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80pairsofcrocs · 1 year

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baby scarab || 64

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : THERE IS NO MORE SCHEDULE, IM SORRY also thank you all sm for the support and requests :)))

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader, layla el faouly x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, violence, language, angst, kinda rushed? angst, more angst, yelling, mentions of past child abuse, let me know if i missed anything.

~~~

you were sat at the table in the kitchen the next morning while slowly picking at a muffin steven had made earlier.

marc sat across from you, and layla had left earlier as well.

it was silent. too silent. you could hear every drop of rain that fell on the ground a couple stories down.

that was until you decided to speak up.

"so... am i still grounded?" you ask uncomfortably.

marc sighs a runs a hand through his hair. "yes. but.. for less time. and i know this will.. absolutely break your heart but.. but..... oh motherfu- jake you do it"

"no"

"darling listen.." steven takes over. "we decided as a group.. and your mother and even khonshu agrees but... we've decided that you won't be able to be arachnid until you're eighteen.." your heart drops at stevens sentence.

"what..?" you ask shakily and marc sighs.

"i know it's hard to hear, but we really mean it this time. we can't have you out there getting hurt-"

"but you do it all the time!" you interrupt. "jake knows how important it is to me- he agrees that i should have freedom! right jake?" you look to him in the mirror and he gives you a sad look.

"wha- jake?! you too?! seriously- i- you've seen what i can do- i-" you cut yourself off, tearing up and putting your head in your hands, allows resting on the table.

steven sighs sadly. "it's okay darling, we're sorry but- you need to focus on your school work, i mean it's the beginning of march and you're failing almost all your classes! you haven't even been in school all too much either!" he raises his voice and you look up at him.

"you can't do this- it doesn't matter if i graduate i don't even know what i'm going to do in life- all i have are these stupid powers!" you tell back at him and a stern look takes over stevens face.

"no, you listen. you need to graduate, i'm not letting you throw your life away-"

"why not?! you're already taking away everything else!" you cut him off again.

steven scoffs, which is something unlike him to do. "excuse me? we are taking away one thing- and it hurts you don't you understand? it's gotten you kidnapped!" he raises his voice another notch.

you groan out of annoyance. "steven just stop- im not giving this up, i can't" you start. "there's people out there that need my help-"

"they have us, kid" marc says and you look to the mirror where he looks at you. "you aren't invincible! you're just a kid, you shouldn't be out there risking your life-"

"neither should you! what if one day khonshu can't heal you?! what- what if one day i just sit here like an idiot waiting for you to come home and you never do?!" you stand up from your seat.

"y/n we will always come home- but you however are young and inexperienced. you are more likely to die out there than we are" steven answers. "we can't lose you. we are doing this because we love you, i need you to understand that" he quiets his voice and you sigh, sitting back down.

"but that's why i-" you're interrupted by khonshu appearing in a thick fog before he turns to steven.

"we must go!" he shouts and you look to steven in a panic.

"no! i- i just got back-"

"darling listen, we will continue this when we get back but you have to promise me you'll stay here-"

"don't just leave! what's wrong with you?!-"

"casper is coming over to make sure you stay put- now we really have to go-" steven continues to talk over you while his suit forms onto his body.

"steven this isn't fair-"

"don't talk to me about 'fair', now i love you, just stay here" steven days before leaving out the window, making you stare with wide eyes at all that just happened.

"great job 'dad'. sending my fucking boyfriend to come babysit me" you mutter under your breath as you speed walk to your room and slam the door shut, falling onto your bed face first.

that's when you immediately hear a knock at the front door and you groan out of annoyance.

"yeah okay- can't even get a fucking minute of peace" you mumble, swinging your door open to march to the front door.

you open it to see casper with a sad smile on his face. "are you okay?" he asks quietly and you sigh, dragging him in by his sleeve and shutting the door.

"i'm fine. it's not like you came here just to babysit me" you say sarcastically and sit down on the couch with your arms crossed.

casper sighs and goes to sit next to you. "i came here to make sure you're okay. and because i love you" he says honestly, and you look over to him.

"and to make sure i don't leave" you add and he shakes his head.

"even i know that i couldn't stop you if you really wanted to leave" he says and you nod. "that's true-"

"but you wouldn't. i can tell how exhausted you are right now" casper tells you and you look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

"i'm not even-"

"come on, marc told me everything that happened. have you even tried to sleep since then?" he asks and you stay quiet.

casper sighs and stands up in front of you, offering you a hand. "come on" is all he says before you take his hand.

he takes you to your room and pulls the blanket back on your bed.

you get the message and sit down, looking up at casper as he slips his shoes off before joining you.

"just get some sleep, okay? i'm worried about you" he pushes you down so that your head hits your pillow.

"i'm really not in the mood to sleep right now-" you try sitting back up and casper moves behind you to put his arms around your waist, keeping you from sitting up.

"casper-"

"you're not getting out of this and i'm not leaving until you fall asleep"

"how about you just don't leave at all"

"deal"

you smile to yourself before turning around in casper's arms to face him.

"and for the record, i love you too" you lean to press a kiss to casper's lips before burying your face in his neck.

casper sighs in content and hugs you closer, feeling almost just as tired as you were.

i'm not even two minutes both of you were fast asleep in each others arms, not a care in the world about anything that has ever happened.

meanwhile a few hours later you were still asleep, but in a different position.

you were on your back, head to the side while casper was still hugging your waist but with his face buried in your stomach.

and that's what jake had come home to.

he smiles as and shook his head before closing your door and quietly cleaning up the dried blood on his face.

it wasn't his by the way.

another hour passed and marc was extremely stressed about how tense them and you were before they left, and was almost scared of the next conversation you were going to have once you woke up.

he heard your door open a moment later and thought the worst.

that was until he realized it was casper and not you. he unknowingly let out a sigh of relief as casper approached him.

"how was she?" marc asks quietly and casper sits down next to him.

"justifiably angry" he starts. "i know that she understands why you're taking away arachnid, but it is a part of her now" he explains and marc sighs.

"i know but she's my kid.. she should be focusing on school, not listening to the news and going out to risk her life everyday" marc rants and casper nods.

"i miss her" casper confesses. "the real y/n. she used to try, like actually try. she had a job, and she tried her hardest in school but now.. she's changed so much" he takes a breath. "and i get that she's been going through things lately, like being kidnapped and- and taken by the police but- i need her back" he looks tearfully to marc, who gives him a concerned look.

"i can't let her destroy herself, i just can't" casper hides his tears behind his hands. "i love her marc. i would do anything to make her happy again"

marc puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "i.. i know how that feels" he starts. "i'm glad she found someone like you.. and i hate that i just admitted that" casper smiles slightly at marc's comment and wiped his tears away.

"thank you, sir"

"call me marc.. you've earned it" marc mumbles and casper nods before marc furrows his brows in thought.

and that was when jake fronted, and casper noticed a change.

"you guys didn't actually have sex did you?" jake questions and casper quickly shakes his head

"no- no. we didn't..." he says.

"but?" jake adds and casper sighs.

"she.. she tried to get something started and i could tell she didn't want it" casper starts. "i.. i stopped her before anything actually happened.."

jake looks down at the ground. "..are you both okay?" he asks and casper nods.

"yeah, i.. i know she wasn't in the right headspace.... and i knew she was hurting" he finishes and jake nods.

"thank you"

casper looks confused. "for what? i just did the right thing- anybody would've done it-"

"no i.. we thank you for protecting her. even though she's technically a 'superhero' she still needs someone" jake starts. "someone like you" he admits and casper smiles slightly.

he's about to say something when you come wandering out, yawning and wiping away the tear stains from your cheeks.

nobody said anything. you just stood looking at them.

"you guys were talking about me.. weren't you?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"all good things" casper tells you. he thought that one little lie couldn't hurt, as long as you didn't use all your energy up again from crying and being overall angry.

"does this mean you have to go home?" you ask him, not even bothering to acknowledge jake.

casper sighs. "i believe it does.. but we will see each other at school tomorrow, and i can help you get caught up" he offers while standing up.

you simply nod and tiredly walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him waist in a hug.

casper hugs you back and when you let go he heads to the door.

"i'll see you tomorrow, y/n. take care of yourself for me" he says before leaving.

you stare at the door for a moment before looking hesitantly at jake.

there was an awkward silence before either of you said anything.

"are you still mad at us?" jake asks which earns a scoff from marc at his bad choice in starting a conversation.

you furrow your brows and cross your arms in front of your chest. "what do you think, dip shit?" you retort and jake stands up with his hands on his hips.

"disculpe?" jake responds and you look away from him with a shake of your head.

"hey- look at me when i'm talking to you" he says sternly so with attitude, you look back at jake, who seemed to switch.

"don't call him that" steven starts, taking his hands off his hips to put them in his sweaters pockets. "you don't get to swear at us like that-"

"yeah? but what stopped me before?" you interrupt and steven takes a deep breath.

"don't interrupt me, and when you did it before it wasn't to hurt us- you better apologize to him or so help me-"

"so help you what? what are you going to do? send my boyfriend back here to babysit me while you go fuck around in your stupid suit?" you start angrily. "how about taking my phone- oh wait! you already have! god knows when i'll fucking get it back!"

"you watch your tone-"

"i'm not finished 'steven'" you say his name as if it's a curse in your mouth. "bet you're regretting adopting me now, huh? it's all been shits and giggles up until you took everything away from me! first my phone- and- and then arachnid- what's next?! are you going to starve me?! resort to beating me, because i damn well deserve it!"

stevens eyes widen at your words and the fact that your angrily yelling at him, marc and jake are just as shocked but can't find anything to possibly say.

"why did you even adopt me?! why bother trying- you've never been around kids before- and marc's had a bunch of trauma associated with it so why?!" you yell in stevens face and he hesitates in putting a hand on each of your shoulders.

"listen. we love you y/n, please just tell us why you're so worked up" he offers quietly and calmly and you stare up at him confused.

"..what...- you- answer my damn question!" you shove his hands off you you.

"we adopted you because we all saw part of ourselves in you.." steven starts.

that's when marc fronted. it was getting to be a bit too much for steven.

"even before jake.. me and steven both saw a part of ourselves in you. and you were hurting. you were overworked with school and your job, and you were being bullied at school- we had to at least help you" he starts and you calm down enough to listen.

"we.. grew attached. we became protective over you because we saw you as our kid. i have always had trouble expressing.. feelings... and so have you now please, please just tell us what's bothering you" he takes a breath. "please baby, i know you're hurting just tell us how we can help you" his voice breaks at the end of his sentence and you look down at the ground.

it's silent for a minute while you try and hold back tears.

"i.. if i can't help then what's the point..?" you start slowly, still staring at the floor. "i don't want to just sit here and do nothing... nobody else knows what's going on out there with harrow- and- and all that shit- i just want to stop it. it's my fault" you take a deep breath.

"i should've died out there where my mother left me.." you manage to rasp out before marc looks at you in absolute terror.

he moves his hands to each side of your face to lift your head up so he could look you in the eyes.

"don't you ever say that again, you hear me? nothing is your fault- and we're sorry for being so hard on you when you got home but you need to learn. you need to have a life outside arachnid, where you can get a job you love- maybe have a family of your own one day but you can't do that it you're constantly being hurt physically and emotionally" he pauses. "you need a break"

you don't say anything but your eyes gather with tears as you take in a shaky breath.

"..i'm sorry...." you manage to squeak out before tumbling into full blown sobs.

"i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to yell at you guys! i know why you do these things and i shouldn't take my anger out on you it's not fair! i'm sorry- i'm so so sorry-!" you get pulled into marc's chest, and your arms fall around his shoulders as you cry your heart out into his shirt.

"shh.. it's okay, we know you. we know you don't mean those things-"

"no marc you don't understand! i've been a horrible person to you guys and you didn't even do anything-"

"no. stop thinking like that, okay? i only want to hear you say good things about yourself, none of this self deprecating bullshit" marc rubs your back as you calm down, and you refuse to look up at him.

"i'm sorry.." you wipe your face. "stevens suit isn't stupid.. it's great" you sniff.

"it's okay darling, are you feeling better?" steven speaks up through the mirror on the wall.

"i shouldn't have yelled at you.." you say quietly, and wipe at your wet cheeks again.

"it's alright, you were just blowing off steam.. but next time just talk to us okay?" steven requests gently and you nod.

"good, now you seriously need to eat something, you're going to pass out from exhaustion" marc says and guides you back to the kitchen table where your muffin still sits from earlier in the day.

"if you want something else-"

"no.. it's fine" you cut him off and start taking small bites of the muffin.

you eat your muffin while marc sits across from you at the table, trying to decide if he should say anything.

he overall decides to, with the help of steven and jake.

"is there anything else bothering you..?" he asks and you look up at him and nod slightly.

he tilts his head at you as if asking you to go on.

you sigh and look down at the table, specifically the empty muffin wrapper.

"i just.. i miss how we used to be. i've been a terrible girlfriend to casper too.." you voice your worries and marc sighs.

"i miss you too. you lost yourself for a while and we are all here to help you, you know that" he starts. "and don't worry about casper. that kid loves you so much, i've seen it"

you look up at him and nod, slowly standing up from your chair, making marc do the same.

you slowly walk over to him to snake your arms around his waist and rest your forehead on his chest.

marc gently puts a hand around the back of your head and the other around your shoulder.

"it's okay. you'll be okay, kid" he tells you, which makes you tear up again.

you stood there with him for what felt like hours, and he didn't mind one bit.

steven and jake let him have this moment with you, letting him hold you while you calmed yourself.

who knows what the future would bring from here?

would you turn yourself around? would you go back to being an angst teenager?

but more importantly, would you lose someone close to you..?

i guess we won't know until later.

much later.

you thought this was going to be the end of this little chapter of your life didn't you?

tsk. you should know me better than that by now-

anyways, now, you're doing much better. it was now middle of april and you've gotten your grades up to C's, you get your phone for the day, and your dads take it at night and charge it in the kitchen.

your cats are no longer kittens, they have matured to the point where they fight for a spot on your bed, and whoever loses has to usually sleep with marc.

you'd gone on a couple dates with casper, who had gotten his first job at an ice cream parlor about 5 minutes away from his house.

so of course, he had to spoil you and take you to a fancy restaurant.

with a live quartet too. he wore the nicest clothes he had, and you did as well.

layla lent you an old dress of hers for the occasion, it was dark red with gold accents around the trim.

casper thought you crash landed there from heaven that night.

now back to present day, casper was walking you home from school while you fidgeted with your phone.

casper noticed the nervous tick, so he spoke up. "hey, you feeling alright?" he asks and you nod slightly.

"yeah.. just.. evie asked me to go to a party with her tonight and i'm nervous to ask my dads" you voice your worries and casper hums.

"well the worst they can do is say no" he points out and you turn your head to smile at him.

"i know. i guess i just needed reassurance, so thank you" you say kindly and casper opens the door to your apartment building for you.

"it's no problem. do you want me to come up with you?" he asks.

"no, that's okay. you should get home and get your brace off, i know it's been itching lately" you offer and casper chuckles.

"well i'll see you tomorrow then" he smiles.

you nod and lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips before backing up to the elevator.

"i love you, see you tomorrow" you smile and he waves before leaving.

you get a bit nervous in the elevator, watching the numbers rise as you reach your floor.

'the worst they can do is say no' you chant in your head before unlocking the door.

you walk in and leave your bag by the door while steven made tea at the stove.

"hey darling, how was school?" he turns to you for a second with a grin.

"it was good.." you say and steven turns to you with a confused look on his face.

"and..?" he asks and you fidget with your fingers before looking up at him.

"evie invited me to a party tonight.." you say quietly and steven looks over to the mirror on the wall.

"but it's fine if you want me to stay here i understand-"

"how much homework do you have?" marc asks and you blink a few times before answering.

"casper helped me finish it all during lunch"

marc sighs before nodding to steven.

"you can.. you can be out until 11 at the latest. and we will drive you there and back. you're lucky it's a weekend" he jokes and you smile at him.

"you mean it? i can go?" you ask excitedly.

steven nods. "you've been doing better, i think.. we think it'll be a nice reward for you, to keep you motivated, you know?"

"thank you!" you rush to hug steven and both marc and jake smile at you through the mirror.

steven reluctantly pulls away as jake speaks up. "now go clean your room"

"okay!- thanks dads!" you yell as you run to your room to begin cleaning.

i mean, what's the harm in letting you go to a party with your friend?

you've pulled yourself together and began focusing on school and your relationships with your loved ones.

you were finally you again.

what could possibly go wrong?

~~~

A/N : omg this took way too long, but IM BACK!! i have more time to write now and im back in my baby scarab mindset lol. hope you enjoyed, and ill see you later!!

~~~

taglist ---

@alexloveskili @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @thebiggestsimpshrimp @guyinachair27 @astrobuzzsstuff @mooonlight-and-stars @moonlighting87 @mateihavenoidea @inactive-things @alondrashultz @femalemarvelself @queenthorin1 @haileymorelikestupid @jvdethirlwall @justtiredandvibing @winterfrostsarmy @themapoftinyperfectthings @littlebird101 @atzlena @httpslinow @arrowurboat @m-brekker @lifeandbandmembers-blog @adamcarlsenslvr @violet-19999 @seninjakitey @bestgirlpip @panic-in-the-multiverse @in-between-the-cafes @branolagar @bl6o6dy @annoyingmarvelreader @bee-a-cool-kid @buzzitsbeee @wintergirlsoilder2 @crow-carcass @you-bloody-shank @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @valiantphantomangel @50shadesofcrocs @rayrlupin @kingshitonly @brekkers-desigirl @hutaos-gh0st @kayane28 @nevaeh-jasso @lizlil @scarabgrant @luvxxee @certainchildmentality @yikesitskennawrites @alexisabirdie @zlatolait-writes @thursdaywritings @izzzzy-the-amazing @angrykitsune01 @kult6 @deadthings-pdf @0scars1saac

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justafanficwriter · 1 year

Text

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

—

➾ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐭 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 [𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠]

➤ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐲 : @dindjarindiaries

Pairing[s] : Din Djarin [The Mandalorian] & Foundling!Reader [Gender Neutral]

Summary : When the streets of Nevarro can no longer satisfy your desires for adventure and belonging, you run headfirst into the Mandalorian — taking you on a journey that will change the two of you forever.

—

➾ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 [𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠]

➤ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐲 : @dumbbitchenergy17

Pairing[s] : Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Summary : A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

—

➾ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛 - 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠]

➤ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐲 : @80pairsofcrocs

Pairing[s] : Steven Grant x [Platonic] Reader, Marc Spector x [Platonic] Reader, Jake Lockley x [Platonic] Reader, & Khonshu x [Platonic] Reader

Summary : In which a schizophrenic teenager could see a certain god.

—

➾ 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠]

➤ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐲 : @yikesitskennawrites

Pairing[s] : Steven Grant x [Platonic] Reader, Marc Spector x [Platonic] Reader, Jake Lockley x [Platonic] Reader, & Layla El Faouly x [Platonic] Reader

Summary : You moved to London after you came back from the blip a year ago. You moved for a new change and a fresh start. Everything was going swell until you nearly get mugged and your strange neighbor is the one to save you. Now, you have the opportunity to learn about the man who has peaked your interest over the past couple of weeks; you’re going to do exactly that.

—

➾ 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠]

➤ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐲 : @l3m0ncyan

Pairing[s] : Steven Grant / Marc Spector x Hispanic!Teen!Reader

Summary : Moving from California to London in order to attend her dream school, Y/N L/N has to get used to the different climate and culture. Thinking it would only be her against the city, her across-the-hall neighbor helps her not only unlock her door but to get used to England. With things seeming well, a huge turn in both their lives happens and new secrets come out. Also, now it turns out Y/N has to help her neighbor save the world with the help of a moon god.

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x teen!reader #steven grant x teen!reader #marc spector x teen!reader #layal el faouly x teen!reader #jake lockley x teen!reader #khonshu x teen!reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #the mandalorian x teen!reader

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fluffyprettykitty · 1 year

Text

Summer sleepover

running from august 21st to august 23rd

We are celebrating life & anything good in it ☺️ and the reward is a drabble sleepover! Ilysm all and sending good and summery vibes of peace of love to you all year round!

As I had promised in the past we will use the same format as the 1.8 wlw sleepover to help me write my drabbles! What will you do is mix and match a character or several with one or several of the following categories provided.

⋆ Polyamorous ships are always encouraged. No platonic or daughter! reader though.

⋆ Darker themes are welcomed to my discretion. Check my requests page for what I'm comfortable with.

⋆ Please only use a character from the ones already provided. The same goes for all the categories.

⋆ I will either turn them into blurbs or drabbles depending on my inspiration but you can suggest to me what it should be.

⋆ I will do female reader for smut prompts and gender-neutral for fluff prompts. All will be written vague and over 21.

⋆ You can request up to three times.

⋆ You have to be strictly 18+ to participate.

⋆ The time frame is reserved for requests, I will write them and publish them as I see fit aka I don't want to post too much.

characters: Jack Russell, Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Thor Odinson, Gamora, Brock Rumlow, Layla El Faouly, Elektra Natchios, Bruce Banner, Marc Spector, Brunnhilde, Yelena Belova, Monica Rambeau, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Joaquin Torres, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Jane Foster, Kate Bishop.

aus: apocalypse, bakery, book store, brothel, celebrity, clone, detective, ghost, restaurant, porn star, tutor, maid, mechanic, mermaid, neighbor, stripper, yandere, werewolf, vampire.

kinks: latex, breath play, cockwarming, phone sex, gloves, choking, strip tease, uniform/suit, deep throating, titty fucking, squirting, dirty talk, sex toys, accidental stimulation, collaring, shower, sensory deprivation, somnophilia, lingerie, object insertion, lap dance, period sex, lactation, temperature play, edging, spanking, exhibitionism, handcuffs, clothes on, moresomes.

date ideas: day trip, road trip, library, museum, restaurant, camping, beach, drinks/bar, concert, walking, sightseeing, boat ride, dancing, spa, errands, mattress shopping, shopping spree, cinema, coffee, abandoned places, photoshoot.

domestic situations: trying new recipes, competitive games, painting nails, reading, cuddling, clothes shopping, packing for a trip, laundry, saying goodbye at the door, repairing things, changing bedsheets, exercising together, ordering takeout, bathing a pet, falling asleep, waking them up, complaining about family, movie nights, doing dishes.

☆ Just combine as many as you want however you see fit! And of course, when it comes to domestic situations and date ideas you can think of other things or be more specific on one situation! ☆

No pressure tagging: @that-sarcastic-writer, @tarrenterror25, @stargirlfics, @bvckysmoon @aphrogeneias @inklore @alohastyles-x @moonlight-prose @sunflowersteves @flordeamatista @e-dubbc11 @saradika @tom-whore-dleston

#selenes sleepovers #summer sleepover

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worstamongequals · 1 year

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What Can I Do

— That is the absolute last thing you need right now. Layla gently holding your face with her left hand, drawing soft lines to accentuate your eyes with her right, all while staring right at you with her lips slightly parted as she concentrates. No, no, absolutely not.

Layla El-Faouly x AFAB Reader

Warnings: swearing, smut‼️, oral, fingering, face riding, sharing a vibrator, infidelity (wedding day confessions; i don’t condone cheating ofc)

Word count: 3286

An AU where Layla and Marc’s wedding is set to happen after they get back from Cairo. You’ve been in love with Layla for forever, and as you get ready for her big day, she asks you why you’re not happy for her and Marc.

That night, you lay awake. Memories of her filled your mind and nothing you did could put them to bed. Layla, your wonderful, beautiful friend, is getting married tomorrow.

Today, you groaned, rolling onto your side and glancing at the green glow of the digital clock on your bedside table. 3:39 AM. She’s getting married today.

“To Marc.” You muttered aloud. “Fucker.”

Your mind wandered back to three years ago when she’d first suggested you get an apartment together. You were hesitant, but she couldn’t be more excited to be sharing a space with you. Her best friend! Her excitement dashed all the doubts in your mind, how could you tell her no? Shortly after you both had moved in was when she learned how terrified you were of horror movies. By the time It was over, you were begging to sleep in her bed. Your tone was joking, but she could tell you meant it, especially after you stuck your arm into the bathroom to turn on the light before going in, and again when you ran out of the room after turning the light off.

“Fine,” She had huffed playfully. “Just this once.” But then the next week, she suggested watching It Chapter 2. And the week after that, The Shining. And then one of the Saw movies. You couldn’t get that fucking puppet on the tricycle out of your head, and most nights, you found yourself crawling into her bed.

Your chest felt hollow as you remembered how warm and inviting the bed, and Layla, had been.

Layla had talked to you a couple days ago to confirm that you’d be there today, and you’d said yes without hesitation. But now… You weren't sure you’d even make it past doing your hair and getting dressed. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep and wake up too late to attend the wedding.

Layla, Layla, Layla.

Her name swirled in your mind, memories of her clear as photographs.

Layla pulling you onto a crowded dance floor, and with your body pressed against hers, you finally admit to yourself that you didn’t want to be just a friend to her.

The time someone mistook the two of you for a couple, referring to you as her girlfriend, and Layla didn’t correct them. Your heart swelled. It was around this time that you’d begun to convince yourself that you could do it; you could tell Layla everything. The thought of doing this didn’t seem so impossible now, and you’d started to feel like the reward greatly outweighed the risk. It would be so fucking worth it.

And back then, it felt so easy.

Layla had been begging you to go to the beach with her and after a few weeks of her relentlessly hounding you about it, you got some time off work, the two of you loaded the car up with all the standard beach necessities and drove off. She was driving, as usual. Layla was the safest driver you knew, both hands always on the wheel, never taking her eyes off the road. This gave you multiple opportunities to steal glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye. You loved when Layla drove. The energy in the car that day felt different and you had convinced yourself that Layla just knew what you were about to confess. You would tell her when you got to the beach. She pulled into a parking spot that was shaded from the sun by a large tree with drooping branches and the two of you took off your seat belts. Layla now had one arm resting on the center console and was using her other hand to check her makeup in the mirror. You took an imperceptibly (you hoped) deep breath, and gently placed a hand on her arm. “Layla?”

“Hm?” She turned to look at you.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a sharp buzz. Layla’s phone lit up, and so did her face. “Who’s that?” You asked, your confidence plummeting.

“I started talking to this guy, Marc,” Her gaze slid away from her screen and she met your eyes. “He’s nice.”

“Oh,” You plastered a smile on your face. “Good!”

“Yeah,” She shot you a small smile. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

And then Layla started bringing Marc around and you could hardly contain your jealousy, which made you feel awful when you realized that if you’d met under different circumstances, you and Marc probably would’ve gotten on really well. When Marc disappeared without warning, you felt guilty that your first thought was “Finally!” while Layla was devastated.

The guilt didn’t last long, though. He came back. Or rather, Layla found him. And she was upset, of course, but he explained himself away in that Marc-y way of his and things were pretty much back to normal. You didn’t know what happened in Cairo but it must’ve been pretty great for Layla to come back with an engagement ring on her finger.

Fuck Marc.

***

For five full seconds after you wake up, you are blissfully unaware of what the day will bring.

But then you remember.

And then you wish it was socially acceptable to miss your best friend’s wedding. Although… it was just going to be Marc, Layla, you, and Frenchie at a courthouse. It wasn’t like you’d be skipping out on a gigantic wedding party. Maybe society would be more forgiving in this case.

“Morning,” Layla walked sleepily into your room and plopped down onto your bed.

Beautiful as ever, in spite of the morning breath. Maybe a hint of apprehension on her face? But that was probably wishful thinking. “You look tired.”

“Wow, just what every girl wants to hear,” She grinned. “You don’t look so great either.”

You threw your arm across your forehead, covering your eyes. You must look like shit. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Cold feet? Maids of honor don’t normally get those.”

“Nah,” You said coolly. “What about you?”

“Couldn’t sleep either.”

“Ah, maybe you’re the one with cold feet?”

Layla shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. “We should start getting ready.”

“Mhm.” You sat up and let Layla take your hand and pull you out of bed.

The two of you took your time getting ready. Layla, you assumed, was moving slowly to make sure she looked perfect. Which wasn’t hard. Even before you’d had feelings for her, you knew she was gorgeous. You, on the other hand, were dragging your feet through the entire process. Anything to delay the inevitable.

“Want me to do your eyeliner?”

You gulped. “N-no.”

That is the absolute last thing you need right now. Layla gently holding your face with her left hand, drawing soft lines to accentuate your eyes with her right, all while staring right at you with her lips slightly parted as she concentrates. No, no, absolutely not.

“Why not?!” Layla turned away from the mirror and faced you, liquid liner in hand. “You look great with it!”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night, I might rub my eyes and ruin it.”

“You’ll be fine.” You’re sitting on a stool and she steps between your legs, lifting your chin and bringing the felt tip of the pen to your face. You worry, irrationally, that when she stands this close to you, Layla can see every (extremely gay) thought running through your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs.

You’re looking anywhere but her face. “Mhm.”

“I know you’re not, um, excited, about today. About the wedding.”

The way she talks about her wedding as if it isn’t her own strikes you as odd.

“Is there a particular reason why?”

“No, Layla, I swear I’m just really tired, I think I need a new mattress-”

“Please,” She moves on to your other eye. “I’m genuinely asking. I want to know.”

“Well…” You hesitate. She may really want to know if you think there’s something wrong with Marc, but you’re positive that the real reason you don’t want her to get married has never even crossed her mind. “I just think that Marc’s kind of a bag of shit.”

She laughed then, harder than you’d seen her laugh in a while, and you smiled. “I do! He’s cool and all, but…”

“But..?” She presses, her eyes still crinkling into a smile.

“I just, I’m so much better than him.” You tried to sound as if you were just joking. “I’m better than him and I’m awful. So that’s a low bar. And you deserve better. The best.” Anything to keep her believing that you really had no problems with the wedding or Marc. You may not want her to marry someone else, but if you didn’t have the nerve to confess your own feelings, who were you to stop her? You couldn’t be that person, ruining what was supposed to be one of the best days of her life, when you knew you weren’t brave enough to risk getting rejected after telling her how you felt about her. You would much rather sacrifice a potential lover than lose a friend.

“Yeah, you are pretty awful.” Okay, ouch. But there was a small smile on Layla’s face. “What makes you so much better than Marc?”

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t drag you to a courthouse. I’d do the whole shebang.”

“The whole shebang?”

“Yeah. You deserve a million shebangs.”

“Well, I really don’t mind a courthouse wedding–”

You cut in. “And I never would’ve left you.”

“That’s different.” Layla’s voice took on a sharp tone. “You don’t know what happened there.”

“Sorry.” You felt small all of a sudden. Maybe you’d pushed too far. “I would if you’d tell me. You haven’t told me much since you got back.”

“You have your own secrets.”

There was something in her eyes when she said that. Something knowing. And still, you felt the urge to lie.

“I don’t. You’re my best friend, I tell you everything.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me the truth,” She looked at you in a way that was soft and sharp all at once. “Why don’t you want Marc to be with me?”

You frowned. She had this so backwards. “It’s not that I don’t want Marc to be with you.” You sighed. “I don’t want you to be with Marc.”

“That’s the same fucking thing–”

“No,” You said quietly. “It isn’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped. For a good thirty seconds, she said nothing. “So, you…”

“Yes.” Your voice trembled.

“This whole time, you… Oh.” Layla looked down at her hands for a moment, playing with the eyeliner pen before setting it aside. “I didn’t think you thought about me like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I–”

“I never dreamed you would think of me like that. I didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Now you were confused. “What?”

“I have wanted this for so long, but it didn’t seem like you felt the same, so I tried to move on,” She swallowed. “With Marc. And he’s nice, but he isn’t you. And for a little while, I thought, maybe… Maybe if you felt something for me, this would help you realize it. But then he proposed,” Layla paused and met your gaze. “And I thought that if you had any secret feelings for me, surely that would bring them to the surface. I was stupid to say yes to him, but I didn’t want to throw it all away. I was afraid to start over, he knows me so well. The only one who knows me better is, well, you.”

This… wasn’t at all what you’d expected. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but your mind was blank. It seemed to you as though no words were good enough to describe your feelings for Layla.

So you didn’t try.

You just leaned forward and kissed her. Layla’s right hand cradled you at the base of your skull and she slipped her left arm around your waist, pulling you to her until your bodies were pressed against each other. You laughed nervously as heat pooled between your thighs at the sensation.

“I’m going to talk to Marc and call the whole thing off,” Layla murmured.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.” You whispered.

“You aren’t. I should’ve done this a long time ago. This, and,” She gripped your hips and walked you backwards until you were at your bed. “This.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought of this.”

“I think I have some idea.” Layla pushed you onto your back and straddled you. A shiver ran down your spine when she leaned over and began pressing soft, wet kisses to your neck, collarbone, and chest.

You slipped your hands under her shirt and ran your fingers across the band of her bra. It felt lacy and you’d never wanted to see it so badly. Layla tugged her shirt up and over her head, casting it aside, before doing the same to you. You reached up and pulled her in for another kiss and she cupped your breast in her palm. When her fingers brushed delicately over your nipple you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp from escaping your lips.

“I thought of you sometimes, when I was with him.”

She began gently pulling your shorts down your thighs. “I felt so guilty but I wanted it to be you.” Your shorts were on the floor now, and Layla was settling between your thighs. “It was never better than when I imagined you were the one doing those things to me. And now look at what I get to do to you.” You felt her warm breath on your clothed cunt when she exhaled.

“Fuck,” You whimpered.

“You want this?”

“More than you know.”

She tugged your underwear to the side. “Tell me then.” You jolted when you felt her tongue sliding into the seam of your pussy. Everything was warm and wet. You ran your fingers through her hair, gently tugging on the curls to spur her on.

“I’ve wanted you since that first night we went dancing,” Her fingers began circling your clit and you whined. “When that guy thought we were girlfriends, it sounded good.”

Layla paused, her mouth leaving you, and you bucked your hips searching for any kind of contact again. “You should’ve told me then, we could’ve done this sooner.”

“Well, fuck, Layla, I didn’t know it was that easy.” You said sarcastically, making her laugh. Her eyes were practically sparkling when she asked, “Do you want my fingers inside you?”

“Yes.” You said breathlessly. “Please.”

“So polite,” Layla’s voice sounded like something out of a dream. She watched, entranced, as her fingers sunk into your cunt. “You’re always so sweet to me.” She could feel you squeezing around her fingers as she spoke. “You like that? Hearing me talk?”

“I like everything you do with your mou-” Your words failed you when she curled her fingers into you, reaching a spot that had you seeing stars.

She put her lips back to your clit, licking and sucking in time with the way her fingers stretched you open. Your legs began to shake around her and she used her free hand to hold you in place.

Layla put her hands on your hips and dug her nails into your skin as she fucked you with her tongue, making you whine out her name. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you felt like your body was on fire. You started thrusting upward, shamelessly grinding up against Layla’s face to get more pressure.

“Easy, honey,” Layla’s voice was silky smooth. “All you have to do is tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“More,” You blurted out. “Harder.”

Layla laid down next to you and pulled you on top of her. She grabbed your waist and urged you forward until your cunt was just above her face. You could feel her warm breath every time she exhaled and you knew you must have been dripping wet. “Go as hard as you want.” You hesitated for a moment, and Layla noticed. “Go on.” She said, wrapping her arms around your thighs and gently encouraging you to sink down onto her.

You gasped when you felt her tongue on you again. She moaned into you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. You began to grind down onto her face until you found the perfect angle that had her nose rubbing against your clit. “Oh fuck.” You spoke through gritted teeth. “Layla, I’m not gonna mmph-” She dragged her nails down your back and you let out a low moan. “I’m gonna cum.” Layla hummed in response, and you almost lost it when you looked down at her. Her eyes were trained on you and she was looking at you like this was her whole purpose in life. With a cry, you started moving your hips faster, seeking the high that was almost within reach. You felt tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, and then-

Nothing.

Layla lifted you off her and you whined at the loss of contact. She leaned over and reached into one of the drawers on the dresser next to your bed. Your cheeks warmed when you realized what she was looking for. “Don’t you want to finish with me?” She smiled mischievously at you, your vibrator in hand.

“That- that would be,” You swallowed hard. “Yeah. Good.”

Her laugh was music to your ears. She clicked the vibrator on and placed it between the two of you before pulling you close.

“Hi,” You had a goofy grin on your face and you felt shy, even though you’d been riding Layla’s face a few moments ago.

“Hey.” Layla’s smile was just as silly. You placed both hands at her jaw and kissed her; you could taste yourself on her. You gently sucked on her lower lip and you could feel her smiling.

Layla closed the distance between you so that vibrator was pressed up against both of you, you both moaned. Your legs began to shake as you watched her grind against the vibrator and you.

You noticed the sweat beading at her forehead, the way her arms had started to tremble. Then she met your gaze. “Are you gonna cum, baby?” She said in a teasing tone. “It feels like you’re getting close.”

And that sent you over the edge. You wrapped your arms around her waist tightly, increasing the pressure of the vibrator against the two of you. Layla let out a cry of surprise, and then of pleasure.

The look on her face as she came was almost enough to make you orgasm all over again. The two of you sat there quietly for a moment, holding onto each other until you caught your breath. You smiled at Layla warmly before going to wipe yourself off and get a warm washcloth for her. You returned seconds later and began gently cleaning her up.

“So,” You broke the silence. “Would now be a good time to tell you that I kind of have a crush on you?”

“Oh my god,” Layla rolled her eyes and twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Really? No way.”

“Yes way! Wanna meet up after school and hug?”

She laughed and paused for a moment, before saying “I love you.” She leaned forward slightly and let her forehead rest against yours. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

You blushed. “I think I’ve probably loved you forever.”

“Silly, you haven’t known me forever.”

“Feels like it.”

#marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #mcu fic #smut #layla el faouly #scarlet scarab #layla el faouly x reader #afab reader #fem reader #layla el faouly smut #moon knight mcu #moon knight fanfic #moon knight #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #x reader #scarlet scarab smut

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moonlight-prose · 2 years

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♱ BELONG TO YOU ♱

a/n: this was a fic on it's own that had been sitting unfinished in my wips folder for months. but i'm shoving it into kinktober, because it is filthy as fuck. enjoy!

day twelve - threesome + body worship | kinktober 2022

summary: a never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: marc spector x f!reader x layla el-faouly

warnings: MINORS DNI, cussing, threesome, body worship, cum eating, fingering, my horrible attempt at dirty talk.

He looked pretty. That’s all you could remember in this situation, his question of what you thought about him when you first saw him now muddled in your mind. His hands ran down your sides, dragging you into his lap slowly and you did your best to give him an answer. What did you think about him? There were too many words to describe such a situation at a time like this. Fuck, you could barely even tell him what you wanted him to do next.

“C’mon tell me,” he cooed, head tilted back against the couch as your hands rested on his shoulders.

“I—”

The words caught in your throat when a second pair of hands trailed up your back. Their touch, lighter than his and yet still prominent enough to drive you just as crazy…if not more. You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know she was smiling. Her eyes alight with mischief as she caught his gaze. They knew the effect they had and still they did this on purpose either way—drew you taut with pleasure through only their so-called innocent touches.

“What did you think of me baby?” she asked—voice barely above a whisper. It had the hair on the back of your neck standing up, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed the juncture of where your neck and shoulder met.

You whined when she pulled away, desperate to have her remain right where she was. “Please…”

He tutted, hand reaching up to wrap lightly around your throat and tilt your head to face him. “You know how to get what you want.”

The words died in the back of your throat. You wanted to shout them, tell them the truth to finally have their touch remain in the places that you needed, but you could barely form a sentence. Layla’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear, her breath washing across your cheek, sending a shudder down your spine. They were doing this on purpose. Breaking you slowly with every caress, every whispered word, because they wanted you as much as you needed them.

“I remember you telling me he was pretty,” she breathed, eyes flashing to Marc’s over your shoulder. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded quickly, choking on your stuttered breath when his hips jolted up into yours. He’d placed you on his lap in such a way that your cunt now pressed directly against the bulge in his pants. They would drag this out until you were past the point of begging—half mad with built up pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to function without their help. In a way it made you want to remain silent even more.

“You’ve gotta speak up,” Marc said. “I know you want to.”

Whimpering, you shifted in his lap, breath stuttering when Layla’s fingers began unbuttoning your top. There was no doubt in your mind that they owned you completely. That you’d die for them if asked, because you couldn’t imagine living your life without them being a part of it. The road to get here was a long one; filled with enough twists and turns to leave you dizzy.

Yet this…their touch, their love, it was all you dreamed about and more.

“C’mon baby.” His voice had turned dark, an edge to it you’d only heard when he was in the midst of a fight.

You supposed this was a fight in itself.

“Be good for us,” Layla breathed, lips ghosting along your shoulder as she stripped the shirt from your body—chills spreading rapidly down your spine with a mere brush of her breath against your skin. She knew the effect she held over your body—your being—and right now she was wielding it to her strength.

Molding you to her hands, her wants and desires. Just as Marc was doing.

“He was—oh—” Her hands dipped lower, opening the button of your pants with ease, fingers trailing along the waistband.

Marc’s hand still remained around your throat—a grin spreading across his lips as he watched you shudder with every stroke of Layla’s touch. He’d told you before that there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing you like this. Fully pliant in their holds—nothing occupying your mind except them.

“I was what?” he asked softly, his other hand curving around your hip.

“You were pretty,” you gasped, head falling back against Layla’s shoulder as her fingers dipped into your already soaked underwear.

“Oh baby,” she cooed. You could feel her smile press against your cheek. “Is this all for us?”

Nodding, you rocked your hips forward, desperate for her touch to press even further along your cunt. She did as you wished. Spread your slick up to your clit and circling it lightly until you were shaking in her hold, chest heaving. Marc made quick work of your bra with one hand, tossing it to the side before leaning forward and taking a nipple into his mouth.

You dug your hand into his hair, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he laved his tongue over the peaked bud, tugging on it lightly with his teeth to elicit another strained sound from you. They were ruthless in their suppleness. Both exacting their pleasure on your body to drag you right where they wanted you. A never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.

“So beautiful like this,” Layla murmured, biting along your jaw, her fingers speeding up along your clit and drawing sounds from you that made her head spin. “Sitting on Marc’s lap like a goddess.”

He growled against your breast, biting into the side of it with an edge that made you jolt. He knew you liked a taste of pain with your pleasure—something he found he rather sided with as well. Nothing too hard, never enough to rip you out of the daze they put you in, but perfect enough to heighten in. The tighter grip you had on his hair told him how you reacted—his lips curving into a smile.

“You’ve got a perfect body.” His thumb rubbed into the side of your neck soothingly. “You fit our hands like you were fucking made for us.”

Layla hummed in agreement, her lips pressing against yours and guiding you into a kiss that left you gasping for breath. Their praise brought you into a new kind of high—sending your body into overdrive. It was their way of driving you insane, of reminding you who loved you at the end of the day. Who was there to protect you and keep you safe.

You never felt more at ease—more at home—than when you were in their arms.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” she whispered.

“Me first,” Marc retorted, sliding his tongue into your mouth with practiced ease. He kissed you as if he was finally breathing for the first time in ages. As if you were the only source of oxygen for the both of them.

“She’s close,” Layla said; the audible squelch of her fingers on your cunt now mixed with your panted breaths, your eyes barely open as they took what they wanted from you.

He groaned, grinding his hips up into yours and pressing Layla’s fingers even harder against your clit. That was all you needed to go tumbling off the edge with their names on your lips. She turned your head with her other hand and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss of teeth and tongue. You felt her hand fall to lay over Marc’s that still remained on your neck—both of them reminding you that you were theirs. No one else could have you, no one could take you.

Your mind whited out as pleasure shattered across your body, until the only thought in your head was of them.

“That’s it,” Marc encouraged you, his teeth digging into your neck before sucking the skin into his mouth. “So perfect for both of us.”

“Our love,” Layla breathed, ceasing her movements when your hand shot down, gripping her wrist.

You barely opened your eyes long enough to see Marc lift her fingers to his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. It caused heat to curl low in your stomach, a feeling of need building up with every passing second you watched him lick her fingers clean. You wanted them again, wanted to be the one who tore pleasure from their body just as they did to you. Marc’s heated eyes met yours, a grin curving on his lips. He’d gotten a taste of the thing he craved most and now he wanted to drown in it—in you.

You’d have them both by the end of the night. This you knew for sure.

#marc spector x f!reader x layla el faouly #marc spector x reader x layla el faouly #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly smut #moon knight #kinktober 2022 #my writing

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yikesitskennawrites · 2 years

Text

Transitions- Chapter Thirty-One: A Day At The Mall With A Friend

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader

A/N: This chapter is a little over 15k words. It is 38 pages double-spaced and it is the longest chapter in this series. Please do not expect each chapter to be this length, my minimum word count goal is 3,500.

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SHOOTINGS AND BOMBS

—

“Do you have quid on you?” Steven frets. He’s been like this since you told him that you were going to the mall with Layla during the television show you both were watching last night. He asked you plenty of questions about it, what mall are you going to? What time is she picking you up? When can they expect you to be back? Is anyone else going to be there? He’s acting like your parents when they questioned you about your social life and whereabouts.

“I can give you some, I think I have some in my wallet.” He adds and stands up from the chair, scraping it against the wooden floor with the back of his legs. You stab into your pancake, your fork clanging against the plate.

“I already told you that I have money.” You say. “I even have some to help pitch in for gas.” You doubt Layla would allow you to pay but you can try, and if she does refuse the money you’ll slip it into her jacket.

“Do you have your phone on you?” He asks and you nod and verbally confirm for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“Steven, listen, I’ll be fine.” You say. “Layla carries a gun on her and this time I’m bringing my taser so, if anything happens. We’ll shoot and ask questions later, alright?” You pop the pancake piece into your mouth and chew. It tasted cold but to be fair you have been eating at the dining table for a while.

“I’ll get you your jacket.”

“It still needs to be washed.” You say, you haven’t gotten around to doing laundry yet. That was your goal for tomorrow. You were too busy chatting to Layla and Jake and being so excited to see Layla in person that you completely forgot to wash your clothes. You were heading out in a pair of pants you wore a week ago and one of Marc's shirts. You figured that it belonged to Marc because it had a hoodie attached to the pullover and that seems like more of a Marc thing than a Steven clothing item.

“You can borrow one of mine.” He says. You watch him walk to the coat rack next to the door and pull off a jean jacket before blinking at it. “No, this is a terrible jacket to wear, what if you get rained on or a water puddle is splashed on you?” He hangs it back up and reaches for a brown leather one.

“Wear this.” He says as he holds it out to you and walks towards you. That was a Marc style of clothing. You know that you saw him wearing the jacket a couple of weeks ago.

“The weatherman said that it’s forecasted to be cloudy all day.” He adds as he sets it on the back of the chair next to you and scans your body with a look of mild displeasure. His eyes land on your shoes and frowns at them. Your toe has been wearing out the cover of your tennis shoes so it has created a hole at the end of it. You’ve been meaning to search for new shoes, but you got too wrapped up in other things to remember to look for them.

“Maybe we should get you some thermal socks too…” He says. “I think Marc has stuffed some into the back of the sock drawer.”

“Steven,” You breathe out. “I’ll be fine. It’s not a long ride to the mall and Layla is a good driver.” You decide not to tell him all the traffic maneuvering she did when she picked you up and dropped you off at work. He would go bonkers if he heard about the time that you were running late for work and she went between two buses to skip past them. You swore you had a heart attack by the time that you reached work but you clocked in a minute before you were scheduled to so it was fine. He bites the inside of his cheek as he stares at the hole in your shoes for a moment longer.

“I’m going to go get you those socks.” He declares before marching off towards the dresser. You almost roll your eyes as you stand from the chair and carry your dishes to the sink to wash them. You scrape the remaining pancake bits and syrup into the trash before holding the plate underneath the running water.

“I’ll wash those,” He says from behind you. You jump a bit and glare at him before your gaze softens at the small lump of fabric in his palms. “Get changed into these. Layla will be here any moment.” You set the plate into the sink and dry your hands on a towel before grabbing the socks from him.

“I’m already wearing socks.” You say.

“But not thermal ones, I can see your skin color through the fabric of the socks you’re wearing now.” He replies. You look down at the hole in your shoes and frown a bit at the sight that he was correct. Your white socks were thin fabric and the October cold weather is going to make your feet cold especially on the ride to the mall with the cold wind and lack of proper protection for your feet. You sit in the chair and untie your laces, kicking off the heel with your feet before you bend down and pull your sock from your feet and replace it with the thermal ones Steven gave you. As soon as you got them on, you knew that you were never giving them back. Steven made a grave mistake in letting you borrow something warm. These socks were yours until you either lose them or he forcefully takes them back.

“Wear a helmet.” Marc says. “And hold onto her waist.” You look up at him as you finish tying your shoes.

“Marc.” You deadpan. “You’re acting like I haven’t rode on her Vespa before.”

“The roads are more slick.” He says. “It’s October and the rain has been coming down lately.” It rained early this morning but not since then and the weather stated it wasn’t going to rain for the rest of the day and well into the night. He adds, “Maybe I should call you a cab.” You nearly roll your eyes at that. You are glad that they care but this was getting a bit much. Why are they being like this all of a sudden? They didn’t act like this when you went to work yesterday or the week before when it was pouring down rain.

“Why are you guys acting like this?” You ask

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Like this.” You gesture to Marc. He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest before you watch his posture slack into one of Stevens.

“We’re just worried, dove.” Steven says. You purse your lips and stare at him. Why are they so worried? You know that you have a deity interested in you and you just went through a mugging last month, but this level of worrying has never left their mouths. Everything has been decent lately. There hasn’t been anything new with the deity or the remaining cult members so why are they being like this? It was beginning to put you on your toes and worry you more than you bet they were worried.

“Did Jake tell you guys about something that I don’t know of?”

“No-”

“Remember that we shook arms.” You cut him off. “You both promised not to keep anything from me if it has to do with my life.”

“No, he didn’t.” He states. He wrings his hands together. “It’s just that we’re responsible for another human being now and not only ourselves.” You cross your arms over your chest. You could take care of yourself, you proven that over the year that they weren’t in your life. It was sweet that they were taking steps to make sure that you were cared for but it didn’t need to feel overwhelming for you and for them. You tell them that and you watch his shoulders relax and a small breath of air leaves him. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out, a text from Layla stating that she was outside of the building glowed on the screen before it went dark.

“Layla’s here,” You tell him as you put your phone back into your pocket and pull on the jacket Steven placed on the back of the chair. You pat your jean pocket for the cash you took from your tip jar in your apartment, the lanyard with the apartment keys attached to it, and your taser. You haven’t left the apartment without the taser since you got mugged, you were nearly on edge the entire time you went out in public since then. You were excited to see Layla, it’s been a little over a month since you last saw her. You speed walk to the door and tell them goodbye as you do so, your heart pounds against your chest as you try not to show your giddy smile towards the men because it was a little embarrassing to show your excitement.

“Wear a helmet and zip up my jacket!” Marc says a little loudly as you turn the handle and you salute at him before shutting the door and making your way to the elevator.

---

“Are you dressing up for Halloween?” Layla asks. The mall was busy for a Saturday before the holiday this week. There were plenty of parents who took their children to the fabric store to select costumes for the holiday. Currently, you were standing outside of said store and there were a few costumes on display on a rack. Your fingers grip onto the lace of a bumblebee costume gently as you process her question before letting go of the costume and shaking your head.

“No,” You say. “My work allows the employees to wear costumes as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job, but I’m not going to.” Your eyes trail over to a costume for Ghostbusters. You only watched the movie once and that was when you and your best friend watched it for the spooky season. You wonder how she's doing now. She’s turning seventeen next month and that’s another birthday that you’re going to miss. You made that decision to miss all of her birthdays and holidays when you committed fraud and spent your college tuition on flying to London. What is she going to do after she graduates high-school? She did say she wanted to become a veterinary doctor, but you don’t know if that has changed since she came back from the blip.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested,” You shrug. “I’m not going to spend money on wearing an outfit that I know I’ll never wear again.”

“That’s not very festive,” She replies.

“Are you going to dress up as anything?” You ask. She shakes her head. “Did you dress up as anything last year? Or the year before that?”

“Not last year.” She answers. “I was too busy mourning for my husband who I thought was dead.” Oof, ouch. You wince at her statement and she continues, “And the year before that Marc and I dressed up as hippies, but the party we were supposed to attend, we didn’t make it because Khonshu wanted his knight.” Khonshu being a party-pooper once again. At least he’s consistent and you know what to expect from him.

“Oh man,” You say. “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say other than that. She waves you off.

“It’s fine.” She shrugs. “He had his serving to do and I was told that the party was lame.” For a moment, you wonder if she’s making up the bit about the party being lame just to make herself and you feel better.

“You can dress up this year.” You say. “There’s nothing stopping you.” She eyes the costumes and shakes her head a little.

“I’m getting too old for it.”

“You said it, not me.” You say and she rolls her eyes as she gives you the middle finger and causes you to laugh. Your steps are in sync as you walk down the hallway of the mall and take in the decorations. There were Charlie Brown and Snoopy inflatables along with some cartoonish Dracula near the outlets in the walls. Fake cobwebs and spiders strung around the poles. Fake autumn leaves were taped to the walls and bats were strung from the ceiling. The Halloween spirit was on point this year, it was mainly to make it seem welcoming and inviting for the holiday but it also paired well with the haunted attraction they were building in one of the spare rooms. Above it, it says that it used to be an EAT which was a restaurant but it went out of business, so now it was being used as a spare room for whatever seasonal use.

“How was Switzerland?” You ask. In the center of the large hallway were some small rides for young children. It was the type that would sway you side to side or rock you back and forth in a small machine that looks like a school bus or a taxi with a green orb dude whose colors are scratching off. You used to love those as a kid and you would beg your parents for a dollar to have a good two minutes worth of fun. You would also beg them for any quarters to put into candy machines or fake tattoos slots.

“It was good.” She says. “I got the job done.” You smile at her as she stops in front of a brochure case. You don’t know what job she did and you don’t want to ask, but you know that she was back and she seems happy so that was enough for you. You watch her grab a brochure for horseback riding in London and another one for an aquarium in the city.

“We could go to these sometime if you’ll like.” She says as she holds up the paper. You nod at her with a smile on your face. “You want to go in there?” She asks and juts her chin to the clothing store across from you. It kind of looked like a Hot Topic from the outside of it with its dark interior and edgy clothing hung up on the walls and rows of accessories and stuffed animals. You would go there all the time in New York because you liked to look at the clothing, some of it was your style, but you mainly just enjoyed it because it was cute and felt a little unique compared to the other clothing stores with name brand fashion.

You nod and follow Layla into the store. The items were the typical stuff companies would try to sell to teenagers. Bracelets and necklaces with pop culture icons, Harry Potter merch, anime t-shirts that you vaguely recognize because someone in your math class freshman year was into it. Funko pops were stacked on shelves in the far corner of the store. It definitely smelled like teen spirit and with the twenty five dollar band t-shirts, it was a company selling overpriced items to young adults and teenagers who adored these fandoms and artists. You walk around the small crowded space, there are a few teenagers selecting lace tutus and purple and green striped stockings. One of them held a witches cap with fake twigs wrapped around the base.

You stop in front of a rack with candy and energy drinks with anime characters printed on the labels. You were considering getting something for your friends since you owe them big time. You already gave Layla her glass rose that you bought her when she was on her trip in Switzerland and she adored it. You were glad to make her happy. But, you still owe your neighbors something since you have yet to buy them strawberry waffles and Jake something else since you don’t know if he cares for the breakfast food. Your eyes trail the candy, most of it was gummy, taffy, and Harry Potter candy but the one thing that stuck out to you the most was the pack of marshmallows in the shape of cats. The design on it was an anime that you don’t recognize, but it looked good. Jake would like those, you thought. He was complaining about you eating all the marshmallows out of the cereal and now he will get his own bag of some cat shaped marshmallows.

You grab one bag off of the hook and then take another. What if he likes them enough that he will want more? A few feet away, Layla looked at the bags of Harry Potter with the horcrux designs and the stag patterns on it. You would like to buy one of those bags for her since the movies seem to be something that she enjoyed but with the prices of how they were in the United States of being up to eighty dollars for a small backpack, you could guess that it was about that price here. You watch her reach for the tag and turn it over, letting out a hiss between her teeth as she lets go of the tag and takes a step back.

“Sixty-eight pounds.” Layla speaks quietly as she walks towards you. Maybe you could buy one for her for Christmas if you have enough saved up. Wait, does she celebrate Christmas? If she doesn’t, you can buy her the bag for her birthday, wait, when is that? You’ve been friends with her for a while and you don’t know when the day of her birth is. Shame on you. Hot damn.

“What is that?” She asks and gestures to the bags of candy in your hands.

“Marshmallows,” You say. “I think Jake will like ‘em.” Her eyes flicker between you and the bags before she looks elsewhere. You know that she doesn’t care for Jake much, from what you know of, they haven’t talked much since he asked Layla to babysit you. But you weren’t absolutely sure since they could be talking while you’re at work or asleep and Jake is doing his missions.

“Layla?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“October twenty-eight.” She answers. You pull your phone out of your pocket and check the calendar, that was on Tuesday this week. Shit, you need to get something for her. You’re working on Tuesday too so you won’t be able to spend the day with her.

“You should have told me sooner, so I could have taken the day off.” You tell her. “We could be celebrating your birthday together.”

“That’s what I’m doing today.” She says. “Hanging out with my favorite kid.” You stare at her with soft eyes.

“You invited me out to the mall and you didn’t even tell me about your birthday.” You say. “I feel terrible.”

“Don’t be.” She shrugs. “Just enjoy today and after thirty birthdays number thirty-one isn’t going to be any different.”

“You’re turning thirty-one?” You ask and she gently pushes you towards the counter to check out your items. The cashier shoots you a smile that you can tell is fake just because you have experienced that same look. You can tell that they don’t want to be at work today, who would want to work on a Saturday anyways? But corporations want their money and bills need to be paid.

“I am.” She says. You glance over your shoulder before you place the marshmallows onto the counter and pull out some bills from your pocket to pay for it. The cashier doesn’t ask about your day or if you had any plans for the weekend, and you’re glad for it, you hate unnecessary small talk with strangers. She places the items into a bag and gives you your change before sending you off with a receipt.

“Thirty-one is old age.” You tell your friend as you walk out the entrance of the store and pass a small group of teenagers who look to be about your age, laughing and huddling around the benches lined against the wall. She gives you a look and you laugh at it. You add, “You’re almost to the age that I always thought you were.”

“Ugh, do I even want to know?” She says. The corners of your lips raise as you stare ahead with the plastic bag of goodies in your hand. Your eyes trail to the teenagers, the sound of their laughter makes you feel a little jealous. You have a friendship with your neighbors, Layla, and Lauren but you don’t have anyone your age that you could speak to or just vibe with. You missed out a lot on your teen years. You missed out on homecoming, prom, watching movies in the theater with your best friend, celebrating your sixteenth birthday with family and friends. You’ll miss out on the senior scavenger hunt that they do for the high-school seniors on their graduation day.

You missed out on laughing like those kids are with any potential friends you could have made over the last couple of years. You’re going to miss out on your class graduation. You’re not going to be able to walk across a stage in a cap and down and receive a diploma you worked hard for the last twelve years of your life.

“Probably not.” You say. You don’t feel the words leave your mouth but you hear your voice speak it and the groan that leaves her at your response. You keep your eyes on the kids, trying to ignore the jealousy simmering in your stomach as you watch them have a good time. You’re seventeen and you’ve been acting like an adult for two years now, you are the one who got yourself into this mess. You are the one who allowed yourself to become tangled in strings so tightly that you are knotted like you would be in a spider's web. You shouldn’t allow yourself to feel jealous over a group of kids your age.

“You need to get some friends your age, kiddo.” She says. You already had this conversation with Steven over the last month. He was trying to encourage you to go out and make some friends with young adults. He wants you to have healthy connections with people who aren’t over the age of thirty and have children. He wants you to be happy with someone who is at least twenty since you’re that age on paper and hang out with them and have a friendship with someone who doesn’t go to bed by nine and their alter protects the travelers of the night. You know that he means well and you’re glad that he cares enough to point out that hanging out with a thirty-eight year old neighbor was odd and a little weird for your age.

But, you explained to him why you can’t exactly do that so many times before that it has become like a script in your mind that you read off whenever he opens up a conversation with the topic of friends. You can’t make friends your age because you’re seventeen and committed fraud and it would be weird to be known as a twenty year old hanging out with some seventeen year old high-school students. That sounds like you would get the police called on you. So, you stick to Fridays and Saturday nights being spent with Steven, Marc, and sometimes Jake if he decides to front, hanging out instead of spending them with fellow seventeen year olds.

“I know,” You tell her. Your fingers tangle with the plastic bag handle and twist it around your fingers. You tear your eyes away from the kids and begin to walk towards a thrift store. “I need to get something for you and the boys. I’m thinking that Marc would like something yellow.”

“Why yellow?” She asks as she follows you, temporarily picking up her speed to catch up before falling into strides next to you.

“He seems like he needs some bright colors in his life and yellow reminds me of happiness.” It’s a bright color like the sun and it radiates warmth and it’s a welcoming tone. “I think he would look good in a yellow sweater, do you think the store has anything like that?”

---

It took three different clothing shops to find an affordable yellow sweater in Marc's size and you found a knick knack of a miniature glass frog you found in the thrift store for Steven. You know that he will love it, you just hope that he’ll keep the shelf clean enough that it won't get buried and shatter underneath books or fall to the ground if he puts it on the bookcase. You bought Layla a ceramic cup with pink and purple polka dots painted on it. Someone donated it and it became your treasure. You had enough money left over to buy Layla lunch and maybe yourself something if the prices are cheap enough. You know that Layla won’t let you buy her food if you can’t eat anything in the food court, so you hope that there’s some kind of meal deal. You feel terrible about not knowing her birthday is coming up. This meal and the cup can be her gift, you’ll definitely look for something online once you’ll get back to the apartment for a proper birthday gift. Layla and you stood outside of a woman's clothing store by the front window and she was eying a brown purse with leather flower patterns on a mannequin. The bag looked expensive without you needing to look at the price tag on it.

“Are you hungry?” You ask and she looks away from the purse and to you. You twist the brown sacks handle that contains the gifts for the four of your friends. The marshmallows and its plastic sack were combined into the same brown sack so you don’t have to carry around two separate bags in the same hand.

“You ate breakfast, right?” She asks instead. You nod. You still felt a little full from breakfast, the vegan pancakes felt heavy in your stomach. But you wanted to treat her to lunch, maybe you’ll buy yourself some lemonade from the food court. “I’m alright.” She says and you let your frown spread across your face. Within the few weeks that the two of you shared Stevens apartment while Jake was out on his mission, you noticed that Layla didn’t eat food until hours after she woke up and she has claimed that eating too early in the morning has caused her to become nauseous in the past. So, you doubt that she has eaten anything.

“I’m feeling thirsty, though.” You say. You were determined to get some food for her, it was going to be her birthday week in a few days. You follow the signs towards the food court and she falls into steps next to you.

“How’s school going?” She asks. You shrug as you begin to smell the food of fried rice and hear the chatter of people eating in the court getting louder as you get closer.

“I’m passing my classes with C’s and B’s, so it’s going.” You tell her.

“When’s your exams?”

“My finals are the week before Christmas in December.” You say. “I’m excited for the term to be over with.”

“Not having a good time learning?”

“No,” You snorted. “The subjects are boring and it’s difficult to focus on them when you listen to some teacher drone on and on about math or history and they don’t make it interesting. Like, the bubonic plague that spread across Europe in the 1300’s I was excited to learn about because that was something I thought was going to be interesting, but the teacher just made it boring and it felt like it dragged on forever.”

“I’m sorry.” She says and you wave her off. It wasn’t her fault that you couldn’t get interested in the subjects.

“The one class I like is art and all I have to do is draw for this term and the next I get to paint and in the spring I get to do sculptures. I think there’s clay I can buy on Amazon but I’m not going to be too worried about it until then.”

“I can teach you how to sculpt if you want.” She offers and you spare a glance at her. “I have some clay and a wheel at my place, I know the owner of a pottery shop and she’ll let us borrow her kiln to heat it.”

“Really?” You ask and she nods which causes you to smile. “Okay, thank you.”

“Have you sculpted before?” She asks and you shake your head. “Okay, cool. I get to teach you something fun and I’ll make it interesting the entire time.”

“You don’t have to.” You say.

“I know.” She smiles. You were closer to the food court and you noticed that most of the tables were taken except for a few near the edge by the farthest wall with a mural of London on it. The floor was the same gray and white tiles throughout the mall save for a few stores with light brown wooden flooring. There were skylights above you for natural lighting and the sky was gray and cloudy.

“What do you want?” You ask her.

“Well, you said you wanted lemonade, so here's some-” She reaches into her jacket pocket and you take a step back.

“No, lunch is on me. What do you want?” She frowns.

“I’m not letting you buy me lunch. I should be the one buying you lunch, I invited you out.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, Layla. I’m wondering what you want to eat and giving you the option to choose or I’ll choose for you.”

“Bullshit.” She says. “I’m not choosing.”

“Oh yeah? The Panda Express place smells good right now. Orange chicken and brown rice? Maybe noodles.” You hand her your bag as you take a step back into the direction of the restaurant. “Tell me what you want or I’ll pick for you.” She keeps silent and you shrug. “Orange chicken it is, baby.”

“I’ll pay you back,” She promises and you roll your eyes.

“The fuck you will.” You tell her. “Go pick a spot for us.” You watch her stare at you for a moment longer before she gives in and turns her body towards the tables and stalks off. A small victory smile forms on your face as you turn your body to walk to the line for the oriental restaurant. The line was a little long but it was to be expected for lunch hour, you don’t mind waiting if it meant that you could get Layla something. You reached the end of the line near the first set of tables, about seven people were in front of you and two people filed behind you. Your eyes scan the lines for the other restaurants, all were about equally occupied as this one. The smell of the chicken and the cinnamon rolls from one of the other restaurants made your stomach growl.

You turn your head towards the tables to try and spot Layla, your eyes scan the sea of unfamiliar faces as you search for her. You spot her across the court, closest to one of the entrances of the mall and to the cinnamon roll restaurant. She sat at the table and took out her phone to occupy herself. Your eyes trail away from her and to the same group of kids you were jealous of earlier, eating at one of the bigger tables closer to the center of the court. You watch them talk about something that you couldn’t hear due to the volume of everyone else, but from the looks of humor on their face you figured it was something funny. You squash down the feeling of jealousy continuing to simmer in your stomach and begin to turn around to step forward since the line has moved ahead within the last couple of minutes; but the feeling turns into a knot and deepens tightly in your stomach, making it almost hard to breathe. You inhale a sharp breath, warm air filling your lungs as you search with frantic eyes for the cause of it. You know that it’s the fucking deity, it happens every time they’re around.

You jump when the person behind you asks you to move forward. You let out a shaky apology, your eyes still scanning the area around you for the deity before you tear your gaze away and step forward. The knot somehow seems to tighten and it nearly causes you to fall over in pain. You have never experienced it being this terrible, why now? You were always at the apartment when this happened, always on your own except for last time. Why here, at a mall, filled with hundreds of people? You look over your shoulder for Layla, you need to tell her. You already filled her in on the knots and anxiety feelings you get when the gods are around, but she clearly has no idea that it is happening at this moment. You twist your body around as you hold your stomach through Marc's jacket.

You need Layla. Your eyes land on her and she was still looking at her phone. Phone. Oh fuck, you can call her. Your hands tremble as you reach for the pocket in Marc's jacket that you zipped your phone in. Your eyes were trained on Layla, somehow hoping that she would feel your gaze and look up to see whatever pained and terrified expression you wore. You only tore your eyes away from her when the sight of three men standing around a small table meant for two people and placing a large black duffle bag on the surface caught your attention. One of their sleeves was rolled up and you felt your breath get taken from you when you spotted the scale tattoo on his arm. The woman that urged you forward moments ago asks you to again as you finally unzip the pocket and pull out your phone. The knot in your stomach loosens a tiny bit and it becomes easier to breathe through the pain.

You take a step back as you look down at your vibrating phone, there were several new messages in the group chat that you, Steven, and Layla were in. It takes a couple of tries to unlock your phone and with each failed try you take a split second to look at the fuck the men were doing. Your fingers tremble as you open the group chat and press the call button, you were too worried to search for Layla's contact and call her directly. You stood your ground as the woman asks you for the third fucking time to move forward and you stepped out of line instead. You swore you felt the hair on your arms stand up as a soft breeze pushed past you while you listened to the phone ring once before Layla answered.

She says your name softly as she stands up from her own chair and looks for you.

“Layla-” You say, your voice cracking as you watch the men leave the bag on the table before walking towards the entrance.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She asks.

You hear a beep before Stevens' voice fills your ear, “How do you bloody use this thing?” He asks.

You swallow as you say, “Deity. Bag.” Your brain begins to short circuit as the anxiety running through your veins seem to wrap itself around your throat as if it was a noose and begin to slowly tighten.

“Deity?” She asks incredulously, you try to make out her expression from where you stood. It was difficult with the people passing in front of her and the distance between you two.

“What’s wrong?” Steven asks and you try to swallow down your panic to open your mouth and explain what exactly is wrong when it happened. Whatever the bag contained went off and somewhere near you another one followed and another one after that. You felt like you were pushed to your left from the third blast. You fly several feet across the room and roll several times until you eventually come to a stop and lay on your back with your eyes closed. Your ears ring and your heart pounds against your chest as you try to grasp onto what happened. Your body aches from the landing and rolling, but as you slowly wiggle your fingers and toes before moving onto your legs and arms and then your torso, neck, and head, you come to the conclusion that it was just bruising and no major injuries.

You face the ceiling as your eyes peel open and the ringing in your ears comes to an end. You can hear a baby crying somewhere and small children calling out for their parents. You blink hazily at the skylight above you, trying to remove the blurriness from your eyes as you listen to the sound of crunching glass and calls for help. The gray clouds shift in the sky and you watch it for a moment before your eyes trail to the small brown thing peeking over the edge of the skylight and peering down at you. It takes you about three seconds before your brain registers what it is. The falcon stares at you and you blink slowly at it as the clouds behind it open temporarily and show a patch of blue sky before more clouds cover it. Your stomach churns as your anxiety spikes through the roof at the sight. The knot tightens and you watch as it tilts its head at you as if asking if you were going to lay there and die or get up and fight.

The god was a falcon, waiting for you to die. Almost like it was a vulture that smells death from several miles away and it’s been stalking you for months now. They are waiting for you to die and then what? What comes after that? Or is their patience thinning and one day they really would drop you out a five story window instead of waiting? You don’t want to stick around and find out if that day is today. You stare at it for a moment longer, half expecting for it to break the glass and swoop down to claw your eyes out, but yet it just watches you. You push yourself up on your elbows as you look around the room for the friend you came with. You hope that she is alright and breathing.

You need to make sure she is okay. You think that she was lucky enough to be away from one of the blasts but you weren’t totally sure. You try to stifle the feeling of panic as you watch fire consume the walls and the welcome sign hanging from the ceiling swings to the ground from the fire. You cough from the smoke as you look to your right towards the wall with the murals and watch as people stand and look around them. Your eyes flicker to your phone a few feet away, the screen is glowing with new cracks and a light dusting across the surface. You roll onto your hands and knees before crawling towards it, occasionally breathing out deeply through your nostrils as small splitters poke into your palms. You reach your phone and grab it, glancing at the call time increasing up to four minutes and twenty-eight seconds before it passes that and continues rising.

You bring the phone to your ear, hearing some muffled speaking and yelling on the other end of the line. It was an echo of the same call from Layla's phone on the other side of the room. You stand as you look at where you last saw her. Through the smoke and debris you saw someone rising from the ground.

“Steven?” You speak, your voice cracking halfway through the word. You listen to the sound of distance yelling through your phone, trying to decide if your friends were on the other end of the line or if it belongs to the chaos around you. You turn on your heels and walk towards the area you last saw Layla, you try not to trip over any debris and look down at possible bodies of people. Your stomach churns at the thought of stepping over bodies or stepping on corpses as you make sure that your friend is okay.

“¿Estás bien?” Jake asks at the end of the line. “¿Estás herido?” You don’t know what he’s saying but from the concern in his tone you know that he’s worried.

“Jake?” You ask as you watch the figure with the all too well known curly hair slowly turn their head to look at you. You cough as you inhale air too quickly and watch as she bounds towards you, her arms up in a hug and a pair of bronze wings attached to them.

“Layla.” You say as she approaches closer, a cut was above her eye and blood trailed down her eye brown and over her lid. She says your name softly as Jake says something else in Spanish, this time a little more frantically and you hear something banging against something else. You pull the phone from your ear as you wrap your arms around her and she hugs you back just as tightly.

“Are you hurt?” She asks as you pull away and look her up and down. You shake your head, the white cloth and bronze body armor was all too familiar to you. You saw the Tiktoks of the Scarlet Scarab fighting alongside Mr. Knight against Harrow.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out. Your eyes were wide at the sight of the wings Layla wore. “You’re-you’re-” You struggle to put your thoughts into a coherent sentence. She looks amazing, you want to tell her that. But, you felt a little upset that she didn’t tell you she was still Tawerets avatar when she told Steven she wasn’t.

“Yeah, I know.” She says.

“Are you hurt?” You ask and she gives you a bitter-sweet smile.

“No, I’ll heal.” She answers. She glances to her right towards the fire consuming the building. “You need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You tell her. “You need to come with me.” You cough as you inhale more smoke and she shakes her head.

“No, I have a job to do.” She says. Her hands rest on your shoulders and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. You don’t want to leave her alone, you know that she can handle herself, she has a gun and she’s an avatar for a goddess. But you were terrified of leaving her on her own and not seeing her again; and against all the cells screaming in your body to get the fuck out of a burning building, you fought your fear enough to tell her that you’re staying and helping.

“The fuck you will.” She says, narrowing her eyes. You spare a glance at the burning entrance. There’s two more at the other ends of the mall. You hope that those aren’t on fire and people can escape through there.

“The fuck I won’t.” You say. “I’m not leaving you and there’s too many people that need help.” You both stare at each other a little angrily, both of you know how stubborn the other can be.

“The sooner we stop arguing, the sooner and more likely we can get people out.” You add. She huffs out a breath and glances to her left, you follow her gaze and watch as a mother picks up her screaming child and limps further into the mall to retreat from the fire. Buildings can go up in flames quickly, especially when the sprinkler system isn’t going off. It doesn’t take Einstein to come to the conclusion that whoever set the bombs also turned off the water system.

“You’re just a kid.” She says. You tear your gaze away from the woman limping down the hallway with the child on her hip.

“Yeah and you’re just an old woman who's turning thirty-one.” You shrug as you take a step back, pieces of table splintering underneath your feet. “The young are always drafted in war and the old stays home. I’ll find you when I’m done!” You yell and glance down at your phone. The call was increasing to eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds and continuing on past that. You raise your phone to your ear as you turn your body and carefully walk over the remaining pieces of chairs, tables, and peoples belongings.

“Jake?” You say.

“¿Estás bien? ¿Está bien Layla?” He breathes out quickly. “Estoy en camino.”

“Jake,” You repeat his name softly and choke back another cough. You still have no clue what he’s saying but you felt like you had to reassure him. You would be terrified for them if the roles were reversed. “We’re okay. I’m helping people get out.”

“You need to get out.” He states. You hear a bang in the distance, causing your head to whip to your right and stare down the hallway the lady and the child passed through. You flinch as you hear another bang. It sounds a little too similar to the gunshots in America for your liking. Every fiber of your being told you to run and hide as you listen to another gunshot and another one. You take a deep breath to help calm yourself as you step forward, deciding to speed up the process of getting people out rather than being a deer caught in headlights.

“Funny, Layla said the same thing.” Your voice shakes as you try to sound calm and not panicked like you were internally.

“And she’s right.” He grunts out. You listen to honking on his end and what you think are swears in Spanish leaving his mouth. “Fucking move!” He yells and the honks increase. Part of you wants to tease him about possible driving a limo to a mall that just got bombed and now is having a shooting since you don’t know how else to cope with this but you don’t. Your eyes land on someone laying down next to where the table bomb went off. Smoke was still coming from the remains of the bomb and the fabric of the duffle bag and surrounding object. Your eyes trail to another figure laying feet away from them and another one. The knot tightens in your stomach as you bend down to the person closest to you and your breath catches, causing Jake to repeatedly call your name and slam his hands against the steering wheel. You recognize them, they were the kids that you were jealous of.

They look younger than you, especially the boy who was laughing hours ago with his friend. He looks like he was fourteen, he still had his baby fat cheeks but now it was sliced open and blood poured out. His mouth rested with a frozen laugh on it and blood streamed out of the corner of it. His brown curls were damp with the body fluid that should be in him and not soaking his clothes and skin in. His brown eyes were open and now becoming filmy and staring at you. He took his last breath at some point looking right at where you stood with Layla hugging and arguing.

“¿Qué es?" Jake asks and you swallow down the lump in your throat and jump when you hear another gunshot, this one closer than before. You whip your head to your right and watch as the smoke lights up temporarily while another bang happens and two people run from that direction.

“I’m okay.” You whisper. You don’t feel okay, you feel like you want your mom and dad and to be back in New York, away from here. You want to be anywhere but here. You want to be back in Stevens apartment and buried underneath a mound of blankets as you listen to him read you those Dr. Seuss books. You want to listen to Marc talk about Chicago baseball and his favorite year that they played which is 2016 since they won the World Series that year. You want to sit next to Jake as you talk about the constellations with him and he teaches you a few Spanish words in return. You just began your deal a couple of days ago.

“Perra,” He told you.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“Bitch.” He answers and you laugh; and you think he smiled but you weren’t completely sure because he drank out of the cup of coffee you made for Marc. You pretended not to notice his possible smile so you wouldn’t embarrass him or make him switch seats with Steven or Marc. You were worried that you weren’t going to leave this mall alive, the knot in your stomach loosens and then tightens and loosens again. You nearly throw up whatever remains of your breakfast as you tear your eyes away from the boy on the ground to search for other survivors.

You let out a shaky breath as you look at the other teenager, her hair was stained red and you would have thought it was dyed if it wasn’t for her visible blond roots. She laid frozen with her head tilted at the wrong angle and her body still. You forced yourself to look at the next body, you needed to check to see if they were breathing. Another kid, this one looks awfully familiar to the first, laid against a wall separating the cinnamon roll store and the tables. His eyes were closed and his chest unmoving with a thick piece of wood penetrating his torso. His head tilted down and blood coating his shirt. You think they were siblings. The last teenager was face down in a pool of blood, pieces of debris stuck out of their back and thighs, their black hair was parted enough to show the white of their skull and the flesh of the muscles and layers of meat that never shows the light of day.

The sight is what makes you throw up, your shoes are covered with bile and blood that does not belong to you. You’re here at the age of seventeen and checking for breathing people to help escape the fire and the bullets yards away from you. Seventeen years old, you are a child in war like these other kids were. Elias Dean. These four kids and so many more in this room, let alone in this mall. How many children will have to die before Harrow's cult realizes that Ammit cannot be raised? How many people will have to become casualties in this war before they stop trying?

“¿Pequeño?” Jake asks quietly. You need to find someone to help. This can’t all be for nothing. You cough and stand up straight as you listen to bullets get closer and the flashes of lights through the smoke become brighter. You couldn’t focus with a phone pressed up against your ear and the knot pulling at your stomach like it was tightening strings. It was hard to make a decision of what to do. You don’t want to hang up, you want to listen to Jake because of the minimal comfort it brought you but, you don’t want him to listen to you die if you get shot or the fire burns down the building with you in it. Get people out, make this worth it.

“I have to hang up.” You tell Jake. He curses at your statement.

“Don’t hang up.” He warns. “I’m almost there.”

“I’m sorry.” You tell him. “I’m not much of one for warnings are I?” You couldn’t vanish from Marcs and Stevens' lives even after he held a knife to your throat.

“Fucking fuck!” He yells. You hear him release a shuddered breath and you think it catches in his throat. Mr. Shows-No-Emotions was showing hell of a lot more than you have ever heard from him. You weren’t coming out of this one, were you? He knew the chances and he didn’t think they were good; and honestly, neither did you. Tears prick your eyes as you step over the glassy eyed teens and rush towards the mural. The fucking deity knew too, they were waiting for you to be on your last breath before swooping down and taking it from you. You slip in a pool of blood and someone's newly bought clothes but you caught your balance before hitting the tiled floor.

You were about to pull the phone away from your ear and press the end call to make it easier for all four of you. You bet your whole life that Steven and Marc were listening in on the conversation, but he begged and Jake Lockley never begged. “Por favor, pequeño. Please.”

You have never heard Jake Lockley beg before and you thought you would never see the day that he did. You knew this situation was bad, but it was much more terrible for Jake to beg for you not to hang up. You hear more gunshots and a baby wailing loudly. This time the gun shots seem to echo much more loudly in the food court. You turn your gaze to your left and you watch Layla help up a elderly person and push them through the employee's only door for a restaurant. If you can’t get them out, start hiding them well. Your taser presses against your torso through Marc's jacket. Marc taught you self defense and Jake took you to the roof tops and taught you when you couldn’t sleep. You know how to throw hands, you know how to defend yourself. Not against bullets but all you have to do is disarm them and even out the playing field. You can do this. Easy. You swallow a laugh as the smoke begins to sting your eyes. You need to make it out of this to go to Stevens place and let them see that you are okay. You need to make it out of here. You still owe them those strawberry waffles.

“You’re on your way.” You reassure yourself and him. “You’ll kick names and take ass and all that fun jazz.” You pause and your eyes land on the sight of a baby crying in a stroller with blood splattered on their chubby cheeks and a man lying next to them with his hand wrapped around the wheel of the stroller and filmy eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling above him. You tear your eyes away from the man and to the red face, wailing baby. You don’t know much about babies, but it looked to be younger than a year old.

“You hang up and I’ll turn you into the police.” He threatens. That’s not much of a threat; you have an eighty percent shot of dying here.

“Yeah?” You ask as you press the phone between your ear and shoulder as your fingers fumble with the button to press for the seat belts to let go. You hiss out a breath between your teeth as you accidentally pinch your fingers with the clasp of the belt before it releases and you pick up the crying kid. You hold the child to your chest, not quite sure if you were holding them correctly but at the moment that doesn’t matter. You just need to get them to safety.

“I will fucking do it.” He warns. You grab your phone and hold it against your ear as you walk towards the employee entrance and push through.

“Thanks for the warning, Jake.” You tell him and remove the phone from your ear before hanging up. The end call screen flashed with thirteen minutes and twenty-one seconds before the screen lit up with a call request from Steven Grant. You ignore it by placing the phone into your pocket and zipping it shut before switching arms with the kid and unzipping your other pocket and grabbing the taser. A handful of Men, women, and children were crouched in the kitchen of the restaurant. Some were holding pans and pots and others were holding each other. The lights flickered in the restaurant a few times before going out completely and the only lighting was from the emergency exit lights above the door.

“Layla?” You called as you stepped over a woman's legs and walked further into the room. She doesn’t answer and you feel worry gnawing at your stomach even worse than before. She’s an avatar, she can handle herself, you thought. But still, it didn’t settle right with you that she was out there, preparing to lay down her life for the remaining survivors. The baby in your arms cried into Marc's jacket, saliva getting all over the leather. You should take it off, the building was heating up and it was beginning to get unbearable. Besides, you don’t want to get Marc's jacket gross and bloodied, do you? You look around at the survivors, debating on who to pass the kid to.

Children in war, You thought bitterly, children losing parents as young as the age of a few months old. You swallow as you feel the phone vibrate in your pocket and you bend down to ask a woman holding her own children to take one more.

“Where’s your mom?” She asks as she takes the fussy baby from you. You think she’s referring to the baby’s mother.

“I don’t know.” You say.

“You don’t know where your own mom is?” She asks. Oh. Oh she’s talking about you. You know it doesn’t matter about telling her that your own parents died two years ago.

So, instead you say. “She’s, uh, out there.” You point to the doors. Somewhere out there, Layla was searching for wounded and breathing humans. You need to go back through those doors and help her. The knot in your stomach loosens, the air feels stiff as you listen to more gunshots and the crackling of the fire spreading.

“Oh,” She breathes out.

“Is there a way out of here?” You ask, it was too dark in here which meant that there were no windows for people to crawl through.

“There's only one exit.” A man says from somewhere behind you. The same one you entered through moments ago. So, everyone is trapped in a burning building and with a group of people willing to shoot up the place. Nice. This building sure as hell ain't up to code. Maybe you could sue the city for not putting in multiple exits for stores and restaurants, that is if you live. You didn’t realize that the baby stopped crying until you turned your head in the direction of the exit, your eyes met the red glowing sign. It was the same color of your kitchen since Jake stole that lightbulb for you. You turned your taser in your hand as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten and a breeze against your back as if it was encouraging you to step through the doors and put your life more at risk for helping others.

Hopefully, you don't tase yourself and drop it this time. You unzip the jacket and set it on the counter, you think you can hear the phone still vibrating in the pocket. Marc would tell you to pick up the phone, that’s why he bought it, to make sure that you are okay. What’s the point of having a phone if you weren’t going to answer it? To which you would grumble and tell him that you’re sorry you didn’t answer and that would be the truth. Sweat dotted the back of your neck and forehead as you fumbled with the turn on switch for the taser before pressing the button. There’s three ways you could absolutely die here, one: smoke inhalation. Two: a bullet making its home in your body; and three: the fire consuming the building and burning you alive. None of those sounds like great options, if you’re being honest.

You take a deep breath, the smoke itching your eyes and throat as you walk towards the door with shaky steps. You breathe out slowly as you crack open the door and peek out of it, searching for anyone nearby that is attacking the building. A few men holding guns with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows searched the area, you jump as you watch one point a gun at someone on the floor and pull the trigger. The room lights up in that direction and the knot in your stomach tightens and loosen just as quickly as if the god was pulling on the strings and tugging you out the exit. You crouch on your hands and knees and crawl out the door, making sure it doesn’t slam behind you as glass cuts into your palms and knees. You crawl towards the edge of the wall that separates where the tables once were and the restaurants. You lean against the wall as you listen to their footsteps crunch glass and slowly scan the area for survivors. You swallow a gasp as the light fixture above the entrance by the burning fire loosened and fell to the ground with a loud bang. Okay, there’s four ways you can die here: being crushed by the roof caving in or the objects falling on you.

This was a terrible idea, playing hero and hoping to save anyone else who remains. You turn your head to your left as you watch one of the men walk towards the directory, someone leaned against it and it was hard to tell if they were breathing or not but it didn’t matter when they put a bullet into their skull. There was glass crunching to your right and you can hear the sounds of their footsteps walking around the wall and towards you. Within the next couple of minutes you may be dead and that falcon will get what they want. You don’t know where Layla went, she may have went further into the mall to rescue others and you were dumb enough to bring a taser to a gun fight. It really is your own stupidity that will kill you. There’s not many places to hide in the food court when three men are wandering around with weapons and putting bullets into the brains of anyone who may or may not be dead.

You listen to the man to your left walk from the directory and towards you. You heard about the saying of life flashing before your eyes, but you always thought it was some kind of film that would play in your mind in split seconds like it does in movies and books. Like some cheesy side-by-side film that someone took. That everything the brain would try to comfort you with is good memories of times that you wish you could stay in and of smiling loved ones; but, you understand now that it was an existential crisis rather than life. For you, every regret filled your mind like the flood gates released and your brain gave up trying to barricade them from you. You regret almost every decision you have made from the moment that you have forged papers to move countries.

You regret not reaching out for your aunt and best friend, you regret not spending more time with Lauren and her family. You regret not looking more into universities for astrophysics degrees and careers. You regret not meeting your neighbors sooner and becoming part of their lives. There’s so much you wish you could change but you don’t have years, you have seconds left before a bullet is placed in your brain and the falcon wins. The falcon will finally get whatever the hell they want and you don’t know what that is. The fucking falcon. You tilt your head back and look up at the skylight above you. A falcon that only you can see stares down at you, the cloudy sky now a bright blue and clear of any clouds behind it; and through your stupidity, you thought it was forecasted to be cloudy all day. Actually, you were sure of it because Steven let you borrow Marc's jacket because it was cold and cloudy, right?

Why does that matter when you’re about to die? You’re obsessing over the weather when you’re about to go into the afterlife. But, that's the thing, you’ve been obsessing over plenty of things lately. You were obsessed over theories of who the god may be and Jake brought up the idea that it might not be the same god who healed you; and as much as you hate to be the metaphorical lantern attracting mosquitoes as known as other deities, you agree with him. You carried around a protection symbol for months without any real knowledge of what it might mean. It was the beacon for other deities, for the family members of Horus; and although you haven’t done any research on the family, you know a little about this particular god you carried around in a Ziploc baggie. God Horus was depicted as a falcon. He’s depicted as a falcon in the glimpse of the book that you saw on the table when Layla was baby-sitting you that day she brought paint and canvases for you. He was also sketched on the page you carried around as a falcon head and the lower half of the body being human.

What if he’s been the falcon? But that second god, the one that healed you, was someone else? What if he was the one the god sitting on the window ledge of the apartment complex across from yours and eating that dead mouse? You stare into their beady eyes and he tilts his head to the side as if asking if you have figured it out yet; and you’re sure you have. You think you understand now. You think you know of an idea of who this god is and of course it’s the moment before death. In the corner of your eye, you can see the man raise his gun and aim it at you, but you keep your eyes trained on the falcon above you. You watch him spread his wings wide as if he was about to break through the window to swoop down and pick you up to only drop you from the air to crack your skull open like falcons do to their prey.

Like how the god held out a window and threatened to drop you five stories to the pavement below. You wanted to die weeks ago in an alley after you lost your phone and was beaten and left for dead. But, that falcon was never there, you don’t remember looking up at the buildings and seeing them look down at you. So, why are they here now? Why is Horus here now? Why is he tilting his fucking head to the side and waiting for something to happen? Within the last near two months, you nearly became a different person. The you who wanted to die in that alleyway was not the same you in this moment. You’re not ready to die, and the one thing that you know about falcons? They like the thrill of hunting, they like the fight; and you sure as hell are not going down without one.

You swing your taser at the man feet from you and hit him directly in the nether region. The taser clings to the ground and rolls a few feet from him as he bends down to clutch himself. You quickly push yourself up onto your legs as he pulls the trigger and misses your feet by inches. You body slam your shoulder into him, causing him to stumble backwards a couple of feet from the impact and to drop his gun which you kick away. It slides across the floor and rests roughly eight or so feet from you and you take note of that. You curl your fingers into a fist and pull your arm back before letting out and punching him directly in the face. His head whips to the side and you shake your hand as pain erupts from it. Okay, maybe you still need to practice on your punches.

“Perra.” You spit out. He turns his head, clutching his face with one hand as he glares at you. A small trail of blood trails out of the corner of his lips and down his chin, you felt a little victorious at the sight. His brown eyes flicker towards you, an odd sense of calm in them which unnerves you as you lift up your hands and prepare yourself into a fighting stance just like your friends taught you. Feet shoulder length apart and hands up in front of your chest with your dominant hand being the furthest from your opponent. Deep breathe in and prepare to kick names and take ass or however that goes. Your eyes stung from the smoke and tears form, you blink them away as you watch the man stand there for a moment before reaching into his sweatshirt pocket and taking out a handkerchief. He gently pats it against his chin and you wait with baited breath for him to do something. You were already anxious but it made you more so as you wait for him to do something. Why wasn’t he swinging hands with you? Why was he being so calm?

You hear the sounds of broken glass crunching behind you and the feeling in your face becomes numb as your heart drops in your chest. Right. There were two other men with guns sweeping the place. Your heart drops in your chest as you watch him neatly fold the cloth and place it back into his pocket. He was confident the whole time because he had two men watching his six while you had yourself and a taser that’s on the ground. Great, you were about to become as holy as swiss cheese. You really shouldn’t have played hero. Layla was somewhere in the mall and all you can do is hope that she was safe and helping others out at one of the other entrances. You hope that she won’t stumble across your corpse but rather some poor EMT or police officer so she won’t have to deal with seeing you dead.

You can feel eyes on you and you know it's not from the three cult members. Horus, his beady eyes burned into your skull and yet, you kept your own trained on the man before you. You took a deep breath, one that would be your last and you try not to go into a coughing fit as you try to prepare yourself for hopefully the one bullet that will enter your skull and take you out. Something flickers in your peripheral and you don’t bother to look at it, you hear the gunshots before the noise of them ricocheting off of something. You wince at the sound before you look over your shoulders and there stood Layla with her wing held up as a shield. You feel your heart skip a beat at the sight and a small grin settles across your face.

Holy shit. Layla El-Faouly saves the day once again. You heard more clinging of the bullets ricocheting off of her wings. You breathe out a laugh, maybe you weren’t going to die just yet. You look back to the man in front of you and trailed your eyes to the fire, it was getting hotter in here. Sweat trails down your skin and your shirt clings to your body.

“You should have fucking stayed hidden.” She says loudly. “I am grounding your ass when we get back.” You roll your eyes and jump a bit when a bullet enters into the tile a couple of feet away from your feet.

“We’ll talk about that if we make it out.” You reply. You’re not going to let her ground you but the thought of it was kind of amusing.

“Are you trying to negotiate with me?” She asks incredulously. You can feel her back brush against your own and you think you hear one of the men fall to the floor but you’re not sure. You hope that they’re being taken down while you prepare for your own fight with the man before you. He lifts up his sweat shirt and takes out a hunting knife. Why is it always the fucking knives with bad guys? First you brought a taser to a gunfight, and now it’s suddenly a knife fight and hand-to-hand combat.

“No,” You say. “Just telling you we can talk about it.” She groans and you can feel the tension in the room come to a boiling point. So much for a day to relax and spend time with your friend. Why is it that every time you try to have fun, something has to come crashing down?

“Just go hide!” She yells and as much as you want to, you just can’t allow her to sacrifice her life for everyone else. You know that Marc and Steven died in Cairo, but they never went into detail of how they died. Jake told you that Harrow shot them, but not much more than that and if Khonshu was around, why did he let his avatars die? And since they did die, Taweret can let Layla die too. She did say that she can heal, but couldn’t Marc and Steven get healed too as Khonshus avatars back in Cairo? You can’t hide and let her fight Harrows members alone, you can’t risk losing her.. So, you stand your ground in a burning building with smoke filling your lungs and making it difficult to breathe as you decide that you will die next to your friend's side so they are not alone.

You still owe Marc and Steven those strawberry waffles and you hope that you are able to buy it for them. You’re definitely going to haunt their ass if you do die here. You nearly freeze as you watch the man charge towards you and you manage to turn around and wrap your fist into Layla's cloth dress and pull her to the side so you’re both out of the path of the man barreling towards you. She tells you to fuck off and hide and you ignore her as she turns on her heels and tells you to duck, which you do. She pulls back her arm and punches him directly in the face, causing him to get slammed back several feet and skid across the floor, his skull caved in and crushed like a watermelon after dropping it from a balcony. You stare with wide eyes, your stomach churning as you pull your eyes away from his corpse and to her hand. It looked perfectly fine save for the blood coating that belongs to the man she just killed with a single punch.

“What the fuck.” You breathe out.

“Superhuman strength.” She says. “It's more than just stopping trucks going fifty miles an hour during a bank robbery.” You sputtered and tried to keep the bile down from rising into your throat. Holy fucking shit, she can handle herself. Oh god, you just watched a man get his face absolutely obliterated. Is he dead? You don’t even want to go over and check. You take in a deep breath and try to keep the tears at bay. God, you just watched a man's face get caved in by a single punch. The memory replayed in your mind and you try to distract yourself from the panic clawing its way up your throat as you force yourself to focus on what she just said.

“A bank robbery?” You ask. When was that? You haven’t heard of any robberies in the news lately. “Was that in Switzerland?” She doesn’t say anything and that was enough of an answer for you. “That job in Switzerland had to do with you being an avatar didn’t it?” You watch her head bob up and down in confirmation and you huff out a breath. Oh fucking hell, of fucking course you’re finding this shit out during this shit-show. Why is everything revealed at the worst possible time? Why couldn’t she have just told you that she was still Tawerets avatar than keep it hidden? And, wait, hold on. What about that time you got held out a window and she had to leave that day? You ask and she gives you a small grimace. Holy fucking shit.

“You were off doing missions and you couldn’t even tell me that?” You hiss. “I got held out a window and you just couldn’t tell me where you went?”

“Now is not the time to be fighting about this.” She says. “Pick a better time than to bring it up.”

“When is it going to be a better time, when we have a fire burning down a building and a group of supporters for a god-damn cult shooting at us?” You ask. “Go ahead and tell me. Would it have been better for you to tell me when I was held out a fucking window or now when I’m about to get a bullet in my head?” You were rightfully pissed. At least you feel that way.

“I told you to get your ass out of here.”

“And I’m not going.” You hiss out, she lifts up her wing and glances down at you with a disapproving look.

“You spend too much time with Marc.” She says, “You’re acting just like he would.”

“Yeah, well. At least he didn’t keep the whole history of him being Khonshus ex-avatar.” You say. You flinch as a bullet implants itself into the wall a few feet above your head. You turn your head at the noise of the skylights shattering from the heat and the glass falling down upon you. It cuts into your skin and you hiss between your teeth at the feeling of it. The flames lick the walls and it nears the cinnamon roll restaurant that people are hiding in. More innocent people are going to die if you don’t evacuate soon. You force your anger onto the back burner as you turn your attention back to Layla.

“How many members were there?” You ask.

“In Switzerland?”

“No, in the fucking mall.”

“Seven.” She says. “Took down two in the food court and five over at the other entrances.”

“Are they burning up?” You ask and she nods. Shit. Well, guess you can break down a store front window if you have to. You count on your fingers of the followers in the mall. “That's six people.”

“Number seven is being really stubborn.” She states with a click of her tongue. You frown and look at her as she holds up her other arm and shields herself from a bullet to the head. It was terrifying being in this situation. You look up towards the skylights as you try to come up with a solution for what to do. You’ve been on a time limit since the bomb went off, but now it’s really ticking down as the fire is beginning to burn the restaurant that the civilians are hiding in. You weren’t surprised when you saw Horus sitting on the edge of the skylight like the vulture he was acting as. Doubt begins to flood your mind as you feel the knot in your stomach loosen to a pinching feeling. It’s his prime opportunity to pick your ass up and toss you into the fire but all he has been doing is sitting there, waiting for something and that alone makes you become more unnerved.

He’s been waiting, now that you think about it. He waited on the windowsill that day you were carving pumpkins, he made sure that you could see him and only you alone could see him. You have more concerning things right now than a mosquito near your lantern light.

“Did you hear what I said?” She asks and you snap your gaze away from the deity and to her. You didn’t hear a word with all the noise around you and your focus being on the falcon.

“No, it's kind of hard when all I hear is the place burning down and the pounding in my ears.”

“I’m going to be moving so you need to find cover.” She repeats and you nod slowly. Right, okay. You need to get your ass moving then.

“Okay,” You tell her. You look around you for a possible hiding spot and decide that the best place is the wall separating the food court or going back through the employees door and taking cover in there. Maybe carbon monoxide poisoning isn’t the worst way to go compared to burning alive. Your head spins as your tongue darts out of your mouth to wet your lips. You can only hope that he’s running out of bullets and he’s keeping one for himself. You look at Layla and nod once and you watch as she looks towards the man with a focused and pissed look. You know you’re going to be on the receiving end of that after you get out of here. You hated it when your parents narrowed their eyes and their lips curled when you did something that angered them. Layla was going to have an awfully similar look soon. You wait for her to run towards him before you move to the food court walls but seeing her fly at the man made you nearly stop in your tracks. Holy fucking shit, she can fly??

You crouch next to the walls and whip your head to your left as someone with a white cape lands on the tiled floor below the skylight with their leg and arm stuck out and hand placed down in a superhero pose. Jake Lockely has entered the game. He stood slowly and you couldn’t see the expression he wore due to his mask but you can tell from the way that he held himself that he looked pissed. You would hate to be on the receiving end of his anger. Oh shit, you hung up on him. You’re about to be on that receiving end soon. Of course you pissed off two people who are avatars of deities. Might as well keep it consistent, you guess. You watch him stride around the food court until he is no longer visible due to the wall separating you. You would peek over it but with the noise of fighting and bullets flying, you don’t think it’s a good idea to look.

You turn your head to your left and squint through the smoke to someone crawling on the floor. You frown, was the smoke getting to your head enough that you’re now hallucinating? Maybe you’re too dehydrated from the heat and constant sweating that it’s now catching up to you. You narrow your eyes once you can visibly see the man that you thought Layla killed with one punch crawling towards something on the floor. Wasn’t that where the gun landed when you kicked it away? You watch him belly crawl closer to the small object in the distance as you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You can clearly see the blood on his face and you saw his face cave in, how the fuck is he still alive? They’re like fucking cockroaches, near damn impossible to kill. He was closer to the weapon on the floor, you don’t want him to get ahold of the gun unless he was going to end himself with it, but lately they seem more likely to do harm to anyone including themselves.

You can see your taser resting feet from you, all you have to do is grab the taser and put it into his neck. Maybe his heart is doing shitty enough that the voltage would knock his ass out and Jake or Layla could end him. You were dumb enough to come out here to play hero and now you’re dumb enough to consider risking your life to have someone else end his. At least you were consistent. You can hear Jake and Layla fighting alongside each other as you decide to run towards the taser and scoop it up. A bullet whizzes past you and implants itself into the wall next to you, nearly causing you to falter in your plan to stop the member from getting the weapon. You turn your head and Layla looks more pissed and Jake does too. The man they were fighting was no longer fighting them but aiming at you.

You watch as Jake grabs the man by the back of the neck and you tear your gaze away before you can see what happens next. You jog to the man who is now inches from the gun, his hand outstretched and you kick it away. You turn your taser in your grasp so your thumb is resting on the button. His hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down, your head slamming against the tiled flooring and the flames licking the ceiling above you. He crawls up your body and wraps his hands around your throat, gripping tightly and applying enough pressure to block any air from entering into you. You were able to see his face a hell of a lot more clearly thanks to this amazing view above you. The fire light helped light up his face which didn’t look very pretty. His eye was caved in and his nose too, flesh that should never see the light of day was making its grand debut just for you and dripping blood directly onto your face and Marc's shirt.

If it wasn’t for all of your air supply being cut off and black spots appearing at the edge of your vision, you would be thinking about how fucking gross it is to see the inside of someone's meat suit. Ammits supporters are really like fucking cockroaches aren’t they? Your left hand darts up to wrap around his wrist as if you alone can push a grown ass man off of you. Your right hand began to swing the taser at his skull as if it was a rock. You couldn’t breathe and panic was settling in. His blood flicked onto you with each impact of the taser and you didn’t care at the moment, you just wanted him off of you and to stop the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. You pointed the prongs into his skull and held down the button, he doesn’t let go of you but rather seems to fight through the pain to tighten his grip on your throat. Fucking fuck.

Playing hero and now dying with the consequences of it. Your vision was like staring at a static television, but with flames flickering behind the screen. You can feel your grip loosening on the taser until it clings to the floor and your hand around his wrist slackens. Your eyes begin to flutter shut and you can vaguely recognize that this is the first stage of passing out. If he continues to hold his grip on you after you go under, you will die and Horus will win. Fuck Horus, you think. Your brain short circuits and you don’t know exactly when you do pass out but when you come back, you can hear Layla talking to you.

“You’re alright,” She says. You can feel that your cheek is pressed against the cloth shoulder of her dress and the smell of smoke, sweat, blood, and something else fills your nostrils. You can feel her chest pushing slightly into your side as she hugs you close. “I got you, c’mon breathe.” She adds. Your eyes flutter open and you can see and feel the heat of the fire near you. You can feel someone's fingers brush against your cheek and you turn your head slightly to see Jake staring down at you with concern written on his face. He must have been the one to get the man off of you. Your eyes trail past him and you can see the man stilled with his neck bent at an odd angle. There's a difference between watching someone get killed and being the reason that someone is killed; and neither feels good even if it was to get the man to stop choking you.

You feel sick seeing the sight of the man and it must have shown on your face because Jake tilts your head towards you and says, “¿Estás bien, pequeño?” His mask was gone, but he still wore the rest of the suit. Your eyes meet his brown ones and you would have expected to see that hardness but for the first time since you met him they were softer than ever, just for you. You still don’t know what he said, but you feel like you have to reassure him that you were okay.

“I’m okay.” You tell him, your voice cracking halfway though. Your throat hurts when you speak and you know that bruises will be in the form of handprints tomorrow. You’re going to have a difficult time explaining to anyone that it’s not what they think, you’re not going to be able to tell them that you were at the mall because you can’t afford to be interviewed by the police.

“We need to get them out of here.” You add. The building was coming down and there are more people who are going to die if you don’t get them out. You were wasting too much time being checked on by your friends. Layla nods in agreement.

“You think you can walk?” She asks, her fingers brush gently against your cheek. You can walk, it might take you a while since all energy seems to be drained out of you but you will get out on your own time.

Jake seems to pick up on this because he says, “Give me the kid. I’ll carry them out. You work on getting everyone else.” You want to protest but you’re so fucking exhausted. He crouches down and you’re transferred from the lap of Layla and into his arms, your head rests against his shoulder as he brings his arms underneath your legs and his other arm wraps around your back to help support you before he stands. You were nothing but a bag of flour in his arms thanks to the super strength Khonshu grants him. You feel safe in his arms, the safest that you have been all day.

You bounce a bit in his grip as he walks, his thumb rubs soft circles in your arm as he moves. To comfort him or you, you don’t know. You were about to pass underneath a skylight and you turn your gaze upwards, expecting to see Horus and you were ready to tell him off and give him a defiant look saying: See? I’m still alive, bitch. But, as you pass, all you saw was blue sky and smoke; and no sign of the god ever being there.

—

Taglist:

@letugulus , @only-roaches , @jvdethirlwall , @xennityxen , @astrobees , @nub-the-stub , @em-asian , @yawny0-0 , @80pairsofcrocs , @itsjusspele , @anonymousewrites , @in-between-the-cafes , @sjdraws-00 , @applesnbannasss , @zeroisbored , @night3owl , @savagemickey03 , @marennial , @lushalternative, @moongirln,

Want to be added to the taglist? Don’t be afraid to ask! :)

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messrmoonyy · 2 years

Text

All my moonknight works in one place.

Marc Spector x reader, Steven grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader, Layla El-Faouly x reader. Drabbles, one shots and hcs!

Moonknight requests are currently closed

☆ - smut ♡ - fluff ☾- angst

HCs: One / Two

Drabbles: One / Two

Late night talking ( Avenger reader ) ☆ ♡

Steven gets curious about your powers and reminds you how little he cares about your dark past

Kisses in Cairo ♡

You have the coordinates for Ammits tomb and now all you have to do is find it. With a little help from Steven

The vegan in the steak house ♡

As waitress youve seen your fair share of people get stood up on dates. But none quite like Steven Grant

Fine ( FWB reader ) ☆ ♡ ☾

Friends with benefits was never going to work with someone like Marc Spector, was it? Unless he learns to open up

A date of sorts ♡

You’d always been to shy to ask Layla out, but you finally do it. Sort of.

HC: One /

#re doing my master lists and stuff so it’s easier to navigate.#moonknight #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #moonknight x reader #oscar isaac #x reader #x you #fluff #smut #fic #one shots #angst #Marc Spector #jake lockley #Steven grant #mr knight #plus size reader

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poedameronthighs · 2 years

Text

Hey everyone! I've had this blog for several months now and I'm only just getting around to do this hahaha oops

This blog is my sideblog for posting and reblogging reader x content and it is an 18+ only blog. MINORS DNI.

I follow from @dameronalone

All the goods are below the cut ;)

Requests:

Always feel free to drop in with any of your own thoughts/headcanons/

Headcanons - OPEN FOR ANYONE

Prompt lists - OPEN as long as I've reblogged one in the past like week

Drabble requests - ONLY if we're moots

Rules:

(going to briefly mention some heavy topics in point 6)

Always check to see if requests are open. They are always open to mutual but not always to everyone else

I reserve the right to say no. If I do so, please do not repeatedly ask for something. If you send in an anonymous ask and don't get a response, do not send another ask of the same time

reader will always be autistic/adhd disabled because I am autistic/adhd disabled. Most of the characters I write for, I write as autistic/adhd disabled. This is non-negotiable

I mostly write gn!reader, with afab!gn!reader for most of the smuts I write, but I also write tranmasc, fem, and masc readers. But by default I typically write gn!reader. I also never use y/n. If the reader has a nickname I will put it in the A/N

PLEASE preface any request with tw/cw for any content that could be questionable

ABSOLUTELY preface any request with tags regarding: sui, self-harm, SA, physical, emotional, mental abuse, especially having to do with family, child abuse, and ableism.

If you send anything regarding those topics or any other heavy topic without warnings, I will block you

Do not spam ask. I see everything I get in my inbox but a lot of times it will take me a day or two to answer it if it's a request because I don't always have the spoons for it. This blog is first and foremost a way for me to have fun and I'm not going to break my back for it

The block button is my friend. Please don't take it personally if you find I've blocked you

Don't information mine. I'm not here to educate you about disability. Don't question my theories. They're my theories you don't have to agree. Do NOT come onto my posts and disagree with my headcanons. What the fuck. I will block you. Make your own post. I am not here to defend myself to strangers on the internet I am here to have fun. I have even been called fun by some people that know me

DNI with any tagged with my self-ship tag unless you're a mutual it makes me very uncomfortable and I will block you

If you have a request for a character you're not sure if I write for or would like a clarification OR want to run an idea by me before requesting it, just shoot me a dm :)

I know I sound pretty harsh up there but I'm just taking care of myself & curating my own internet experience. basically as long as you aren't a jerk to me you're welcome to be here <3

Now to the fun stuff!

Fandoms/Characters

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Cassian Andor

Bix Caleen

Din Djarin

Jyn Erso

Moon Knight

Marc Spector

Jake Lockley

Steven Grant

Layla el-Faouly

Triple Frontier

Santiago Garcia

Frankie Morales

Benny Miller

Will Miller

Marvel

Loki

Sylvie

The list may change as my interests do but you can never go wrong with Poe Dameron (or another Oscar character)

Any characters that are italicized are my preference in each fandom. For moon knight, I like them all equally

MASTERLIST

#poedameronthighs masterpost #comm signals

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beautifulbows924 · 2 years

Text

Sunset

Marc Spector x Reader, Past Layla El Faouly x Reader

Masterlist

Writing Bingo Masterlist

A/N: This was a bingo request for @justgimmethebody, I hope it’s everything you wanted! A huge thank you goes out to @darkened-writer for beta reading this for me, I couldn’t have finished this without your help. & @noahspector for always coming through with moral support. 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:)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.7K+

Warnings: Filthy smut with plot, No Spoilers, TW Dubious Consent (Sex Pollen), Angst, Blood mention, the tiniest bit of fluff if you squint, reader is vaguely implied to be female but no pronouns are used.

Summary: You and Marc get yourselves into a sticky situation.

Created for / Fandom: Marvel / @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled N5:Shared Ex / @anyfandomangstbingo B2:Sex Pollen / @mfbingo O4:Coffee Shop / @badthingshappenbingo I2:Misunderstanding

“Layla?”, you groan, your phone pressed uncomfortably to your ear, “What’s going on?”.

There’s a long pause, the receiver crackling as she sighs, “I need your help”.

You scratch the back of your neck, moving to sit upright, “What for?”.

She sighs again, this time loud enough for the receiver to pick it up, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be asking you for anything—not after what happened between us, but this is important. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t”.

You scoff lightly, “So now you want to talk about what happened between us? You left, Layla. End of story”.

“I know, I did”, her voice shakes, “And I don’t have an excuse, I should have talked to you first, but please. I really need your help”.

You roll your eyes, swinging your legs off the side of the bed, “Living on the lam doesn't exactly lend itself to being able to travel at a moment's notice, you know, especially without any monetary incentive”.

Layla brings her lip between her teeth, a familiar sucking sound making its way through the audio, “I know, I’m sorry. But I don’t trust anyone else with this. Just you”.

Anger bubbles underneath your skin. “How’s Marc?”, you retort, unable to swallow the words before they come tumbling out.

Another shaky breath, “He’s good. The divorce finally went through last week—”.

“Alright, enough small talk”, you cut her off, “What is it that you really need?”.

You sit in the corner booth, alone, waiting. The smell of roasted coffee beans saturates the air, the heat from your half-empty mug radiating to your fingertips. You trace the edge with your index finger, around in endless circles, a nervous habit you managed to pick up over the years.

Leaning forward, you grab the cup, bringing it to your lips. It’s colder than you expected it to be, bitter.

Wind seeps in, sending papers flying as the door chimes open, revealing Marc Spector.

He wears a black hat, face drawn into a scowl, thick curls draped over his forehead. His shoulders are stiff, likely years of military training at work. And his body language makes it obvious that he doesn’t want to be here any more than you do.

Marc’s eyes scan the small cafe, coming to a rest when they meet yours. He hesitates, narrowing them for a split second before making his way over.

You gesture to the seat in front of you, rolling your eyes as he makes a show of plopping down into it, resting both elbows on the back of the seat.

“You’re going to catch someone’s attention”, you growl, placing your mug back on the table.

He shrugs, “And?”.

You lean back, crossing your arms, “And you’re lucky I’m even here, Spector. Which means we’re doing things my way”.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Okay, I get it. What did Layla tell you?”.

The barista clears her throat, “I hope I’m not interrupting”, she says, grabbing your attention, “I just wanted to take your order”. She points to Marc.

You wait until she leaves to keep up the conversation. “Not much”, you go back to tracing the edge of your cup, “Just that it was important and that you’d fill me in on the details when you got here”.

His jaw ticks, muscles working over time as he gets his thoughts in order. “Our target is here in London”, he says, pushing a file towards you.

There’s a photo stapled to the left corner. The woman in it is fairly young, mid 20’s at the most.

“She’s the museum curator's daughter”, he explains, sensing the question in your eyes, “Layla thinks she has her own personal collection, a collection that includes—”, he flips through a few pages, “This”. He points to another picture, a red and white flower nearly bursting through it.

The barista comes back with Marc’s americano, setting it down in front of him as her eyes linger on his face. “Do you need anything else sir?”, she asks.

He looks to you. “That’ll be all”, you speak up, rolling your eyes at her blatant attempt at flirting.

She huffs quietly, turning away.

“How can some plant be an ancient relic?”, you ask, running your finger across it.

“It’s not just some plant”, he replies, “It’s the Egyptian Lotus. It’s been extinct for centuries”.

You scoff, “And you expect me to just go along with this? To what? Go on a wild goose chase to chase after some flower?”.

“It’s not just some flower”, he repeats, “It’s the key to finding Imhotep’s tomb”.

You sigh, fidgeting with the mug in front of you, “Alright, the sooner we get this done. The sooner we can go our separate ways”.

The street’s crowded, bustling with people, bodies pushed against each other without any care. The smell of cut grass and car exhaust, the sound of music and the chatter of mid-day business, overwhelmingly familiar.

Glancing over at Marc, you notice he’s trained on something, jaw set at one particular point.

“What do you see?”, you ask, leaning past him to follow his gaze.

He snaps his head back at your movement, yanking you behind him with an excessive amount of force, “Seriously? Are you trying to catch the entire cities attention?”.

Annoyance lights up your features. You’ve been doing this kind of work for a long time, longer than he has. You huff, shoving his hands away, “Nope, that’s your job—remember?”.

He rolls his eyes, glancing back at what you assume must be your target.

“Do you want my help or not?”, you growl, eyes trained on his every move, “Because I can call Layla right now and let her know you’re being difficult”.

He sighs, turning to face you, a sincerity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Yes—I do”, he says, throwing a hand out to wave you off, “I’m just on edge”.

“Well be on edge somewhere else, this is too important for you to be off your game. Remember that and let me do my job.”

There’s a pause, a long moment where you stare each other down. Waiting for the other to break.

“The target's there, next to the steps," he relents, jutting his chin towards a figure not too far from his left. You move around him again, this time sending him a pointed glare, so you can get a better look.

It’s the same woman from the photo. She looks happy, greeting her father on the steps of the museum with a bright smile.

“Are you ready for tonight?”, you ask, slipping behind him and out of the target’s line of sight.

“I don’t know, are you?”

Deep green leaves and bright red buds curl tightly together, bright white at the tip and deep red at the bottom. A self-contained sunset of reddened hues.

“Is this it?”

Marc nods, keeping his gun trained on the only exit, “Grab a few of those buds and let’s get the fuck out of here”.

Turning to the plant, you grab one of the stems at the bottom, cutting it with the edge of your knife.

The vibrant hues of red draw you in, like you’ve been placed under a spell.

You trace the bud with your index finger, pressing on the tip.

“What are you doing?” You hear Marc ask from behind you, but you don’t answer. You can’t. You’re too transfixed by the plant in front of you.

Continuing to press down, you feel a slight give. And then, with a sudden pop, the bud bursts open, releasing a thick, syrupy liquid.

The liquid is red like the plant, and it smells sickly sweet, almost artificial. Without thinking, you lift your fingers to your mouth and lick it off.

It prickles at your nose and curls inside your mouth, melting against your tongue like cotton candy. It tastes even sweeter than it smells, and you can feel the way it works itself through your body almost immediately.

Suddenly, you feel Marc's hands on you, pulling you away from the plant. “What the fuck were you doing?”, he shouts, but you don’t answer. You can’t. A warmth ignites inside of you, traveling to your core.

He drags you away from it and towards the exit, but you resist. “Let me go!”, you yell, struggling against him. You want to go back. You need to go back.

But he's too strong, and he manages to drag you out of the room and into the hallway.

“What the fuck was that?”, he asks. You still don't answer. You're too far gone. Intoxicated.

He looks at you, and you can see the confusion and anger swirling in his eyes. But there's something else there too. Something you can't quite identify.

He shakes you, hard, “What. The. Fuck. Was. That?”.

You roll the remainder of the sticky residue between your fingers. “I don't know”, you reply, your voice a slurred mess, “It was just so... so…”. Sweat beads down Marc’s neck, and you feel the sudden urge to lick it off him.

You lean in, your mouth mere inches from his skin. You can feel his pulse racing, hear each tick of the watch on his left wrist. He smells like salt and musk and you can't help but nip at his neck with your teeth.

“Shit”, he hisses, pushing you away, “We can't do this. Not here. Not now”.

He grabs your hand and starts to pull you away again, but you thrash in his hold, smearing the rest of the liquid across his lips.

He freezes.

You’re feverish, uncomfortably turned on. You press your legs together tightly, whimpering at the slightest bit of friction. “Please”, you beg, “Just a little longer. I need to… I need you”.

Something in Marc snaps. Without warning, he pushes you up against the wall, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, “Is this what you wanted?”.

He presses his body against yours, his erection poking at your stomach, “Come on, fucking beg for it”.

He pulls away briefly, just long enough to rip your shirt apart. And then he's back, his mouth on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your skin.

Grabbing the meat of your thighs, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“Please, Marc”, you moan against his lips, begging him to do something—anything, “Please”.

He pulls away slightly, “Say you’re mine”.

Your eyes stare into his, filled with so many emotions, you can’t pinpoint any of them.

“I’m yours”, you breathe between kisses.

He pins you to the ground, your legs still wrapped around him, “Don’t worry baby, I’m going to take good care of you”. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a kaleidoscope of reddened marks in their wake.

He lifts his hips from yours and you whine at the loss of contact.

Shoving a hand between you, he hurriedly unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down with a single yank.

You begin to get impatient, starting to work open the button on your own pants when Marc decides to pull them apart, tossing the remnants to the side.

Reaching down, you help him shove your panties off, frantic to have him inside of you, to drown out the screaming need that’s filling your every thought.

You use your free hand to pull him down by the neck, crashing your lips together in a tangled mess of tongues and teeth. The kiss is rough, needy, filled with every ounce of desire you can spare. Emboldened by your passion, his hips snap forward, tip dipping between your folds as he coats himself in your wetness.

The first thrust is hard, deep. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, just keeps going harder, faster, until your vision is blurry and you’re left gasping for air.

You cry out as he hits a sensitive spot inside you, your body bucking against his. He grabs your wrists, pressing them into the ground above your head.

You arch your back, trying to get closer, to feel more of him.

He growls, flipping you on your stomach, pressing you into the ground. Your hands search for something to grip, something to hold on to. He slides one hand down, pushing a finger inside you, curling it, hitting all your sweet spots.

You moan loudly, uncontrollably.

His other hand reaches forward, rubbing and teasing at you as he adds another finger. You’re so close, so fucking close, and then he pulls away.

You whimper in protest, but he doesn't listen. He flips you again. This time pushing your legs up, draping them over his shoulders, and then he’s back inside you, moving in and out, his cock filling you in a way nothing else ever has. Or will.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, leaving marks. Trails of blood.

Your walls tighten around him. You can feel yourself getting close, so close, your toes curling at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Marc”, you cry out, your voice laced with desperation, “Please, I’m so close”.

He doesn't say anything, just increases the pace, his breathing coming out in short, sharp gasps.

You can feel your body tensing up, about to explode.

And then it does. You scream his name, your whole body shaking with pleasure as you come undone, your heart beating a million miles a minute.

Marc follows suit soon after, spilling deep inside you, filling you to the brim with seemingly endless ropes of cum. You lay underneath him, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasm hit into you like a freight train.

He collapses against you, face resting in the crook of your neck, his body shaking with the force of his release. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both come down from your high.

Suddenly he stiffens, pulling away and standing up, getting dressed quickly. He doesn't say anything as he finishes putting on his pants and buckles his belt. He doesn't look at you as he grabs his gun and holster, slinging it over his shoulder.

He starts to walk away, but then he pauses, his back still to you. “I’m sorry”, he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I shouldn’t have…”.

The haze lifts.

You stand on shaky legs, moving to place your hand on his shoulder, “Marc—this wasn’t your fault”, he flinches, “You can’t blame this on yourself”.

You sigh, “I know we don’t really get along because of everything that happened with Layla, but even I know you weren’t trying to take advantage of me”.

“What do you mean everything that happened with Layla?”, he asks, turning to face you.

“Her cheating on me with you”, you deadpan, avoiding his eyes.

Marc’s jaw ticks, “What? We were married. I had no idea you dated”, confusion decorates his every feature.

“When you disappeared—to deal with Arthur Harrow on your own, we dated for a while. Then one night she disappears and I don’t find out until several months later that you’ve decided to try and work things out.”

He moves a step closer, “I didn’t know any of that, I swear. Layla’s been keeping information from both of us”.

“We should get going”, you reply, “We still have a lot of work to do”. You step around him, walking towards the door.

A hand catches your upper arm, halting your movements, “You don’t believe me, do you?”, his hold loosens a bit, “I’m telling the truth. Just like I’m telling the truth when I say I’m attracted to you—and not just physically”.

You remove your arm from his grasp, sighing heavily. “I’m attracted to you too”, you offer, “But I need time to process all of this”.

Marc nods, shoving his hand in his pocket to silence the ringtone blaring in his ears.

You watch as his face falls, a mix of anger and betrayal crossing his features.

Incoming Call: Layla, the screen lights up.

He rejects it, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “We’ll talk more about this later”, he says, his voice tight, “Right now we need to focus on the task at hand”.

She’s got a lot of explaining to do.

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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Ballroom Blitz, Part 1

Summary: *Stefon from SNL voice* This fic has everything: parties, Khonshu possessing his avatar, ballroom dancing, a cameo by the British royal family, LAYLA EL-FAOULY, the moon boys looking like this ⬇️ , and so much more!

Basically, Sigyn brings the Moon Knight to a classy function at Buckingham Palace, and all hell breaks loose. A continuation of my fic SCARED TO BE LONELY

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Marc x Fem!OC, Steven x Fem!OC, Jake x Fem!OC, past Loki x Fem!OC, past Marc x Layla

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Here have some Moon Boys and Sigyn while I write Marc and Jake screwing their breastfeeding wife in Shape of You land. Also, what can I say? I love dressing Marc and Sigyn up and making them dance in public together. Also I made Shuri queer and gave Khonshu they/them pronouns byeeeee

I could kill him, Sigyn thought to herself as she paced up and down the hallway of Buckingham Palace, the rather unimaginative locale for where the British royalty was hosting the ball. The sound of her stilettos meeting the polished marble reverberated down the length of the high-ceilinged corridor.

The Brits were hosting the event to foster camaraderie and diplomacy between the nations that were ruled by warrior-superheroes. The Wakandans were in attendance with all of their slowly dissipating mystique and perennial grace, and naturally the Asgardians - New Asgardians, technically - were invited as well.

While at first Thor and King Valkyrie had believed that going was a waste of precious time, time they needed to use hunting down Gorr and Loki, Sigyn convinced them otherwise. They had to go, she’d implored, because if they didn’t it would raise suspicion and worry. It wasn’t time for the general public to panic just yet. Furthermore, she’d pointed out, this would give them cover to debrief the Wakandans, since Gorr’s vendetta affected them too.

There was one more reason Sigyn knew that their attendance was the right move, and it was because of her escort. It was expected for Thor and Valkyrie to arrive as a unit, the former crown prince of Asgard and his successor on Midgard, which left Sigyn’s arm bare. She refused to attend alone, therefore she’d asked Marc to accompany her. He’d accepted.

Sigyn publicly on the arm of another man would infuriate her estranged husband. This was different than she and Khonshu’s avatars having sex in the privacy of her Claridge’s suite, or the dark corners and hidden alleys they’d fuck in each time they failed to find Loki as they chased him halfway across the galaxy. Attending the ball with Marc was an overt abandonment of Sigyn’s vows to her spouse, no matter that he’d forsaken them first. She was hoping that it would make the adopted Asgardian so livid it would deliver Loki to them, ending their weeks-long fruitless pursuit.

Yet, Marc wasn’t here. Nor was Steven or Jake. They all knew about tonight’s event, she’d told them each separately, and how much it meant to Sigyn. It was a chance for the princess to recapture a portion of her old life, her life in her home universe, where she was a shrewd diplomat and gracious guest. Not only was the system late, they weren’t answering any of their phones.

“Seeg,” Thor jogged over to her, looking dapper in his tux. “They’re going to start introductions soon. I’ve already asked the Wakandans to go before us, but is there any sign of him?”

I am going to kill him, Sigyn amended her previous thought. All traces of doubt were gone. She detested exceptions like this being made on her behalf, especially when she was conducting official business. How could they do this to her? As if she didn’t already have enough abandonment issues.

His sister’s dejected expression answered Thor’s question. He put his massive palms on her shoulders. “Hey, I’ll send Val in by herself. We’ll go in together, though we may be so blond and dazzling as a pair it could drive the Midgardians mad.”

The god took the small smile his words etched across his sister’s lips as a victory. “I’ll enter on my own Thor, you and the King need to present a united front. Besides, I’m not even being introduced as a royal anyway.”

Tonight, for the first time in nearly a millennium, Sigyn wouldn’t be introduced as princess of Asgard. Instead she would be Lady Sigyn Frodisdottir, her name when she was maiden. It made sense. She was royal on a different Asgard, and it would confuse everyone if a princess appeared out of nowhere in New Asgard. They’d all think she was married to Thor or Valkyrie. Nevertheless, it was more salt to the wound Loki carved into her heart, a wound Marc, Steven, or Jake’s presence would’ve served as a balm for.

“No!” Thor protested, “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Sigyn opened her mouth to insist once again, but a member of the palace staff approached her. “My lady, I apologize, but I believe your escort just arrived at one of the service entrances.”

Sigyn’s heart soared and burned all at once. He didn’t abandon her after all, but of course Marc hadn’t listened and arrived in a car like she’d told him to. “Is your team bringing him here?”

“We are my lady,” the staff member confirmed, “But for security purposes, could you come with me to make sure it’s him?”

“Of course,” Sigyn answered without hesitation. She turned to Thor and begged, “Buy us a little more time, would you? I’ll collect him as quickly as possible.”

Her brother nodded, mission accepted, as Sigyn and the staff member dashed from where the nobility waited outside the grand ballroom. The princess was surprisingly speedy in her heels.

“My lady, are you comfortable with passing through some of the staff corridors?” they inquired. “I loathe to suggest it, particularly to an esteemed guest such as yourself, but it may be wise in the interest of time.”

“Certainly,” Sigyn consented, “I don’t mind at all.”

Sigyn met Marc in a staff hallway just outside the kitchens. He was impeccably dressed in a classic tuxedo that Sigyn had procured for him through Claridge’s personal shopper. Steven had been fronting when they’d had a fitting. He nearly lost his mind over wearing a suit that was being altered for him by a tailor from Savile Row.

But this was undoubtedly Marc charging toward her. The storminess in his eyes and athleticism in his gait was unmistakable to the Asgardian. He was clean-shaven, his hair neatly pushed from his brow with a hint of product. His appearance would’ve made Sigyn’s heart skip a beat if she wasn’t in such a rush.

He began his apology, words pouring out of him, as soon as Marc glimpsed her. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry. I rushed here, literally flew as fast as I can, Khonshu demanded that I–”

Sigyn stopped him “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now, we’re delaying the introductions.”

The princess took Marc’s hand and tugged him to follow her, but now he’d been able to get a proper look at her, and Marc nearly choked on his own breath. Sigyn was a vision. She wore a simple yet timelessly elegant navy blue satin gown. It had a modest, delicate boatneck neckline, and fit the length of Sigyn’s body like a glove, the hem stopping just above the floor.

The Asgardian’s long locks were swept off her shoulders in a neat French twist. Marc had seen Sigyn without makeup plenty of times now, she was gorgeous and frankly didn’t need it he’d always thought, but there was something about the touch of smoky shadow around her eyes and an almost nude pink painted onto her lips that enhanced her divine features further.

A sparkling diamond bracelet encircled the wrist that held Marc’s hand, and two small teardrop diamond earrings fell from her lobes. Around Sigyn’s neck, a thin diamond choker. The princess looked like an old movie star, understated but still incredibly alluring.

That was until Sigyn turned around to tow Marc in the direction of the ballroom. If he was a cartoon, his eyes would have bulged out of his head and left his skull altogether. Where the front of the Asgardian’s dress rested just above her clavicles, the back was open, plunging down an expanse of bare skin to right above where Sigyn’s spine began to widen into the plump curves of her ass. And it turned out that her necklace wasn’t a choker at all, it was only a portion of a long diamond strand on which a sapphire, exactly the color of the princess’s eyes, hung at the root of her back.

Jake was so captivated by this development that he pushed to the front, forcing a switch with no regard that they weren’t alone. The palace staff hurried along beside them, but that didn’t stop Jake from grabbing Sigyn’s hips and pulling her back to him.

“Ay princesa, tu culo en este vestido”, he murmured. “Me estás dando una erección en medio del Palacio de Buckingham.”

Thank heavens the palace staff were bastions of discretion.

“You’ll never get this ass again if you make us any more late,” she warned him in Spanish.

Jake promptly released her and they resumed their race back to the ballroom, yet Sigyn only made it a few paces before her hand was captured and she was pulled into an equally hungry and earnest kiss.

“You look absolutely radiant tonight, love,” Steven professed when they broke apart.

“Thank you darling,” she melted. “But we must make haste, we’ll have time for the two of us soon.”

Which reminded Sigyn, “Whose name shall I give to the announcer?”

“Mine.” American accent. Marc. He’d switched back.

“One of these days I wish to speak with Khonshu,” Sigyn fumed. “This is outright obnoxious.”

“He thinks I’m serving you more than him lately,” Mark divulged.

That stopped Sigyn dead in her tracks. “You’re not serving me. I am your partner Marc, I could be queen of the multiverse but we’d still be partners in this venture. You know that, right?”

Marc nodded.

“That infernal ancient bird,” Sigyn swore.

Marc remained silent. He’d done his best to lose the Egyptian deity as he flew across London, but Khonshu was always watching. Marc knew that the god wasn’t exactly fond of Sigyn either and getting in between them would be nothing short of a shitshow.

They arrived back to the ballroom entrance just as the Wakandan delegation were finishing their introductions, Shuri and T’Challa the last to cross the threshold.

“You made it!” Thor crowed in delight, Valkyrie at his side. “We’ll go first, give you two a moment.”

“That violates protocol,” Sigyn protested.

“Who cares?!” Valkyrie exclaimed with playful irreverence. “On New Asgard, the protocol is whoever’s ready goes first.”

The King sent Marc a reassuring wink and soon they disappeared into the ballroom with the announcement “Her Majesty King Valkyrie of New Asgard and Thor, the strongest Avenger.”

“I can’t believe he made them say that,” Marc muttered as Sigyn adjusted his lapel.

“Do not get me started,” the Asgardian concurred through gritted teeth. She lay her hands on his broad chest. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“This is the furthest a kid from working class Chicago can get,” Marc told her.

“Just take one step at a time and keep your gaze straight ahead,” she advised.

It was their turn. Sigyn whispered to the uniformed attendant waiting to announce them, then returned to Marc, who offered her his arm. This was it.

“Lady Sigyn Frodisdottir of New Asgard and Mister Marc Spector!”

A swell of strings from an orchestra greeted them as the pair entered the ballroom. Every eye in the massive space was on Marc and Sigyn as they descended the staircase into the room, Marc making sure to go slow so Sigyn would retain her balance.

Yet, the princess didn’t need his aid. She seemed to glide down the stairs, clearly the Asgardian noble was back in her element. Nevertheless, she covertly squeezed her escort’s arm, hoping he got the message “I’m happy you’re here with me” she meant to convey with the gesture.

He took her advice, setting his gaze directly in front of him instead of looking at his feet, channeling the confidence from knowing he was here with the most beautiful woman in the room.

Thor, Valkyrie, T’Challa, his consort Nakia, Shuri, her striking consort - a member of the Dora Milaje, plus the British crown prince and his wife were all waiting for Marc and Sigyn at the base of the staircase. The orchestra continued playing, so once they were level with the other couples, Marc led Sigyn out to the dance floor with the rest of the royals and began the waltz.

She’d given him advance notice about this part, which gave Marc time to teach himself the mercifully simple box step the dance consisted of as well as time to practice with her.

Sigyn beamed at her partner while they waltzed. When Loki first left, Sigyn couldn’t have dreamed that she’d be in the arms of another powerful, kinder, dashing man, dancing at an opulent Migardian palace in another universe. Though now Sigyn was here, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she told him.

“You’re throwing off my counting,” he chided.

“Please, you can do this in your sleep and you know it,” she dismissed him fondly.

“I’ll be glad when this song is over” he groused, then softened. “This is a little different from the first time we danced.”

“Only slightly,” she joked. Sigyn wanted to kiss Marc, yet they’d mutually agreed that there were to be no public displays of affection this evening. Luring Loki was one thing, but they didn’t need any Midgardian attention. It was proving more difficult in practice, what with Marc dressed to the nines, holding her near enough for the princess to smell his crisp cologne, his chiseled face so close to hers.

“I know Steven and Jake already said it, but you do look really beautiful tonight,” he offered as they sailed across the floor.

“Thank you, Marc,” she grinned again, Marc was the stingiest with compliments. It wasn’t that he didn’t genuinely mean them, but sharing them necessitated a vulnerability the Midgardian was still unaccustomed to. “You look quite dashing yourself. Now what troublesome task did Khonshu insist you complete before you arrived?”

Marc opened his mouth to answer, but instead of vocalizing, his eyes glowed a pearlescent white, his posture stiffened, and his head tilted back slightly. Miraculously, he didn’t miss a step as they danced which could only mean one thing…

“Why don’t I tell you myself, hm? Since you are so eager to speak with me.”

Khonshu.

“Your timing is impeccable,” she commented, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

They twirled her, Khonshu’s agility taking Sigyn off guard. Marc had mastered the box step but not much else.

“It would behoove you not to wear your emotions so plainly on your face, little princess,” the god admonished her. Khonshu’s voice was unmistakably deeper than Marc’s and more sonorous.

They no longer shouted like they had the first time they’d puppeted Marc’s body with the Ennead. Now that Marc had experienced it before, Khonshu had a better grip on modulating his avatar’s volume.

“Typical man, telling a woman how and how much to feel,” Sigyn scoffed.

“I am a god.”

“That may be true, but you’re still a man,” she quipped.

“It has been a while since I was corporeal,” they rumbled, pressing Marc’s groin into her hip.

Sigyn recoiled so quickly, the normally balletic Asgardian tripped over her shoes. Khonshu steadied her, disguising her stumble as a dip on the dance floor.

It wasn’t fair that the mangy falcon was wearing Marc’s skin. The face she gazed upon, the arms that held her, did things to Sigyn. Involuntary things. Primal things. She tried to superimpose the beaked image of Khonshu Steven had shown her over Marc’s features and tamp down on the defiant arousal stirring within her.

“What are you doing here?” her glare full of flames, “Why now?”

The deity straightened, bringing Sigyn with them. “Because you’ve fallen in love with my avatar and he’s falling for you. Every damn one of him.”

“I don’t–-I’m not in love with Marc,” she instantly denied as they resumed the waltz. What if he could hear her? She went on, “I do care about him however. His safety and wellbeing is a matter of importance to me, which is more than you can say.”

Khonshu snarled in a harsh whisper “How dare you insult me.”

“I do not fear you,” Sigyn looked them straight in Marc’s eyes. “In fact, you ought to be thanking me, putting yourself in my debt. I’m trying to save you.”

“And yourself,” the god pointed out, “I will not allow you to pretend as if you're performing some great act of charity on my behalf. I enable your intergalactic travel, lest you forget. You are serving yourself just as much as you’re entreating my avatar to serve you.”

“All the stars above, they are not–”

A slackening in the body’s posture stopped the princess mid-sentence.

“Sigyn?” Her name was spoken in a British accent instead of Khonshu’s dark timbre.

“Steven?!”

Steven heaved as if he was holding the god back with all of his physical might. “So sorry love…we’re trying to get him out of here, but he’s too power–”

His eyes glowed once more and his shoulders went rigid. Khonshu had returned.

Sigyn exhaled an exasperated sigh at their reemergence. “Do they give you consent to use their body like this?”

“I own this body,” Khonshu replied simply.

“Well, that response clarifies perfectly who is in service to who.”

“And yet they do whatever you tell them to, then lick your quim afterwards,” the deity fired back.

“You are wildly fortunate that I enjoy your avatar’s face,” her voice lower and more menacing than any of them - Jake, Marc, Steven and Khonshu - had ever heard it, “because otherwise I would punch that smirk clean off of it.”

“Little princess–”

“No more,” Sigyn demanded. “I want my escort back. Now.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

“I won’t ask again.”

When Khonshu refused, still swaying with Sigyn, she began in the same ominous tone, “You know tonight is important to me, which is precisely why you decided to make your entrance now. I must hand it to you, Khonshu, it’s your most breathtaking act of sabotage towards me yet.”

She was right. The Egyptian deity knew Sigyn wouldn’t make a scene in front of so many fellow royals and prying eyes.

“However, Marc, Steven, Jake and I, along with Thor, King Valkyrie, and the buffoons at S.W.O.R.D., we may fail. Gorr may kill us all,” Sigyn continued, “Or if Loki rises to power, he’ll likely spare me. We’re still married according to most cosmic law, and he’ll want heirs. Legitimate ones. Norns, he’s wanted children for the past two centuries now.”

Sigyn leaned in close to Marc’s ear and murmured to Khonshu, “What do you think he’ll do to you if that comes to pass? Better yet, what do you think I will do after your insolence tonight?”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Perhaps I am,” Sigyn conceded, “Or perhaps I’m not. Are you going to risk discovering which it is?”

Khonshu pulled away so they could see Sigyn’s face. She sneered at him, “You will continue to permit your avatar to partner with me to stop Loki, and provide transport for us whenever we require it. Now return my escort to me.”

In lieu of a verbal reply, Khonshu merely cooperated, the body nearly collapsing on top of Sigyn when it was returned to Marc.

“Marc, darling, are you alright?” She held him close to her.

“Yeah…” he was panting as if he’d run a marathon, “yeah I’m fine. Can we sit down?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she cooed. The Asgardian and Marc rarely used pet names with each other, but in this moment after witnessing Khonshu’s cruelty, Sigyn couldn’t help herself.

They left the dance floor. Marc sank down onto one of the plush red velvet couches that were dotted around the edges of the spacious room.

Sigyn sat with him, rubbing his back. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I will be,” he assured her. “Just need a moment.”

Sigyn removed her hand to allow Marc his space. She kept quiet and flagged one of the servers, requesting a glass of water for her partner.

“Thank you,” Marc said when the server returned with the glass.

She surveyed Marc expectantly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Marc answered honestly. “He’s done it before, but only when the Ennead convenes. It’s something I can’t get used to though.”

“I’m sure.”

Marc sent the princess a wry grin. “You were pretty fucking formidable back there.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she teased. “How do you think I was able to keep Loki in line for as long as I did?”

Her quip prompted a question from Marc. He tried to make it sound nonchalant. “So you two are still married?”

“Only legally. It’s similar to that term you told me, for when spouses have decided to no longer stay together but yet to properly divorce.”

“Separated,” he supplied for her.

“Yes, we’re separated.”

“Would you take him back if he won? If he became the sole god in the multiverse?”

“If it meant protecting those I care about, yes. I would.”

Marc respected her honesty. “You know I always wondered why you two—you…you didn’t have kids.”

“No child of mine will ever be used as a pawn, and that’s exactly what they’d be if we’d had one,” Sigyn explained. “In my universe Thor, much like the one here, is still unwed and childless. So I knew, no matter how much he’d deny it, that if I gave birth before Thor married and had an heir of his own, Loki would use our child as a bargaining chip to ascend the throne before his brother.”

“I can see why you wouldn't want to bring a kind into that,” Marc sympathized.

“I appreciate that,” she managed.

The two watched the other couples dancing in silence. Marc was surprised at how light the hulking god of thunder was on his feet.

Marc leaned over to Sigyn, “For the record, I don’t think I serve you.”

The Asgardian was diffident. “I’m glad.”

“And I really want to kiss you right now,” he confessed.

“We promised we wouldn’t.”

“That was before I saw you in this dress.”

“You think it’s been any easier for me with you looking like that?”

“Sigyn,” he rasped, crowding her space further.

The princess was on the verge of succumbing to Marc, breaking their mutual promise, when Thor strode up to them and interrupted, “Thankfully that’s over!”

Marc and Sigyn sprang apart. The Avenger pretended to be oblivious and continued, “Did anyone else feel the weird energy out there just now? Marc, my man, you’ve been holding back your dance moves!”

“What is it, brother?” Sigyn unsuccessfully masked the irritation in her voice, refusing to take her eyes off her escort.

“Valkyrie’s rounding up the Wakandans, it’s time.”

Ah. That. Sigyn turned to Thor. “Marc should come.”

“Marc should stay and be eyes on the ballroom while we’re away, like we discussed,” Thor was doing the thing where he sounded overly upbeat to mask his frustration.

Marc could sense it. He pecked Sigyn’s lips, effectively kissing the pout off of her face. “We should stick to the plan. I’m fine here.”

At last she agreed and rose from the red cushions. “We won’t be gone long, and you’ll pay for that, Spector.”

Marc winked. “I sure hope so.”

As Sigyn and Thor departed, the god whispered, “You said it was casual.”

“It is,” she countered, looking anywhere but Thor’s face.

“You two are acting like you’re square in the sexily-denying-their-feeling-for-each-other phase of any good rom-com,” Thor shot back.

Sigyn glared at him. “You need to lay off the Midgardian entertainment, I think.”

***

Marc set about sweeping the room in his date’s absence. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a server, not to drink, but as a prop for a very fake casual stroll around the room. Sigyn had warned him that Loki was a shapeshifter, so he did a lap to see if anyone, even the most innocuous attendees, perhaps the Queen herself, was tailing or watching him.

Who Marc found instead knocked the wind out of him. He blinked in disbelief, sure that the vision in front of him was in fact a hallucination. It wasn’t though, because once they locked eyes, she made her way over to him instead of disintegrating before him.

It was his ex-wife.

Where Sigyn had opted for a timeless subtle elegance with her gown, she had eschewed tradition and wore a much more modern ensemble. A cap-sleeved orange crop top showcased her broad shoulders, then stopped at the center of her rib cage, revealing a delectable strip of tawny skin at her midsection. A voluminous matching orange skirt bloomed from her waist, everything accented by the dainty gold jewelry she wore.

She looked gorgeous. He was going to need that champagne after all.

“Layla?!”

“Hi Marc.”

He tried not to betray just how much he was reeling at her presence. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same about you. Of all the colonizer palaces in all the cities in the world…”

A nervous laugh escaped Marc at her Casablanca reference. He took a pull from his champagne flute to ease him. “Sorry, I sound like a dick for asking, but why are you here?”

“I've been consulting for the Wakandans on recovering stolen artifacts,” she informed him. Layla kept her voice carefully guarded and aloof. It stung to realize Marc was no longer privy to Layla’s adventures.

He attempted to wheedle them out of her anyway. “What, you going to use the party as cover to make a play tonight?

Layla ignored her ex-husband’s question and sipped her respective champagne instead. “The reason you’re here made it pretty clear when she paraded you in earlier.”

Marc’s cheeks burned. Layla knew how much he hated pomp. “It’s…it’s not like that. We’re working together.”

Layla shot him her signature “don’t bullshit me” look but Marc doubled down.

“Seriously, there’s a threat involving an alien and a Norse god and I’m helping the Asgardians track them down before they can do too much damage.”

Her laser gaze intensified. Layla knew him too well, and knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth. She cursed the dark, masochistic part of her that wanted to hear Marc say that they were sleeping together.

Marc didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he swore, “It’s casual. I don’t think either of us know what we are, or care to. No labels, no commitments.”

“You committed to learning the waltz.”

“You look great,” Marc changed the subject, one in which he could actually tell the truth.

“Marc—“

“Are you still working with Tawaret?” Marc pressed.

“Do you miss me?”

Yes, said his gut. He hated himself for it. The divorce was final, Marc still considered Layla as his wife. Deep down he knew he could fuck Sigyn six ways to Sunday and still a little part of him would miss Layla. It wasn't fair to his Asgardian lover, and it was bloody painful for Marc.

Marc searched for an adequate answer. He did miss her, and after everything they went through in Cairo, they thought they could give their marriage another chance. But Marc couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d condemned the person he loved most to the same servitude he entrapped himself in.

Though Tawaret was much kinder to her avatar than Khonshu to him, it also wasn’t lost on Marc how she blossomed in her new role as Cairo’s resident superhero. Not to mention the discovery of Jake threw him for a loop. Ultimately, he filed the divorce papers again because Marc believed he needed to allow Layla to enter this new chapter of her life unencumbered with his baggage, his DID, his love for others to exploit to get to her.

While Marc’s thoughts raced, Sigyn rushed to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder and melding herself into his side with a blind fluidity.

“Darling, Thor’s insisting that you sit for the Asgardian delegation photograph, and he won’t listen to me when I insisted we’ve put you through enough this evening. It’s his attempt at a fraternal gesture, I suppose, but we must—“

“Sigyn, this is Layla El-Faouly.”

The princess faltered, taking in the sight of the caramel skinned, raven haired beauty before her. Her mane of dark curls were reminiscent of a regal lioness, her eyes inquisitive as a hawk’s.

Sigyn felt her heart fracture and jealousy bloom in its cracks. Khonshu had been more right about her feelings for Marc than she’d cared to admit. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours, my lady,” Layla responded without missing a beat.

“Call me Sigyn, please.” The princess searched for something more to say, something safe. “Are you enjoying tonight’s festivities?”

“Very much so.”

“Yes, the British certainly know how to entertain their guests.”

“As well as subjugate and steal from other cultures,” added Layla.

Sigyn’s eyebrows shot up. “I ought to have done more research on our hosts it seems.”

“Didn’t you say you two needed to be going?” Layla asked in a deceptively airy tone, zeroing in on her ex-husband.

Sigyn also looked to Marc for help. He felt like a deer caught in not one, but two, deadly hunters' crosshairs.

The Asgardian broke the silence. “Right…well, I could always tell Thor that I couldn’t find you Marc, if you two have more to discuss.”

“No, let’s go,” he answered at last. The decision to leave with Sigyn hurt Layla more than if Marc had stabbed her in the heart.

Sigyn turned to the exquisite Egyptian. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“And you, Sigyn.”

The princess waited until they were far enough away to remark coolly, “She’s stunning.”

Marc tensed. “Sigyn...”

“Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she mused, drinking in the figure Marc cut in his tux. “You two make a beautiful couple.”

“Stop.”

Sigyn glowered at him. Marc moved in closer, put his hand on the bare skin of her back, just under where the sapphire dangled. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know, Marc, are you?” she shot back, angling away from his touch. “You said all of nothing back there.”

“I don’t want to do this right now,” Marc huffed.

“How fortunate, neither do I,” Sigyn parried, her mounting anger causing her to walk faster, “So if there’s one of you in there who hasn’t been with her I would much rather speak to them.”

That was despicable, she thought as soon as the words had left her mouth. Sigyn had no right to speak to Marc like that, to treat him as interchangeable, to demand a more convenient alter at any given moment. Yet before the Asgaridan could apologize, a pair of arms pulled her back against a solid torso just as they had earlier that evening, causing the blue gem she wore to dig into her spine.

“Estoy aqui, nena” Jake murmured into her ear.

“You were never with her?”

Jake laughed, his trademark humorless bark. “She doesn’t know I exist.”

“He’s furious at me, isn’t he?” She inquired about Marc. “He should be.”

He shushed her in a soothing tone. “Don’t think about that right now. Be here with me. I’m more fun at a party than the two of them combined.”

Sigyn walked out of his hold, though she kept her hand clasped in his. “They’re still waiting on us. Can you pretend to be Marc for the next five minutes?”

“Claro que si,” Jake assured her, following her. “Then we leave.”

“Not that soon,” Sigyn countered. “But soon enough.”

Jake growled in her ear with excitement. “Por favor princesa, let’s leave now. I’ll take you to a club where we can really dance.”

But they were already entering the opulent meeting room where the photographs were being taken, Thor booming “There you two are!” at their arrival.

READ PART TWO

A/N: I need everyone to know that I adore Layla and May Calamawy sooo much so that every OC I write must be intimidated and jealous of her because she is truly a goddess among us. That being said, I harscore ship Layla and the Moon Boys in canon, wanted to make sure NO ONE thinks I’m a hater!

Taglist: @starfirette @twwcs

Translations:

Ay princesa, tu culo en este vestido - Ay princess, your ass in this dress

Me estás dando una erección en medio del Palacio de Buckingham - You’re giving me an erection in the middle of Buckingham Palace

Estoy aqui, nena - I’m here baby

Claro que si - Of course

Por favor princesa - Please princess

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