#khonshu forced them to take the picture

[lalah-cupcake]

layla and marc if steven hadn’t showed up

[marksbear]

I've been dying for some sub Steven so how about him still being khonshu avatar and his bf is also a avatar. So they have been invited to a avatar only party to mingle and get to know each and for their gods to talk business at the same time. So Dom reader Is a powerful God avatar and took Steven as his date. But they have a avatar make the clothes and Steven's got mixed up with a revealing and white one meant for maybe hathor (I don't know many gods,sorry about that). And it's very revealing meant for her partner pleasure but since Steven doesn't want to make a fuss still wears it. So reader picks him up and is shocked at what Steven is wearing and teases him in the car with how good he looks to his necklaces and maybe makeup(only if you want to write that too). They make it and steven gets a lot of compliments and looks and reader gets jealous so he starts showing ways saying that Steven is his such as hands on his body,very close to him and kissing his showing skin so they know. Which leaves Steven all hot and flustered and asks if they can leave yet which leads to them going home. But then once they get home reader picks him up not even letting him take off his uncomfortable shoes(maybe heels 🫣) and just fucks him so hard on the closet service which is reader kitchen counter and lays him on his back while fucking him and take pics and videos of Steven outfit and overestimating him because he looks that good.(Holy fuck this was long sorry about that and if you dont feel comfortable writing this I understand it's a bit much but just wanted to see Steven all pretty up,flustered and fucked hard for just being himself)-🐻‍❄️

I wanted to get a few things out while i'm resting and all that. Gotta keep on feeding the cubs and all that. I hope you enjoy 🐻‍❄

Steven Grant x dom avatar male reader

Warnings! Teasing, Y/n is the avatar of Anubis, pretty Steven, SMUT, pinning, PDA, praise kink, recording kink and picture.

Y/n is standing in the hallway of Steven’s apartment waiting for him to come out. Y/n waits patiently leaning on the wall day-dreaming. 

Y/n turns his head around once he hears the apartment door click open. The first thing Y/n noticed Steven's pretty face ten times more pretty with the makeup.

His white eyeliner and eye shadow makes him look absolutely stunning. Y/n eyes slowly trail down looking down at the pretty white pearls on his neck. "Fuck..." Y/n blurts out seeing Steven's body outfit. "Y-you uhm. Sorry I mean you look so beautiful." Y/n says with a large smile on his face making Steven smile as well.

"They got my clothes mixed up with Hathor's, but I didn't want to make it a big deal." Steven responds walking up to Y/n looking at his outfit. "So much jewelry..." Steven says touching and playing with the jewelry.

"Anubis wanted to show me off. So he found the richest ancient accessories and jewels for me to wear." Y/n answers remembering the Jackal basically forcing him to wear them.

"I wished I had a cool god like yours! But I just got some stupid bloody pigeon." Steven says admiring Y/n up and down. Y/n laughs and takes Steven by the hand and guides him to the elevator and out of the apartment going into the car. "You remind me of a princess." Y/n says out of nowhere opening the car door for Steven and takes his hand helping him into the car. Y/n shuts the door after Steven is fully inside and walks over to the driver side going into the car and starting it.

"You really outdid yourself. I mean look at you. You look perfect in that makeup. Everything about it is just right." Y/n praises taking one hand off the wheel and setting it down on Steven's thigh. "Your necklace is so beautiful. I love it on you so much."

Steven lets out a weak thank you covering his flustered face in the process earning a laugh from Y/n.

TIMESKIP

When they finally make it to the fancy party Y/n gives Steven an encouraging look before both of them leaving the car going inside the mansion. "You look beautiful." Y/n says one last time to Steven before pushing the door opening walking inside the party Steven following him closely behind. Steven looks around at the unfamiliar faces holding Y/n's arm tight.

Steven looks up to the second floor seeing many gods looking down at them and gossiping among each other. Some are even arguing or full out fighting.

But for Y/n he only doesn't know a handful of them. Most likely they're new to the avatar thing.

"Everyone, meet Y/n L/n! One of the most powerful avatars in the world. He is the avatar of Anubis the god of the dead." One of the older avatars shouts as everyone turns to face Y/n. Y/n smiles and waves towards the crowd and tries to keep Steven behind him. After everyone finally backed off of him he turned to Steven who is currently missing.

"Fuck me. Steven!?!" Y/n shouts looking around for his boyfriend. Y/n walks around the party shouting Steven name repeatedly, but sadly the worried shouts are muffled from the music and all the talking.

When Y/n finally finds Steven he is circled by many women and men praising him and flirting with him. Y/n moves through the crowd and stands behind Steven holding his waist.

Steven's face begins to become hot feeling Y/n pressed against as Y/n massages his waist. Y/n lowers his head kissing Steven's exposed shoulders even kissing his collar bone. Y/n glares at the people before pulling Steven away to a quieter spot.

Y/n turns Steven's body so he's facing him and kisses him deeply while grinding his crotch against Steven's. Steven moans and whimpers in Y/n's mouth feeling Y/n's hands move around his body. Y/n pulls away looking down at Steven while a trail of saliva follows them both. Y/n gives Steven one more kiss before taking his hand going back where the busy and loud side of the party is.

As the two mingle around and Y/n talking business with the other avatars like possible truces and teams. Every time Y/n caught someone looking at Steven for too long he will move his hands all over Steven's body as well kissing his exposed skin claiming Steven as his.

After more and more of Y/n claiming Steven as his own Steven begins to feel hot and flustered making it hard to speak and sometimes move. Steven pulls Y/n away from some people who he was talking to and hugs him tightly mumbling "Can we go home..." Y/n nods his head yes picking up Steven and making his way though the crowd heading towards the exit.

Once they get into the car Steven chooses to sit in the backseat causing Y/n to be confused but doesn't ask about it. Y/n starts the car and drives in the direction of home.

Nervously Steven spreads opens his legs and sucks on his fingers while he grinds on his seat creating the friction he needed. Once they are wet enough Steven moves the white lace panties a little so only his hole is visible and pushes one finger inside of him. Soon after the first one Steven adds another one fingering himself at a fast pace while he uses his other hand to cover his mouth. Steven is in pure bliss not even noticing the car stopping and turning off. "Stevey? You're okay back there love?" Y/n asks causing Steven to come back to reality. "Mhm! Y-yeah." Steven tries to play it cool pulling his fingers out of him with a quiet moan. Y/n gets out of the car and shuts the door before opening Steven's.

Y/n and Steven go inside and walk inside the elevator. Steven clicks the floor number and leans onto the wall with his legs trembling. After the elevator door finally opens at their floor and the both of them walk to the door. Steven unlocks it nervously feeling Y/n's eyes all over him.

Once the door clicks open Y/n picks up Steven kissing him messily as he kicks the door close. Steven's legs are spread open wrapping his arms around Y/n as Y/n lays him down on his back moving his outfit out of the way. Steven's hard cock is pressed up against his panties aching and leaking precum. Y/n pulls down his own pants and boxers letting his hard cock spring out. Y/n lets his cock head rub and grind against Steven's hole. Y/n digs for his phone in his pockets and takes it out swiping to the camera and turns on the flash taking a picture of Steven.

"Y/n!~ oh godd~ what about the heels~ Can I please take them off!" Steven moans out. He just wanted to be a little bit more comfortable. He didn't mind about the outfit getting ruined or being fucked on a kitchen counter he just wanted to take off the shoes.

Y/n lets out a laugh and a quick no before thrusting his full length into Steven causing Steven to moan loudly. Y/n takes pictures of Steven's makeup and necklace as he fucks him at a slow and rough pace. Y/n lifts up the bottom part of Steven's outfit taking pictures of his hard cock in the panties and pictures of his own cock going in and out of Steven's hole.

After Y/n took way too many he began to record setting down the camera where you can see them both. Y/n thrust became faster abusing Steven's hole. "Fuck Steven! You're just so pretty" Y/n praises holding up Steven's legs as he aims his thrust towards Steven's prostate. Steven looks towards the camera moaning even louder when he feels Y/n's cock brush against his prostate.

Steven bites his lips feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. Steven throws his head back from the pleasure as he feels his dick twitch even more than it used to. Y/n picks up his phone flipping the camera recording Steven moan and whimper. With one long moan from Steven he cums hard most of it getting on his stomach and some even on Y/n. With a few more thrust Y/n cums deep inside Steven burying his seed inside him while a few moans escape his lips. After a while Y/n pulls out and records Steven's face and the mess they created. Y/n moves the camera to Steven's filled hole some of the cum overflowing out of him.

"Jesus. Stevey you made me create a mess. I think you're just that pretty.Your my pretty boy. Only mine."

THE END

[howaboutcastiel]

Fire Within My Soul

Summary: Marc has a lot to come home to after leaving Cairo. He doesn’t even know where to start. Luckily, Steven does. 

Word count: 3.2k

There shouldn’t be any content warnings for this chapter. A pretty short introductory chapter. You might recognize the first few paragraphs as I published it a few months ago, but now I have adapted it to be a multi-chaptered fic (20 chapters, to be precise). Each chapter can be read as a one-shot unless otherwise stated. New chapters every 4 days. Masterlist.

~~~

For the first time in years, it was Marc Spector who woke up confused.

He stirred slowly at first, the most at-peace and well-rested he’d been in over two months, and the silence pressed against his chest as he opened his eyes to see where he was. The old London studio apartment wasn’t exactly where he had expected to be—though, to be fair, there wasn’t anywhere in particular that he did expect to be waking up. He peered as far as he could to the front door. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the blue masking tape that still covered the seam. 

Marc retraced his steps. What was the last thing he remembered doing? He’d been in Cairo, in the Great Pyramid with his wife and Arthur Harrow. He could see the image in his mind of Harrow’s icy blue eyes, unmoving and glossy and somehow resigned to the blade that Marc had held over him. He saw himself in the reflection of them—not Steven, not Khonshu, just him—and he remembered the dull, squeezing pain in his lungs as the skeletal god urged him to plunge the crescent into Harrow’s skin. He had refused. 

He remembered being set free, the lifting sensation of Khonshu’s healing armor withdrawing from his body. He could feel it all the way in his heart, the bright white feeling of the sullen god withdrawing his hold and relieving Marc’s debt. 

He remembered his wife, Layla. She had reminded him of his freedom, of the autonomy he felt had been stolen from him. He saw the image of her shock and her pride and the resigned, blushing love on her face. Marc savored the picture of her in his mind. Yes, that was the last thing he remembered. 

So how had he gotten here?

“Steven?” His voice was stronger than he had thought it would be. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth. “You there?”

Marc’s eyes unfocused without his permission. His heavy limbs seemed to numb just a bit, to feel lighter to hold. The pressure in his chest released as he breathed in. 

“Hmm,” Steven hummed aloud. It was a sensation that would have to be gotten used to, Steven using the body while he was still awake. It wasn’t that he minded—quite the opposite, really—but it was such an odd feeling. He thought back to his own advice. Just breathe through it. This was much easier to breathe through than the constant thrashing back and forth for control. He could feel everything that Steven felt, though, and that was a hard thing to get used to. Steven was feeling much better than him right now. 

“Can’t believe it worked.”

Marc chuckled on the inside, feeling Steven’s satisfaction and slight disbelief. A low rumbling of hunger spread across his stomach as he drew another deep breath. When was the last time we ate? As he moved to stand up off of the bed, set on surveying the kitchen for something to eat, his attention was drawn to the floor. To the sand. 

The image was the same one he’d seen for the last two months—or what part of those months that he was awake—but it drew something different now. The cold, dry, and coarse powder underneath wasn’t the messy inconvenience that it normally was. It instilled in him something more than inconvenience. Something heavier. He brushed it off before Steven could feel it, forcing another lighthearted laugh. Steven let him to the front. 

“I can’t believe you live in this freakin’ mess.” Marc stood to his feet, still getting used to the feeling of Steven there with him, able to take hold of his body at a moment’s notice. It almost felt like being stuffed in a heavy winter coat. Marc preferred the new arrangement, and it had been nothing short of an advantage in his battle against Ammit’s cult followers, but it was foreign to the way he’d lived his entire life. He took another step, trying to acclimate his muscles to the shared control, and he noticed as he started toward the kitchen that there was a second fish in Gus’s tank. He didn’t think much about the new inhabitant, admittedly more focused on stopping the hunger pangs in his abdomen. His foot extended in front of him, nearing the entrance of the studio at full force, and—

Oh. Right. 

His weight shifted from under him as the ankle restraint jerked taut against the wooden column. Marc was able to pull his hands up just enough to protect his face from the fall, but the impact of the cold floor still knocked the wind from his lungs. He swallowed and coughed, rolling his eyes at himself for forgetting the same restraint he’d tied a hundred times before. After all, he was the reason Steven had bought the velcroed strap and the chain in the first place. 

‘Guess we don’t need that anymore, do we?’ Steven pondered. Marc grunted a bothered noise of agreement and pressed his forehead against the floor. He wanted to feel better than he was feeling. If he was going off of his last memories, there was more than enough to be happy about. He’d saved the world and freed himself from the servitude of a cruel god. He’d made amends with Steven, came to an agreement about sharing the body with him. Marc was not in danger for seemingly the very first time in his life. He was safe and he was not alone. He knew that he should be ecstatic right now, but he just wasn’t. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. 

‘You just gonna lie there, mate?’ He felt a gentle tug at his limbs, a warning from his alter that he was growing impatient with Marc’s use of the body. Or, lack thereof. Begrudgingly, Marc pushed his weight to the side, folding himself into a sitting position at the foot of the bed. He brought his calloused fingers to the light blue strap. The ripping screech of the velcro burned in his ears. ‘What’re you gonna make?’

“I don’t know, bud. Something specific you want?” He pulled himself to his feet, groaning at the dull ache of his limbs. “Pretty sure all your produce is spoiled now. Sorry about that.”

‘I could really go for some sugar right now. Do you know how to make pancakes?’

“Not vegan ones,” he admitted. Marc opened the dingy refrigerator, pulling the oat milk from its place on the top shelf. “You wanna just make ‘em yourself?”

‘That, or I could walk you through it.’

He didn’t know why, but those words brought a warm feeling to Marc’s chest. Steven had done so much for him, had given so much for him, mostly without even knowing it. They had spent the short while that Steven had known him fighting tooth and nail. Marc had never heard Steven speak to him with patience and compassion. At least, not in this life. His gentleness in the Duat was unforgettable, to say the least. It was heavy, though, and it was overshadowed by the looming threat of Ammit’s release—not to mention the glaring fate of resting paralyzed in the sands of an endless desert. 

Now, it was just them. Just Steven and Marc in their quiet, warm, and safe London apartment, and Steven was offering to teach him to cook. The feeling swelled in his heart, enveloping him in a glowing pink warmth that he was embarrassed to know his alter could feel, too. He shut the door to the fridge with a little too much force. 

“Thanks, man, but not right now. I’m actually not feeling the pancakes, so I think I’ll just leave you to it.” Marc pushed himself back, coaxing Steven into the driver’s seat before he even knew what was happening. The ache of his limbs and the hunger in his gut dulled as he sank backward, but the longing didn’t stop, nor did the itching feeling that something still wasn’t quite right. The more awake that Marc felt, the more he realized there was still something missing. He didn’t want to think about that, so he pushed himself down. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Steven huffed as he gained control of the body’s movements. He opened the cabinet to pull out a mixing bowl. “After all the sleep you stole from me, you’re gonna watch me make these bloody pancakes. You don’t get to take a nap right now.”

‘What the hell does that have to do with this?’ Marc felt Steven holding him near the front. It was frustrating, but he was silently thankful for it. He didn’t really want to go away right now, he just couldn’t bear being at the front. ‘You’re not seriously mad at me are you? I thought we talked through all of that. I thought you… forgave me.’

“I did,” Steven smiled lazily. “I do. I’m only joking. Really, I wish you wouldn’t go, though. We just woke up.”

‘Yeah, well, I don’t really know what you want me to do. It’s gonna be boring just watching you make breakfast.’

Steven’s cheeriness started to melt a bit. He continued to pull cooking utensils from the cupboards, along with ingredients Marc hadn’t even known were in the flat. Marc cringed a little as he felt Steven’s demeanor change. It turned serious, shedding the satisfaction and elation of before. Steven hung his head a bit, and Marc could feel his cheeks burning. 

“I just don’t want to be alone.”

So, that was that. Marc watched in silence as Steven mixed the batter, only adding occasional comments to remind his alter that he was still near the front. Marc didn’t think too often about eating good food. He ate out of necessity most of the time, not caring as much about the taste as he did fueling his body. 

Layla always cooked the best food. 

It was really eating at him. Of course it was, as it had been for the past two months. How could he have left Layla like that, with no explanation or word of assurance that he was even alive? How could he send those papers? How could he send them without signing them, forcing her to come and face him about it? He had put her through so much pain, and now he couldn’t even remember the way that they parted last. He couldn’t get her out of his head. 

Steven cleared his throat, and Marc became acutely aware of the stabbing pain inside of it. He was close to crying, which meant that Steven was close to crying. Marc tried to calm himself, ashamed that he’d let all of his feelings weigh on Steven. 

“Is there something you need to talk about?” Steven’s voice was soft and patient. It was funny how much it contrasted the voices Marc normally heard. Khonshu’s voice was never soft, and certainly never patient. Layla’s had been, once upon a time, but that was before he’d left her alone. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to him with such gentleness. “Marc? You alright? You know you don’t have to hide these things from me. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

‘I didn’t mean to do this. I want you to be able to eat your breakfast in peace.’ Shame burned on his cheeks and Steven made a point of fighting the sensation. 

“They’re just pancakes, Marc. I’ve eaten a thousand breakfasts in peace before.” Steven wished, ironically, that they were still on that boat in the Duat. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Marc, to reassure him that he was really, truly there for him. Now that he understood, it was the strongest urge that he had. He wanted to protect Marc Spector. “I want to help. Let me help, yeah?”

‘Yeah. Okay.’

Steven sat them down at the kitchen table, pancakes plated with a dollop of vegan butter and a generous drizzle of syrup. He sipped his oat milk hesitantly, not used to eating with Marc so close behind him. “Now, then. What’s got you upset?”

“It’s, uh… it’s Layla.” He felt silly, saying it outright. It was no secret that Marc had trouble with sharing and caring.

“Alright. What about her?”

“I just--” Marc searched for the words. “I fucked things up so bad with her. I just miss her.”

Steven pondered over a bite of his food. His cheek felt wet, but he didn’t reach up to touch it. “Why don’t we give her a call, then? See when she’ll be back in London--”

“I can’t do that.” He was quick to interject. “She doesn’t want to talk to me, Steven. I can’t bother her now, not after everything that she’s learned about me. She probably hates me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Neither of them really knew what to say after that. Steven continued to eat his breakfast, slowly and deliberately enjoying the home-cooked meal. As he ate, even Marc had to admit that the warm feeling spreading through their stomach was somewhat calming. It was a long time before Steven had anything else to say. Marc had almost fallen back into that state of nothingness he enjoyed when Steven was normally at the front. His voice was startling.

“Marc, how much did she really know about you? Before Cairo, I mean. It sounded to me like you kept a lot of secrets.”

“Yeah. I did.” His throat was burning again. Marc’s shame spread through him like a fire spreads through gasoline. He had hidden so much from her, he may as well have hidden himself completely. “I don’t know. There was a lot she didn’t know.”

“You think maybe you should tell her?” Steven’s voice was hopeful even through the stabbing pain of swallowing. “ If she knows what it’s been like for you, maybe she’ll understand.” 

“She won’t.” 

“Well, I don’t believe that.” He was almost done with breakfast now. The sugar must be giving him a boost of confidence, Marc thought. Marc also thought that the confidence was in vain. Steven cleared his throat, fighting against the tension that his alter was putting in their body. “I think that you two can work it out.”

He stood from the table, taking his plate and fork with him to the sink to wash. Steven may have kept his apartment messy, but never dirty. As he began to run water over the dishes, Marc had a decisive thought that panged in his chest. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t try to work it out.”

“Marc, don’t be ridiculous. She’s your wife. You said it yourself that you miss her.”

“I know. I do. But I can’t ask her to forgive me.”

Marc wasn’t really sure where Steven got his wisdom from. His knowledge, he could understand. That came from all of the textbooks and documentaries that Steven sucked up like a sponge. Not that. Steven had some kind of true cleverness that Marc couldn’t understand. It was times like this that Steven pulled that wisdom from wherever he learned it. 

“You don’t have to ask her to forgive you, Marc. You can’t make her forgive you. What she feels about you is entirely up to her. You can ask her to listen, though. You can ask her to try to understand. I think after the last few weeks, she’d want to hear it. I think that you owe her that.”  

And despite himself, there wasn’t a damn thing Marc could say to argue with that, because it was true. He did owe her that. 

“Okay.”

Marc swept control of the body away from Steven. The feeling wasn’t so disorienting now. He even found it a bit welcoming. Steven watched from behind as Marc pulled the flip-phone from its place on Steven’s desk. It had been sitting there since the night Steven discovered it in the wall. Now, it felt ten times heavier in Marc’s hand. 

He dialed Layla’s number.

The phone rang once. His heart started beating in his throat. The pause afterward was so long that he swore he could have lived his whole life in that gap. The air shuttered out of his lungs as it rang a second time and he gasped it back in just as desperately. He clamped his teeth together. What the hell am I going to say? The third ring sounded like it was mocking him. Marc squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fist and tensed his jaw and—

Click. 

His heart jumped. It stopped mid-beat and sunk in his gut. He froze like a deer in headlights, suddenly forgetting every word that he wanted to say to her. The voice on the line was just as scared as him, and perhaps just as confused. It made his body run hot. 

“Marc?”

He couldn’t remember how to speak. How was he supposed to form words? What could he even possibly say? Marc’s breath quickened and his heart beat against his chest like an ax against a tree. His mind was racing as the seconds passed and the silence grew. It raced until it couldn’t go any further.

“Layla, hi! It’s Steven.” Marc had to strain hard just to hear the conversation in the back of his mind. He was nearly all the way back into nothing, but he held onto the sound of Layla’s voice to ground him. “Are you still in Cairo?”

“I am.” Layla sounded hesitant. It wasn’t the tone that Marc was expecting, but he knew that she’d never yell at Steven. “And where are the two of you, then?”

“Oh, well… we’re back in London.” Now that he thought about it, Steven couldn’t remember exactly how they got back to England at all. Maybe Marc had handled that. “I just--we just wanted to call and make sure you were safe. Will you be back in London soon as well?”

There was a pause, and Steven took the opportunity to check in. 

You still with me?

Marc focused as hard as he could. I am. 

“I’m visiting family in Egypt. I’ll be a couple more days at least.” Her tone was more casual now. She sounded more like her old self. The one that hadn’t been betrayed by her husband time and time again. “And yeah. I’m safe.”

“I was wondering…” Steven backtracked, choosing his words carefully, so as to not misrepresent his alter. “We would like to meet up with you when you get back. Just to talk things out.”

Her voice changed again, back to hesitancy. “I don’t know, Steven.”

“Please? Just a dinner date or something. You can pick the place or whatever, we just need to talk with you. Marc needs to talk with you.”

“...a dinner date?”

“We don’t have to call it a date. Just dinner.”

Layla was quiet again. Steven could feel Marc holding his breath, though he had complete control over the body. She sighed heavily and Steven was still.

“I’ll text you when I’m back in town. But Marc’s paying for the food.”

The line clicked. Marc exhaled and retreated back into nothingness. 

-

-

I’m tagging everyone because this is the most ambitious thing I’ve ever done.

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @sarcasm-n-insomnia @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @dennyreadsfanfic @rosequinn121 @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @notsochillnerd @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace

@ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss @loki-hargreeves @starfirette @celeste412 @avengersinitiative2012 @sifinskies @unspokenmoon @maplemind @dear-odessa @mainstreambitchlife @hot-mess-express1 @toracainz @zarahbronstein @daughterofthequeen @am-3-thyst @romanarose @the-girl-king @stevengrants0wife @kezibear @eddiexmxnson @eveangeline-ishtarhani @wand-erer5

[lollipencil]

Lunar Lullaby

Found out about this species, and just knew what to do.

Enjoy and be gentle.

---

Marc glared into the camera after another five minutes alone in the interrogation room. Well, not truly alone. Steven's anxiety pulsed behind his eyes, while Jake was watching everything like a hawk.

It took another ten minutes of staring before someone finally came. "Hello, so sorry about the wait," a blonde woman in a very nice jacket strode confidently into the room, two guards following to flank the door, "Paperwork, you know." Marc just shrugged in silence, but this did not deter her. "Right, now then. I'm going to start by asking a few simple questions. Firstly, do you know where you are now?" "UNIT HQ in London." "Good. I am Kate Stewart, Chief Scientific Officer here. Do you know why you are here?" "Probably because of the incident."

Kate nodded and removed an image from the file she had been holding, placing it on the table and sliding it towards Marc. "That was some alien tech you managed to get your hands on. Where did you get it?" Marc glared down at the picture and didn't make a sound. "Did you happen upon it, or was it...provided?" "It was a gift," Marc muttered eventually. "From who?" "...He called himself Khonshu."

"Khonshu," Kate echoed as she flicked through the pile of files, "and the incident, you claimed that it's all been resolved. Can you tell me how?" Before Marc could stop him, Steven pushed his way in front: "It was a glitch, all fixed now." "Can you say what caused it?" she asked, showing no reaction to Steven's sudden appearence other than a brief squinting of her eyes. "A response to a psychic-enabled device interacting with an unexpected and complex mental state," Steven recited from memory.

Kate nodded, jotting something down in one file before closing it and pulling out a thin one at the very bottom. "Please read this, and let me know what you think," she requested, offering the file to Steven. Nodding himself, he did as asked.

The first few pages were a summary of the incident. How UNIT managed to found out about Egypt was beyond any of them. It was the contents of the pages after this summary that baffled them all. "Um, what?" Steven looked back up, "What's this?" "A job offer," Kate said bluntly. "What's the catch?" Marc pushed his way back, frowning in confusion.

"Well, given the public nature of the incident and the information we know of Osrians, we have to show that we're doing something. So, you would be his... I suppose parole officer is close enough," Kate explained, "Of cource other duties will be asked of you, but your primary role would be monitoring Khonshu while he is living on Earth." "With a change of accommodation provided?" "Yes, that flat is rather small after all, and you all will have input as to its location."

Marc rubbed the paper as he thought. "I think we should go for it," Steven stated cheerfully. "Normally I'd be more cautious, but, I agree," Jake reluctantly concured. Marc thought somemore: "You got a pen?"

---

Muffled ranting greeted Jake as he woke slowly. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and onto his feet. Once downstairs, he paused to take in the scene.

The toaster had been gutted, the empty shell laying in the sink. Suffering a similar fate was the microwave. Their internal components were in Khonshu's hands, who was muttering with hostile intent as he fiddled with the mess of wires. "Do I want to know what you're doing?" Jake asked as he shuffled to the thankfully intact kettle. "Improving the cooking appliance," Khonshu didn't look up. "The toaster and microwave were seperate." "A fault I intend to correct." Shaking his head, Jake took a sip of his coffee: "Thanks for leaving the kettle."

A knock on the door tore Jake from the electrical hazard in the kitchen. Jake's jaw cracked with the force of his yawn, shuffling towards the front door. "Hello!" chirrped the man on the other side, "I'm your new neighbor." "Oh, hey. Jake." "The Doctor," the man shook Jake's free hand while balancing a cake with his own, "Just wanted to introduce myself and hand off this."

And, with the cake in Jake's hands and a minute's worth of polite conversation, the Doctor left with a spring in his step. "He seems nice," Steven commented just before the door closed.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Just Small Things

Summary: Layla agreed to be a temporary Avatar to Taweret. So what does that mean? How long is temporary? And what is it like to house a Goddess?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2115

Word Prompt:   Taweret and Avatar

--

“Temporary Avatar.” Layla had been far too distracted by everything that had been going on to really pay that much attention. If she had been given time, she would have sat down and gone over things with a fine toothed comb and checked the fine print. 

She was just glad it wasn’t Khonshu. 

The costume had been a lovely surprise. Was this what Marc felt when he first wore the suite? The strength and thrill of power. The ability to take a hit and keep going. The ability to do the things she wished she could do. 

Catching her reflection in the suit, it was easy to see that it was still her. Her identity was important to her. There would be no masks or subterfuge. If things were done, she would do them her way and she would do them alone if she had to.

When the fighting was done and the world was saved, Layla wondered if the contract had ended. How temporary was this? She had never voiced when it would end…or who would end it. 

How did she even speak to Taweret? Did she have to go to a cemetery and dig someone up? Was it always through the dead? Perhaps freshly dead? She didn’t want to think about that one. 

Worse, what if she could only contact the goddess by possession? Would she always feel like a puppet dangling on strings as her body was forced to house something far more powerful than herself? 

She returned to her hotel room and looked in the mirror. “Taweret?” Her voice came out in a terrified whisper. 

She was suddenly reminded of the way Marc had spoken to Steven in the desert. A ripped off car mirror as he spoke to someone else inside. 

She felt a light pang of guilt. Was this how he felt all the time when she had first started to know him? Terrified of something that lived inside him that could come out at any moment. 

“Taweret?” She tried again, louder this time. If she was going to house someone, she would prefer to think of it like a relationship. Marc and Steven. She pictured how fluidly they switched over in the fight. How they communicated. How each took his turn and got to say their piece. Whatever had happened to them when they died, it had changed them and now they acted like a team. 

“Layla!” The voice boomed from the back of her mind and crashed through her very core. Joyful emotions filled her till tears ran out of her eyes with overflow. “I am so very very proud of you! You handled all those baddies like a real pro! And you looked marvelous doing it too!” 

Layla sank back into her own body as if she had just been tossed up into the air and fallen back in. “Unnh!” 

She gasped and leaned heavily on the dresser next to her. “Great. Yeah. Can we…Is there another way to talk? Why can’t I see you?” 

“Oh.” Taweret rushed through her. “Well, I am sort of busy. Lots of people to judge all of a sudden. These Ammit followers aren’t going to just toss themselves off the boat on their own. Oh! Well, that one did… Look at him go. Poor fool, you can’t run through the sands of fate like that…” 

“So you can’t come to me?” Layla shivered as her muscles felt strained. 

“Well you could come to me, but I fear that might end your time as my Avatar. Along with your life…” Taweret sighed. “And I wouldn’t want either!” 

“Yeah, about that?” Layla rubbed her shoulder. She hated seeing her limbs move on their own. It felt odd and her body was not used to these movements that were so foreign. “How long am I supposed to be your Avatar? What does that entail? Am I supposed to go kill people or…” 

There was a moment of silence then her body spun her around and sat her down in one of the hotel chairs. “Right. Our contract. Silly me! Forgot all about it. Well, I can assure you that I run a pretty tight ship.” She giggled and held up one of Layla’s hands as if examining her nails. She frowned and picked some dirt out from under them that Layla suspected might be dried blood. “Oh, dear. Have you had a chance to relax yet? One really should practice self care, Layla. I think you deserve a nice hot bath and oh! Does this place have room service? Perhaps hummus. Oh, I love hummus. You really must get some.” 

“Taweret!” Layla managed to take back her body, feeling like she had just wrestled a toy from an over eager dog. “Focus, please.” 

“Right.” Her brows furrowed in determination. “So the job of a traditional Avatar is to observe and speak on behalf of your god…Goddess, in this case. So if called upon, you sit in a big boring room and I get to speak to the others through you. Though that might not happen for a very long time… Seeing how the room was destroyed. And all the other Avatars got…offed.” She crossed a leg and jiggled a foot for a moment, deep in thought. 

“Is that all?” Layla slumped in her chair a bit. 

“Well… I’m not exactly the Goddess of justice, Layla. I’m not going to send you out to hunt down the scum of the world and murder them in some ideal of justice. I’m not you-know-who.” She pointed out the window at the still overly large and stunning full moon. “He is such a show off. If Osiris was here he would not approve of that.”

“So then what is your goal?” Layla looked up at the moon in concern. Marc and Steven had been freed of their contract, their protection removed and their duties removed. So why was Khonshu still in such a good mood? 

“You do know who I am, right?” Taweret sounded a bit cautious at that. 

Layla swallowed hard and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a firm attempt at keeping control of her own body. “Taweret. Goddess of women and children….and other things.” 

Taweret started to laugh and doubled Layla over easily, chuckling as she wiped her eyes. “My dear… Don’t mind those…Other things. I’m not Hathor. She can keep those…other things.” 

Layla sighed in relief and sank back in the chair again. “So then just the women and children?” 

Taweret sighed, leaving Layla slumped back as she waved a hand around. “I am the protector of women and children. I am fierce and scare away all that may harm them. A statue of me in the house of a newborn child was meant to scare away illness and disease. A mother may pray to me to protect and guide her on the path of motherhood. I kept her safe from those that wished to harm her. I crushed those that raised hands to children in anger. I devoured those that beat their wives and looked to take advantage of the fragility of the female form.” 

Layla raised an eyebrow as she watched her hand move. It was starting to feel less and less like someone else intruding and more like someone simply guiding her movements. 

“So you want me to protect people?” Layla slowly sat up. She felt her spine straighten as her posture corrected itself. 

“If it’s not too much trouble. You get to keep the suit! If you liked it. Did you like it? I can always change it if you thought it was too much…” Taweret twiddled her thumbs together nervously. 

“No. I thought it was very nice.” She remembered Steven’s reaction to seeing her and blushed. “Very fitting. The wings were so lovely.” 

“Oh I’m so happy! You were the perfect scarab! But… Temporary is temporary… You did what we both set out to do… So I suppose this is the last of it.” She stood up and sighed heavily. “It was a lot of fun. You’re my first Avatar, you know. Ever! I’ve always wondered what it was like.” She looked down at the body and Layla could feel her face break out into a wide smile. “You’re so small. So delicate. I think I understand now… How easy it can be to take this for granted.” She lifted up a hand almost delicately. 

Layla felt a push and a rush. For a heart stopping moment she thought the Goddess had left. Taking her suit and powers with her.  

She moved to take a step then stumbled as her body twirled on its own, watching in the mirror as her hair bounced and her curls fell into her face. Her own hand moved up and gently brushed the curls back. Tears fell from her eyes again and her chest shuddered with a sudden rush of emotions she could not contain. Her hand moved down and delicately wiped the tears away. 

“There’s no need to yell, is there? You’re right here, aren’t you?” Taweret whispered. “Just flesh and blood and so tiny yet so much contained in this one little shell. How are your souls able to fill the field of reeds so wonderfully and still fit everything inside?” 

Layla nervously watched her hand as everything else returned to her. Her fingers moved as if feeling the very air around her, softly and slowly stretching and curling. At last her hand returned to her. 

“If it must end, it must end.” Taweret only took her voice now. Speaking softly with love, no longer pulling at her vocal chords without care. 

“Wait…” Layla licked her suddenly dry lips. “Temporary. On my terms. I can end this at any time… And you can too, if you like. As long as it’s not while I’m in danger, you can take it all away. But… I wouldn’t mind helping people.” 

“Do you mean it? You would continue to be my Avatar?” Taweret asked cautiously. 

“Yes.” She braced herself, and none too soon. 

Her body filled with overflowing joy as it jumped and spun, dancing across the room. It was not painful this time. It felt to her as if she were being lifted and spun in a warm embrace. Memories of her father spinning her came back. How he would toss her into the air and catch her in a hug that squeezed just a tad bit too tight but never tight enough to hurt her. 

Tears fell down her face again, her eyes already red from earlier. 

Taweret stopped suddenly. “Oh! Are you alright? I hope it’s okay. I didn’t mean to upset you!” 

Layla shook her head. “No no… I’m just… I’m happy.” 

Taweret relaxed and sighed. “Well. First thing’s first.” 

Layla waited for the first order to come. Would she be hunting down wife beaters? Did Taweret have a list of children needing to be saved? Was there an orphanage on fire somewhere? 

“What’s the number for room service?” She went to the phone. “And do you like hummus? There’s a bubble bath in there with your name written all over it.” 

“Really? Aren’t there people out there that need our help?” How many times had Marc been whisked away in the night to fight Khonshu’s never ending battle? 

“There will always be people to save.” She moved Layla to look in the mirror. “But you are one person, my little Scarab. You can’t always be expected to save the world. Sometimes, you need to take care of your soul, too. Otherwise, how are you going to be expected to care for others?” 

Layla looked at her own reflection and blushed, looking down as she shewed her lower lip. “Is that part of our agreement?” 

Taweret thought about it for a moment. “Yes. After every mission, I insist that you do something joyful. You are, after all, a woman too. And I am known to be fiercely protective.” 

“I think I can do that.” She smiled. “Will you stay a little longer? I wouldn’t mind the company. I mean, if you aren’t too busy.” 

“You know, I have some time to kill. This current guy on the boat has no idea what he’s doing. I have a feeling he’s going to take a while.” She settled in. 

Layla wrapped her arms around herself and smiled, feeling Taweret’s comforting presence. So this was what it was supposed to be like. She remembered the way Marc had smiled, a rare real smile, when he had spoken about Steven just before they parted. 

It was love. Being an Avatar was supposed to be about love. 

[astroboots]

firstly I hope you get well soon!!! nothing like the flu to take you out 😭

secondly I've been pondering homecoming verse and what everyone's reaction (specifically santi's) would be if/when boa got pregnant

and then thirdly, can't help but think of the different ways the moon boys would take care of you while you're sick. Steven would be all about cuddling and getting things for you and making sure you're comfortable. Marc would give you meds and food and drink like clockwork to keep you hydrated and plenty of forehead kisses. I think Jake would lean more toward Marc's way of caring for you in that he's always making sure you have something to drink but with some of Steven's insistence that you don't even move a muscle. he will tuck you in and feed you himself

(also I haven't gotten around to it yet but I just wanted to let you know the final chapter of red flags just skfjsjfn made me feel so many emotions I've read it like four times again already 😭😭🧡🧡🧡)

UHM this ask is freaking amazing, i've been thinking about it all damn day!! (thank you for the well wishes)

Thank you for reading red flags to the end, it means so much to me! It's been my baby both good and bad for almost a year, and I honestly had points of time where I was terrified I'd never be able to finish. It feels good to have finally done so.

As for Secondly and Thirdly, let's talk under the cut my lovely!

ASK ME ANYTHING

Homecoming

So down down down down the line, I do have plans on writing about the homecoming trio expanding their family, and it's most probably going to be its own mini-series, cause there is A LOT to unfold there. I've hinted at this before, that Boa wants children, she's an only child, raised by a single mom and spent most of her childhood in a quiet and very lonely home and she wants her own to be filled with people and noise and chaos-- the opposite of her own.

When Santiago first comes home in the first part of homecoming, Boa and Frankie are already making plans for pregnancy and Santiago (being Santiago) freaks and panics, which Boa notices, and when he moves in with them -- Boa makes a conscious decision to delay those plans, because she chooses Santiago and knows it's too soon and too much to add a child to the picture without him freaking and running like a professional marathon runner to Tampa airport at the first light of dawn.

I think for the three of them to add an addition to their family unit, all three, and especially Santiago would have to be onboard beforehand. There'd be talks and discussions and agreements that they're ready-- so by the time Boa does get pregnant, it's very much a planned thing, and Santiago's reaction would be one of joy. Like he's scared as shit, but he's still excited and happy and grinning like an idiot as he lifts her up and kisses her and carries her around the room while they're both shrieking with joy.

Moon Knight boys

Also omg this interpretation I LOVE IT! I agree, I think Steven would be all about physical affection, it doesn't matter that you're sick and snot running down your nose, and you feel crusty and disgusting, the man would be on you like a heatblanket, even as you try to push him away because you don't want him to get sick and he tells you "it's alright love we got the suit" (it's totally not alright because Khonshu is not going to let him use it for that). Our boy would also read to you, until you fall asleep, pulling up all your favourite books like he's holding his own podcast and you just love every inch of him.

Marc is a motherhen, he'd sit there and frown at you, while you sleep standing guard like a doberman, but whenever you're awake, no matter how half-lucid you are he'd be trying to force liquid into you at every waking moment. He also makes the most heavenly Chicken soup with matzoh balls you've ever tasted in your life, whoever said you won't have an apetite when you're sick hasn't tasted Marc's culinary efforts, as he makes it piping hot for you and places it on a tray and practically spoonfeeds it to you (blowing on the spoon to make sure it's not too hot).

Jake is the one to ask you what you want to do, and when you tell him you're too tired, he'll just lie down and sleep next to you as you curl up into his chest and feel safe.

ASK ME ANYTHING

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 1 - See Me

Marc Spector&Co. x Female!OC, Friend!Matt Murdock

Summery: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT | Warnings: OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Alcohol mention and consumption, stalking, paranoia, suspense?, brief age-gap date mention.

Words: 2K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"Call me selfish 'cause I got me and nobody else Give myself an envelope just like it's per diem  Twenty mirrors in my crib, I'm hangin' with my friends" -"See Me" by Rich Brian

If you had told Simone the year before what her life would be like now, she wouldn't have believed you. A year prior, she was getting settled into New York with the love of her life, starting her new specialty. 

Now? She's waiting outside a brunch place for her blind date to arrive. The date was her friend Jen's idea, as she would have never set up a date on her own. Not right now.

As she leaned against the stone wall of the restaurant, she scrolled through numerous photos of her now ex-boyfriend getting up to wild shit downtown. 

Is it weird to look at pictures of your ex while waiting on your date? She asked herself. Is this me trying to sabotage myself into pining and walking away from this opportunity? Probably so. 

The prospect wasn't lost on her, as it was how she handled things before. Attempt to move on, think about him, go back to him, real vicious cycle shit. Even though Simone could let go of toxic things and people that no longer served her for the entirety of her adult life, there were one to three that were much harder to release.

Catholicism, my mother, Ben, Oliver, my uncle, all those things I had no issue shoving away. Let's grow the list, shall we?

"Excuse me?" Simone's thought process was interrupted by a feminine voice that seemed much closer than it was. She lifted her head and dropped her phone back in her bag to see a dark-haired young woman approaching. They locked eyes for a moment, and the woman smiled. 

Oh, she's cute. Seems sorta young, though. Hopefully, she's not my date.

Before Simone could think back over if Jen had told her the age of her day's conquest, the woman spoke up again. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone. Simone?"

Shit, she is my date. What was Jen thinking? Hot? Big time. But young! What the fuck!

"That's me," Simone said with a nervous smile. "And you are?"

"Kate Bishop." The girl responded with an extended hand. It took a moment, but Simone realized she recognized the name from one of her patients mentioning her. If Kate was his friend, she was just as young as she thought.

The date went well, but the ten-year gap between them lingered over their heads until Simone finally brought it up before she paid for the meal. Undoubtedly, if Simone were younger or Kate was older, they would have hit it off a lot better. They agreed it would pose a problem before they parted ways. 

As Simone left the restaurant, she decided to call Jen.

"So, how'd it go with Kate?" Jen asked as soon as she answered. 

"It went fine, but never set me up with a 24-year-old ever again," Simone said, slightly lowering her voice as she passed by a group of people on the sidewalk next to her. 

She knew it was ridiculous, seeing as Simone didn't seem obviously older, but she couldn't help but cringe at the idea of going any further with a woman under the age of 28, at the very least. It was a matter of letting poor Kate live her best young life. 

Jennifer apologized to Simone and explained that it wasn't something that crossed her mind and wouldn't happen again. As they got off the phone, Simone took a deep breath and let in as much New York air as possible.

Before she left London, she walked every morning. Now, she walks whenever possible, which is easy in the city. When it's too cold for longer distances, she takes the subway and avoids taxis as often as possible these days. 

When Simone turned a corner to return to her apartment building, she ran face-first into a smoke cloud that nearly made her vomit. She used to not mind cigarette smoke and found it comforting in many ways. Nowadays, she can't even so much as stand in the same room as someone with the scent of tobacco on their jacket.

The time turned seven-ish, and Simone arrived at Josie's to meet with her patient slash attorney, Matthew Murdock. Attorney by day, devil of Hell's Kitchen by night. Fifty-percent good Catholic boy, and the rest is a total manwhore. She couldn't blame him, though. He can smell pretty girls from a mile away.

Murdock already had her a seat saved and a glass of water ordered while he waited for her. His idea of "seven-ish" was around 6:50, while her's was 7:05. It was the usual ritual of banter and beverage, their relationship being one of the symbiotic sorts. She provided psychiatric advice for the low-cost fee of Matt being her lawyer if she ever dimmed the lights on the wrong person. 

How they met was nothing to write home about. Simone was new in town and opened her office directly next to his law practice. Her only reason for knowing of Matt's second identity was because they were both bound by privilege, attorney-client, and doctor-patient. 

The other part of the bargain was Murdock's agreement to keep an ear on the street for happenings with Simone's former flame. She knew she didn't need to keep up with him and probably shouldn't, for her own sanity, but she couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility for her old friend. 

"Mr. Knight took out a brood of vampires last night. Spared a few of them." Murdock told her as he sipped his beer. 

"Great," Simone said sarcastically. "There's vampires now?"

"Yeah, they're, uh, interesting." He replied with a slight chuckle as she ran her index finger over the condensation around her glass. This subject made her miss drinking, but she lost the taste for it around the same time she grew disgusted with cigarettes. 

"Well, expect Mr. Knight to do away with them soon enough. They directly contradict his belief system." She said, still dead-eye focused on the water gathering along the cup. Vampires attacked travelers of the night; therefore, they were meant to be exterminated. 

Murdock cocked his head at this curiously. "I thought he was Jewish?"

"Spare me." She snickered. "He's the 'high priest' of the 'church of Khonshu' these days. Not really keeping kosher." She paired a few words with air quotes that Murdock could feel but not see. "Hopefully, he's too occupied with the bloodsuckers to show at the gala."

The gala that Simone was referring to was the Hellfire Gala, the second annual, to be exact. It was a big deal in the powered community and hosted by the X-Men to showcase and fundraise. Like any other gala, everyone wears sleek and elaborate attire for funsies. Masked heroes show up masked but extra, and the people who are identifiable go all-out.

Simone didn't get an invite, but Murdock did and pulled his plus-one card to let her tag along. After all, what are friends for if not to get you into exclusive parties? 

"Speaking of, have you picked out what you're wearing?" Matt asked before finishing off his bottle. 

"Yeah, it's getting altered right now. Nothing super fancy, but enough for you to not be embarrassed to have me there."

"I'd probably be more embarrassed to show up by myself, truth be told." Matt joked. As Simone laughed at the comment, his focus turned to the sound of someone speaking on the phone outside the bar. 

Yeah, she's inside... drinking with some douche wearing sunglasses... I dunno, boss. Whatever it is, it's clear. Maybe tequila?

It was a masculine voice, and he couldn't quite make out the voice on the other end of the call. Murdock wasn't a gambling man, but he would bet he was the only person in Josie's wearing sunglasses, which meant someone was watching Simone. 

I'll have to look into this. He thought. 

"I'm ready to call it a night. You?" Matt asked the woman in his company. Simone agreed, and they headed out and down the street with locked arms. Simone knew Matt didn't need a guide, but it became a habit for her to appear to be leading him. 

When Simone got home, she did her usual routine of checking around her apartment for unwanted guests. The bathroom, cupboards, under the bed, in the closet, anywhere someone can hide. Unfortunately, she wasn't a stranger to someone waiting around for her, a fact that Matt didn't know as he suited up to pursue her stalker a block away. 

Once she confirmed the place was empty, she took off the day's outfit: a simple gray t-shirt and black jeans. She realized Kate didn't ask or seem to care about the markings on her face and arms but knew she no doubt noticed them. It was Simone's first date with them present. 

In the shower, she thought back to the dream she had the night before. Every fiber in her body wanted to see, touch, and kiss him, but the way he was before. The man she loved in London was different. She watched him change, slowly morphing from Marc Spector to Mr. Knight before her eyes. 

He accepted his role as his brain was dimpled by the fingertips of a God. First, Khonshu wanted Marc's body, and when he couldn't have that, he tried to condition him to take over the world. Once the dust settled on that charade, Simone had no choice but to leave. That decision was only partly selfish in her eyes because she had more significant issues to sort out. 

Meanwhile, Murdock stalked the streets as his secondary persona, Daredevil, in search of the stranger on the phone at the bar. After several unsuccessful sweeps and an inability to find the voice, he went downtown to the neighborhood with crescent moons painted on the sides of buildings. From there, he listened to the happenings in and around the Midnight Mission. 

His ears were trained inside the building, focused and searching for the voice he heard earlier when his concentration was interrupted. 

"Nice night." The familiar voice of Mr. Knight said, nearly startling Matt but not enough to make it look obvious. The man was behind him in an expensive suit, as usual. Murdock could feel the fabric rub against itself with each moment, each thread giving away the four-figure price without him so much as touching it. "For what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to my side of town?"

"Looking for someone that came through here. He doesn't seem to be around anymore, though."

"Description?"

"White hoodie, blue jeans, dark hair, Caucasian male." Matt pulled the depiction out of his ass expertly. 

What the devil didn't know was that Mr. Knight wasn't buying it. He had seen Horns around his congregation numerous times in the past few months but only found a moment to speak to him on this night. He suspected Simone had something to do with him, but what exactly? 

"I'll keep an eye out." Mr. Knight promised. "And give Simone my best, with ya?" 

Murdock knew he had been made but did his best to pretend he didn't know what the man was talking about. As he listened to Mr. Knight walk away, he realized he needed to find a way to explain this to the woman who sent him here. 

[silverjetsystm]

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?

Character solidifying! | Accepting

On one hand, Marc is incredibly good at unconventional warfare. The quiet part is when the Mission, the Duty has consumed every part of his life. He'll punch first. He'll use vehicles as weapons just to get the advantage. He'll take the hit and keep going as long as he's taking the other guy down with him.

On the other hand, Marc very much believes in second chances. To scare people into reform with threats. To use himself as the example of the merc with a change of heart. Except when he uses himself as 'I use violence for good now but did I really change.'

Marc's worse moments is when he's isolated from people, including Steven and Jake. This is when he believes his own bullshit about how he doesn't need love nor connection. He's reduced himself to the wild dog or fist while Steven and Jake are the eyes and ears.

Steven looks at the big picture. Where they get social and financial standing. The stubborn force for good. He worries, particularly early in the MK career about being the future compared to Marc's past. He doesn't fight and has his own ways of helping out (through charity, in 616 or by education in A Tale of Moon & Scarab).

Jake gets them out and about with the people. He's the extrovert (Marc is an introvert and Steven is ehhh ambivert). They all can wind up in the middle of the road option but in this case, Jake's like "Welllll you could knock that guy off, Marc, idc but not right now." If Marc and Steven are chewing on some big philosophical question, Jake will either lighten it up or leave them to it and go get greasy dinner while nobody's watching.

And this is why Khonshu tries to push regular life stuff, especially Steven and Jake, out of their life so Marc can Just be MK.

[spectrenightfell]

Summary: After Harrow and everything that had happened in Cairo, Steven’s finally back home in London. He and Marc are getting along for once and peacefully sharing the body, both of them eager to get back to a normal and crazy God free life. The only problem is a normal life is boring and after the last few weeks of adventure Steven is now a little dissatisfied with his lonely and unfulfilling life.

One day bleeds into another, boring and grey and so very lonely. It’s enough to drive a normal person mad so he can only imagine how crazy it’s driving Marc. He’s just on the verge of getting a cat for some form of companionship when suddenly you enter his life like a ray of light cutting through rain clouds.

Steven’s never fallen so hard so quickly but there’s something about you, something a little off that has both him and Marc on edge despite how perfect you seem. Maybe to perfect.

Things only get worse when Steven and Marc both star blacking out.

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader / hints of Marc Spector x fem!reader

Rating: G - rating will change in other instalments

next ->

Steven’s never been a social person. He’s awkward and nervous, talks to much and at the worst possible times about things that people don’t really care about. He makes people uncomfortable, he knows that but people make him uncomfortable to so he suppose it’s fair turn about.

He’s always kept to himself. No friends. Definitely no girlfriends. Just him and Gus, well new Gus now thanks to Marc’s negligence and Gus II because Steven didn’t want Marc feeling left out, now that their finally getting along and all that. He had had his mum for a while except it hadn’t even really been her had it? All those phone calls that went unanswered, Steven’s pointless ramblings filling up Marc’s voicemail for him to listen to once he took control of the body again or just delete with an annoyed huff. Then there had been the postcards, sent from all the different places Marc had been as either a mercenary or at Khonshu’s request, sending them back to Steven and painting a picture of a life that was being lived and a women who loved her son when the reality was that she had never loved Steven at all because to her he hadn’t even existed. She hadn’t loved Marc either, not for a long time and Steven was still trying to undo the damage she had caused him. It was tricky though and Steven wasn’t the best at these sort of things, often pushing things to far and saying the wrong thing that just had Marc retreating so deep inside himself that Steven could go days without seeing him in his reflection. Or if he was feeling particularly vindictive the ass would take control of the body and make Steven watch as he devoured a steak so rare it was practically still mooing and wash it all down with enough beer that when he woke up the next morning Steven would have a hangover that made him feel like his head was splitting open and find all the bloody paracetamol had been flushed down the toilet.

The point was Steven was lonely and had been for a while, even before Marc had been forced to show himself. He didn’t have much human interaction apart from at work and only Marc’s dry and somewhat sarcastic company when he got home. It hadn’t really been a problem before, Steven so used to it that he hadn’t actually realised how desperate he was for someone, anyone, to just talk to him. To touch him. To remind him what it was like to feel like an actual person.

Layla had been there for a while, all soft smiles and gentle touches that had Steven acting even more of a nervous idiot then normal. But it had all become a little to much for her, the strain starting to show when her smile became forced, her eyes tired and weary. She had left a month after the whole business with Harrow and Ammit, divorce papers signed and a promise to keep in touch. He’s not surprised, not really. Hurt, sure but not surprised by her seemingly sudden departure, though Marc hadn’t been shocked at all, watching from the various reflective surfaces around the flat as she packed up the last of her stuff before disappearing out the door and their lives. It’s a lot to deal with. He’s a lot to deal with. What with the whole two people one body thing and though they had seemed to make amends Steven didn’t think she had ever truly forgiven Marc for the years he had spent lying to her or the role he played in her fathers murder.

Once again they were alone, Marc sulking in the back of his mind whilst Steven tried his hardest to make him feel better but like he said, he wasn’t very good at these kind of interactions, awkward even when he was talking to his own reflection. Steven had found himself craving touch and company like he was an addict jonesing for his next hit and feeling even more lost and helpless then he had before. He plastered on a smile though, tried to act like nothing was wrong even though he could feel Marc’s heartache and knowing he could most likely feel Steven’s crushing loneliness. Neither of them said anything though, sinking back into their normal routine and ignoring the hole Layla had left behind. It was fine. They were both used to being on their own and at least now they had each other, even if that aspect of their relationship was a little bit stilted. They managed, even got some sort of schedule established for who fronted when. Life went on, the loneliness becoming another aspect that they just kind of ignored and got on with.

It’s roundabout the point when Steven was contemplating getting a cat for at least some kind of affection that you enter his life and everything gets a bit, well, confusing.

It doesn’t take much to get his job back at the gift shop. A mumbled and stuttered out explanation about his absence involving a lie about getting help at a psychiatric hospital that isn’t really a lie considering where they had ended up whilst trying to balance their scales but he made sure to leave that part out. He tells them what feels like a thousand time that he’s ok, “all better now mate, no more destroying museum property. No sir. Not little old me. My loo destroying day are a thing of the past. Ancient history.” Maybe they feel sorry for him or are just terrified that what Marc did to the toilet will happen to the office if they say no but Steven miraculously gets his job back and not two days letter he’s back behind the desk, restocking magnets and stuffing little wire basket with cuddly toys whilst wondering what the actual god they’re based off are like.

Nothings really changed. Donna is still kind of rude and still calls him Stevie even though he has corrected her a thousand times before. After the first couple of tries go ignored Steven stops trying to correct her, shrinking back into his meek and nerves self from before. Marc helpfully suggests to start calling her Donnie and ignoring her when she corrects him and though Steven does entertain the thought he’s to much of a nice person to be intentionally rude like that. He flat out ignores the tiny whisper in the back of his mind that suggests he smash her head against the closest hard service next time she does it. J.B is still watching stupid animal videos on his phone instead of the security monitors, only managing to glance Steven’s way when he had come rushing in on his first day back, eyeing him wearily like he was waiting from him to start smashing stuff up again and rambling like a mad man.

Life goes on, boring and kind of anticlimactic after everything he had been through but there is one thing that breaks up the long slog of his days selling overpriced tat to tourists and school kids.

The first time he see you it’s like he had been in the shadows all his life and was glimpsing the sun for the first time. It’s almost to much, makes his eyes sting when he sees you smile bright and oh so beautiful. Then there’s your laugh, clear and light and carrying across the room like bells. Donna catches him staring, snapping her fingers in front of Steven’s face and startling him out of his stupor. She’s quick to tell him to keep dreaming, that you’re so far out of his league you ain’t even in the same galaxy. Steven knows she’s right, knows that someone like you would never look his way for any other reason then to look round him but that doesn’t stop him from looking at you, tracking you across the room as you lead your tour group with confidence and smiles.

It doesn’t take him long to find out your name or the fact that you had joined the museum just a few weeks after he had started working there again. Marc had been the one to do a little more digging though, finding out that you had been working at the Cairo museum beforehand as a researcher and for a private collector out in Athens before that. You were clearly overqualified to be working as a tour guide but as Donna had pointed out, it’s what you applied for and the museum had been silly not to have snapped you up. Marc couldn’t find a reason as to why you had left Cairo other than wanting a change and Steven had been quick to brush off his suspicion, still naively believing the best in people despite everything that he had been through.

Despite how taken he is with you Steven doesn’t actually talk to you, just watches from behind his counter as you breeze into the room, always smiling as you talk your tour group through the last part of the tour. The whole time you’re in Steven’s line of sight he’s spell bound, fixated by your beauty and enthusiasm. You remind him of that actress in those mummy films that had been so popular back in the early 2000s, beautiful in that classic bookish way and endearingly passionate. You speak with your hands, using them to emphasise words and paint a picture of a time long since past. Your passionate, clearly knowledgeable and excited to be sharing it with others, even if they didn’t share your same level of enthusiasm. Steven though, he could listen to you for hours, had imagined many a conversation between the two of you that lasted well into the early hours, just basking in the way you talk about times long since passed.

It’s pathetic, he knows that. He’s half way in love with you and yet you had never spoken a word to one another. Steven was sure that you didn’t even know that he existed, never once having even looked his way. Marc tries to encourage him to introduce himself, to take advantage of those few moments when you’re all alone after sending your tour group off to explore the gift shop. Steven can’t though, brushing of Marc’s awkward and slightly aggressive pep talks with his own brand of awkwardness and self doubt. He knew that if he could Marc would have taken control of the body ages ago and asked you out himself, all confidence and rogue charm that had women swooning over him but they had a deal. The museum was Steven’s territory and whilst he was at work Marc wasn’t allowed to rear his annoyingly chiselled face. Not unless it was a life or death emergency and asking a pretty girl out to dinner was not a life or death emergency despite how much the other man insisted it was because it involved the death of any hope Steven had at actually having a social life.

So life went on. Steven worked three days a week at the gift shop and Marc had three days to do his, well, whatever it was that he did when he was in control and then that left one day of free space for them to either flit between the two of them or if that allusive sinister voice in the back of both of their minds wanted to make an appearance. It never did and Steven often spent the day pottering about the flat whilst Marc would spend his time working out much to Steven chagrin.

Days turned to weeks with nothing out of the ordinary happening. It was mundane, normal and completely boring if Steven was being honest. The only bit of excitement in his life were the few precious minutes at work when you breezed into his line of sight and stole all his attention. You were like the morning sun, breaking through the dreary grey and deep blues of the night sky and bathing the world in your light, chasing away the darkness and making everything feel warm and bright. Alive. Well that’s what Steven thought any way. His life was dull and grey but when he saw you he felt warm, bathed in your light and he would swear that in those few minutes it was like every ache and pain had been soothed, his perpetual tiredness vanishing and he was left feeling refreshed and alive. But then you would call your group to attention, moving them on to the next room, the next story and everything would come rushing back. The world seemed dimmer when you weren’t around, like the colour had been drained out of his surroundings leaving Steven feeling cold and shockingly aware of just how empty and meaningless his life actually was.

Marc was no help, urging Steven to snap out of it or actually do something because he couldn’t stand the pining and self deprecation anymore because “really Steven? You’re starting to make me feel depressed now and I have enough shit going on without adding your issues on top of it”. Steven decides to ignore him, purposely staying out of Marc’s reflections when the other man has control of the body, buried as deep as he can comfortably get until he’s forcibly yanked forward once it’s his time to be driving again. It’s harder to ignore him like this though, everything super modern and ridiculously shinny. Steven knows he’s not being mean on purpose but it eventually gets to much for him and Steven snapped, yelling at Marc to stop because he “can’t bloody take it any more,” and “it’s so easy for you but not me. Not stupid, weird Steven whose not even bloody real.” He must look like a right looney, demanding that his own reflection shut the hell up and leave him alone.

Marc stops then. Doesn’t bring you up or anything to do with Steven developing a social life. Steven doesn’t either, even going as far as to force himself not to look when he hears your voice carrying across the large room. Things are awkward and tense between him and Marc, stilted and absurdly polite in a way they never had been before. Steven’s life seems to lose all colour and warmth, the world grey and cold around him as summer starts to come to an end and autumn begins to creep in. To make things worse he and Marc both start blacking out. The last time Steven hade come to two days after he had gone to sleep in some back ally in Prague hands covered in blood and no idea what the hell was going on. It’s only Marc’s quick thinking and commanding confidence that keep Steven from having a rather minor yet catastrophic breakdown there and then. As it is that happens once the former mercenary has gotten them back home safe and sound, the flat door firmly shut and locked as the two of them try to work out exactly what happened. Admittedly Steven’s a little more manic and scared then Marc but Steven can see his worry in the way he paces, hands shoved through his hair and shoulders tense.

Steven calls off sick that week, rambling about having a cold and not wanting to pass it on until Donna cuts him off with an annoyed “fine ” and puts the phone down on him. They spend the week trying to piece things together, trying to get the other personality that’s hiding within the body to show themselves but nothing they do works and after a rather angry and aggressive shouting match that had him and Marc rapidly switching control they finally give up, conceding the fact that the other alter would only show themselves when they were good and ready. They do go back to cuffing themselves to the bed again, combination lock and all but considering that hadn’t worked with Marc Steven’s not at all confident that it will work with this other alter.

They’re still tense though, both of them worried about what’s lurking deep in the recesses of their shared mind but they know that unless they become shut ins there isn’t much they can do so weary and more jumpy than normal Steven goes back to work, Marc promising to be on the lookout. For what Steven isn’t really sure but he’s grateful for it any way. Underneath all that gruff indifference and macho army man-ness Marc is a protector and Steven knows he would do his darn best to make sure Steven was safe.

He had to have a meeting when he goes back with someone from HR. He eyes Steven with suspicion, wanting to know about his mental state and if his sudden time off was because he was having some sort of relapse. Steven just laughed nervously, fidgeting in his chair and word vomiting over the man whilst Marc hissed for him to “shut up before you end up jobless and with an actual shrink knocking at the dammed door”. He manages to get through the uncomfortable ten minute conversation without making to much of an idiot of himself and he’s sent on his way with a stern warning about his attendance and tardiness. It doesn’t take Donna long to make a comment about Steven still having his job and he just about keeps Marc in cheek, stoping him from telling the women to shut up or not having a job would be the least of her worries.

Steven’s day just gets worse from there. A kid knocks over a whole stand of Egyptian themed stationary that Donna has Steven down on his hands and knees to find every last blasted pencil and rubber that had rolled under the other stands. Then he has to deal with a German tourist who doesn’t speak English seemingly at all and was refusing to part with the twenty quid needed to pay for the little model of the Great Pyramid of Giza he had picked out because he was insisting a tenner would be enough. Everyone who comes through is just plain old rude, looking down on Steven and his rather lacklustre attitude. The day drags on and soon enough Steven is fantasising about going home and just curling in on himself and letting Marc take over things while he just wallows in the knowledge of how pathetic his life is.

But then the unimaginable happens and Steven’s day suddenly take a turn that he would never have expected.

Steven’s to busy trying to get an irate mum to pay for the chocolate bar her kid had opened to spare you more than a quick glance when you come in, a group of bored looking school kids following along behind and looking like they would rather be anywhere else. By the time the women had handed over the couple of quid and stormed off in a huff Steven’s practically forgotten you were even in the room, mumbling under his breath about how rude people are and how they should teach their kids to behave better whilst angrily tidying the shelves of books and posters behind him. Marc hissed his name, urgent and annoying in the back of his mind but Steven ignores him. That is until he does it again and again, sounding more annoyed with every word until Steven is spinning round to glare at his reflection in the counter and snapping out an angry “what?” as he went. Except it isn’t Marc’s scowling face that greets him.

His eyes go wide, voice leaving him as he looks at you with a mix of horror and surprise. In his head Marc’s groaning and Steven can see him throw his hands up and turn away in the counter top, shaking his head as he did so but Steven’s to busy panicking to give it much thought. He can’t believe he did that. Can’t believe that the very first words that he had said to you was an angry demand to know what you wanted when in reality he was yelling at annoying American man who lived in his body. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Bloody hell. You probably thought he was a right weirdo. Rude and aggressive. Probably would try and get away from him as quickly as possible and never come near him again. He would deserve it, wouldn’t even try and force his apology on you once you had gone.

Apology!

He should apologise, should explain himself before you were gone for good but it wasn’t like he could tell you he had actually been yelling at the other personally that shared his body. You would think him a right looney, more so than you probably already did. Oh hell, this was just getting worse and worse and Marc telling him to “breath Steven. You gotta calm down. It’s gonna be fine you just gotta stop before you have a panic attack. Steven? Steven listen to me,” wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Steven starts spluttering out a rather pathetic attempt to apologise but he trips over his words, not making any sense because he can’t even get a whole word out before cutting himself off. It’s a car crash. One of those terrible things that you just can’t look away from but Steven desperately wishes he could because with every excruciating second that passes he’s just digging his hole deeper and deeper and he had no idea how to fix any of this.

The shock at being addressed so rudely fades and soon enough you’re smiling softly and reassuringly at him. Steven sucks in a breath, his rambling coming to a sudden stop as the early afternoon sun shone in through the high up windows and cut across you, making it look like you were backlight with a golden glow. You were beautiful and soft, warm and calming and he was so taken with your almost otherworldly appearance Steven completely missed you speaking to him, your softly spoken “it’s ok. I’m sorry for interrupting you,” going unnoticed as he tried to commit every little thing about you to memory. It was only his hand suddenly slipped from the counter top and sending Steven jerking forward that finally snapped him from his day dream, an act that he was sure was Marc’s doing considering the pointed look he was giving him from the small mirror above the jewellery stand on the counter as he jerked his head towards you.

Steven was a stammering mess as he turned his attention back to you, laughing nervously as he yammered pointlessly on about the counter being slippery and his poor reflexes until him finally managed to get himself under control but what come out was a rather awkward and slightly cheery “hello” that had Steven only just managing to hold in a wince. Marc did no such thing, groaning loudly and burying his face in his hands. The action didn’t stop Steven from being able to hear his mumbling though, the other man questioning how Steven had ever managed to get laid. If they had been alone Steven would have pointed out that just because he was a bit of a mess didn’t mean he was completely incompetent just, you know, the opportunity to prove that didn’t come around that often. And anyway, the last time he had had a date it had only gone so wrong because of Marc. None of that had been Steven’s fault. He wasn’t the one who ran off looking for some bloody mystical scarab that had made Steven miss his date by two whole days.

They weren’t alone though so Steven tried his best to ignore the other man and smiled shakily at you waiting for you to say something. He had been expecting you to give him a funny look, tell him something needed restocking or had been broken or both knowing his luck and then disappear back to your tour group, never to look at Steven again. Really it was more then he ever thought he would get and at least now he knew you smelt as good as you looked, unable to stop himself from taking a deep breath as he leant forward slightly. Yeah he knew it was a little creepy, thank you Marc but you smelt like sunshine and papaya with the unmistakable sweetness of vanilla that would probably haunt his dreams for a while.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the fond look you gave him, eyes alight with amusement as you answered his complete lunacy with an almost teasing “hi Steven”. He was sure he stoped breathing, his heart stuttering in his chest as he was struck by the undeniable truth that you knew his name even though the two of you had never interacted before. And yeah, Steven had already known your name but he was crushing on you harder than a carbon deposit about to become a diamond so of course he knew your name but there was no way in this universe or any other for that fact that you would feel that way towards him. Like Donna had said, you were way out of his realm of possibility and women like you didn’t go for the shy, awkward, nerdy type despite what modern day media wanted everyone to think.

The next few minutes were so surreal that Steven wasn’t so sure that he wasn’t dreaming. You wanted to know how he was, having noticed his absence the past week. Steven had only just managed to pick his jaw up of the floor to answer, still in shock as he gave you the same semi rambling answer he had given the HR person. There had been noticeable relief in your eyes when he had said it was simply a cold, “nothing that a bit of the old Vicks VapoRub and a lot of honey and lemon couldn’t fix”. You had been glad that he was feeling better and was back at work, saying how the place had “just seemed a little empty and lonely without you here”. It was at that point Steven became almost 100% sure he was dreaming but not even in his dreams had you made him feel as wanted as he did in that moment.

He had barely gotten out a dazed “am I dreaming?” before you were saying your goodbyes, having to get back to your tour group that was getting a little to boisterous near the display of glass pyramids. You didn’t wait for Steven to say anything, giving him a smile and a promise to talk latter before you were turning away, calling your tour groups attention and leading them from the room and onto discover more about the worlds that had come before. Steven could only stand there in shock, lifting his hand slightly to wave even though you were already gone and whispering an absentminded “laters gators” to the last lingering phantom of your strange and sudden appearance.

[doctorofmagic]

was stephen confirmed to appear in the phoenix event? i wonder if marvel will bring wanda or jean/hope to this event considering... avx? it seems that the rule with wanda is that there is a lot of stuff that contradicts itself and the writers don't care about her to even learn of her powers and history and stuff bc... now we really do have plot holes regarding her birth place and her powers and her parents and everything about her early life now is a big plot hole road sorry wanda fans

Greetings and thanks for asking!

No, he wasn’t, sadly. I made a post about it when Enter the Phoenix was revealed, trying to picture his Phoenix Force outfit. I wish it was something close to Cyclops with all the black, red and yellow/orange. I’d sell my soul for it. But considering he’s just a consultant member and is rarely used, (why is he so erased lately when it comes to big stuff? Surgeon Supreme was so bad he was completely left out after it?) my hopes are not high right now.

And well... I’m not that excited because Aaron is not writing deep content currently. Of course, I’ll always cherish v4, Mighty Thor and even War of the Realms. But ever since his Avengers run started, I’ve never felt quite attached to it. Why am I still reading it? I don’t know. It has its highlights. Also I’m pretty sure he gets Thor and Stephen perfectly, but Tony? Carol? Even Mephisto is not that sassy appealing little devil that I love (Ghost Rider cancelled last run has the perfect Mephisto, thought. I love him in that run most ardently).

That said, and after watching closely what he did to Moon Knight, I’m not expecting amazing writing. My beloved boy only lasted, like, five panels in his Phoenix Force. I mean, I know Khonshu is twisted sometimes (v5, I’m looking directly at your face) but ever since he made peace with his DID, Khonshu is sort of a gray figure, not a crazy tyrant who will manipulate Marc at will. Not anymore, at least.

So yeah, considering both Marc and Khonshu were a little off, I’m afraid of what Aaron is about to do with other characters. We know the Phoenix Force corrupts people. We’ve been there a few times. So it’s probably gonna happen to everyone possessed by it.

Also, well, I don’t see Wanda or Hope in this event mostly because the X-Men, aside from Namor, are not directly involved. Also, should they appear, it would be another AvX thing. Plus, everything you’ve pointed out about Wanda and how lazy writers are when writing her. Poor child is forgotten.

I don’t know anything about these reborn Avengers but I’m pretty sure the 1,000,000 BC Avengers are part of something really important and will most definitely have a role in this mess. At this point, sadly, I gave up on Stephen having a role. He appears occasionally but that’s all. Funny thing, I always hope I’m wrong with my pessimism haha. Please ignore me, it’s just my coping mechanism.

Now, about the sexiest hosts... YES!!! YEEEEEEEES!! I agree T’Challa is the sexiest, prettiest, most handsome king in this world. I’ve been crying over his character design ever since the first concept was revealed. This is my top five Phoenix Force hosts (as in, Phoenix Five, get it? haha) that no one asked for:

1. T’Challa

2. Moon Knight

3. Illyana

4. Doom

5. Jean (both versions)

All the options above can step on me and I’ll thank them afterwards (and to one’s surprise, my decisions are entirely not reliable, I know).

Also no, I do not take criticism.

*sigh*

I really wanted to see Stephen in his Phoenix Force outfit... We could have it all, Jason Aaron... We could have it all...

Anyway, that was a long answer, I’m sorry. Thank you for passing by!

Could anyone tag me if you ever see a Phoenix Force Stephen please? Asking for a friend

[itkmoonknight]

ISLA RA BOOKS Reading Club, no. XXXXIV: Friends of ITK: David Finn, Signal of Doom

Once again Loonies - go forth into the breech!...

Or something like that!:P

Yes, it's that Loony Newsletter once again and as you can see from the title and header picture, things are slightly different for our OVER THE MOON...that's right, it's another one of our ISLA RA BOOKS spotlights and this time we are very pleased to have fellow podcaster and co-host to The Signal of Doom Podcast, David Finn, on the show!

For many of the Loonies out there, you may already be familiar with The Signal of Doom and have seen Dave online in our Loony Bin Chat room. The Signal of Doom are also proud members of The Collective and it's very special to have Dave on the show as we've had a close association with the Signal for some time now. Dave and Stew are always ready to give our show a plug, and as you'll hear on the show, we even joined forces for some Marvel Trivia and a local comic book swap meet.

Dave brings with him also, his four Isla Ra books - four comics you'd take to a desert island if you could only choose four. It's a difficult task and previous guests have found the same sort of predicament - 'Which four issues would I choose that I could read and re-read over and over again...?' We're not talking arcs, but single issues which makes it all the harder, but it's fun to see what Dave has in store for his and as with many Loonies, you may just find some gems of your own that lead you towards a whole new world! 

Dave's Top 4 Isla Ra (Desert Island) Comics: ???

(As always, we aren't giving anything away just yet! Be sure to listen to the episode, and check out the show notes if you want! That way, you can prep yourselves and read along with our chat...or, after listening to the show, use the show notes to refer you as to where to find them!)

It's a little hard to drop feedback for the comics reviewed (as you don't know what they are yet!), but how about the other Isla Ra Books Spotlights we've done previously? Did you get a kick out of Iron Fist Connor's choices of Daredevil #304? or Superman: Peace on Earth?...How about the Rickball Special and his choices of Gotham by Gaslight, or Ultimate X-Men?

We'd always love to hear from you and you can send us your thoughts at -

Email: itkmoonknight@gmail.com

Podcast Page: http://intotheknight.libsyn.com

Facebook Page: Into the Knight - A Moon Knight Podcast

Facebook Group: Into the Knight - A Moon Knight Fan Base

Twitter: @ITKmoonknight

Finally, as a bit of incentive, our Isla Ra Books episodes also feature a little bit of theatrics...so tune in to hear what other part of Moon Knight's merry bunch features in the show! Also, as a teaser - Dave and I venture into another Marvel character's lair to review one of Dave's books....may Khonshu help us all!

That's it from me for this newsletter - thanks once again for all the support and for sharing your fandom - we really do love the community we're building and it could absolutely not happen without you, fair Loony! Until next time,

May Khonshu Watch Over the Denizens of the (K)Night,

Rey

Proud Member of The Collective

Check out this episode!

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 7 - Worth the Wait

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summery: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT |   Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. THIS IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. Protected P in V (be smart)

Words: 3K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"And don't say you got to go Baby, take off my clothes Cause I got somethin' to show ya Show you the things that words cannot say Show you it was worth the wait I think you deserve a taste" -"Worth the Wait" by Kali Uchis

It wasn't planned at all. Simone didn't expect Miguel to show up when she got out of the shower. It was like the opening of a bad porno and by far the cheesiest trope anyone's ever heard of, but when she asked who was at her door and he said his name, she couldn't resist.

"It's unlocked!" She called out, followed by the sound of the door opening and latching closed. She felt her knees weaken as his heavy footsteps grew louder the closer to her bedroom he got. 

"Is this a bad time?" He asked from the other side of the slightly ajar door that she stood across from. 

No, never, not at all. She thought to herself. 

"Oh, no. Just got out of the shower." Simone admitted cooly. 

It suddenly felt like there were rocks in Miguel's stomach as the image of her on the opposite end of the wooden slab between them danced in his head mockingly. 

She wished he would just push the door open, even a little bit from where it was, as she purposely delayed gathering clothes to put on. Taking it slow had been painstaking and torturous; if he made that first move, she would collapse like a house of cards. 

Open the door, Miggy. C'mon.

From the living room, he had the same thought as his hand hovered over the door. Miguel only hesitated because he wasn't sure how she would take him barging in on her. Judging by the lack of movement, he also had it in his head that she was waiting on him. 

Just push the thing open. 

Simone started to think it wouldn't happen and might be for the best as she let the towel fall from her dewy, naked body. In its place, she slipped an oversized, worn-out Chicago Bulls shirt on and went for the black sweatpants on the other end of the bed. 

Somewhere between her putting the shirt on and getting to the bottoms, Miguel suddenly found the gumption to nudge the door. He expected it to rattle at most from what he thought of as a slight tap, but when it swung open to give him a full view of Simone's bedroom and her covered torso and bare legs underneath, it almost seemed intentional. 

"Fuck me." He said, embarrassed at the swiftness of the door swinging open under his breath as her big brown eyes beamed at him. He would take a picture of her if he could, half-bent over her bed like she was with the side of one supple buttcheck taunting him.

"Is that an invitation?" She asked slyly, slowly rising upright. The corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smirk that did nothing to ease the tightening of Miguel's jeans. As she removed the shirt she had just put on, his legs took him straight at her, on autopilot, forgetting all about why he showed up in the first place as he smashed his lips into hers. 

The kiss was hungry and wanting, full of teeth, tongues, and no doubt rough enough to bruise. Miguel's hands were all over her, roaming from her hips to her ass, waist, and breasts. Every grab was amplified by the sensitivity of not being touched in months. 

Simone felt Miggy pull away, causing a small groan that was a lot more pathetic sounding than she intended to betray her as his large hands smoothed over her hips again. He looked at her, studying her flushed face and swollen mouth. Aside from disappointment in his removal, Simone also thought it was curious that his glasses didn't fog up. 

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked through heavy breaths. She nodded and pushed her body into his more, feeling every inch of anticipation. If they were using the color system, she would be so fucking green. She ached, clenching on nothingness between her legs. 

"Yes. Yes, please." She didn't mean to beg, but that's how it sounded. 

Miguel was delighted to hear it, letting his brown leather jacket fall from his shoulders to the floor. Simone curled her fingers under his shirt and lifted quickly like unwrapping a Christmas present, assisted by him tugging it away from his neck frantically.

Simone momentarily fingered over the toned torso before her, distracted by the ridged beauty and smooth skin. A chill flowed through him as her nails danced around and explored, making a straight line down from his belt and over his denim-clad cock. He twitched, and she felt it, making her palm over it to watch him melt. 

"What would you like?" She asked in a sultry tone, bringing her other hand up to unfasten his belt. "My mouth? My pussy?" 

The words swam through his ears sweetly, and he couldn't take much more. He needed Simone right there, right then. A grunt punched out of his chest as he put his hands under her buttocks and hoisted her up, prompting her legs to wrap around him tightly. 

Another whine flew through her lips as she felt her back hit her bedroom wall. 

Fuck, he's strong. She thought as she relished the moment of blunt pain on her shoulder blades before he met her lips again. Her hands tangled in the long hairs on the back of his head, needing something to hold onto. 

Miguel used the wall as leverage, suspending her with his chest as one of his hands released his painfully hard cock. 

Simone, you idiot! Make him wrap up. Her brain reminded her. 

"Hang on," She hated to kill the moment but knew she would kick her own ass if she didn't make Miggy follow the rules. "Drawer." She spoke shortly, pointing her finger at the nightstand next to them. 

This was strange to Miguel, but he entertained her and reached down, still holding her steady as he pulled the nightstand open to find a single silver-packaged condom. 

Right, dumbass. You know better. He thought. 

Simone waited patiently as he tore the foil open under her ass, slipped the rubber on, and let the wrapper fall to the floor. Nothing was sexier than safety, after all. 

He ran his head between her folds, making sure she was ready and loving the groan she let out in response. 

"Such a pretty sound," He praised. "I wanna hear it again." He rubbed her the same way as before, grazing her swollen nub and watching her eyes fall closed while the whimper fell on his senses. "That what you want?" 

The teasing was torturous, and he knew it, but his intentions were clear. He wouldn't give it if Simone didn't vocalize what she wanted. 

"Fuck me, Miggy." She said. Confirmation enough. 

Miguel lined his length up with her hole and began sliding himself in. She snuggly stretched around him, eyes rolling back, and a long, satisfied moan lulled from her throat until he hit bottom. He felt her pussy throb, and without waiting another moment for her to adjust to him, he pulled back out for another painfully long interval. 

Simone's back rested on the wall, entirely held up by his hands gripping her thighs. Her eyes focused on the mirror ahead and gaped at the muscular back reflecting in it. She couldn't handle the slow and steady anymore, so she bucked her hips forward, causing her pussy to swallow him up again and rock against her favorite spot. 

Miguel let out a frustrated grunt at the movement and pushed her back into the wall, his cock ramming against her cervix. A squeal came from the impact and the pinch in her gut. "If you won't be patient, I won't be nice." He snapped, holding her in place. His almost abnormally sharp canine teeth taunted her, making her wonder if he was a biter. 

Simone's jaw went lax as she nodded, but the deviant demon inside her twitched her mouth into a grin. "Don't be nice, then." 

Something overcame Miguel at that moment, almost primal, as she challenged him. He brought his left hand under her right leg and lifted it. Surprised at how bendy the woman was, he rested it in the crook of his elbow, providing a deeper angle. 

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby." He growled as he buried his face in her neck, fucking into her harshly yet steadily. Each slap of his skin to hers synced with the ticking sound of her wall clock, the rhythm of each thrust making her eyes water. 

More breathy moans spewed through Simone's teeth as Miguel kissed the skin of her neck and shoulder, unrelenting in his pace. She felt her gut coil with each stroke against her walls. Her head unexpectedly threw itself back and thumped against the wall behind her, causing a dull pain to bloom. 

Miguel pulled his hips forward momentarily, resting at her entrance and bringing his face to hers. "You okay?" He asked. Simone appreciated his checking on her well-being, but the bump didn't hurt nearly enough for her to call for a time-out as her cunt clutched the emptiness. 

"Don't stop." She told him in a voice that sounded much poutier than she anticipated. 

What a dangerous woman. Miguel thought as he looked at her face. She was serious. Without a second thought, he lifted her leg higher and positioned it over his shoulder as he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and the other over the small of her back, gripping the soft buttock on the opposite end. 

He pistoned into her again and again as the leg he was no longer supporting fell limp. The cushion of his arms from the wall keeping her close to his bare skin, breathing him in. Each grind is more intoxicating than the last. 

Simone felt her peak on the horizon, relaxing against his body while his fingertips dug into her skin, nearly enough to bruise. 

"Don't sto-op." She repeated as the pace picked up. She didn't have room in her brain to consider how he held her up for so long, her thoughts all-consumed with the need to climax. 

"That's it," He grunted in her ear. "Let go, baby. Cum for me."

The words never seemed to fail as his command caused her orgasm to crash through her. She squeezed her arms around his neck and cried out his name. It sounded like a foreign language to her, but to Miguel, it was the sweetest music he had ever been graced with. 

He felt her heart pound against his chest as the exasperated cries died back to moans of rocky pleasure. He carried her to the edge of the bed and laid her on her back, allowing her jelly arms to fall above her. His hands came up as he kissed her more, and his fingers interlocked with hers, still pushing his hips into her. 

Simone felt his lips part more, and a satisfied "Fuck" fell from his mouth to hers as he came to his own conclusion with another rough thrust. She squeezed his hands, feeling her heart flutter as they locked eyes and a grin spread across the lower half of his face. 

He's just too goddamn pretty. She thought to herself, wanting to stay in this moment as long as possible and stare into his brown eyes through his thick glasses.

Under blue moon, I saw you So soon you'll take me

Her phone began to ring, and she let out a disappointed groan in response. "I gotta change that damn ringtone," She said aloud as Miggy skirted onto the bed, watching her reach for the phone on her nightstand. 

"Yep?" She answered casually but with a huff, knowing who was on the other end. Miggy couldn't hear the other end of the call, but his eyes wandered over her body and stopped on something he had never noticed before; a tattoo of the resistance logo from Star Wars on her right shoulder. 

"Hey, there's a new player in this. Looks like he's meant to be Moon Knight, but a dark imitation. I don't know much, but Mr. Knight just rocked his shit." Matt told her on the other end of the line, seemingly keeping his voice low due to likely being in Mr. Knight's neighborhood. 

"God, another one? The last thing anyone needs is a second Mr. Knight." Simone said with a groan. A small, deep chuckle sounded in her ear in response.

"Thought you'd say that. I'll keep you posted."

"Please do. I gotta go." She said before hanging up quickly and placing the phone back on the nightstand. She turned her nude body back around to Miguel, who squinted curiously. He wanted to ask if he should be concerned that someone was calling to give her tabs on her ex but remembered that the S-Man knew that, not him. 

"So, who's Mr. Knight?" He questioned instead, trying to sound curious. 

Simone realized she hadn't mentioned him to Miggy, and in her mind, for a good reason. Granted, she had just slept with him, so it made sense to try and open up a bit more. 

"Well, he's my ex, but nothing for you to worry about. At least, I hope not." Simone explained plainly. Miguel noticed her eyes soften at this. 

Maybe not for me, but you seem to worry. He thought. The idea that she was still involved with her past flame concerned him slightly, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.  

"You don't talk about him. What's his deal?" Miguel asked as he shifted on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. Simone attempted to relax and mirror his position but felt her shoulders tense at the thought of explaining about Marc or that relationship to Miggy. 

"We grew up together..." She answered shortly, knowing it wasn't nearly enough of an explanation. Just as he opened his mouth to ask for more information, she continued. "No matter what, there will always be some kind of love there, if not for the man he is, then for the boy he once was." 

There was a brief silence as Miguel took in what she said. It made sense, even if he didn't fully understand it, but more questions came to mind. 

"Tell me about your childhood." He said. Simone's eyes widened,

"After you were just inside me? I don't know if it's the best time." She tensed up more, fearful of the idea and suddenly feeling too naked. Not just physically but emotionally, as well. Miggy reached over and rested his hand on her bare hip comfortingly. 

"I wanna know everything about you." He told her. 

Simone felt her insecurity whither for a second, but it didn't last as memories of the windy city flooded her mind. She did her best to shake them away. "It might just scare you away." 

"I don't think anything you tell me could scare me off."

Wanna bet? She thought, nearly saying it aloud. Miggy looked serious, so she kept the comment to herself and took one shaky breath. 

With Miguel's permission, Simone told him about her family and life in Chicago, down to the nitty-gritty details of her tío, which nearly made him squeeze his knuckles so tight they turned white and left nail indentions in his palms. Simone purposely omitted his death means, thinking it would come up later. 

Then she got to Mr. Knight, or who he was, from the beginning of their friendship to the brutal end, again omitting the relatively fresh pregnancy and loss, as well as his full name and alters. She thought this would make everything easier to explain and, once again, figured it would be a topic of conversation later.

"In a way, I think I never got over him leaving me behind because he still kept leaving me. Not in the same way, but in a way that almost hurt more." Simone finished, trying to explain his disassociation without going into the psychology of it for fear of boring or confusing Miguel. It would be a lot to take in for someone new in her life.

While Miguel didn't understand how Marc could "run away" without physically running, he imagined he would avoid tough conversations or ignore her, which wasn't too far from the truth for Simone to defend against. "His loss," he responded when it seemed she was all talked out.

Miguel traced the dark scars across her skin with his fingers, thinking about how she made him feel normal. He considered taking off his glasses, showing her his true self, and telling her everything, but the actions were frozen in his mind, like trying to run away in a dream. 

He feared she wouldn't accept him and his monstrous truth, and after what happened here, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection. In all honesty, he didn't expect to make it this far with the kind of baggage he towed and the secrets he kept. 

She was just so honest with me. Why can I be honest back? He thought to himself. 

As Miguel fought with himself internally, Simone did the same, trying to gather and make mental notes of everything she decided to save for later regarding her past. She fully intended to tell him everything-

Eventually. She kept telling herself. I'll tell him eventually. Just not now, not after this.