#stop being weird khonshu

[drempen]

Creepy bird man shows off his son

#stop being weird khonshu #moon knight #moon knight fanart #khonshu #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #my art #comicart #marvel #comics #marvel fanart

[grantspectortrash]

Sleep With Me, Anytime

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader (with hints of: Marc Spector x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)

Summary: You and Steven live opposite each other and have been dating for a couple of weeks. One night you sleep at Steven’s during a storm. You get to meet Marc and Jake.

This is the 3rd and final part to the Suited and Booted series. Part 1 is here, and part 2 is here!

Warnings/Tags: No warnings. Fluff, forehead kisses, sleeping in the same bed, mentions of all 3 Moon Boys, just cute shit :)

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Credit to justoscarisaac for the GIF. It's beautiful. This fic is a personal favourite of mine, but as always if I’ve portrayed anything incorrectly please call me out on it so I can fix it! If anyone has any requests let me know because I would LOVE to write them!

---

Outside a storm is raging. It’s past midnight, with the moon high in the sky, and you haven't slept a wink. You've been tossing and turning for a few hours now, and nothing is working.

Every clap of thunder makes you jump and each and every bolt of lightning makes you squeeze your eyes tight, almost as if if you couldn’t see it then it wouldn’t scare you.

But your tactics aren't working. You feel scared and alone.

So, you distract yourself. You decide to think about your boyfriend, Steven Grant.

You think about the past two weeks and everything that's happened, and how happy it's made you. You go over everything Steven told you after your date at the quiz night. He had promised you that he would explain everything about himself, and he had. The pair of you had sat on your sofa, and Steven’s life was revealed to you.

“You see, I’m not alone in this body. I uh- it’s a identity disorder, see? Technically I’m not even the original. I’m an alter. But I’m still me, still a real person. Still Steven.”

Steven’s explanation made sense. You had heard him in his apartment talking to other people, even though he lived alone. You asked him then, who were the other alters? How many of them were there? You wanted to understand, to finally figure out the life of Steven Grant. He had frowned.

“You don’t think of me differently, do you? Knowing that I’m not just…me? We all have the same brain, kind of. We all have the same body.”

“And so, do you all like me?” The question had slipped out before you had time to stop yourself.

Steven had chuckled, a little. He cocked his head to one side slightly, as if listening to a song far away. You couldn’t hear anything.

“Yes. That’s kind of the number one rule. We all have to agree on someone, you know, that we all like. There’s me, obviously. Then there’s Marc, he’s the original. His last name is Spector. And then there’s Jake. Jake Lockley.”

You had stayed silent for a little while, trying to take in the information. It was hard to process the fact there was three of them, and they all liked you.

“Right, so you’re the only one who…who fronts, then? Or is it like you all are there at once? Have I met Marc, or Jake?”

At that point Steven had explained how fronting worked. He explained who Marc was and what his job was. You had pulled away slightly at the word mercenary, and Steven had no choice but to tell you the whole story. He told you about Khonshu. And after everything, after Steven’s love for Egypt and the way he seemed so strong as well as smart, the fact he was a host for a god seemed believable. You believed Steven, and he couldn’t believe it.

“I know it’s a lot. And I promise I’m not making it up, that would be weird. I just want you to know the truth. And if you don’t want to know me after this, I get it. I really do.”

A rumble of thunder disturbs you from your thoughts, making you nearly jump out of your bed. You don’t want to bother Steven, he had enough issues to be worrying about without your irrational fear of storms being added to the list.

But, you can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop thinking about being wrapped in his arms, feeling safe and protected.

The pair of you hadn’t shared a bed yet, you hadn’t even done more than making out and holding hands on dates. Not that you minded. But right now all you want is to be in his arms, in his bed, knowing that you have someone to ride the storm out with.

You slip out of bed, flinching at every lightning strike, and find your slippers and keys. You’re wearing shorts and a tee, standard pyjamas by any means, and you don’t care if Steven sees you in them. You just want him.

You pad across the hall and knock on the door. If he’s asleep, and doesn’t answer, you’ll just go back and try to watch something on the telly instead. But deep down, you’re hoping that you knocked loud enough to wake him up.

The door opens and you’re surprised to see Steven looks wide awake. When he realises it’s you at his door, his demeanour relaxes and he pulls you into a hug.

“Y/N you okay? What’s wrong, love?”

He pulls away from you, all worried with scrunched up eyebrows and a pouty lip. He’s wearing an oversized jumper and baggy sweatpants. His feet are bare, which makes you think he might have been asleep, but the look on his face suggests he hasn’t been sleeping at all.

“The storm, I can’t sleep. I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you? But, only if that’s okay?”

Steven quickly glances behind him, and you suddenly realise you've never been in Steven's apartment before. It's always you at his, and you've only ever hung out outside of Steven's apartment before a date while you waited for him.

You can’t see what he’s looking at, and you think he’s going to turn you away and say you can't come in, but when he looks back at you he’s smiling.

"Oh, love. Come in, yeah? Good thing I was awake. I uh-" Steven pauses as you step into his apartment. The layout is identical to yours, but Steven's flat is way more lived in. There's stacks upon stacks of books all around the apartment, some on bookshelves and some rising up in wobbly towers from the floor. There's lamps on all around the apartment, giving it a warm and cosy feel, even though the storm is still raging outside. Somehow though, just by being with Steven, it doesn't seem to bother you as much.

There's a goldfish tank at the far end of the room, and there's maps and Egyptian posters plastered all over the walls and, just like the layout of your apartment, Steven's bedroom is on show. But it's much different to yours...

There's sand all around the bed, and some sort of restraint is tied to a pole at the end of the bed.

"It's not uh, not a sex thing. Promise." Steven shuts the door behind you and scoots over to his bed, shoving the restraint under it. "Before I figured everything out about Marc and Jake, I thought - well I thought I was losing my mind - but I thought it was a sleeping disorder. I haven't got rid of it because it's kind of, habit? I don't know. Sorry."

Steven is babbling, flattening out his bedsheets and trying to tidy the place up while you stare at him. You think it's cute, the way he gets flustered around you. You take a step closer to him, and take his hand.

"You don't have to apologise Steven. It's alright. Is that why you haven't wanted me to come over before?"

Steven shakes his head, "No no no, Y/N, I've wanted you to come round. I've just...not had the balls to ask."

He squeezes your hand and leads you to his bed, where you both sit down.

"Anyway, you're here now. The storm's scaring you, huh?" Steven brushes a hand through your hair, coming to rest his hand against your cheek. You move to kiss his palm.

"I hate them. And I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to disturb you, but the thought of sleeping with you just seemed so much better than sleeping alone."

Steven moves his hand away from your face, bringing it down to meet your hand. He blushes at your words, but he’s no longer seems ashamed of the affect you have on him. He wears his reddening cheeks with pride.

"You know I'd do anything for you, love. You can sleep with me anytime." His words are sweet, but as soon as he says them his eyes widen, "I mean like, in my bed. Not like sleeping together together, you know? Well, maybe. If you wanted."

You shut Steven up by laughing. Even the rumble of thunder doesn't make you jump. Instead, you pull Steven in for a kiss. "I know what you're trying to say. It's okay." You pause, "Why were you up anyway?"

Steven's blush has gone down, and his expression becomes more serious. "Khonshu. There's a mission. The lads are trying to plan something."

Steven glances at the mirror on his wall, and you follow his gaze. You know he's talking to himself, either Marc or Jake has something to say. You want to say hello, even though you can't see what Steven's seeing. You wish you could meet them.

"Oh. Right. Scary stuff then?"

Steven looks back at you, and a fork of lightning flashes in the window behind him. You jump a little, and Steven puts an arm around you.

"Let's not worry about that now, yeah? Why don't you get in bed? I'll turn out the lights."

You do as he says.

His sheets are soft and his pillows smell like him and you feel like you're in the midst of one big Steven hug. He goes about, turning off the light's one by one until it's just the bedside lamp left. His bare feet patter against the floor before he slinks into bed next to you.

"Shall I turn this light off, love?"

He turns to you, propped up in the bed on his elbows, and you drink in the sight. Suddenly, the storm doesn't even seem so bad. All you care about is Steven.

You scan him, looking at his perfect curls and kissable lips. His kind eyes and his gorgeous, goofy smile. You nod, and the light goes off.

It takes you a second for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, and while you do all you can here is Steven getting comfy beside you. You're on your side, facing him, and when your eyes adjust you realise he's facing you too.

You can feel his breath on your cheek and when a flash of lightning illuminates the room, Steven smiles at you.

"Hi." He whispers, as if just because it's dark now he has to be quiet. It makes you smile.

"Hi." You say back. You're aware of his body heat beside you, but there's a distance between you and none of your body is touching his. You reach an arm out and put it against his chest.

He reacts by shuffling closer, and puts an arm on your waist. Your pyjama top has risen up slightly and Steven makes contact with your skin. It makes your brain tingle with delight.

"So," you say, trying to distract yourself, "When you say the lads are planning something, does that involve you?"

Steven's rubbing slow circles against your skin with his thumb, and it's the most soothing thing you've ever experienced. You start moving your fingers against his chest, rubbing the fabric of his sweater.

"Yeah, yeah. It involves me. I'm 1 out of 3 of the protector of the night, you know?"

There's a joking tone in his voice, and you're aware he's trying to make the situation lighter than it actually is. You almost laugh, because you realise now you're both whispering to one another about a very serious topic of conversation.

“So, you’ll have to go soon, then? To deal with…whatever the mission is?”

"Yeah. It's okay though. I've got the suit. I've got Marc and Jake. They'll have my back and we'll be home to you in no time." Steven moves his hand from your waist to stroke your cheek again.

"The suit?"

"Yeah. The ceremonial suit of armour from Khonshu's temple. Although my suit isn't like Marc or Jake's, mine's sharp and has style, you know? I did say to you that I'm suited and booted sometimes." Steven chuckles to himself and you smile. You've never seen the suit, but the way Steven describes it makes you believe you'd find him sexy in it.

But your mind isn't fully focused on that. Your mind keeps replaying something he said only moment's again

"Hold on. What did you say? You said we'll be back to me in no time. As in, all three of you. Like, like-"

"Love, I did say to you we all have feelings for you. We all want to come home to you after this mission. You're what keeps us going."

At Steven's words you subconsciously move closer. You move your leg on top of his and he shifts. He's on his back and now you're hugging him like a koala on a tree. Neither of you say anything, because neither of you mind. Your heart is racing.

"That's the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me." You tilt your head upwards to look at Steven, who's already looking at you. Thunder and lighting go off at once, suggesting the storm is close, but it doesn't matter to you. You take one look at Steven and kiss him, hard. One of his hands is playing with your hair, and the other is resting on your hip.

When you pull away, there's a thought lodged in your brain.

"Can I meet them? Jake and Marc? Only for a minute or two, only if that's okay? Can you do that, at will?"

Steven goes silent, and you're worried you've pushed your boundaries. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

"Yes. Yeah. They...they'd like that. Are you okay with that? Try to think of it as me, but different. If you like them too, I won't be mad. If you want, it'll be like three boyfriends in one." Steven plants a kiss on your forehead, and you practically melt under his touch. The idea of being the girlfriend to all three alters makes you sweat, and your excitement has fully outweighed your fear of the storm.

"Okay." You whisper, " Let's do it. Please."

You're not sure what to expect, you know they'll look the same so it doesn't matter that the room is dark, but you don't know if they'll sound the same or act the same. You're not sure if you should move off of him or not, when something happens.

Something passes through Steven, and you feel the change immediately. The grip on your hip is slightly tighter and his body tenses slightly. You look up at him and it's the same guy, but different. In the dim light you can see his jaw is more set, and his eyes don't quite hold the same, soft glow as Steven does. But he's still drop dead gorgeous.

"Hey, Y/N. How's Steven's babygirl doing?" You do not expect the American accent that come's out of his mouth. He too is whispering, but he sounds much more confident. You're blushing at his word choice - babygirl - and you can't help but giggle.

"Oh, okay. Listen to you." His voice is full of satire and there's a smug smirk on his lips as he looks down at you. He's loving every second of how flustered you are. "I'm Marc, by the way."

First introductions are usually followed by a handshake, but instead Marc just pulls you closer to him so that your head rests on his chest and the hand on your hip moves to snake around you.

"Is this okay? Are you comfortable with this?" He whispers into your ear and if you were standing, your knees would have buckled.

Steven was sexy in his own goofy, lovable way. But Marc was next level. And in a weird way, after what Steven said, you didn't even feel like you were cheating. This all felt totally normal, as if you had spent just as much time with Marc as you had with Steven. You guess, in a way, you had.

"This is good." You don't want to look at Marc because you know you'll blush.

"Steven says he knew you'd love me as much as you love him." You can hear the smile in Marc's voice. He's started rubbing your scalp, your hair intertwined in his fingers. Then, Marc laughs. "Steven also says he doesn't mean love like love. What an idiot. I know the pair of you are taking it slow and haven't said that just yet but, by the way, it's obvious."

You look up at Marc this time, totally distracted by the way he's playing with your hair, and he winks at you. Although meeting Marc is exciting, and it's all very surreal, you're slowly getting sleepy. Your body's relaxed against Marc's and you stare at him through a happy, sleepy gaze.

"You wanna sleep soon, huh? Wanna meet Jake first?"

"Mhmh. Sure." You're nearly falling asleep. Your eyes droop and shoot back open, trying to stay awake.

"We'll make it quick, sleepy girl." Marc leans over to kiss your forehead.

You don't notice when he changes to Jake. But he doesn't disturb your sleepiness. He simply snuggles closer to you, resisting all his sexual urges, and holds you closer as you begin to drift off to sleep.

"Sleep well, princesa. I'll get my time with you yet. Guess I'm the lucky one who gets to watch you sleep."

Jake's words fall into the void, and you're asleep.

He watches over you all night, protectively cuddling you and brushing hair out of your face. Before morning comes, he switches back to Steven, who plans on sleeping for a couple of hours before you wake up. Jake has done Steven a favour by taking off the sweatshirt, and now he's shirtless beside you. Steven's nervous about it, but Jake gives him the confidence he needs. As Steven settles down, and you subconsciously cuddle into him, he whispers one last time.

"We're so lucky. So bloody lucky."

The boys agree.

---

taglist: @later-gators12 @alicetweven @bristark616 @toracainz @dopeqff @insomniacfigure @allthingsvicf @leh2393

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon boys #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader

[sailorkamino]

Chaotic

chaos in us masterlist | moodboard

relationships: steven grant x avenger!witch!reader, future marc spector x reader, jake lockley x reader [gender neutral]

word count: 2.3k

summary: When you move to London you aren't expecting to fall in love. You also aren't expecting an Egyptian god who kind of sounds like Darth Vader to crash your date but that's just your life apparently.

warnings: reader assaults khonshu with bread, enemies to friends w/ khonshu, big bird is kinda rude to steven but u put him in place

a/n: reader uses chaos magic and is also psychic, f/c = favorite color, steven/marc/jake are moon knight but lets pretends the whole harrow/armpit drama hasn't happened yet, thanos never happened bc i said so

Before you even met Steven, you felt him. 

That sounds odd but your abilities make you constantly aware of others, which can be a lot. Especially in such a bustling city like London. Of course you didn’t read his mind or anything. It’s a common misconception that telepaths just love to read minds but that’s not true. You only use it on enemies for information, if you just went around listening to people's inner thoughts you’d probably drive yourself mad. People are weird. 

All that being said, you decided to go to the London museum, thinking it would be quiet and relaxing. A nice little escape. You didn’t think how overwhelming it would be to be surrounded by history, invading your senses with centuries of stories. Mostly fucked up stories because colonialism. After years of studying magic your mind is like a fortress, but that didn’t stop the artifacts from banging on your mental door. You’re incredibly grateful that you’re able to control your visions now. You do not want to see all this shit first hand.

You manage to stumble into the gift shop, one hand rubbing your temple in an attempt to ward off the coming headache. You sense some kind of power, something looming and ancient. You wonder if it’s from the Egyptian wing you just walked through but this feels more… recent. It’s an odd sensation that isn’t helping your overwhelmed mind at all.

“Are you alright?” A gentle voice acts. Apparently you aren’t doing great at hiding your discomfort. You look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever seen, framed with dark eye bags. He's absolutely beautiful. Like a sleep deprived male model. Before you can answer you find yourself stumbling, dots swimming in your vision. He quickly leaves the counter to grasp your arm with large, gentle hands.

His touch burns through your designer coat (a parting gift from Tony Stark) but not in a bad way. His energy is unique. Divided but whole. Chaotic but reassuring. “I’m fine, just a dizzy spell.” You mumble, trying not to lean into his body. Would it be manipulative if you pretended to faint so he would catch you? No, you’re better than that. Barely.

“You sure? Maybe you should sit down. I could get you a drink, or a snack.”

You should tell him that you’re fine but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to pull away. He’s just so genuine. And look at that hair... would it be weird to touch it? You suppress the urge, managing a polite response, “that sounds nice, but I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. I think I just need some fresh air.”

“Don’t worry, my boss is always telling me to be more helpful with customers. Lets get you outside, yeah?”

You grin, lidded eyes flicking to his name tag, “thank you, Steven. That’s very kind of you.”

He flashes the sweetest smile you’ve ever witnessed, making you even more light headed. He keeps his grasp on your arm as he leads you to the exit. You can already feel your mind clearing thanks to the distance between you and the artifacts. Once you’re safely leaning against the wall Steven speaks up, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."

You can't help but dopily grin as he speed walks away. Within a minute he’s back by your side. He presents you a bag of scarab gummies, “here you are.” He pauses for a moment before adding, "I don’t know why we sell these, they weren’t eating stuff like that in Ancient Egypt, were they?

“Thank you.” You smile, finding his rambling adorable. You try not to react when you take the candy from him and his calloused fingers brush your own. “I’m also realizing I never introduced myself, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. That’s a pretty name.”

Before you can stop yourself you mutter under your breath, “you’re prettier.” You watch in horror as he tenses up, ears burning red. “I-I think you’re pretty too. Beautiful, more like it,” he fumbles. Suddenly the gummies are out of your hand. You look down to see them floating above your palms, surrounded by a F/C glow. You quickly snatch them from mid air. Luckily Steven is too busy staring at his shoes in embarrassment to notice.

You clear your throat nervously, catching his attention. “So, do you like working here?” Really? That’s the best you could come up with. You mentally facepalm as he nods like a rather adorable bobblehead. “Oh yeah, I love history. It would be nice to be a tour guide though. Maybe one day, right?”

You hum in response, shoving some sweets in your mouth before you can ask any other dumb questions. “Do you, um, like your job?” He asks politely.

You pause. So he really doesn’t recgonize you. Not that you consider yourself famous but ever since you joined the Avengers on a few missions you found yourself thrust in the public eye. You meet a lot of fans but people also tend to be… wary of you. Apparently being one of the most powerful magic users on Earth makes them uneasy.

“I work… in security.” That’s technically not a lie. “It can be stressful but I get to travel a lot so that’s fun.”

“Have you ever been to Egypt?”

The childlike excitement in his voice is absolutely adorable. “A few times, yeah. What about you?”

“No, I wish. I’d love to go someday.” He sighs wistfully. “Enough about me though, are you feeling any better.”

His concern makes your heart flutter. “Much.” You grin, shuffling your bag on your shoulder to look for your wallet. “How much were the gummies?”

“They were only a few pounds, don’t worry about it.”

Thoughtful, gorgeous, and polite? You’re convinced Steven was written by a woman. You bite your lip in a way you hope looks flirty. “Well I need to pay you back somehow. What about lunch?”

He freezes, looking at you incredulously. “Are you… asking me out?” Any confidence you had starts to shatter. “I’m trying,” you mumble embarrassed. He shakes his head vehmently, “no, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just surprised! I mean, you’re so beautiful!”

You smile so big your cheeks hurt. “I think you’re beautiful too, Steven.”

His tan cheeks flame. “Thank you.”

“Can I have your number?”

He nods enthusiastically. You pull out your phone and type in his digits as he tells them to you. “I left my phone in the gift shop but I’ll text you as soon I get inside,” he promises, rocking on the balls of his feet. You grin as you send him a message.

“Stevie!”

A loud, feminine voice makes you both flinch. An aggravated woman pokes her head out the door, popping her chewing gum far too loudly for your liking. “What are you doing out- wait. Are you Y/N L/N?”

Steven looks at you in confusion as you nod with a charming smile. You can tell that she’s Steven’s superior and decide to help him out. “I am. What’s your name, hon?”

“Donna! I’m a big fan. It was so mental when you closed that portal to hell in New Jersey!”

Steven’s eyes become impossibly wider. “Yeah, that was a difficult one.” You reminisce fondly. “Would you like a picture?”

She nods excitedly, pulling out her phone. You take a selfie, trying not to chuckle at her excited gasp when you sling an arm around here. You try to ignore Steven’s bewildered gaze. Hopefully what you’re about to do will make up for your little fib.

“You know Steven here has been very helpful,” you muse after she clicks the photo. She looks at you surprised. You can already tell she doesn’t particularly like the man (which is quite bewildering to you, how is it possible to dislike Steven?)

"Really?”

You nod with an affirmative hum. “I bet he’s your best tour guide, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he actually works in the giftshop.”

You feign shock. “Really? I was hoping he could give me a private tour sometime,” you pout sadly. Donna hurries to comfort you, “oh, he can do that! I’ve been meaning to promote him anways!”

“That’s great!” You grin, turning your attention back to a very confused brunet. “I’ve gotta go but I’ll be looking forward to seeing you, Steven,” you purr, lightly squeezing his (suprisingly muscular) bicep. He nods dumbly watching you walk down the steps.

“Oi, what were you doing with a bloody superhero?” Donna asks him incredulously, the jealousy clear in her voice.

“Planning a date.” He breathes out softly, still wondering if the interaction was just a dream.

____

It’s the day of your date and Steven is ecsatic. Marc and Jake are not. They agree you’re beautiful but are very against the idea of going out with an Avenger, saying it will get in the way of their ‘business’ with Khonshu. But Steven is tired of letting that bloody pigeon influence his life so he ignores all of them, puts on his favorite jumper, and goes to the closest florist shop.

And that’s how he finds himself standing infront of you with a boquet of sunflowers.“These are just beautiful!” You gush, pressing a kiss againt his cheek as you take them. He flushes adorably. You do a quick scan around the park to make sure no one is looking before conjuring a vase with water. Did you do it just to show off? Yes. Yes you did.

You place the flowers in the middle of the picnic blanket. “Now we have a centerpiece,” you hum happily, grabbing the wicker basket you brought. He sits across from you, watching in awe as you pull a variety of noodles, dumplings, rice, and tofu dishes out. Like clowns coming out of a little car.

“Try this,” you offer, handing him one of the containers. “And don’t worry, it’s all vegan.”

He opens it to reveal ball shaped food he recognizes as dim sum. He uses the provided chopsticks to pop one into his mouth, moaning at the combination of steamed vegetables and rich seasoning.

“This is amazing!” You grin in response, working on your own fruit and tofu skewer. “That’s because it’s the real deal. I went on a little trip to Hong Kong this morning.”

He pauses mid bite, resembling a confused chipmunk. You snicker. “I can teleport, remember?” You point at his empty cup, feeling it with juice. “Maybe on our next date I can take you to Egypt?”

He inhales the dimsum in shock, choking loudly. You use your powers to pull the food out of Steven’s throat, looking at him in concern. He quickly swallows the drink you made him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, aces. Just got a bit too excited.”

“You’re adorable, Steven.”

As the date goes on you open up to each other. He tells you about his DID, which you could somewhat sense already. His mind felt different but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You tell him about how you struggled to control your powers and accept yourself. You used to feel like a weapon but you learnt that weapons aren’t always a bad thing, they can be used to protect others. Instead of a nuclear bomb you started seeing yourself as a shield.

For once Steven doesn’t feel like an outsider. He wants to tell you about Moon Knight. He knows you won’t judge him. Just as he begans to build up the courage a booming, gravelly voice rattles in his head.

“Don’t tell them anything, worm!”

You both flinch. A shiver runs through you as your hair stands on end. All your instincts are telling you to get ready for a fight. That sense of ancient power you felt in the museum is back tenfold. “Did you hear that?” You ask Steven.

He looks at you in complete shock. “What?”

“Can the witch hear me?”

“Okay, where is that Darth Vader voice coming from?” You groan, eyes glowing F/C. Your powers mean you’re always aware of your surroundings, you don’t like this sudden uncertainty. Especially not when Steven is at risk.

Suddenly a large mummified being with a bird skull appears behind your date. Because this is what your life has come to apparently. “Can you see me, witch?” Without saying anything you use your abilities to send a roll flying, hitting him square in the beak. He flinches back in surprise. Steven watches on, not knowing if he should laugh or shake in fear. Maybe both.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask sassily. “You’re some kind of deity right? I’m getting Egyptian vibes,” you muse outloud. Despite having no real facial features he manages to look unimpressed. “I thought you had magic, yet you can’t figure out who I am, little one?"

You squint at him for a moment, reaching out your consciousness. “Khonshu? I think I’ll call you cashew.”

“You will not!” He bellows. Poor Steven flinches at the volume but you just purse your lips. “It’s not fun being called stupid nicknames, is it?”

He pauses, tilting his skeletal head at you. “Excuse me?”

“You called Steven a worm. That was very rude,” you huff protectively. “You should really treat your avatar better.”

“You know about avatars?”

“Magic, babe,” you remind, wiggling your fingers as sparks dance between them. “I want to be in Steven's life, and his alter’s if they’ll have me. We’ll be spending time together so we might as well get along, don’t you agree?”

The god nods reluctantly. “I suppose.”

“Good,” you beam up at him. “But if you ever disrespect Steven again we will have words,” you promise in a sickly sweet voice.

Steven looks at you in absolute awe. ‘I changed my mind. I like them,’ Marc speaks in his head. ‘That was fucking hot,’ Jake adds on helpfully. For once the system agrees on something.

____

taglist: @jallerentrags @huitzilinthebudgie3 @wintergirlsoilder2 @dreamerkim @jupitersmoon167 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @darkened-writer @sunipostsstuff @bex-tk1 @musicconversedance @nemtodd-barnes1923 @thegotfangirl @your-frenly-emo-rat @dadstarkblacksoul @certifiedhunter @tagakalat @galactic-galabee @yoongiwithglasses @theyaremorethanjustfictional @booksandbenbarnes @faefanatic @ness-is-vanillabean @lovesickollie @kemisuu @missdragon-1 @ristare @jck-r @brekkers-desigirl

if ur name is highlighted i couldn't tag u :(

a/n #2: i've never had such a long taglist! thank you for giving my work so much love before i even posted it🥹

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant fluff #moon knight fluff #platonic khonshu #khonshu x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x witch!reader #steven grant x avenger!reader #marc spector x witch!reader #marc spector x avenger!reader #jake lockley x witch!reader #chaos in us #moon knight #moon boys

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

#marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector angst #marc spector fluff #marc spector imagines #marc spector drabbles #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #moon knight drabbles #moon knight imagines #moon knight oneshot #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction

[m00nsbaby]

Heartbreak feels so good.

Jake Lockley + Khonshu x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. Mentions of violence and being hurt, angst, mentions of kidnapping, cursing.

Word count. 4.7

Summary. He left as quickly as he appeared in your life.

No, in fact, you took it upon yourself to remove him from it, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of him.

You never regretted it; your love was never above your morals, and you could live with that even on days when it felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. But there was something about the nights that made you miss him more.

The way the moonlight bathed you through the window was a constant reminder that it wasn't just your imagination trying to save you from your impending loneliness. He had cradled you in his arms, or perhaps, you had cradled him in yours, who knows.

Now, you were left with a life without them.

Without him.

Not waking up to the sound of your alarm was a strange way to start the day, not as strange as the rest was going to be, but it was quite fitting for the situation.

The headache came in stabbing waves, and opening your eyes was the icing on the cake, although fortunately, everything was dark. Had your nap gotten out of hand? It wouldn't be the first time you slept for 24 hours straight.

Everything was relatively calm, with one tiny detail you noticed after a few seconds. You weren't in your room.

In fact, you had no idea where you were.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." you whispered as you pushed the sheets over your body. A sharp pain ran through your entire leg, combined with one on the opposite side, at the level of your ribs. "Shit!" you said again, this time with a slightly louder tone.

This should be the part where you cried; your mind immediately went to the most logical conclusion at the moment: years of walking around the city at night with your headphones on had led to this, a kidnapping.

A pretty stupid kidnapping if you thought about it because many of your things were still in your pocket – your phone, headphones, some crumpled dollars. On the bureau across the room, some of your belongings were resting too; you recognized your purple folder decorated with stickers, but it seemed to have barely survived as it looked more damaged than usual.

You also took a moment to look at yourself. You were wearing only a long T-shirt that wasn't yours, way too big for your body, but it gave you the freedom to notice that your ankle and leg were bandaged, and you could also feel the slight pressure of the fabric around your ribs.

"You woke up." You almost screamed in fear when a figure that you could barely distinguish appeared at the door, speaking with a curious accent.

Of course, your first reaction was to grab the first thing you could find and throw it with all the force you could muster, considering your broken leg and ribs. He barely managed to raise his hands to shield himself from the glass of water that shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor.

Jake had forgotten how much things hurt when he wasn't wearing the suit.

"Ouch! Okay, okay, okay, I understand!" He raised both hands in a gesture of innocence, taking a step back but staying close to the door frame. "I get it, really! You're scared, it's weird, I know, I know, just let me… No!"

There went his favorite lamp. And worse, it didn't even serve as defense because you ended up groaning in pain, clutching your ribs.

"Please, stop throwing things!" Jake looked sadly at the broken lamp for a few seconds before looking at the empty space in the room. He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were listening to someone.

He nodded silently to nothing and then sighed.

Great, you got kidnapped by a crazy person.

"Just let me explain, okay?" He didn't want to intimidate you further, although he doubted it was even possible. He crouched down to pick up the three pieces into which the object had shattered; the last thing he needed now in his apartment was this mess. "Please."

You had seen enough movies to know that sometimes the best option for survival was to be kind.

"Okay." It was the only thing you said as you tried your best to sit on the bed in a more comfortable position.

"Have you heard of that strange vigilante with the white suit and ridiculous cape…"

If only you had heard Khonshu's reaction as he cursed Jake from the corner of the room.

"Well, not so ridiculous cape, who's been on the streets for a few months?"

You pursed your lips and had to force yourself to continue the conversation. Of course, you knew him; you sometimes shared photos of him on the internet, the few that were available and of poor quality. You even remembered commenting "He's so fucking cool!!!" on some fan page.

Those with at least 15 followers.

"Yeah, the one who looks like a mummy on steroids."

"Wow, that's new."

"What does he have to do with you kidnapping me?"

"You're not kidnapped."

"I can't leave."

"Technically, no."

"Then I am kidnapped."

Jake sighed, giving up.

"It was an accident; you ended up in the middle of one of his missions by mistake. You got injured, although you probably already felt that."

"And that's why you kidnapped me?"

"Ay por dios." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You have a broken leg, you twisted your ankle, and you have some broken ribs. I couldn't leave you like that; you lost consciousness quickly."

You nodded slowly; it was clear you weren't convinced yet.

"So you just decided to be a good Samaritan? You could have taken me to the hospital, you know, instead of kidnapping me."

"They'll ask questions at the hospital, and that will lead to the police. I couldn't take you there."

"Plus, I don't have medical insurance."

"Well, I didn't know that, but it's one more point in my favor."

"It's still not a good enough excuse to…"

"You're not kidnapped!" His accent became more noticeable as he lost his patience; that was interesting.

"So, the masked guy is an idiot who leaves the injured because of him to their fate."

You didn't have the strength or energy to argue anymore; this whole situation was a joke without humor, although it didn't sound so impossible.

You once read about someone who wanted to sue Spider-Man for the same thing. Or had it been Daredevil? Too much pain in your body and too many superheroes with red suits.

"Technically, no."

"Technically, yes."

"He's taking responsibility for what he did."

Your eyes met his, and he cleared his throat.

"You're lying; you just don't want me to scream or call the police."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Prove it."

The last thing you saw before losing consciousness for the second time in 24 hours was the shining white ceremonial suit in the darkness, with a faint glow that seemed to emanate from it.

The good side was that technically, you weren't kidnapped.

The second time you woke up wasn't as difficult as the first. The headache had almost completely faded, and at least now you had a clearer context of where you were, partially, but less lost than before.

"Hello again." Jake looked at you from a chair next to the bed, holding a book that he was frowning at. He looked like a child who had discovered that not all books have pictures.

"I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller," you whispered without moving from your spot.

Jake thought about how lucky you were not to see Khonshu; otherwise, you would have woken up with a giant beak in front of your face and two empty eye sockets examining you.

"You'll feel better someday," he joked, flipping a page.

"So, this is your fault?"

"Technically," that damn word again, "it's your fault for not watching where you walk."

"You're an idiot," you said, eyes closed, not raising your voice.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." It wasn't fine; you were in the most bizarre situation you had ever experienced. "At least did you stop the bad guy?"

"I killed him, actually."

You opened one eye and looked at him. He looked back at you.

"I was kidding."

"To joke, you have to be funny."

Khonshu laughed, and Jake wished he could rip his own ears off; it was a sound he hadn't liked for some time now.

"I'm Jake Lockley." The boy leaned slightly to offer his hand in greeting. "You don't have to tell me your name; I read all your papers. The ones that survived."

"My backpack?"

"Didn't make it."

"That hurts more than my leg." You confessed, bringing both hands to your face. "Or my ribs."

"I'll get you another one."

"I don't want another, Jake Lockley." You still had your face covered with your hands. "I want to cry."

"You can do it, I won't judge you."

"It's me who's judging you." Your voice broke within seconds; the fatigue was finally starting to hit. "Why couldn't Spider-Man rescue me?" The sob you let out was ridiculous to Jake, who had to contain himself from laughing.

"I'll get you an aspirin." He placed the book on the bed, getting up from his chair. "Do you like juice?"

"Pineapple," you replied between sobs.

Jake left the room with a smile on his face, while Khonshu, in complete silence, continued to watch you.

By the third day, you had already assimilated many things. The main one was that, according to the internet, broken ribs take approximately 6 weeks to heal, a sprained ankle takes 12 weeks, and the legs, if lucky, take less than 8 weeks. So, you were looking at a minimum of 6 weeks there before Jake would agree to let you go.

The logical part of you eventually accepted the deal; you knew you didn't have family or close friends who could take care of you now that you could barely move.

"Are you comfortable?" He placed you on the individual sofa in his small living room and arranged the cushions around you to avoid any discomfort.

That was something you had gotten used to, being carried by him, having his hand around your waist while he helped you walk to the bathroom, and his scolding in Spanish when you tried to move on your own.

"Maybe if you had done it shirtless, it would have been more fun."

"Que graciosa." He rolled his eyes as he handed you the TV remote. It was rare for him to be home at this hour, but you didn't mind the company.

He sat on the larger sofa, ready to watch whatever you chose. Of course, you didn't stay quiet for long.

"How does your suit work?"

"Nanotech."

"Bullshit. Why would you have a nanotechnology cape?"

"It's a complicated explanation."

"I have time. About 1,008 hours."

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Sometimes more."

"There's a God involved. Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon."

You nodded in silence, watching him attentively. At this point, it was probably impossible for any regular citizen dealing with superhero stuff all week to be surprised by any kind of story.

"He saved me." Thankfully, Marc couldn't hear this, or he would beat up his own body to hear such nonsense. "I work for him, he granted me the healing suit and all that." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"So, you can see him?"

"More than I'd like, yes." He didn't let you ask more; he spoke quickly when he noticed your intentions to dig further into the story. "Do you like instant noodles?"

"I love them." You watched him closely as he stood up from the sofa.

As he passed by you on his way to the kitchen, you stretched a bit to take Jake's hand and stop him.

Your request for a glass of pineapple juice was completely silenced by Khonshu's voice.

Hathor. It resonated in his ears.

It lasted a few seconds, but Jake felt suffocated. At least 3 different images, and in all of them, you were there. Or so it seemed; your clothes didn't match anything he had seen before, and the only clue he got about what was happening were the angles from which he saw you.

In the last one, you were underneath him, or so it seemed.

Then, an overwhelming feeling of sadness flooded his chest.

"Jake?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"Deja vu," he said, blinking a couple of times. He let go of your hand and hurried to the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you as much as his small apartment allowed him.

You were sitting on the neatly made bed, wearing a dress you didn't love, especially when it revealed the bandages decorating your leg. But it had been Jake's choice, who decided after a week that maybe you couldn't live solely in his shirts.

However much he liked how petite it made you look.

He seemed so excited about the idea of getting clothes for you that you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You hummed softly as you browsed through your music library when the bedroom door opened. You didn't expect Jake back so early.

"You came back quickly. What were you—" When you looked up, you fell completely silent.

That was Jake, but he wasn't?

His expression was tenser, so was his posture, but more importantly, his iris had a bright white color, except for the outer circle.

Something in your mind clicked immediately. Was this what he meant when he told you that Khonshu wanted to meet you? If it wasn't for the obvious, you'd think this was some kind of prank. You were never a person sensitive to the supernatural, but you could swear that the entire energy of the place changed as soon as he appeared.

"Is that you?" You whispered as he took steps closer to the bed. He was examining you, just as he had been doing since you arrived, but this was the first time you could feel it.

He nodded silently.

"Thank you for saving me." You smiled, which sent a shiver down the god's spine. "Jake told me it was you who asked him to do it, so thank you."

He sat on the bed, right by your side, and you moved your phone aside to show that he had your full attention.

"What were you doing?" Just when you thought Jake's voice couldn't get any deeper, Khonshu managed to surprise you. His voice sounded like it had an extra layer of depth.

"Listening to music, waiting for Jake to come." Your eyes were focused on his, and no matter how much you wanted to look away, it was physically impossible, as if they had a magnet that instantly drew you back to them.

"There?" He was aware of the technological advancements of humans, but both Steven and Marc had the most basic phones one could find nowadays.

You nodded, chuckling softly as you took your earphones to carefully put one in his ear and the other in yours.

"Wanna try?"

He nodded, silently.

"I'm going to press play, okay? So you won't be caught off guard." For a moment, he felt stupid because someone… No, not someone, a human was treating him like he was made of glass.

He didn't complain, especially when the music began to play.

The cable of the earphones kept you close, and you stared as he closed his eyes. His brow furrowed unconsciously; there was something new and intense about listening to music that way.

It felt so intimate and sounded so clear that Khonshu was reminded of the wonders humans were capable of.

Flashbacks, just like the ones Jake had experienced a few days earlier, flooded him. In these flashbacks, a beautiful young woman spun around him, dancing with complete joy, making him laugh and follow her clumsily.

"Hathor, that's enough." He didn't recognize his own voice inside his head. The girl took his hand, and he held it steady so she could twirl around on her own axis, her hair going everywhere as the music filled both of their ears. "Isn't it wonderful, Khonshu?" It was like listening to you. "The music?" "You are wonderful, my dear." His human body responded in amusing ways to the girl, blushing his cheeks and feeling what some called butterflies in his stomach.

The memory disappeared before he could receive a kiss from his beloved.

He blinked rapidly when he opened his eyes, trying to bring himself back to the reality where you were looking at him, with a million questions in your head.

"Dear?" He murmured one last time before his daydream vanished. In a matter of seconds, he stood up, causing you to startle in surprise.

"Khonshu?" Your voice mixed with hers in his mind, sounding almost identical. The corporeal being increased the intensity of everything by 200%, and it almost made the human body he had borrowed faint.

He fled from you, fled from the house.

And Jake never told you that accepting Khonshu into his body to let him get close to you felt like having his bones broken one by one, making him feel claustrophobic and disgusted.

In the second week, there was a moment when you momentarily thought you were in the presence of Khonshu because of the expression on Jake's face.

He looked upset, scared, and anxious, all bundled up together. It was 3 in the morning, and you were on your second glass of water while leaning against the kitchen counter, still sore but becoming easier to bear.

"I thought you wouldn't come today," you whispered with a faint smile as he got rid of his cap, letting it fall anywhere in the living room. He didn't respond, following you into the kitchen and looking at you intently for a few seconds.

Up close, you could see that his eyes were red and irritated.

You didn't say anything when he hugged you. Not even when he squeezed you in his arms, causing your ribs to ache. You just raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort.

It was only then that you noticed Jake was trembling.

"And is your job to be a vigilante?"

"My job is to obey Khonshu." He rolled his eyes, certain that you had had this conversation on previous occasions. He could hear the cereal crunching in your mouth as he waited for his to soften with the milk.

Steven deprived him of the few pleasures in life he could have, without even knowing it. Unfortunately, real milk was one of them.

"And what do you do for him?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"How can you eat the cereal like that? Doesn't it feel like it's scraping your palate?"

"How can you eat it when it turns into a thick, disgusting soup?"

"Good point." He took a spoonful of his cereal. It was just right.

"In the daylight, you look completely different."

"How so?"

"I don't know, you just do."

Jake didn't say it out loud, but it was quite funny considering that he was, in fact, someone quite different, or something quite similar.

"How's your leg doing? Do you think it's getting better?" An expert at changing the subject.

"I think so. Some days it hurts a lot, but it's only been two weeks and a few days."

"Are you counting the days to leave?"

"Yes." You pursed your lips, and Jake looked away before you could correct yourself. "Because I don't want to leave."

Since you arrived, you took over Jake's bed against your will. He insisted on sleeping on a sad inflatable mattress that squeaked every time he moved.

One early morning, you felt the mattress sink beside you, and you didn't even have time to be startled because the scent of your temporary roommate's cologne filled your lungs in a matter of seconds.

"Are you okay?" You whispered without turning to look at him, keeping your eyes closed even when you felt him wrap an arm around your waist. "Okay, you can sleep here then," you continued when you received no response to your first question.

He pulled you closer to his body, and you didn't protest; instead, you turned to bury yourself in his chest, seeking more of his warmth. It seemed the pain was more bearable when your muscles warmed up.

Jake moved away from you, just enough to see your face.

You opened your eyes as he held your chin and gently pulled it to bring you closer to him. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes again were those enormous white irises fixed on you.

He kissed you. He kissed you until your lips hurt, and your chin from the firmness of his grip. But you didn't want to pull away; there was something so familiar about his lips that you wondered if it was because they were actually Jake's lips or if there was something more that you weren't understanding.

You could swear he caressed and kissed you for hours, although the next day you had no evidence to confirm whether it was a memory or a strange dream.

"Have you ever considered quitting?" You stirred your cereal in your plate, refusing to look up at him.

By week number 4, your encounters with Jake had become increasingly rare. He was quiet, distant, never with you, but more aggressive than usual, and his shirts filled the washing machine with blood, making you feel nauseous from time to time.

Wasn't the suit supposed to be worn during his missions? What kind of missions was he taking?

"Quit?" he echoed.

"To stop working for him." You felt uncomfortable mentioning his name after countless nights spent kissing, of which you weren't even sure if Jake was aware because he never brought it up.

He was aware. How could he not be when every night he felt physically and emotionally crushed?

"I can't do that." And he was right. If it were up to him, he would flee without caring about the consequences, but Jake was there for the sake of Marc and Steven. He had no problem with his efforts going unrecognized by them; he knew they were better off not knowing he existed.

"Why?" You gently lifted his chin with your fingers, making him look at you. It was a way to remind him that he wasn't alone, that you were there.

"I can't," he repeated softly. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against your hand as a puppy would.

You leaned in and, this time, when the edge of the table pressed against your ribs, it didn't hurt as much. You kissed the boy's lips.

"It's killing you." It was the last thing you said before getting up to collect the almost full plates from the table.

Jake had a kind of day off as your stay was coming to an end. Your body was hardly hurting anymore, and for several days, you could walk on your own. Now, all that was left was to enjoy your last time there, and you were doing just that.

Your legs were resting on top of Jake's while you both watched a silly program about people addicted to eating strange things.

"You should be on there for eating softened cereal," you said, trying not to laugh as your cheek was pressed against his chest, his arm around your shoulders.

"And you should be there for drinking pineapple juice like it's water; that stuff is going to kill you," he retorted, rolling his eyes but laughing.

"I'll die happy," you clarified, clearing your throat after a moment of silence to get his attention. "Jake?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go."

"Then don't go."

"You know I can't do that." And yes, he knew. He knew you couldn't stay in his apartment forever and that even if you continued whatever you had, there was no guarantee you would still be interested in him from a different perspective.

How would you react to knowing about Marc and Steven? Or about the things he did at night when his hands were stained with blood?

"You won't push me away, will you?" Jake had never heard himself so vulnerable, but a few days ago, he had realized that it was worth lowering his guard when it came to you. "I don't want to be alone."

"I won't, Jake." You whispered with a small smile, extending your pinkie finger to him.

He intertwined his pinkie with yours, trying not to laugh.

"Pinkie promise," you said, squeezing his pinkie with yours.

You didn't find out what happened on the show beyond that person who ate dressing with everything. You were too distracted by Jake's lips to pay attention to anything else.

For the fourth mental breakdown of Jake that you had to witness, you were fed up. Not with him, not with the repeated breakdowns, but with knowing that it was Khonshu who was tearing him apart. Sometimes physically, always mentally.

"You have to let him go," you said as soon as you saw him enter through the door, his white irises betraying that you were speaking to whom you wanted to talk.

"I can't," his voice echoed in your head, you were so used to hearing him whisper or not speak at all that it took you by surprise, indeed.

"Set him free, Khonshu." Your tone was threatening. Poor foolish girl, just because the deity never showed you what he was capable of didn't mean you were an exception. His rules were always fulfilled, for better or worse.

To him, your voice also merged with that of his former beloved.

"You're killing him." Your hands pushed him in the chest, you couldn't remember ever feeling so angry before, it burned inside you.

He didn't flinch.

"Dear…"

"I'm not her!" You exploded after a few seconds. "I'm not Hathor!"

"I'm not going to free Jake, we have a deal."

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid deal. He deserves to be free."

"You know nothing about him." His body leaned slightly to look at you, he tapped your nose. It was a condescending gesture, making you feel like a little child. "He's a broken man, my dear," he continued before you could correct him. "Even if I set him free, he would never be happy with that. He is created to protect other lives, not to live his own, do you understand?"

His tone was so calm that it scared you, but you didn't back down.

"And what do you know about being happy, huh?"

Oh, you were going to hit below the belt.

"You lost the one you loved, and you will never get her back." You spat the words without looking away. "No one will ever care about you again."

Lie. Lie. In fact, he had managed to convince you that you could be devoted to him in a short time, but Jake had become your priority even faster.

"You are free to leave." He swallowed hard, but the carefree expression on his face didn't vanish. There was still something more painful about it, as if it were Jake himself telling you this. "You're just a weakness for him, it's better if you go now before it's too late."

The eighth week was spent in your home, your empty and cold apartment that suddenly felt so unfamiliar to you.

Every morning, you would watch your cereal soften with the milk until it became repulsive. Apparently, your appetite had vanished without warning.

You avoided touching your phone because every time it was on, you would find missed messages and calls from Jake. Did you miss him? With every bone in your body, but you couldn't live knowing that Jake was slowly being torn apart, it wouldn't be good for you.

You simply hoped that he had found your note saying goodbye and thanking him, and every night you prayed to the moon that he was okay. That he wasn't hurt, that he would find a way out of where he was.

Perhaps that way, both of you could be happy together.

The truth was that you left him shattered. He questioned himself a million times about what he had done wrong and why you had suddenly fled without letting him know. Every night, his heart ached, and coming back to his apartment was the worst part of the day. He had never noticed how lonely and dark it was until you were gone. Whenever possible, he tried to locate you with his phone, and sometimes he read your old messages where you asked him to bring something special for dinner or simply more of the pineapple juice on different occasions. Although he supposed, based on your words in the letter, that you had left thinking you were doing him a favor, the truth was that he had never felt so lost.

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #jake lockley x you

[book-place]

Dress Shopping Expeditions

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Marc Spector x daughter reader, Steven Grant x reader platonic, Khonshu x reader platonic

Request: Hello! Could you do a fic for the Mk boys? I request another Mk boys x daughter bc I am such a simp after bingeing all your Mk x daughter or teen fics. Okay, so I know formal isn't really common in the Uk but I know some people do Proms, so could you do a fic where the Mk boys takes her dress shopping? And Khonshu is just judging all the dresses. Thought It would be a cute and funny fic

Request by: @mochystark

*not my gif*

Summary: It’s time for prom, so naturally you have to go dress shopping. Your father is less than pleased

A/N: I haven’t really written in a while- so please excuse the shitty writing

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Come on!” You cheered, literally dragging the man behind you by the arm into the closest shop.

Marc tried- and failed- to dig his heels into the ground. “But I don’t want to,” He whined childishly.

“Well that’s too bad,” You looked over your shoulder at him with a grin, “Because Steven volunteered you to do it.”

The man was in fact still being pulled along behind you, but this time he was muttering obscenities to his alter.

If there was one thing in this world your father hated, it was shopping. But dress shopping, oh that was worse. So much worse.

The store was filled to the brim with gowns of all shapes and sizes. Colors ranging from the brightest oranges, to the darkest greens. You were completely in awe at everything you saw, spinning in a circle as your eyes tried to drink it all in.

Marc came to a stop, crossing his arms as he looked around nervously, “I don’t like this.” He muttered.

“Aww,” You teased, “Does dress shopping make you uncomfortable, dad?”

He let out a huff of air and turned his head to face the other way so you wouldn’t see the way his cheeks tinged the pink of a nearby Barbie-like dress, “Shut up.”

You just laughed, skipping off in a different direction to look at some colorful material, leaving Marc to rock back and forth on his heels where you had left him.

“Marc,” Steven chastised in his ear, “I volunteered you for this so that you could spend some time with Y/n.”

Marc shifted on his feet again, “I don’t know anything about this stuff, Steven!” He complained, not caring about any of the surrounding people who threw weird looks his way for talking to seemingly himself.

“It’s her prom,” The british man’s voice softened, “And you’re her father. She deserves to have you here with her.”

Your father deflated a bit at that before he sighed, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

After only a second's hesitation, he set off into your direction, you in turn looking up and grinning brightly when you saw him approach.

“Dad, good, do you mind holding this?” You barely waited for him to nod before shoving at least five dresses into his hold.

“Yep,” He grunted a bit, “I got it.”

He followed you around like a lost puppy for the next forty five minutes as you tossed into his arms the different dresses you wanted to try on, and he didn’t complain once. In fact, he even seemed to be slightly happy.

Eventually, you trailed into the dressing room and one by one tried on the dresses, him waiting outside and you walking out each time to ask for his opinion.

“No.” Khonshu said the second you opened the door and stepped from your dressing room for the twenty-seventh dress you were trying on.

The God evidently had nothing better to do and decided to drop by to help.

“No?” You quipped back, anger rising in your voice.

“I don’t like it.” He said simply.

“Oh? You don’t like it?” You seethed, eyes narrowing at his quick judgment of your dress.

“Now, now,” Steven said nervously, looking back and forth between you two, “Let’s not fight.”

“No, let’s.” Marc fronted with a grunt and muttered, “Maybe the store will kick us out then.”

“No, I don’t.” Khonshu continued as if the other two hadn’t even spoken.

Marc sighed at the look Steven was giving him in a nearby mirror- one that told him to intervene before things got messy- and he stepped in between both of you.

“Sweetie,” He spoke, gently laying his hands on your shoulders, “You look beautiful.” He gently placed a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled up at him before grinning at Khonshu, “See? I look beautiful in this dress.”

Your father nodded, “And if you want to get this dress- then we’ll get this one.”

You shook your head and turned back into your dressing room, “Nah, I don’t really like it that much anyway.”

Steven burst into a fit of giggles as Marc’s face dropped and even Khonshu let out a small snigger.

Despite that though, the three of them stayed, waiting until you found the perfect dress. Not once complaining, but a couple more small fights did break out between you and the God of the moon.

Like a Bee 🐝- @ip747 @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @jvdethirlwall @wolfmoonmusic

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #marvel #mcu #teen reader #mcu x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight #moon knight fic #marc spector x reader platonic #marc spector x reader #marc spector #marc spector x daughter reader #daughter reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x reader platonic #steven grant #khonshu x reader #khonshu #khonshu x reader platonic

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Burnout, exhaustion, overworked (aren't we all?) shit gets a wee bit too relatable

A/N: Did I spend too much time looking through how the gods were worshipped? Yes, yes I did. Do I finally have a way to vent the weird feelings I have about the angry bird man? Also yes.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 1:

Dust and Echoes

Day after day, night after night. The dreadful tedium of your life was not lost on you. The same job every night, the same work that left knots and tension in your back and muscles, your arms feeling like they were about to fall off and your feet feeling like you had holes drilled into the bottoms...

You couldn't work during the day, it was just simply not in your schedule. No matter how you tried, it was hard to stay awake during the day.

You had a severe case of insomnia, no doctor you went to (when you could afford them, which you barely could) could prescribe anything that would help you sleep. You even tried hypnosis. That was wild.

The dude said you flipped out and started talking in another language, and he was half tempted to call the church on you! That memory was always good for a laugh.

Could be worse, you supposed.

After all, your night job was cleaning a small office building (four floors, and your coworkers almost never helped) which meant mostly deserted floors and dozens of vacant cubicles.

It was kind of relaxing in a way, you could plug in your headphones, blast your favorite tunes and just go off into your own little world while you cleaned.

The world which you concocted was one many overworked and underpaid individuals such as yourself dreamt. A nice big house, food in the fridge, never having to worry about missing the next bill payment or not being able to afford insurance...

But you always had to wake up from that dream world.

You hated that part of your night.

While yes, you have always found the comfort and coolness of the night soothing, there were still dangers lurking out there in the dark.

You'd taken some half-assed self defense classes (you had to drop out because of your sleep schedule), but your skills were lackluster at best. So, you opted for your mace and taser as your trusty companions.

You'd been attacked and mugged five times in the last year and a half. You learned to stop carrying your money on you after the second time, only keeping your metro card on you.

You wondered why, why of all places, did you decide to move to New York? You were a country girl blinded by the dazzling lights, a stupid cliché trope you hated yourself for existing in.

And what did your naivete earn you? A shitty one room apartment that was barely the size of most motel rooms. The only reason you stayed was because at least your apartment had that small kitchen, compared to the rathole hostels you'd unfortunately been victim to before.

Your landlord was shrewd and strict, but at least the rent was affordable. That was the only blessing. Because your electric and other utilities were covered in your rent, you really only needed to worry about money for food. Which... you had been subjected to a rather unhealthy diet consisting mostly of tv dinners, dollar menu fast foods, and cheap Chinese takeout.

Half the time you felt like there was more to this, but logic always kicked in.

Then again, everyone felt like there was more to life when their life consisted of being a faceless, nameless, replaceable cog in the corporate machine.

But for you, even despite your logic, you just... you could feel there was more out there for you. Something meaningful.

You couldn't place your finger on it, but you just knew. It was like an itch under your skin, a tingling in your fingertips.

You were special. You just... you knew you were. Sometimes you could predict what somebody was going to say before they said it, sometimes you could fix things you'd never even looked at before, sometimes, you swore you could see things before they happened.

Oh, and then there were the dreams. Those dreams gave you the willies.

Usually in those dreams, you were floating in a black void, blinking until things came into focus. Looking down at your feet, it was like you were walking on perfectly smooth water, stars blinking to life one by one, reflected on the surface like an inky black mirror, your own reflection not able to be seen.

You would walk and walk and walk... but never reached a destination.

That's when you would feel something. Like the first winter chill creeping into the autumn breeze.

A voice. Deep, raspy... mournful.

You could never make out what the voice said, but whoever it was, they sounded lonely; almost in pain.

But then all at once you would be swallowed up into a light, almost like you were falling back to the very Earth itself, waking with a jolt, your clothes soaked with sweat, your hair dripping with it.

Yeah. Those dreams were the worst. You never felt rested when you had them...

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Today was one of the rare days you forced yourself out of bed and ventured out into the light of day. After all, humans need sunlight. And you were starting to look dreadfully pale.

You were confident you looked like some sort of ghoul, the way people gave you such sideways glances...

You shrugged your bag over your shoulders, looking into the storefronts curiously. You weren't looking for anything specific. You were aimlessly wandering at this point, really. You had two days off (only because your boss flat out told you you've hit overtime twice this month, and even he was concerned for your health) and figured, hey... may as well get some vitamin D while you're at it.

You shoved your hands in your pockets, your pinky poking through the hole on the inside of the pocket on the left side. God, you thought, I should make a trip to the thrift store today, get some decently-used jeans. Need some with less mileage on em.

The smell of incense burned your nostrils, crappy "spiritual" flute music croaking over a speaker well past its prime, wind chimes toning lazily in the breeze.

You lift your gaze and spot the shop, some kind of "witchy aesthetic" kinda thing. Pentacles, Celtic symbols, as well as some Norse-Pagan paraphernalia littered the front window. As well as the gauche lettering depicting palm readings and fortunes, and of course "magic".

Pah. Stupid.

You were about to walk by when two young women clad in black walked by, happily chirping to one another about offerings, smudgings, or... whatever it was. It wasn't your business.

As you watched them go, you turned to continue on your path, but a hand gripped your wrist.

The owner of the appendage was a woman. Her brown hair streaked with gray, her olive-green eyes seeming like they were focusing on something far away rather than at you.

"Uh..." You said, slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh! Forgive me, dear..." She laughed, taking your hand in hers and patting the back of your palm with her free hand; the thick leather bracer on her forearm was an odd fashion choice, you mused.

"Would you like to come in? I have something for everyone!" She winked.

"Er, well, I'm not really into... this whole thing." You chuckle nervously.

"Oh you don't have to be, sweetheart. No harm in looking, is there?"

"....Alright." You concede. She had a good point.

Your noticed as she let your hand go, your "funny feeling" was starting to tingle your fingertips.

And as you walked past the threshold of the front door? Your whole body felt like it was tingling.

Wall to wall, the small shop was filled with things that dazzled the senses, both visually and you were certain in other ways.

The woman hummed as she led you deeper into her shop, gesturing for you to walk into a dark room that was bordered with a beaded curtain in the door.

Yeah. That was how dumb people in horror movies got murdered. No, thank you.

"Look, I can just... uh." You try to find an excuse to turn down the woman who treated you with such polite words and demeanor.

But something about her had you so, so curious. Your "feeling" could not anticipate this woman, anything she said or did seemed a mystery to you.

"You seem tired, dear." She smiled sweetly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I... well. I'm..."

"Overworked. I assume this is your first day off in days? Weeks, maybe?" She sighed, a sympathetic look on her face.

"How did you--"

"You are very pale, dear. Here, come. Come. Sit with me, hm?" She giggles, reaching out to bring you past the beaded curtain and into the dark room.

Her name, she told you, was Jezebel.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Goddamn you and your curiosity. The things this woman were telling you were compelling you. It was insane, the things she knew about you. She was right on the nose.

Even about the muggings.

That was when she brought up the subject of protection. When you brought up your self defense and "weapons", she chuckled and waved it off, simply saying that she didn't mean "that" kind of protection.

When you asked what she meant by that, she walked into another room connected to the dark room you were in, the table draped in a velvet cloth with tarot cards laid meticulously set.

She came back with something wrapped in a black silk cloth.

"Here, child. Try this." She hands you whatever it is, and encourages you to unwrap it.

Wrapped inside was a small, old-looking (Ancient, if you were honest) statuette of some sort. You could tell, even with your uneducated eye, that this was done in some kind of style reminiscent of the statues of ancient Egypt that you'd only glimpsed in documentaries. At first you thought it might be Horus, but the head was all wrong...

"Pray to Khonshu, and he will protect you during your travels in the night." She said sweetly.

"I..." You can't tear your gaze away from the statue.

"I can give you prayers, incense, an altar cloth, and basic offerings to get you started, sweetheart. Wait right here."

Before you can reject her offer, she vanishes elsewhere in the store...

And before you know it, she hands you a burlap bag, putting the statue, plus the other items in the bag for you.

"I... I can't pay for this, I..." You stammer.

"Trust me, my dear. This is on the house. You need this." She winks, patting the back of your hand again.

"Now, go. Set up the altar when you get home, get some rest, and say a prayer. Do this every time you leave during the night, and Khonshu and his Fists will protect you."

Somehow, you felt compelled yet again to accept her word, leaving her shop, your brain in a fog.

As you walked, you felt something.

Like a soft voice whispering on a desert wind.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jezebel watched you leave, a satisfied and happy smirk playing on her lips.

Above, she heard the croaking of a crow.

She made a soft whistle and held out her arm, the one wearing the leather bracer.

And in a blur, a crow, white as snow and eyes as red as blood, landed on her arm, making very happy noises, almost singing at her, in his own way.

"Yes, I know, Zephyr." She smiled wider as she walked inside, Zephyr waddling up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

"I could sense it, too. Perhaps He will answer that girl..."

She then pulled the leather bracer off her arm, and looked at the mark on her inner wrist.

When she looked at the scales, Jezebel smiled.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 2: Link

#moon knight #Khonshu #khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu #khonshu moon knight #my writing #khonsu

[drempen]

Shout out to that time Marc died

#stop being weird khonshu #marc spector #khonshu #moon knight #moon knight fanart #jake lockley #steven grant #my art #comicart #marvel #marvel fanart #tw blood #blood warning

[sublimitymp3]

I've got a Moon Knight request.

Have the boys (Khonshu included) react to (Y/N) being host to a symbiote (can be Venom if you want)

Can either be headcannon or oneshot.

How the moon boys and Khonshu would react to you hosting Venom

Poor Steven honestly, I think he would crap himself the moment he saw venom take over

I don’t think he would be particularly fond of venom, since he kinda reminds him of Khonshu in a way

Venom probably wouldn’t like Steven either, he would think Steven was too weak to be with you

Venom would only stop treating Steven bad after you berate him very loudly

Marc would be cautious at first

I think he would keep his distance whenever venom took control

He’d be weirded out too, I mean he’s seen gods up close but not really aliens so….

But after some time he would be less wary of venom

He’d be concerned about your health over anything else

Jake would like Venom

They’re both kinda unhinged so it makes sense

They’d be best friends who am I kidding

Khonshu tries not to care

After all, why should he care about your problems?

But that’d quickly change when Venom starts calling him cashew

I’m not sure that Venom would be able to see Khonshu, but let’s say that he can for now

Yeah Venom would go out of his way to be a pure menace towards Khonshu

leading to some unfortunate situations for you..

I hope you enjoyed these!

#marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #venom symbiote

[dyns33]

Wizard Y/N : "You're all okay ? And... You're all here ?" 

Strange : "Are you asking if my spell worked, dear apprentice ?"

Loki : "We saw you falling several spells, so yes." 

Steven : "I fine ! We're all fine. Marc is a bit grumpy and don't want us to mess with magic ever again. Well, if it's not Khonshu's magic." 

Wizard Y/N : "Understandable. I'm sorry." 

Steven : "Oh, don't be, love ! Just a silly mistake, and I asked, and it was cool ! I liked it ! Being a cat is really fun ! Jake liked it too." 

Loki : "What a surprise, the predator was in his element." 

Steven : "So sorry he tried to eat you. Marc wanted to stop him but didn't want to leave my side." 

Loki : "I get that, don't worry little Stevie" 

Steven : "Don't call me that !" 

Loki : "Then don't call my darling 'love'." 

Steven : "People call them lizard, but it's weird. Matt is using sweetheart but I can tell it's like a joke. I'm calling everyone love, love." 

Loki : "Don't call me love !" 

Wizard Y/N : "Stop yelling at Steven, love. Marc and Jake won't like it. Jake can still eat you." 

Strange : "Oh I want to see that. Loki, keep yelling."

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #Strange's student Y/N #doctor strange #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #jake lockley

[gatorbites-imagines]

Please can i get a crumb of khonshu with a trans boyfriend? Some fluffiness some cuddling is all that i ask

Khonshu x ftm reader

Headcanons

Want nothing more than to suffocate this dude in the best way possible, tsk

I added more than just cuddling hope you enjoy lmao.

You became Khonshus avatar on accident. Its up to you if this is before or after Marc and co. One thing led to another, you were dying in an alleyway in Cairo, and that alleyway had apparently been built on top one of his temples.

Soon you were stuck with the bird headed God, who seemed a little too into crushing people’s windpipes for the most minor insult or transgression against him.

He didn’t know you were trans in the beginning, as it had little meaning to him whatever your identity was.

It was when you wore your binder for too long or during missions and it started hurting you that he noticed though. How you would wheeze and cough and rub at your ribs.

Him being a god he can probably feel whatever the hurt is to heal it, but he couldn’t heal this one as it wasn’t actually a wound but something you were doing to yourself.

This led to many arguments between the two of you as he wanted you to stop binding as it harmed you, and you had to explain to him why it was so important to you.

Khonshu complains regularly about humanities brainless ways when it comes to gender and sexuality. You can regularly hear him grumbling to himself how humanity has gone backwards because at least back in the day you could love the same gender.

It makes you happy that at least he respects you, though you swear your binders go missing when you have been binding for too long or for too many days without a break.

At some point the conversation turns to how safe binding works, and after you start to notice how your missions as the moon knight always has at least one day a week empty, and your missions don’t take longer than 8 active hours without a break.

When or if you get top surgery Khonshu will complain but not actually be against it. He tells you that it won’t be an excuse to rest as his knight, as he will heal it right after and he won’t let you slack off.

He uses his weird godly magic that he also heals you with to make your body produce testosterone since getting it was an issue as you traveled the world for your missions.

You realize that mission that involve transphobes go up, which makes you pleased as you can finally hand their ass to them for being so horrible towards people who are just themselves.

As you and Khonshu grow closer it becomes easier to talk to him about issues that come with being trans, and though he’s blunt and sometimes rude about it, he listens and gives his own version of advice.

He rages when people make transphobic comments at you, telling you to kill them then and there for disrespecting his knight like that.

With really realizing he makes the moon knight suit fit however feels most gender euphoric to you.

You tease him about being a secret softy on the inside, which he takes as an insult.

When the two of you get together it continues like normal, though there is more touching involved.

Though he becomes less harsh in his comments when it comes to you, but seems to become crueler towards anyone he sees as not worthy of you or your company.

He brings you gifts, which may be a little weird, like ancient amulets, rings, and clothes. But he preens when you wear it, especially the special jewelry that represent himself.

What surprises you a lot is that the big pigeon is a cuddler, apparently being a banished god for so many years leads to quite the touch starvation

So, most nights when you aren’t out being moon knight, your cuddling in your bed, which is the biggest size on the market to fit the gods size.

Khonshu will typically curl around you like a cat, ending with you against his chest as you do whatever on your phone or talk.

Since he is a god Khonshu has no need for sleep, and will just lay awake holding you and listening to you breath and feel your heartbeat.

Sometimes though, you’ll lay with his head on your chest, though this can be kinda messy to do since he is so large compared to you, but you make it work.

He loves when you rub your hand up and down his back, or rub his beak or around his eye sockets.

He would massage your hands and legs when you cuddle, making some off hand comment about it being good for blood circulation which would make you a more effective knight, though in reality he just wants to touch you.

#moon knight #male reader #khonshu #moon knight x male reader #moon knight headcanon #moon knight imagine #khonshu imagine #khonshu x male reader #khonshu headcanon #marvel #marvel x male reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanon #ftm reader #moon knight x ftm reader #khonshu x ftm reader

[dearlawdimasimp]

OH OH I GOT A GOOD ONE

What if, date with Marc and Filipinx!Reader, but the reader has a third eye (ykow the one) and can see not normal shit and sees that Khonshu has been staring at em transfixed the WHOLE.DAMN.TIME

AAAAAAAAAAA

-marites anon

A/n: Marites anon, you smart person, i've never written anything so fast that i didn't even double check if this fic even makes sense HAHAHHAHA the idea had me on a chokehold that I stayed up late for this 😌

Somebody's Watching Me

Pairings: Marc Spector x Filipinx!reader; maybe platonic!Khonshu x Filipinx!reader

Warnings: grammar, language, ooc Khonshu and Marc, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.1k+ words (i think this is the second short oneshot i've written jahshhsh)

You were in the middle of your date with this gwapong americano* named Marc. This is your seventh successful date and things were doing quite well! Until he or it appeared. Currently looming on the ledge of the opposite building where you and Marc are having a lunch date and you can feel its gaze on you.

A tall mummified being that has a bird skull for a head and always has a crescent staff in hand. 

Not really the weirdest thing you've seen.

You see, you were born with this 'gift of seeing'. Ghosts, spirits, etc have always been visible to you and growing up in the Philippines, known for housing many types of spirits, just makes your life just a little interesting. You go to work, you see a faceless child playing with the stuff on the desk opposite to yours, in your flat a lady dressed in the renaissance era just suddenly walks by your door just as you open it and many many more. The big bird skull headed being just adds to that list.

~~

Marc Spector notices your eyes aren't completely focused on your food, like you usually do but instead it is fixed on something in the sky. His brow furrows a little and calls your attention, he wants to reach out to your hand and hold it but stops himself, he wants you to be the first to initiate physical contact and he also doesn't want to scare you off. You seem to snap out of your daze as you chuckle, pink hue dusting your cheeks as your beautiful eyes look back at him.

"You okay?" He asks in concern before following your line of sight. His eyes widened seeing Khonshu. You could see the god?! Or is Khonshu just somehow in the same place of your line of sight?

"Oh y-yeah! I'm fine, sorry I- I just have a lot on my mind-" it sounded like a lie to him, he glared at the perched Egyptian god for his behavior before facing you worriedly. 

He has been telling Khonshu to stop following him around when he's out on a date, of course the god didn't listen to him. The god merely shrugged at his glare and continued to observe from his place.

"I just.." You chew your bottom lip, a habit, he noticed over the few days he's been seeing you, whenever you think of what you'll say next. You then sigh, shaking your head and then chuckling, waving your hand dismissively before saying, "Ah, forget about it."

"You can tell me anythin'. I won't judge, I promise.." he reassures you with a soft smile. He hears the god scoff beside him and he was almost tempted to punch his gut, if only he could.

"But if you're not com-"

"There's a big, mummified bird skull head person beside you." You blurt out quickly, wide eyes staring at him anxiously. 

His mouth drops a little and looks at the bird god who kept his stare on you and chuckled, then back at you. Surprised by the fact that you could see the being and that his first thoughts were correct.

~~

You fiddle with your thumbs, shit shit putang inaa!* You should've just kept your mouth shut, now he's going to think you're a psycho!! And of course, the being that is your current subject just adds insult to injury, chuckling at your nervous state.

"You probably think I'm weird but-"

"You can see him?"

You look up from your hands and see Marc jabbing his thumb to the mummified being. His words and the accuracy of his pointing to the being's location has you opening and closing your mouth.

"The little human has a gift of sight, Marc. Of course they can."

The sassy and condescending comment of the being made you snort, before nodding to answer his question. 

"Yeah, I can see a lot of unusual and borderline supernatural things that other people don't. The bird fella is just the addition to the long list. You can too?!" 

You ask him as you glance at the tall being, feeling much more intimidated by his proximity and having an idea of how big this being actually is. Now that you think of it, this bird guy's physique is close to Kapres*.

"All the time, he's always breathing down my neck.." You hear Marc grumble before he continues to eat. You pout and squint your eyes at the bird man.

"Why don't you leave Marc alone, big guy?" Asking the being, politely. 

No matter how big or small, you always have to respect these beings, was your number one rule in interacting with them.

"Such a query will not be answered, little bug. It is a..complicated matter only Marc and I understand." He replied with a sway of his head, gesturing to the curly haired man in front of you.

You hum curiously, you've never come across a being who replies politely back to you nor has given that type of answer. You glance at Marc and find that he was profusely avoiding your stare. 

"I will not question further then.." You decided and finished your plate. The rest of the date was spent in silence that is both comfortable and awkward as the bird guy decided to stay and..continue staring.

You wiped your mouth before leaning to the table and whispered to Marc, "Does he always stare at people?" 

He chuckles with a hushed reply, also leaning close to you, "I think it's his favorite pastime."

"I am right here and I can hear you!" The mummy grumbles, a sudden gust of wind swoops the place. 

Your brows shot up at the display of power. Surely that wind was not coincidental to the big bird's annoyance, right? Sure some spirits have an insignificant ability to interact with some object but something in your gut is telling you this fella is not just some spirit that has decided to attach itself to a human.

"Don't worry, 'bout him. He can't hurt you." Marc comforts you, his finger brushing yours. The action makes you want to hold his comparatively large hands but you resist the urge. 

"Does he have a name?" You inquired instead, looking at the neckless being that has now settled on the seat beside you two's table and took your glass of water, taking a sip as you listened to the spirit's answer.

"I am Khonshu, Protector of the Travelers in the Night, God of the Moon and Time."

You choked on your drink, and nearly soat the water out-

"Say what now?!"

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

*gwapong Americano = handsome American

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

*putang ina = motherfucker

*Kapre = In Philippine folklore, the kapre is a creature that may be described as a tree giant, being a tall, dark-coloured, hairy, and muscular creature. Kapres are also said to have a very strong body odour and to sit in tree branches to smoke. (Wikipedia)

Hope you guys enjoyed that JAHAHAHAGSSG i think marites anon has me wrapped around their pinky y'all💀/nm

#G•answers #marites anon #moon knight x filipinx!reader #moon knight x filipino!reader #G•writes #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #khonshu x reader #khonshu x filipino!reader #filipino reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x filipino reader #mcu x filipino reader #marvel x asian!reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfcition

[tobiasdrake]

The Mogart fight is an odd duck. Like, it's a fully-powered Moon Knight against. Just. Some guys. And we already know that Moon Knight is seemingly invincible, so it's really more of a demonstration of his powers than something tense and frantic. All those times that Steven blacked out and woke up with everyone dead? We're getting to see a glimpse of what happened while he was out.

So it's not very exciting but it is pretty cool. And there is some tension injected in the form of Layla's fight with Mogart's bodyguard, since she's much more vulnerable to mundane forms of violence.

But it also leaves a weird taste in the mouth.

Because. Like.

Did we just murder a bunch of innocent people? I think we just murdered a bunch of innocent people. Morally ambiguous at the worst. Mogart is an art thief who uses his wealth to hoard pieces of Egyptian culture to himself, but the guys we were fighting were paid muscle doing their day job.

And many of them weren't even that. We're told at the start of the scene that the guys on horseback with lances are professional athletes instructing Mogart in El-Mermah, a form of ancient Egyptian fencing.

Those guys are professional sport teachers who saw a guy massacring their boss's staff and went, "We must do something to stop this madness!" So it feels weird to watch Marc slaughter them all.

I'm genuinely unsure of whether that friction between the cool, exciting action piece and Marc butchering a bunch of innocent people is intentional as part of the larger message about Khonshu's service being an abusive and vile work. Or if they just. Like. Forgot to establish that these guys are some kind of secret fencing gang of murderers so we don't have to feel bad about watching them die.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #moon knight #anton mogart #marc spector

[visforvengeance]

When Orpheus killed Eurydice

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader (romantic), Steven Grant x reader (platonic), Jake Lockley x reader (but not really), Layla El-Foauly x Marc Spector (mentioned & platonic)

Requested by: no one :)

Notes: hello! I have like 4 wips for moon knight, it's like I get halfway and then I don't want to write anymore. but, this one I decided to finish! and I'm really glad I did. i hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex, cursing, marc being self-deprecating, angst!!! i think that's it

Marc watched as you danced around your home, carelessly and free. He wondered how he got here, how he found love in the shape of you. He felt he didn’t deserve any of this. His life had been one shitshow after another. But, somewhere in the back of his mind, you made him think that maybe he could have this with you. This home and this marriage and this unconditional love. 

Then, Khonshu came and gave Marc some twisted purpose and demanded his life in return. 

That was when your marriage went to shit. Your husband was hardly home and he shut you out of his life. You lay awake in your empty bed, wondering what had gone wrong. Did he not love you anymore? Was he having an affair? All those times he looked you in your eyes with every ounce of love he could muster. The times you held each other while the world crumbled around you. Suddenly turned to unanswered text messages and dry conversations when he did decide to come home. 

How could this happen?

The truth was Khonshu threatened to make you his next avatar if Marc ever turned his back on him. Marc couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let you experience the horrors he’s seen as the fist of vengeance. He would not allow you to feel the pain he’s felt or dream the nightmares he’s dreamt. Marc was trying to keep you away from the demanding labor of this vengeful God. 

But, he did not mean to push you away. 

He loved you. Adored you. Would die for you. He would kill to make sure you remain untouched. And, sometimes he can’t help himself as he bursts into your home. Smashing his lips against yours and taking you right there on the fucking floor. No matter how hard Marc tried to keep you away from this shit, it would become too much. And, his only release was you. 

You loved him, too. Adored him. Would lay down your life for him. You let him lay himself between your legs because at least he wanted you in this way. You’ve known Marc since you were both children. You knew about what his mother did to him, you knew about the guilt he carried, and Steven. He trusted you with Steven and Steven trusted you with his life. You were his in the way that you were Marc’s. 

But, he took Steven away from you, too. 

Marc kept Steven at a safe distance for a while. Until his mother died, and he carried guilt for that, too. Their lives began to bleed into each after that day. Marc tried his best to keep this shit together, but then Steven started to believe that he was going fucking insane. He was losing time and sleep and his fucking patience. Then, Gus suddenly grew a fin? But, one thing that remained the same was you, his good friend. 

There was always you. 

You first saw signs of Steven when you and Marc were teenagers. He snuck off to your house, again. He was terrified, this time. His sobbing triggered a slight panic attack and then his eyes were rolling to the back of his head and then he was fine. 

“Marc?”

What the fuck just happened? Marc looked at you, confused. How did he get here?

“Marc? I’m Steven.”

And, you noticed the accent. And, the change in his demeanor. But, he was gone just as quick as he came. You tried again. 

“Marc?”

This time he looked up at you, scared. Scared of what you’d think of him. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but it all became too much for him. He couldn’t stop it. He watched as you wrapped your arms around him. Whatever happened made him think the worst. That you’d think he was weird and not want to be near him anymore. You’d never want Marc to feel that way. You loved him, dearly. And, you’d be there for him no matter what. 

But, Marc had a hard time believing that. 

He never meant to be so cynical. But, he believed he was as fucked up as they come. He shares his mind with a God, a sassy gift-shopist, and a homicidal maniac (that one is new). Let’s not even mention the trauma from his childhood. He didn’t want to burden you with the fuckery he endured. 

Marc failed to realize that you chose to deal with all of this the day that you said yes. 

Whenever Marc would disappear and reappear from your home, it was always a sight to see. He looked more tired each time he came home. His body was littered with new scars. He looked like he hardly slept. You’d try to make small talk, but you never got much out of him. Always ‘not tonight, honey’. 

Which made you think ‘if not tonight then when?’ 

When Marc returned from his trips, he wanted nothing more than to plant himself between your arms and hold you tight against his body. He craved your warmth when he was away, the softness of your skin, the smell of your perfume. Instead, he found himself pushing you away. Like all good things in his life, he tried to destroy it. Destroy you.

But, you’re so fucking stubborn. 

Tonight was no different. He walked through your door like he hadn’t been gone for two weeks, god knows where he went. He didn’t say a word to you as he crashed his lips into yours. So, this was one of those nights. It’d been so long since you last shared a kiss that left you in a daze when he pulled away. He kissed you so passionately, it was like nothing ever went wrong. 

Your skin burned as he ran his hands over your body, groping at your sides. His lips left a burning trail from your neck to your collarbone. Your hands tugged at the soft curls spewing from his scalp, he moaned as you pressed him further against your skin. Your bodies fought for dominance as you rolled around in bed, him pushing you on your back and you pushing him on his. 

He let you win as you began to straddle his waist, removing his shirt that you wore because it smelled like him. Whenever you exposed yourself to him, he never failed to marvel at your body as though it was his first time again. You enjoyed revealing yourself to him, his reaction boosting your confidence. His hands traveled up to your chest, squeezing the supple flesh and twirling the sensitive buds that lay there. Your bare core grinding against him, it’d been so long, and palming himself thinking about you never did the job. 

When he found himself alone in his hotel room, he’d replay the videos of you that he saved, trying to relieve some of the stress he carried. It was alright until he was craving more. The taste of your pussy on his tongue and the way you squeezed him ruthlessly. It was never enough. So, tonight he was going to fuck his feelings into you. Make you feel how he feels while his cock hits the sweet spot over and over again. 

You lie naked beneath him, your legs around his waist as he pushed himself into you. The feeling of you wrapped around him and him being inside you, drove the both of you insane. It had been too long, neither of you knew how long you’d last. After pausing for a second, he began to rock his hips into yours. The friction it caused had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

The only sounds in the room were your moans and the obscene slapping of skin. Marc had buried his head into the crook of your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of the way your cunt squeezed him deliciously. Like it was made for him and only him. His low growls were turning you on more and more. He knew that you liked it when he was vocal in bed. 

You clenched around him for the umpteenth time, milking him for all he’s got. His thrusts only got harder as he managed to think about all that went wrong in his life. He didn’t mean to kill his brother. He didn’t mean to drag you down into his bullshit. But, all that could wait until after while he allowed the feeling of you into his head. 

Your hands were tangled in his hair as you pulled his head back, wanting to look into his eyes. There was something like pleasure and sadness in them. You tried to kiss away the sadness, kiss away all the negative energy that plagued him. He didn’t deserve to feel this way. You’ve known him your entire life, he shouldn’t have had to suffer the way he did. You spent each day telling that, no matter how annoyed he seemed by it. 

His lips connected with yours, desperately. Like he was trying to capture your essence from them, like he was trying to ingrain every line and curve into his mind. Like this would be the last time he allowed himself to get lost in you. His hips snapped into yours again and again and again. 

You felt like he needed to hear it. He needed to hear that you loved him unconditionally. “Marc,” when you said his name, it caught him off guard. “I love you, okay? Flaws and all. I always have.” Marc kissed his way up from your chest to your lips, still thrusting his hips into yours. “I know, baby, I know.”

God, did he fucking know. That’s what bothered him so much. He knew no matter what he did, you’d still be there. With open arms and an open heart, ready to conceal him in your little cocoon of love. Part of him loved it, and he hated that part of him. 

When you felt the coil in your belly snap, your vision blurred. You gasped and shook as your orgasm violently tore you apart. Marc watched in awe as your eyes rolled to the back of your head with your lips parted slightly. The sight of you brought his own orgasm to surface. His thrusts got sloppy as his hips stuttered into yours. He sheltered himself in the crook of your neck again, moaning quietly as he painted your walls. 

You stayed like that for a while, him on top of you while you played with his hair. And, then he was pushing himself off of you. He pulled his clothes back on and handed you his shirt. You knew where this was going and you fucking wished this wasn’t happening. You loved him, but you were tired of him pushing you away. 

“So, that’s it?” He stops and turns to look at you, confused. “You disappear for two weeks, fuck me, and then you fuck off to god knows where?” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Let’s not do this tonight, alright? I’m tired and I-“ you scoffed at him. “Oh, you’re tired, Marc? I’m tired. I’m so fucking sick and tired.”

He turned to look at you, annoyed. “You’re really going to start an argument tonight?” You walked towards him and calmly spoke. “I’m not trying to argue, but this is something that needs to be talked about. It can’t wait anymore.”

It was bound to happen, but he wasn’t ready for it. Now, he would finally be able to get you to leave him. “What are you talking about?” He played dumb but you knew that he knew what you were talking about. “Marc, please. Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away?”

He heard the exhaustion in your voice. He knew how hard you tried to keep this relationship together, he knew of the toll it was taking on you. “I can’t do this anymore. This relationship, I can’t.” You didn’t know where it had gone wrong or if it was something that you could fix. But, the way he avoided looking at you told you all you needed to know. 

“You’re leaving me?” Your voice cracked as you spoke the words, he’d heard it too. His heart was breaking in two as he carried on. “It’s not your fault. This just isn’t working for me anymore, and I met someone new.” He did meet someone new but not in the way he led you to believe. Layla El-Faouly. She was a nice girl. 

You cringed as you listened to the words he spoke. I met someone new. You never thought it’d end like this, or even end at all. You wiped your tears as you looked up at him. “Well, I hope she’s worth it.” You hated the way your voice shook. And, you hated the way he looked at you with sympathy like he hadn’t just ripped your heart out of your chest. 

You sat on the couch as he grabbed all of his belongings, setting them by the door. He watched as your leg bounced rapidly, your anxiety through the roof. “I’m sorry it had to end this way.” He really was, whether you knew that or not. You finally looked up at him, “me too.” He left you as you were, sad and lonely. He mentally checked off another thing on his list of things he’s ruined, your name.

#moon knight #marc spector imagine #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #jake lockley #layla el faouly #gif credit to owner #marc spector angst #marc spector smut

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Cupid's Curse

Chapter Two

Warnings: stalking, intimidation, one-sided thirst

Minors DNI

Chapter One | Chapter Three

With Marc, you say far away but close. In crowded areas. Wear clothes that help you blend in with the populous. The way he moves is different from Steven, he moves and walks with purpose and an objective. Today he is just grocery shopping or so you thought as you tail him to different places. Different thrift shops with mainly furniture, he walks rather than take a cab or uber; makes it easy for you to follow.

In the small thrift stores you have to wait for him to come out or risk being seen. You wait, peek in through the window. He talks to whoever is working there and leaves, buying nothing.

You wonder what he's searching for.

It's late afternoon and he stops to eat something. You eat outside while he eats inside. You are grateful he finally took a break, your feet are sore and your stomach is begging for food.

He orders a sandwich. A simple meal and drink.

You order something too and two drinks, one for here and other to go. Never explored London outside of where Steven Grant walks or hangs out at, which is very few places. You only London for the way it was back in the industrial era, so you are very outdated in your information.

In your musing, Marc is looking at you from the corner of his eyes. Assigning who you could be working for or why you have been following him. You aren't as careful as you think, Marc is both a trained soldier and mercenary, nothing escapes his notice especially when being followed. You look up from your phone to glance over at him, he turns away before you notice. He calls for a check and not a few minutes after so do you.

Guess he was right about you needing a break from his errand run. He still hasn't found the stolen statue of Khonshu in any of the stores known for having hidden stolen items.

He leaves the café and soon you do too, paying in cash only. Interesting. Marc decides to take a path with not a lot of people forcing you to be seen, something he knows you don't want.

The last time you did this, he took you through alleyways and the only reason you weren't hurt is because you gave up at one point. Though it was impressive you found him after all those twists and turns. Waiting at his destination pretending to be sight seeing with a crowd of tourists. Impressive and concerning, he must be getting predictable or someone is helping you.

Yet, you don't look like the usual types who have tailed him before and he almost can say you don't look like the stalker type too.

He went into a ill-lit shop bigger than other thrift stores, he moved out of your line of sight, clumsy you followed him hoping to not lose him.

"You better stop what you're doing." A warning in a deep tone as he pulled you into an section he was in. You are shoved against wall, eyes wide as you gaze up at him. The section has worse lighting with is why he has you here, to make you scared. The shadows highlight the stern look as he towers above you.

Your heart is racing, you try to breathe but your skin is on fire from brief second he touched you. No skin on skin contact, but you are so excited.

"Understood?"

You stare at him. Marc isn't sure why he is looking back but he is and… Harmless. Like a little church mouse, he see you trying to attempt to talk but nothing comes out. The man moves away, glances over his shoulder seeing you hiding your face behind your phone, then shakes his head.

You stand there until your phone buzzes as your alarm goes off to head home.

An uber is taken since you are both distracted and exhausted, your lips unable to stop forming a smile as you stare at clearest photo of Marc you have. Sure it's mostly dark and it's of his back but gosh!

Mania.

At home you take a cold shower to remind yourself of what you are doing is wrong, and weird, and you need to control yourself better!

In bed, you imagine him taking you in the dark corner of that thrift shop, you struggling to keep your voice down.

Eros.

*

You didn't listen, Marc should have known better than to only warn you to stop following him. It puzzles him on why are you stalking him. Steven, maybe, since you are always trying to talk to… No, you have to know he isn't Steven given how long you have been following him, both of them. Today, Marc is traveling on bus somewhere futher and there you are dressed different and looking inconspicuous as you probably are pretending to play on your phone (actually you are playing a game on your phone).

What is he going to do about you?

There has to be some reason why you are still following as he now gets off the bus to go do the important errands of picking up food for two Gus, refill the fridge, restock on some tea Steven ran out of.

When Marc gets a glimpse of you, he can see the joy all over your face as you tail him into the market. God, did he just encourage you!? Buying what he needs and holding a few bags, he simply goes on about his day. Stopping a few times so you can catch up, two breaks to let you rest. When it's getting late, he announces he is heading home as he pretends to be warn out from all the shopping.

You ride on the same bus as him once more going to the back, you go striff when Marc follows you and stranger is what sits between you and him. You hide your phone screen against your chest and stare forward the whole ride. When the person gets off their stop, you move to escape.

"Sit down." You immediately follow his command. He moves over next to, close as he boxes you in.

You say nothing.

He says nothing.

This intimidation tactic is doing the opposite for you as take quick glances at him, notice he smells different, the way he sits is different (legs open as Steven sits with his legs closed). He gets up when it's his stop.

"Next time won't be as easy."

A threat.

And you are too hot and bothered to care.

#moon knight #reader insert #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #moon knight reader insert #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #steven with a v #steven my beloved #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #x reader #tw stalking

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None, allusions to past assaults but nothing graphic

A/N: Badr makes another appearance! (I plan on checking this over in the morning when I have more energy to check for mistakes)

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 6:

Trust Issues

You felt like you were going insane. Clinically, literally, justifiably insane. Your freaky dreams where you were sure you were dying? Cakewalk. The dreams where you were actually seeing whoever it was you were in the point of view as? Yeah, no. This was all too weird for you. Far too weird.

So… After one too many nights of reliving the dream as the woman named “Merit” you poured yourself into hours and hours of research. You first did a search of the name, plus some contextual keywords to assist with the search. How you instinctively knew how to spell it is beyond you, but you did it.

Apparently, “Merit” in ancient Egyptian meant “beloved, beautiful” or “loved/treasured one”. And the first thing to pop up beneath the translation was the results of a discovered tomb in Egypt.

You’d hoped that somehow, this was tied to that. Maybe you were dreaming up something you’d read in a passing article while scrolling through Facebook, or even MySpace back in the day, and merely forgot about it, your exhausted subconscious dreaming up these scenarios to somehow distract you from your already demanding waking life…

So, you watched all the documentaries surrounding Merit and her husband, Kha.

You read as many articles and absorbed as much information as your brain could retain, but…

It just didn’t feel right. The Merit of your dreams was not this Merit. They had a wonderful life, Kha being a royal tomb builder, Merit being the dutiful and loving wife and mother.

The Merit of your dreams was young, knowledgeable. You haven’t seen many details of her life, but somehow you knew this woman and the one in your dreams were not one in the same.

It provided illuminating information on ancient Egyptian culture, burial practices, as well as insight into people who weren’t “all powerful” pharaohs or priests. They seemed so… normal. Even by modern standards.

The way their stories were told in the motifs and reliefs in their tomb, even to someone untrained in the field of Egyptology, anybody with a brain between their ears could see just how much love they held for one another.

It made you oddly nostalgic.

You yourself gave dating a try, but it never worked out for you. That and the dating pool was full of horny pricks who merely wanted to pump and dump you, anyways. And you weren’t one for casual flings.

You made that decision when the first and last one night stand was horrendously disappointing and lasted all of half an hour.

Ah, but the love between Kha and Merit was one most strived for, no?

Maybe you’d get lucky and find that, but not any time soon. Not with all the crazy bullshit you’ve got going on in your life, right now. Not while you were so convinced you were losing your proverbial marbles because of your crazy dreams.

All you could do right now is focus on your dreams, what Jezebel told you…

And why the flying hell you were dreaming about being a lovesick noblewoman in ancient Egypt.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You’d been free of work for three days. You were absolutely going mad, with nothing to do to occupy your nights than binge-watching shows on streaming platforms, reading more useless articles that didn’t pertain to your dreams, or sit on the roof of your building in abject, confused silence.

As well, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, either. Everywhere you went, you felt eyes on you. It made you shudder with uneasiness.

But the world doesn’t stop for you just because you’re uncomfortable, and you knew that. Your dreams certainly didn’t stop for it.

You sighed as you leaned back in the old desk chair, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms.

You lifted your gaze and turned to look outside the library window. The sun was hidden well beyond the tall buildings of the city, the slivers of sky you could make out dusting pink and purple hues. Looking back down at the corner of the screen, you finally take in what time it was. 6pm.

God, you pissed away seven hours doing research. Educational–yet pointless–research.

You leaned forward with a hefty groan and rested your face in the palms of your hands. You were still no closer to getting any details on this woman you’re dreaming up.

But what if she wasn’t even real? What if this woman was, as you’ve been worried, a figment of your imagination, dreamed up to give you some form of respite from your dreary, overloaded day-to-day life? It made sense, in a way, for your psyche to dream up a distraction to keep yourself from falling into a pit of perpetual exhaustion and despair.

But at the same time, the idea didn’t sit right with you. Why would this “distraction” start out with horrible, sleep-robbing nightmares or blood and abject horror? Why would it include such vividly-detailed scenarios that you can almost remember frame-by-frame?

Ugh. It was practically psychological torture brought on by your own subconcious.

You were shaken from your thoughts when you heard a deep voice come from the table across from you; “Pulling an all-nighter?”

Your eyes opened and you lifted your gaze until your eyes were locked with a man. He looked to be in his mid-thirties at his oldest, perhaps. His skin was dark, almost a shade of burnt toffee, and piercing eyes bore into you from behind small, round glasses. He wore dark gray trousers with a button-up yellow dress shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, revealing visible veins and muscular forearms.

This man, despite his calm look, exuded an unmistakable air that told you he could be a threat if crossed. Something about him seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t–

“Miss..?” He asked you, a brow raising.

“Uh–” You blinked and shook your head. “I, uh… No, I’m just… doing research.”

“Ah. A student, then?” He asked, tilting his head, his voice still so cool it may as well have been a glacier floating in Antarctica. His face was just as equally calm and placid.

Was this guy a librarian or..?

“No.” You say simply, shrugging. “It’s for… personal reasons. But I’m not getting anywhere.”

“Hm, perhaps I can help. What topic are you trying to research for? I imagine since it’s for personal reasons you can afford to make a few mistakes in researching here and there.” He offered.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your ankles and folding your arms over your chest as you stared at him with distrust.

“No offense,” You began. “But I don’t know you. And besides, I’m kind of doing research on archaeology. Sort of. I’m not looking up sports statistics.”

Finally, his stone-like demeanor cracks and a short chuckle escapes him in a huff. “Ah, of course. I have forgotten my manners. I am Yehya Badr.”

Your eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly and you were still rather hesitant to give out too many personal details. So… you give him a false name as you lean over the table to offer him an outstretched hand. Or. Well… the name was almost false.

You think.

“Merit.”

His eyes got imperceptibly larger, but their change is just enough that it didn’t go unnoticed by you as he takes your hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Interesting.”

“Is it?” You say, releasing his hand to sit back down.

“Yes, it’s a name originating from Egypt.” He says to you, calmly speaking as he walks around the table, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, his shoulders squared and chin up as he strides over to you.

“It can mean a number of things, actually. The most settled upon is “beloved”. Your parents must have liked the name very much. It is very uncommon nowadays.”

You were instantly surprised as he sat down next to you. He takes a glance at the monitor and the research you’d accumulated in the different tabs. “Ah, so you’re trying to… research the historical significance of your name?” He hummed.

“Sort of.” Your mouth twisted as you chose your next words very carefully. “I’m also just a bit of an archaeology nerd. If I could afford it, I’d go to school… But research is as close to it as I can get, at the moment. How do you know what my name means?”

He flashed a smile, his teeth standing out in stark contrast to his darkened lips. “I grew up in Luxor. It’s hard not to grow up in a place like that and not know about ancient Egypt, and the archaeological knowledge gathered there. I also spent many years during school in the museum. It was a quiet place, and history can be a very quiet and enamoring companion when you’re smothered by the hustle and bustle of people every day.”

“Oh. Well that’s… convenient.” You admitted to him, shifting your eyes back to the computer.

“Mhmm.” He hummed.

“So… like, what made you want to stop to talk to me?” You tilted your head at him, scrutinizing him curiously.

He seemed to take no mind to your suspicious looks, merely offering a polite smile to you in return.

“You looked distressed, and in my medical opinion–just on a pure glance alone–you are exhausted.” He replied.

“That doesn’t explain it, though.” You pointed out.

He chuckled again and his dark, obsidian eyes locked with yours. “It doesn’t, does it?”

“Nope.” You looked around, noticing you two were alone in this part of the library. “And it’s kind of creepy, if I’m being honest.”

He laughed, his voice tight but full of humor at your jibe. “Ah. Yes, it is, isn’t it? Perhaps a better explanation is in order. I made an oath to aid those who need it. And you looked like you needed help. So, therefore…”

“Uh-huh.” You said, still skeptical.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You are a very suspicious young woman.”

“Some guy tried to assault me not too long ago, and I’ve been mugged several times in the last few years alone, so yeah.” You said, leaning in with a squint. “I’m suspicious.”

Yehya seemed shocked by your admission, and you didn’t know why. It’s as if what happened to you seemed to personally offend him, judging by the flame of revulsion and anger that flickered in the dark pools of his eyes.

“An no-one did anything?” He asked you slowly. “You fought them off yourself?”

“Considering every time it happened in the dead of night–er, well, more like at like 2am–no. Because nobody was around to do anything. As for fighting them off? No again. I bargained with a few of em, stopped carrying valuables on me, and…” You chewed the inside of your cheek. You didn't know this guy, so there was no way for him to call all the bluffs you were making. “The most recent time, I did fight him off. I was… violent and he died. I didn’t get in trouble, thankfully. Because it was in self-defense, you understand.”

You leaned back in your chair and waved your hand with a dismissive huff. “Where’s a caped crusader when you need one, huh?” You added sardonically.

He took a deep breath and leaned away from you, closing his eyes for a moment. “Of course. I’m sorry those things have happened to you.”

You shrugged your shoulders and laughed. “Hey, man. You aren’t a cop. Don’t take offense to it or anything. It’s not like it’s your job to walk the beat. You’re a doctor.”

“Right…” He cleared his throat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his palms flat against one another in front of him. “Ah, back to the earlier subject. Would you like some help in your research? It might help you to have someone who is from Egypt giving their personal experiences, there…”

You had a nagging feeling this guy just wasn’t going to leave you alone unless you said yes.

“Fine, I guess. Couldn’t hurt.”

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Yehya watched as the young woman left the library. It was well past sunset and she had stayed even after he left.

Her distrustful nature didn’t offend him, hell, if anything it was perfectly sensible to be that way after she had been robbed and assaulted so many times at night, when she should have been protected…

He clenched his fist, trembling in anger as he shadowed her, out of sight at the edges of rooftops.

How could he have failed so spectacularly in his task as Khonshu’s Fist? If this woman truly was Merit, if she died, he would never forgive himself. To fail in the protection of one soul–one specific, special soul–was a stain upon his oath. One he intended to cleanse from the pale, holy trappings he was enshrouded in. Yes, it was impossible for him to be everywhere at once, but while Marc–and his alters–traipsed about in London and Cairo with the woman they were besotted with, Taweret’s new Avatar, Layla el Faouly (whom he’d had the pleasure to meet once when they were here in New York, before Marc let Steven wrench control of the body and lead the course of their lives; and later battle Ammit herself alongside Khonshu and Layla), Yehya vowed to do better.

He would not fail Khonshu again. This woman, she needed his protection. He would not neglect his duties, he would split his attentions evenly. He would continue to watch over this woman, follow her from the shadows and the rooftops when she ventured out into the night, when she would leave and come home from work.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, the stars hardly visible to the eye due to the light pollution of the city. The moon was gone from the sky, having disappeared to be shrouded in darkness to begin the cycle anew.

Yes. He would keep his oath. This woman would never fall unprotected during the night ever again.

Not while there was a possibility that he could bring his God–his Father–the closure he needed.

Not while there was a chance to help heal his pain, the pain that has lasted thousands of years.

Not while there was a chance that he can bring the light back into Khonshu’s existence.

Not while this young life, this ancient soul, still had the chance to possibly remember who she was.

Not while he could heal a wound that still bled.

He was a doctor, after all.

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Chapter 7: Link

#moon knight #khonshu moon knight #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu #yehya badr #doctor badr