes to your side to hug you. She nearly pushes Steven out of the way just so she can get to you on your good side.

“Not too tight, the ribs, the shots,” you hiss out when you feel a stinging sensation from your torso. Layla apologizes immediately, loosening her grip but not quite pulling away just yet. Eventually she does, sitting down next to Steven. His demeanour changes, signalling the return of Marc. He looks over at her.

“Coffee?” He asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“Oh, shit, right.”

Layla retrieves the coffee tray and puts it on the table next to your bed. There are names scribbled on each one; Marc, Steven, Layla.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get you one,” she admits, “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

You shake your head. “S’okay. I probably shouldn’t have anything more than water right now. Plus it tastes like ass.”

“You’re not wrong,” Marc says, taking a swig of his coffee and nearly choking on it. “Fuck, that’s terrible.” He hesitates. He takes another sip. He straightens up as he puts his cup down. He reaches for Steven’s and takes a sip.

“Oh, bloody hell, that’s horrible.” He takes a second sip.

There’s a knock on the door and doctor begins to enter. Steve surrenders the body to Marc, in case of a need to speak Spanish.

“Buenos, días,” the nurse from earlier greets us. “Soy Dr. Juliàn Laguna. Soy el que supervisa el cuidado del Sr. L/N. Todos sois familia, sí?”

“Sí, es su hermano,” Marc lies, gesturing to Layla. “Estarà bien?”

“Sufrió muchas heridas. Su pierna está rota en un lugar mientras que su brazo está roto en tres. Dos costillas fracturadas. Conmoción cerebral de tercer grado. Tuvo suerte con la colocación de las heridas de bala. Bueno, tan afortunado como uno puede ser cuando te han disparado. Pudimos curarlo bien en la cirugía. Con el tiempo, sanará y estará bien.”

“What’s he saying?” You ask quietly.

“You broke your leg in one place and your arm in three. Two fractured ribs. They patched up the gunshot wounds well in surgery. With time you’ll heal and you’ll be alright,” Marc translates, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Muchas gracias, doctor, no sé- no sabemos qué haríamos sin él. Gracias.”

“Por supuesto. La muerte tendrá toda la lucha para sacarlo de esta tierra.” He clears his throat. “Les dejaré tener más tiempo para ustedes.”

“Gracias, doctor,” Marc says.

“So, I’ll be okay, right?” You asks quietly.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Marc says reassuringly. He takes your hand in his and presses his lips to your scratched and bruised knuckles. “We’re gonna take you home as soon as we can. As soon as the doc gives the go ahead, we’re hopping on a plane and we’re out of here.”

“Good,” you say immediately. “I think I’ll be taking a break from fighting for a little while. I’ll take the sidelines.”

Marc looks surprised. Sure, he told Steven and Layla that he wanted you to sit out once you fully healed, but he didn’t expect you to feel the same about it.

“Are you sure?” He asks gently.

You shoot him a tight smile. “More or less. I like being out there to watch your six, but this was too close of a near death experience for my liking,” you explain. “Plus, I’ll be able to take care of you when you get home. Both of you,” you add, shooting a glance and a smile at Layla. “Besides, since I’m not with Osiris anymore, I really need to take it easy.”

You squeeze Marc’s hand. “You won’t have to worry about me then either.”

“I’m always gonna worry about you,” he insists.

“You know what I mean, dumbass.” You pause for a moment. “So. When can we go home?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This has been sitting in my writing folder for a hot minute so I figured I'd finish it. Also I know virtually nothing about Guatemala including knowing nothing about Guatemalan healthcare but what little research I did had me decide to have Marc hide his relationship with Y/N for fear of homophobia but I wrote that bit a while back idk... Anyway, might make a fluffy little part two of Marc and Steven taking care of the reader while he heals 👀 lmk if you want it 👀 feed back is encouraged and appreciated! Have a lovely day!

[jessybarnes]

All Of Me

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader / Marc Spector Reader / Moon Knight x Reader / Khonshu x Reader (Platonic)

Rating: 18+ Only!! Minors DNI!!

Tags: Angst, fluff, smut, monsters, injury, blood, crying, guns, fingering (female receiving), light restraint, wall sex, p in v, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,177

Beta(s): Just Grammarly and me

Written For:

@anyfandomaubingo - O4: Historical AU

@anyfandomangstbingo - I2: "Put. The. Weapon. Down."

@anyfandomdarkbingo - I4: Kindly Restrained

@anyfandomfluffbingo - N4: "This is where I saw you for the first time."

@badthingshappenbingo - O5: "Who did this to you?"

@thebo3bingo - G3: Vulnerability

@mfbingo - O5: Sharing Is Caring

@fandoms-writings - Remi's Neon Milestone Party: See writing prompts I used as a bonus below 🥰

Prompt(s): Used: "You shouldn't be out here by yourself." / "Let me kiss it better." / "What if someone hears us?"

Title Card: Yours Truly

You sigh as you check your phone for probably the thousandth time in the last ten minutes. Today is your one year anniversary with Steven, and you're supposed to be meeting him for a romantic indoor picnic at the museum where you met him. His plan was to let you in after he finished closing up the night.

Except he's late. He's never late.

You pull his contact info up and hit the call button, hoping he'll answer. It rings four times before going to voice-mail and that only makes the gnawing feeling in your gut worsen. His car's still here and it's well past the time his shift ended.

Deciding it's been long enough, you walk up the stairs and try the door. It opens and your brows furrow. It should have been locked from the outside over an hour ago. Slipping quietly inside, you adjust your purse on your shoulder and walk into the main exhibit area.

You've been in here before plenty of times, but the atmosphere is much different at night time. It's dark except for the small lights illuminating each of the exhibits and it casts a dim glow around them, their shadows appearing on the walls. It's almost...eerie.

"Steven?" You call. Your heels click on the tile floor as you glance around the room. "Steven, this isn't funny! You were supposed to meet me an hour ago!"

There's a noise in the distance behind you and you whirl around quickly. Fear creeps up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Steven, if you don't get out here right now I'm leaving!"

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself. It's dangerous."

You jump at the sudden voice behind you and quickly turn to see your boyfriend. Only he isn't smiling that goofy smile you fell in love with, and now that your brain has processed his statement, that's not his voice either.

"Steven? What the fuck is going on? What do you mean it's dangerous?"

He cocks his head and narrows his eyes, "I'm not Steven, and you need to keep your voice down or it might hear you."

You stare up at him, waiting for the part where he tells you he's joking, but it never comes. He's serious and you aren't sure if you're more fed up or scared at this point.

"Fine. If you didn't want to have our date then all you needed to do was say so. I'm not sure what this is," you gesture to him as you start to back away, "but I've had enough. I'm leaving."

You turn and walk back towards the entrance, but as soon as you get back to the lobby a low growl sounds to your right. Slowly turning, you see a monster that reminds you of something from a horror movie.

This can't be happening... this is a dream. You've fallen asleep outside on the museum steps and you're dreaming. There's no other explanation to what you're seeing right now.

Slowly, you begin to back up as it creeps towards you. Its long claws scrape against the floor as it bares its sharp teeth at you. Your back hits the wall and your breathing gets quicker as you realize you've got nowhere to go. You're cornered.

It lunges and you let out a high-pitched scream as you press yourself as far into the wall as you can. It all happens in a matter of seconds. The swish of a cape, the snarling of the beast, and the searing pain of one of its claws slicing your arm.

"Ah! Oh, my god! What the fuck?!"

"Get to the bathroom right now and barricade yourself in. Don't open the door for anyone but me, do you understand?"

You don't even answer him as you bolt for the back of the room. Even though your heels make it difficult to run, you manage to get inside and slam the door shut. Taking a second to catch your breath, you grab the bench and prop it up against the door before backing up against the far wall.

Your arm is cut, your hands are shaking, and you're not sure when you started crying. Carefully, you clean your wound and manage to stop the bleeding. It's then that you notice how quiet it is. There's no sound of a struggle or the deep growls of whatever the fuck that thing was, and you can only pray that it's gone.

The sound of the door handle jiggling startles you, and your heart begins to race again. Reaching into your purse, you pull out your handgun and cock it before pointing it at the door.

"It's me, let me in."

There's that voice again...

Steven doesn't have an American accent. His voice is soft and kind, not rough and deep.

"Yeah, no, I'm good thanks. You can leave and I'll see myself out once you're gone."

You hear him sigh.

"Listen, I know you're scared, but I need to look at your arm."

You're silent as you contemplate your options. He looks like your boyfriend, and he did save you, so maybe you should hear him out.

You keep your gun aimed true as you move the bench back to where it was before stepping back.

"Fine, but don't even think about trying anything funny."

You move back against the far wall again as he opens the door. Your hands shake as you keep your gun pointed at him, your cheeks still wet from crying.

"That's far enough. Don't come any closer!"

He puts his hands up, looking between you and the barrel as he inches towards you.

"There's no need for that, Y/N. The threats gone now. I won't hurt you."

Your heart begins to race faster, "h-how do you know my name?!"

Even though the person standing before you looks like your boyfriend, he's literally the exact opposite of how Steven would act. And now that you've witnessed that terrifying monsters can exist, you're not entirely convinced that this man isn't some form of demon or doppelganger.

He stops, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again they're those soft, loving eyes you fell in love with just over a year ago.

"Y/N, please...I promise I'll explain, but you need to let Marc look at your arm. I'm so sorry this happened on our anniversary. God, I feel just awful."

The grip on your gun loosens, but you don't lower it, "Steven? Baby, please just talk to me now. What's going on? Who did this to you?"

He gives you a sympathetic look before tensing back up, his eyes squeezing shut. When they open back up, Marc has taken over again, his stare hard and determined.

"Come on, Y/N. Cooperate with me here. I'm not going to hurt you, but I have to look at your arm."

"I-I don't..." Your voice shakes as you try to make everything make logical sense.

"Dammit, would you just listen?! Put. The. Weapon. Down."

The seriousness in his tone makes you wince, but you let the gun fall to the floor anyway. He steps forward, kicking it to the side as he slowly approaches you as if you're a wounded animal.

"I'm going to touch you now."

His words held no sexual intention behind them, so why did they make you squeeze your thighs together?

He's careful as he extends your arm. His calloused fingertips graze your skin as he inspects where the jackal-like creature attacked you. Finally, his eyes gaze into your own, but his hands stay where they are.

"Good. It's not too deep, and the bleeding stopped. It'll scar, but you won't need stitches."

The tension crackles between the two of you like static electricity, the negligent space separating you seeming to get smaller by the second. Any response you had is forgotten as your lips part and your eyes flit down to his mouth.

"Let me kiss it better." His voice is husky as he presses you gently against the wall, one hand still on your injured arm while the other rests on your cheek.

You want him to. God, did you want him to close the distance and kiss you, but the rational part of your brain keeps you grounded. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips anyway though, and the hitch in your voice proves Marc is having an effect on you.

"Marc, I... I'm with Steven..."

"We're one and the same, sweetheart. Though we have different personalities, we share the same body."

He moves himself against you, and you can feel the outline of his cock against your lower belly.

"And not to mention, Steven's had this beautiful body all to himself. Won't you share, baby? I know what you crave," his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, "I know what you need. Let me give it to you, Y/N."

"Let me talk to Steven." Your voice is breathy, and even though Marc has a point, you still wouldn't feel right about it without at least talking to the man you've loved for so long.

Reluctantly, Marc drops his hands to his sides and closes his eyes. When they open again, they look relieved.

"Oh, Y/N! Oh, my sweetheart..."

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him, his face buried in the juncture of where your shoulder meets your neck. His accent comforts you like a blanket, but even if it wasn't there, you knew by the softness radiating off of him that this was Steven. Your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses your cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried something had happened, that the monster or Marc had done something and..."

He stops, noticing your hesitation, and pulls back to look into your eyes, "What is it? He's said something to you, hasn't he?"

You sigh and hold his hands in yours, looking down at them briefly before wetting your lips.

"This is where I saw you for the first time." You thoughtfully recall the day you two first met. Steven's personality and love of ancient artifacts are what drew you to him. Like a moth to a flame, you were instantly captivated by him, and from there your love blossomed into what it is today.

He tilts his head to side slightly as his brows furrow in worry.

"Darling, whatever he's told you l-"

"He wants you to share me."

His eyes go wide, "Oh."

You play with his fingers, a nervous habit of yours.

"I asked him to let me talk to you."

Steven stays silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. He didn't even have the idea on his radar that his other personality would want you, but then he shook the thought away as quickly as it came because why wouldn't Marc want you?

His sweet, brilliant girl who has the prettiest eyes and the most contagious laugh. The brave woman who would move mountains to protect any living being in trouble, and not to mention how gorgeous you are to him.

He knows you have fantasies. Ones that he's not comfortable enough to fulfill, but maybe...maybe Marc could, and that's his deciding factor. He's always wanted to give you everything you wanted, and if this is something you want, then he won't stop you.

"Y/N, look at me, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, glancing into his eyes to try and guess what he's thinking.

His hand cups your cheek gently, "do you want this? Do you want Marc?"

You shake your head, "not at the risk of losing you. I love you, Steven."

He leans in and kisses your lips softly, bumping his nose against yours lovingly.

"And I love you, but I also know that there are things you want that I can't give you. You're not going to lose me, okay? Think of Marc as another side of me that you can spend time with from time to time."

Before you can make sure he's absolutely certain about this, he steps back and closes his eyes again, only this time something new happens. Grey and off-white surround his body and when he opens his eyes they're a brilliant white.

You gasp and slowly back up until you hit the wall, "S-Steven? Steven?!"

"Don't be afraid, Y/N. I won't hurt you."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear Marc's voice again. Your eyes trail over the suit he's wearing. It reminds you of Egyptian clothing and the crescent moon emblem makes you want to reach out and touch it.

"Marc?" you whisper as he slowly closes the distance between the two of you again.

"I want you to see all of me. This is who I am. Moon Knight is a part of Steven and I too."

You reach out to tentatively touch his chest just as his gloved hand slides up your inner thigh. His fingertips brush against your panties making you gasp.

"I meant what I said before, Y/N. I know what you crave. Everything that you tell Steven, I hear too, and I can give you what you want."

He taps his fingers against your panty-covered clit lightly, and you can't help the moan that falls past your lips. "What if someone hears us?"

He chuckles, "baby, it's nearly midnight. We're the only ones here."

The last of your resolve disappears when the suit's mask dissolves away revealing his face. You kiss him fiercely and he lets out a low growl as he pulls your panties to the side.

"You're soaked, princess," he mumbles against your lips before pinning your hands above your head with his free hand. "Gotta keep you still."

You whine at his authoritative tone, but before you're able to say anything, he plunges two fingers inside of you.

"O-Oh, fuck!"

"Yeah? You want another one, Y/N? Think you can take three?"

Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you nod and another moan is ripped from you as he pushes a third finger alongside the other two, pumping them fast.

"You're close already, I can feel it. My pretty, little Moonbeam's gonna cum isn't she?"

"Oh, god! Marc, I-I'm-"

He kisses you hard right as your orgasm crashes through you, swallowing your moans.

"Good girl, baby. Can't wait to feel this tight, little cunt around my cock."

Marc pulls away and you sag against the wall, panting softly. Never in your life have you cum that hard before, or that quickly. The soft fabric of his gloves felt insanely good, and you found yourself wanting to feel them again.

"Please...," you beg, and he silences you with another kiss before picking you up and holding you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist as he frees his cock from the confines of his suit.

"Mine," he growls as he pushes himself inside you to the hilt. Both of you groan in unison as he holds you up with ease.

Marc fucks you hard, his thick cock stretching you as his hand still holds your wrists above your head.

"Fuck, you feel incredible...My precious Moonbeam was made just for me. Weren't you, baby?"

"Yes! Oh, Marc...please don't stop, please!"

A groan rumbles in his chest, low and primal, as he sucks love bites into your neck.

"Gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna litter your pretty skin with marks, baby girl."

You clench around him, feeling the familiar heat pooling low in your belly. The way he's talking to you, his confidence and possessiveness, and the way his cock hits your spot on every pass makes your head spin. You know you won't last like this, and the moment Marc reaches in between your bodies to rub tight, fast circles on your clit, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

"That's right, Moonbeam. Cum. Cum all over my dick. Fuck, I can feel you squeezin' me. Come on, baby girl, let go for me."

His words send you falling over the edge, your lips moving against his with little finesse as you pant wetly against them. Marc grunts as his orgasm follows yours, thick ropes of his cum filling you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment before he sets you down on shaky legs. You fix your clothes and once Marc is finished getting dressed you smile softly at him as you lean in to kiss him again.

Just before your lips touch, the lights start to flicker and the walls begin to shake making you cling tightly to him.

"Marc! What's going on?! What's-"

"So, this is who you've chosen to distract yourself with, Spector." A deep, booming voice echoes throughout the room, but you don't see anything.

"Who said that?!" You bury your face in his chest, terrified something else might try to kill you today.

The shaking stops and Marc pulls you slightly back so he can look at you.

"Wait, you can hear him too?! Are you an avatar?"

"An avatar? Marc, what are you ta-" Suddenly, your eyes go wide as an enormous being appears in the doorway. It has to be at least eight feet tall, a bird skull is where its head should be, and it's holding a staff with what appears to be a crescent moon at the top.

You scream and look around for your gun, but Marc stops you.

"Whoa, hey, hey, it's alright. He's with me, Y/N. He's with us."

He turns around and positions himself in front of you anyway though, a deep scowl etched on his face, "What do you want, Khonshu?"

"You think because you helped me with one thing that I'm done with you? Don't forget who saved you, Marc. You're still indebted to me."

"We had a deal!", Marc growls.

"I'm aware, but we've still got work to do," Khonshu tilts his head so he can look at you, "and she's going to help us."

Your eyes widen, "me?! But I-"

"No! Absolutely not," Marc cuts you off as he steps towards him, "I'll help you, but she stays out of it. Don't involve her in this."

Khonshu chuckles deeply, "She doesn't have a choice."

"Like hell, she doesn't!"

"What do you mean, I don't have a choice?" You ask before stepping out from behind Marc. "What's going on?"

The bird-like being looks down at you, and you try not to be intimidated by how daunting he is.

"Do you have knowledge of Ammit?"

"Ammit? The devourer of souls?" You whisper. "But that's just a...a myth...right?

"Ah, it seems you're more competent than I thought. Good, you'll be of use quicker than I'd imagined."

Marc's voice cuts into your conversation before you can ask more questions, and you don't miss the hint of dread in it.

"Harrow's back, isn't he?"

Khonshu nods. "Yes, and he intends to unleash Ammit on the world." He pauses before pointing his staff towards you.

"And she's the key to stopping him."

[asimplearchivist]

Thank you for the tag! :) Putting mine under a read-more for brevity!

NPT: @whirlybirbs, @astroboots, @softlyspector, @angel-of-the-moons, @greensagephase, and @fangswbenefits! For any of your WIPs, your words are: smirk, blink, murmur, moon, and gold! :)

Thought I Dreamed Her:

You ran through, stumbling out onto the slick surface of a skyscraper’s roof. Rain poured from the sky in buckets, frigid even through your suit. It must have been midnight here, too, and Nueva York was surprisingly quiet—save the flicker of flames and the pillar of pluming smoke not five blocks over. “Shit,” you breathed, already webbing onto a neighboring tower and swinging head-on into the air. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Miguel?”

That Poison, Reconciliation:

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Eliana’s ears perked and twisted towards the source of the lowered voice rumbling from the darkest corner in the space, so quiet that she would have missed it had it not been for the way that its vibrations resonated within her ribcage and caused her to shiver. Eyes mostly adjusted to the dark already as she turned her head, she could just make out the nigh incorporeal silhouette of the gripper Pokémon slumped against the rocky wall. His golden markings weren’t glowing, but the wan moonlight peeking in over the ceiling’s edge highlighted them in a mercurial gleam. His arms were folded across his chest, the mass of his amorphous frame hunched to prevent his antenna from scraping against the alcove directly over his head. His eye, crimson ringed with saffron, was the only source of light save for the stars reflected off the waves below and the smoldering embers languishing amongst the ashes between them.

Constellations:

Steven hesitated. You saw it in the way that his shoulders hitched with his breath, the way his eyes flicked off to the side then back to your face again, the way his grip on your hand tightened. Your pulse thumped heavily against the press of his fingers. “I…um. Well.” He cleared his throat, straightened up and patted your knuckles. Disappointment flashed through you before you could bottle it up. “I suppose I ought to let you get back to work, yeah?” He bit the inside of his lip, then reached up—seemingly on impulse—to cup your cheek, smoothing his thumb over the faint vestiges of moisture still lingering in the sagging half-moon beneath your eye. “Feel a bit better, at least, love? To have let it all out?”

Promises Kept:

"What's wrong with him?" you whispered, frowning. You slipped off your shoes and eased closer, taking care not to make any noise other than your socks sliding on the carpet. He has taken ill. Elizabeth gave him medicine, but it is doing little good. Khonshu remained perfectly still, unnaturally so, only turning his head to address you directly. You'd long grown used to his lack of breathing. My abilities are limited outside of my influence over an avatar, when it comes to healing.

Aaaand...just for kicks and giggles, here's a sneak peak on a WIP that I need to devote some more time to, The Warmth of Your Doorways:

“Who’s that, LT?” Johnny piped up, leaning back in the seat, tipping his chin inquisitively, and flashing him a smarmy smirk. “Your housekeeper?” The Ghost’s eyes narrowed into an acidic glare, but the Sergeant’s resulting laughter unfortunately drew Kyle’s attention as well, raising an inquisitive brow. The Ghost turned his back on the duo and dropped his head, lowering his tone into a rasp directed carefully into the receiver. “I’ve got to let you go—wheels up soon. I’ll keep you posted.” “…Please be careful, Simon,” you told him quietly, worry tinging your tone. “I know you have to go dark, but…let me know that you’re okay as soon as you can, all right?”

Find the word tag

Thanks for the tag @willtheweaver

My words: fish, grope, touch, reach I was searching in my WIP Foreigner God

fish

He wants to protest but the dark storm he sees in Tiery’s eye stops him gaping like a fish out of water.

grope

touch

He feels the earth breathing under him. The grass stretches to touch his skin, to offer him comfort. All his anger and pain is drained out of him, swallowed and processed by the soil, and coming out as something new, something beautiful.

reach

He can’t do more than reach out his hand like he’s drowning. The cold is unbearable now. He can feel the darkness wrapped around him, suffocating.

No pressure tag for: @i-devour-words, @sincerely-sofie, @denalilily, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @highmidvoiddemon Your words are: soul, spirit, ghost, breath, idea

[beautifulbows924]

A God, a Mercenary, and a Gift-Shopist

Steven Grant, Marc Spector, & Khonshu x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hopefully, this will tide you over while we wait for next weeks episode and I finish up some requests! It’s a cute little fic my head turned into- well this. I’m definitely willing to write more for it, maybe some full-on Khonshu smut if anyone is interested in reading it. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1.1K+

Warnings: Fluff, No Spoliers, Smut!

Summary: You meet Steven at a coffee shop, falling in love with him, and two others connected to him.

Steven

You’re in line waiting when you first see him. He’s cute, sitting at one of the many empty tables in the back, glasses halfway down his nose- like they had fallen and he didn’t care to push them up. You watch him for a while, but he doesn’t notice you, too captured by the book that sits in front of him.

The barista calls your name, pulling you from your trance. You grab your coffee and thank her, moving toward where the man is sitting.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”, you ask, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

He looks around for a moment. There are other open tables, and yet, you choose to sit with him.

“Sure”, he says softly, closing his book.

You look at the title, sitting down in front of him, “The Egyptian Book of the Dead, interesting”.

“Ah- Yes, well I work at the museum”, he tells you, pointing across the street, “It’s nice getting to see the exhibits everyday, makes you want to learn more about them”.

You look at him excitedly, almost impressed? He sighs dismissively, “I work at the gift shop. The pay is good, but my boss is quite harsh- and that’s on a good day”, he pauses, noticing your expression hasn’t changed, “I’m sorry if you were looking for a tour guide-”.

“No!”, you interrupt him, “I actually saw you while I was in line and I thought you were cute so I came over here”.

He fiddles with his fingers, not quite sure what to say.

The silence lasts a while, longer than considered comfortable, before you decide to speak, “I’m sorry if that was too forward, I can leave if you’d like”, you offer, gathering your belongings.

“I want you to stay”, he says quietly, looking at you through the dark curls splayed across his face.

You stop your actions and smile at him, beginning an awkward conversation that eventually becomes more natural.

Your coffee’s long forgotten.

Marc

He groans, stretching his arms above his head, trying to adjust to the dark lighting. Steven’s phone beeps beside him, lighting up with a message. I’m looking forward to our date, it reads.

He makes his way to the bathroom, phone in hand.

“What’s this”, he asks, holding it up to the reflection.

“None of your business”, Steven responds, annoyed. He doesn’t want him to have anything to do with you.

“It looks like something.”

“Yeah, well it’s not”, he tells him again.

“Oh, so you won’t care if I just-”, he starts to text back, telling you something has come up and Steven can’t make it anymore.

“Alright, alright”, he says, “I met them at a coffee shop outside of work, happy?”.

“Yup, and I’m going on your date”, Marc says, walking away from the mirror.

“Like hell, Marc! Marc!”.

It’s obvious to you that he’s not Steven from the minute he sits down. The two men carry themselves very differently.

You wait a few moments, then ask him, “Who are you?”.

Marc looks at you curiously, wondering how you could have possibly figured it out so easily, before explaining himself.

Khonshu

“You’re doing it wrong”, his voice rings in Marc’s head.

The avatar turns slightly to look at the God, trying to convey that now isn’t the time. You’re underneath him, writhing on his cock, pleasure written all over your face.

“Let me have control”.

“What?”, he halts his movements.

You peer up at him, wondering why he stopped.

“Sorry, it’s not you”, he says.

“Did something happen?”, you ask softly, bringing a hand up to caress his face.

He leans into your touch, “No, it’s just Khonshu. He’s here”.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him watching you together, and you say something you normally wouldn’t, “Is he enjoying the show?”.

Marc looks taken aback, glancing towards Khonshu for some kind of a reaction. The God moves closer to you both, beak rubbing against your neck.

You can’t see him, but the air shifts around you and it’s almost as if you can feel him.

“Don’t forget, you owe your life to me Spector. Now give me control”, he orders him, standing at his full height.

“He wants to take control”, he tells you.

You involuntarily clench around him at the thought.

You want the God to take you, make you his.

Marc grunts at the feeling, restraining himself from continuing his previous actions before you give them your consent.

“I want him”, you tell him honestly, “You and Steven don’t mind?”.

He looks to the mirror hanging above your bed, and Steven shrugs, “Don’t look at me, it’s up to them”.

Marc shakes his head at you, leaving a gentle kiss on your neck.

“Then I’m ready.”

He sits up a bit, still inside of you, waiting for Khonshu to possess him.

His eyes glow bright blue, before returning to normal. Hands cup your face, forcefully smashing your lips together. It’s rough, passionate- everything the God has wanted since he saw Steven talking to you that day.

He rutts into you, impaling you onto him, continuing to explore your mouth with Marc’s tongue.

The sounds you make and the feeling of your body against his drives him mad.

Your hands move of their own accord, gripping onto his hair, trying to ground yourself. The feel of it makes you realize that this is amazing, but it’s not exactly what you want.

You want him, not him through Marc.

You stop, placing your hands on his arms.

He looks at you, confused and a bit upset.

“Is there a way for me to do this with your true form?”, you ask him softly, embarrassed by your own question.

His eyes bore into yours and under his heavy gaze, you turn away. “Don’t be bashful now”, he chides, his voice a mix of Marc’s and what you assume must be his own.

One of his hands grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I would need to mark you as mine”, he says, “But once I do, there is no going back”.

You think about it. Your feelings for the God at the forefront of your mind.

Steven and Marc hardly speak of him, but after you moved in, odd things began happening.

Coffee would appear- made exactly the way you like it, both men swearing they didn’t have anything to do with it. Important items, you’re certain you lost, would make it to their proper places- like they were never lost to begin with.

It’s the little things, how he is with you. Quite tender, for the God of Vengeance.

“I’ve been yours all along”, you tell him, your lips meeting his. The kiss is softer this time. Sweet even.

“All of yours.”

You’re not exactly sure how your relationship will work-

A God, a Mercenary, and a Gift-Shopist.

But you know you’ll be with them, and that’s all that matters.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below <3

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[k1ss-m3-b3tt3r]

✟ Mary on a Cross ✟

pairing: Khonshu x gn! reader (platonic), mentions of marc and steven

summary: you cant see khonshu but you can sense him until one day you do see him. marc tells you how much of an over-the-top asshole hes been. as marc speaks about it, you realize this might be deeper than expected.

warnings: swearing

a/n: this is my first post and first fanfic in a long time. please, be patient with me and happy reading. :)

all day, and i mean all day, you couldnt get this stupid song out of your head. it was almost like it was drilling into your brain to put it simply. even at work, your coworkers kept asking what the song was while you were unknowingly humming it. you cursed at yourself, not being able to help it at this point.

there was only one cure to this and you had to just listen to the song over and over again until you pass out, which was a common assurance due to your constant loving music ass.

“couldnt survive one day without it can i?” you said just trying to stare at the clocking zoning out, hopefully for some reason thinking it would move faster. now, what song you may ask, its mary on a cross by ghost. with that song floating around the internet, who couldnt have it stuck in their head 24/7.

“FINALLY!” you said loudy, disturbing the people around you but honestly you didnt care. you barged out of work, clocking out and just saying a quick bye to a few coworkers that, surprisingly, didnt piss you off.

luckily, you didnt miss the bus on your way home. as the bus pushed you back and forth with every stop, all a sudden your ring tone blurted out causing you to freak out for a second. “well, that was hella embarrassing.”

you read the contact, “steven? what does he want?” you looked outside and it was almost dark with the sun setting already. you knew it was a long shift but damn. you clicked the answer button and immediately heard a grumpy voice.

“ah, marc whats up?” “howd you even know,” he responded with a slow sigh after it. it took you a second but you connected the pieces. “back from work?” you asked, not surprised hearing a long yup. “do you mind coming over to drop off some milk or something. im trying to actually cook for once but its not exactly going as planned,” marc groaned loudly.

‘such a drama queen,’ you thought and honestly you might be right half the time just thinking about past occurrences. “alright, guess ill come over and cook tonight,” before he could even say anything you hung up not ready to put up with him.

‘damn it, i might not even be able to listen to the song,’ you groaned, sounding just like marc at that point. then, the bus almost threw you while saying next stop and i mean.. it is your stop so you guess you should honestly be grateful for the driver notifying you?

you moved through all the bags and people in the bus until taking a step off the bus and onto the dirty ground while carrying your satchel, which old but it worked for its purposes. you turned back and the bus was quickly turning around a corner. ‘those poor people,’ you laughed lightly to yourself.

you walked into your apartment complex and it was a bit dingy you must admit but it was home and at least you had one. you lived two doors down from marc or steven i suppose, depending on the day.

“you go down.. bloody mary mary on a-“ you swung the door open as you kept murmuring the song in and out. ‘can nothing stop the song already?’

your apartment was pretty boring, not going to lie. you had basic minimal things: a couch, crusty wooden chairs, a table that feels like its going to tip over any minute. “yeah.. maybe i should fix that soon..” you slowly muttered to yourself but reminded yourself that you had a meal to cook two door doors down.

you threw your stuff down from work and grabbed the milk, slamming it closed and sighing because you had to go back and close it gently. then strutted your way down the hall outside the apartment for which you live in and gently knocked on the door.

there was no answer. “MARC IMMA HOLLER IF YOU DONT LET ME IN!” you were so mentally tired and exhausted. eventually, the door swung open when you knocked even harder repeatedly.

“you were already hollering in the first place,” he rolled his eyes, “come in, i guess.” “you better be greatful im even cooking you food. “well, it wasnt a choice was it?” he squinted at you. what he said was true so you went around him and inside his apartment.

still looked the same: books everywhere, everything scattered but organized at the same time? ‘how the hell does that make sense?’

as you started cooking this meal, which you arent even a good cook actually, marc started ranting about his day and how khonshu, yes you know about him, was a dick. i mean, you figured after hearing marc constantly argue with them ever since you found out, which was easy. ‘people are so dumb nowadays or.. maybe im smart! nahhh’

you were constantly in your own thoughts until marc started saying stuff that concerned you a bit. “it was like khonshu was having a grumpy breakdown or just wasnt paying attention to the job! he was weird. like stop zoning out for one minute just staring at people! its creepy and on top of that, he kept mentioning how he looked constantly?-“

“what about his looks?” you inquired. “im not even sure at this point, he just comparing him and other gods and people, and how he was never really worshiped blah blah blah. besides that, it almost seemed like hes been grumpy and attention seeking, trying to “fit in” i guess. and im like STOP IT youre a god am i right?”

“hum.. are you sure it was attention seeking and not yearning for the fact that he is not like you and me?” you could sense the upsetting aura around you and knew khonshu must be there, which was a rare occurrence to you.

“you could be right or you could be wrong, im not sure,” marc actually looked thoughtful for a second before saying, “but hes a god, what more can he want. im going to take a shower, you can tell me when its done.” he walked out of there with a questionable face, but you didnt question anything as you kept stirring the pot just full of noodles and alfredo sauce.

you felt the presence growing stronger and stronger and sadder and sadder. you started humming and humming, not able to take it anymore and started up your phone playing mary on a cross, finally trying to get it out of your head. you couldnt help but sing along with it.

“but through all the sorrow we were riding highhh,” trying to hit that note and actually nailing it, you fist bumped the air and continued, “and the truth of the matter is i had to let you gooo let you gooo!”

you turned around and quiet down for a second singing, “you go down just like bloody mary… mary on a mary on a cross..”

you look up and there you were looking khonshu in his eye sockets and got a really good look at him. surprisingly, you werent startled and just kept going, “you go down just like holy mary mary on a mary on a cross”

you leaned in touching his beak letting him know you were there and could see him, “not just another bloody mary mary on a mary on aaa”

as the chorus picked up, you took your hand off and started fake drumming making the mood lighter and goofier, you werent a sap and you knew it so you did the best you could, “you go down just like holy maryy mary on a mary on a cross!”

you turn towards him and laughed a bit but these words unknowingly stuck with him harder than you anticipated, “your beauty never ever scared me!”

he turned away and laughed silently embarrassed but glad for a quick second, which was strange of him and concerning for other people but he honestly did feel better. he gave you a thought as you kept singing and vanished after saying, “thank you..”

you nod and keep singing until you hit the last verse of the song. the energy around you felt so much lighter than before and you finally got that stupid song out your head. ‘i guess it wasnt so stupid. it cheered him up at least a little bit’

marc walks into the kitchen, all dressed and ready for food clearly. as you poured the bowls you decided not to tell marc about the little interaction with khonshu and im sure khonshu wouldnt want you too either, especially after somehow seeing him, which is odd in its own way.

as you looked up marc was less irritated and just plain tired, so you guys only had a little small talk and a quick thank you before you were kicked out.

“rude!” you went into your apartment and couldnt help but think about khonshu.

“hope he feels better..”

[thisisarcanereverie]

Hello! Can you do another dark moon knight fic where Marc Steven and Jake kidnap the reader? Thank you!

Reflections (Dark! Moon Boys x Fem! Reader)

Hey Fella's I'm back! So I got these two asks a while ago that were similar and so I decided to make one. Considering I just don't have a lot of mental energy right now but still I wanted to try to write something. It might not be that good but still.

Also I want to reiterate that none of the gifs I use are mine, I mainly get them from Pinterest or I just look them up here. I also don't own any of the characters I write since they belong to disney and marvel respectively.

WARNINGS: Deals with Dark issues such as Stalking, Obsessive and Possessive Behavior, Death, Dissossiation, DID.

Summary: You were only a fragmented reflection of who you used to be before them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My darling you would never believe the day we’ve had.” You continue to stare at the reflective wall as you assume Steven from the posh accent ranted about his day, well, their day. Considering the body belonged to more than just him. So far you only know Marc and Jake, although you couldn’t be sure if there weren’t more.

The smell of fast food made your stomach turn as Steven continued to ramble about what someone named Gus was up to or someone named Khonshu, which was a weird name to have in London but, who were you to judge?

It’s been this way for a while, you weren’t sure how long exactly, and you weren’t sure how you ended up here anyway. You worked for the National Arts Gallery where you and Steven first met, you were mainly stationed in the HR department but more often than not you found yourself roaming around the Egyptian Exhibit of the Gallery. You’ve always noted the shy Gift Shop employee, but never spoke to him until you saw Donna, the Staff Manager, in one of her tempers. Berating the poor man in front of everyone, just because a child had a question about one of the artifacts on display. You had interfered, giving her a warning that she was not above HR, and gave Steven the number for your desk in the HR department and to ring you up if he would like to file a complaint. 

Little did you know you should have just looked the other way. 

Just that one time. 

You should have looked away. 

Because after that Steven viewed you as a savior of sorts. An angel really. When everyone else just looked away you defended him. And Marc, who was semi present at the time of this occurrence, watched as Steven steadily became more and more obsessed with you. And Marc couldn’t lie, he was starting to be the same. You were beautiful, and you were genuinely kind. Something that has been all too rare in their life. They both watched you go about your day without you knowing. They know you wake up and brew your coffee before hopping in the shower. You always blasted some old 40’s songs as you got ready which they loved. You took your coffee with a lot of cream but no sugar, you went to work for HR and on your lunch break you liked to stroll around looking at all the different exhibits before finally settling down for the final stretch of the day. After work you don’t go immediately home, you walk by where the river is and just watch the water move. You would stay there for about half an hour before making your way back home. Occasionally, usually on a Tuesday or after friday you would leave work to go grocery shopping, sometimes stopping by a wine and spirit store for some wine. Once you made it safely home they would continue to stand outside, hoping for just a glance at you before returning to their apartment across town. 

Then one day, they noticed a man in your apartment. So far the day has been normal. You went to work, they watched as you strolled through the Egyptian exhibit, they even talked with you a bit. Because they just couldn’t control themselves. You often inquired about how Donna was treating them, but Steven lied and said it got better after you stepped in. He didn’t want you to worry. After talking a bit you went back to HR as Steven went back to working at the Gift Shop. Replaying the smile you had on your face until the end of his shift. He followed you as usual, to the lake then back home, Steven had switched to Marc at some point and as you entered your apartment building Marc noticed something strange. 

There was a light on in your apartment. 

And a silhouette of someone else as well. 

Marc couldn’t get a decent look at the man but when your silhouette joined the strangers in an embrace he felt something in him snap. Something deep and an emotion he hadn’t felt in so long took over. 

Jealousy.

Then suddenly his head began to hurt and his vision blurred until it all went black. 

It was four days until Marc and Steven regained the body. To them it felt like waking up from a bad hangover. Marc was first to regain control over the body, at first he wondered why it was so bright and where he managed to wake up this time. It took a fair few minutes to register the familiar reflective walls of the storage unit he rented, and your lovely frame quivering on his cot. 

Marc tried to remember what had happened, only recalling the feeling of jealousy and a man’s silhouette in your window and your embrace of him. Then the pain in his head and now this.

He tried talking to you calmly, as you filled him in on details. Apparently he had murdered the man you revieled to be a boyfriend in front of you and then drug you all the way here. He told you to refer to him as Jake Lockely to which Marc’s reaction was just great towards. Now he apparently has not one, but two alters that are complete polar opposites. Steven was shy, he at least wouldn’t kill someone if he had any other option. Choosing to simply look on and stalk than attack, meanwhile Jake seemed to be the type of person to kill first and ask questions later. Which Marc can all too relate to. 

He calmed himself before taking a moment to assess the situation. You, their dream girl, not only saw them murder someone, but also know about the alters now and were being held captive in a storage unit that Marc rents and that he soundproofed ages ago for when he had his night terrors or in case Steven woke up here instead. 

Maybe this didn’t have to be such a bad thing. 

You’ve seen the worst of them, got all the nasty and dark parts of him out in the open. Now there were only the good things to share. And since you were in the storage unit, and the chances of you actually escaping were slim to none, you’d have to rely on them. Marc had you exactly where he wanted you to be. 

So he kept you there, and discussed things with Steven and Jake, or as coherently as they could have. They all agreed that the storage unit would have to be a temporary thing. They love you and want you to be comfortable, so a big move was being planned. A property just outside the city, no more rent or heavy traffic where it would just be you and them. The combined funds of Jake, Marc, and Steven were enough to cover a down payment and some security measures to ensure your safety. 

So now here you were, still in the storage unit since Marc claimed there were still modifications that the house needed before the move. You’d long since stopped the fighting, it wasn’t getting you anywhere. You instead stare at your reflection in the wall and fade away while they confide in you. You dream of the life you could have lived if you had just looked away that one time. 

You don’t know if things would’ve worked out with your boyfriend, but you liked to think it could’ve. That eventually you would’ve moved in together, vented to him, joked with him, got a dog with him. Just living a simple, normal life. Where the sun would make an occasional appearance in the sky and shine on your shoulders, where you would walk aimlessly through ancient art, and where you watch the way the river moves underneath the fading light of day. 

You live as you sit lifelessly on that uncomfortable prisoner's cot and stare into a reflection of the person you used to be. You're trapped in hell but you live and dance and enjoy all life has to offer, at least in your dreams. Where there was no such thing as Marc Spector the Mercenary, Steven Grant from the Gift Shop, or Jake Lockely the Limo Driver. 

Where there were no more reflections.

Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@yuki235171

@dopeqff

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@later-gators12

@lovepeaceorelse

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@8hgel

@onestopficshop

[innak1]

Can’t You See Me? My Moon, My God (Part 1)

So I finally decided to finish part one and yeahh, its kinda canon convergent and nonconvergent, so if you haven’t finished the show please do. I don’t want to spoil anyone. 

The prologue is here uh if you haven’t read it, and kinda warning for small panic attack, and I think that’s it, If I have any typos... that’s embarrassing but most importantly please point it out so I can fix it. Next part I’ll try to make longer

Prologue

It's been so long since you'd last walked this Earth, everything is so new. The sun shines brightly above you, as it warms your skin. Although you care nothing of this new world around you at this point, you simply just want to find your god. You wander into a building with familiar images of gods, whos faces you'd not seen in so long. "Hello there, I saw you were looking at the banner outside, are you interested in the gods of Egypt? Oh, apologies my name is Steven." You look oddly at the hand outstretched to you. "I am not interested in idle chatter, I am looking for someone." You of course didn't mean to sound rude, but you were not aware of how to speak in this time period.

"Do you need any help?" Steven asks. "I am not sure you would be of much help." You wander off dragging your hand across one of the pillars, when you're suddenly pulled behind one of them by the wrist. "What in- Steven what the hell are you doing?!" You hiss out at him, yanking your wrist out of his hold. "Well- you see there's this not so nice fellow following me, I think I just saw him," he whisper-shouts, if you can even call it that. "I am not one for invasion of personal space..." You mutter. You briefly hear an apology and then a squeak?

"Steven Grant of the Giftshop."

Steven immediately bolts, although he doesn't get far since he's stopped by a group. You scan the man to the front of you. Nothing noticeably special or concerning about him until you see the tattoo on his wrist. Those scales... so familiar. It isn't until you see what he's holding that it all becomes clear to you. The scales, that staff, the early judgement and death that had once plagued the land. All those souls, sinking the ship that had once effortlessly sailed across the sands. There's only one name that occupies your mind, Ammit. The power of that staff should not be in the hands this mortal, nor any mortal at all.

Your blood turns hot and you seethe as he monologues about his god and how she's "true justice". It feels like a jab at Khonshu and you'd never let someone disgrace your god.

Maybe you were a impulsive, maybe launching yourself at the man who had the staff Ammit had gifted to her first avatar was a bad idea. It's not a maybe when you're struck in the chest with said staff. The air leaves your chest, and you feel like you're coughing up your lungs or it's just blood, you think as you clutch at your shirt.

You first notice there's something odd about Steven when his scales don't balance, nor do they stop at all. The Ammit followers soon leave, and as much as you want to follow your chest feels like it's on fire. Steven asks if you're okay, which you nod to before he helps you to stand up. The trail has long grown cold to follow those men, so you stick with Steven the rest of the day. The skittish man has said he was following him, they'd be back. Nothing is ever good when Ammit is mentioned.

You wait for Steven to grab his things before you leave the building apparently named a museum. You notice the man is taking a while and you vaguely hear him calling out for a dog before a voice seems to come from all around, the voice of that man from earlier. As his voice rings throughout your head, you all too soon realize the "dog" Steven was calling for was a damned jackal. The idiot is going to get himself killed you think to yourself, and you kind of need him so you swiftly follow the sounds of screams and cries. You soon join Steven in running as he knocks things to the ground attempting to slow down the jackal.

You weigh your options, you're stuck in a bathroom with a hyperventilating idiot, your chest absolutely throbbing from running, there's no way you're fighting this jackal and leaving scot-free. While you contemplate you fail to notice Steven having a crisis with himself in the mirror. The door bursts open and the jackal lunges at Steven, but you grab the creature by it's neck before it reaches him. It claws at your aching chest ripping your shirt and drawing blood, your grip loosens and as you stumble back you're knocked into one of the sinks and your vision turns black.

✩✧☾✧✩

"Do not look at them!" That voice, it's one that you could never forget, one that has stuck with you throughout your many lives. Your vision is hazy, your attempt at rapidly sitting up is unsuccessful. Indistinct shuffling and mumbling fills your head. "Khonshu..." The name comes out as barley audible rasp. "Marc, get them a shirt," the god demands, blocking your view of this Marc? "Why didn't you look for me?" Your voice cracking, gods you could use some water.

"Sleep, you need to heal," the god says harshly, and you feel like a chastised child. "I am not tired, can't you just accept me as your avatar, the armor will heal me as it has before. Have you gotten so old that you've forgotten how this works?" You successfully sit up this time, despite the protests of your body. Khonshu is silent for a while, but before you can question him you're handed a shirt. You unashamedly take off your torn shirt and put on the new one. You turn to Marc to thank them only to see Steven? What the hell?

"Khonshu?" Marc/Steven looks shocked at the fact you could see the god. "I will no longer be taking you as my avatar," Khonshu says, his tone leaving little room for debate. "Have I done something to be unworthy to hold the title as your avatar?" You hope your voice doesn't as choked up as your throat feels. "You've done nothing wrong, I simply have a new avatar I wish not to part with. Marc is sufficient avatar." You direct a glare at the man standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. "You deem this man a better avatar than me?" The disdain is evident in your voice.

In attempt to ease your anger, Khonshu and Marc try to explain why and how he became his avatar, adding in information about Steven, but the story does little to ease your rampant emotions. "It seems you will never understand my decision, My Star." With that Khonshu leaves, and you're left alone with the man who stole your god from you. You glare holes into the man in front of you, maybe it's attempt at seeing what was so special about the man. You have no idea what you're looking for so you find nothing, you're vaguely aware of Marc shifting uncomfortably under your stare, if he wants you to stop he'll have to tell you himself.

You finally release him from your stare, after getting tired of trying to figure him out. Khonshu does not do things without reason, he has to be lying, you must have done something. Did he think you not useful enough, not devoted enough? Your thoughts are never-ending. You pull your legs up to your chest and tuck your head down onto your knees. Did he find out of the feeling you harbor for him? Is he so disgusted at the thought of your love? No. I hid it well, you tell yourself, but those thoughts were no help. The world was constricting around you, your insides tearing you apart, pushing and pulling you in a seemingly indecisive internal battle. The air was leaving your body, you felt like you couldn't breathe. You choke trying to hold back the tears caused by the blatant rejection from your god.

Then silence. The bitter calm that surrounded you, tainting your taste-buds with it's foul taste.

"Are you- Are you alright?" Marc asks, at least you assume it's him because of the accent. "What's so special about you?" It comes out as almost a whisper and you think the man didn't hear you until he speaks up. "You were his avatar..?" The man states, but his uncertainty made it sound like a question.

"I wasn't just his avatar. I was his first avatar, you know nothing of my god." Okay, maybe that sounded a bit mean, but your heart felt like it was just torn out of your chest. "So, unless Khonshu just started this whole avatar having thing... wouldn't that make you like super old?" Marc sounded very confused, and honestly who wouldn't. "I am far older than your mortal brain could comprehend," it would sound more ominous if your voice wasn't gone from holding back tears. "...and your sad your not his avatar anymore? I find it odd you are not happy to finally be away from that god." If looks could kill, Marc would die a million times over after that sentence left his mouth.

"Okay.. touchy subject. If you don't mind me asking?" The look you give tells him to choose his next words wisely. "Why are you upset about not being his avatar anymore?" You stay silent, mere words could not explain the love and devotion you have for Khonshu, so why bother trying to explain to the god stealer. "So I'm going to go out on a limb and say you don't want to answer so... let's change subject. Khonshu asked me to let you stay here if you've got no place to go, and since you partially saved Steven, I'm trusting you not to murder me in my sleep."

You mull over staying at the apartment of the man who stole your god, but thinking about it if you stick close to him, you're closer to Khonshu. If this was all you could do to stay close to your god then you would take it... anything for Khonshu. "Okay God Stealer, I will stay."