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vintagemulti · 4 months

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shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

series masterlist

masterlist

the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?

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vintagemulti · 2 years

Text

rose coloured glasses

pairings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: welcome back to the land of the living. are you ready to fight for your life?

warnings: injury, blood, angst, swearing, smoking, sex mentions, death, murder, reader is a killer, reader is a fairly bad person, absolutely heart breaking angst because i am a sadist

a/n: sigh this took so long to write sorry guys, two more parts after this then it’s done!! remember to reblog as it does far more than likes

series masterlist

masterlist

the breeze blew your hair slightly, but it wasn’t a cold breeze. more summery, warmer. if it was the middle of summer and a hot day, it probably would have comforted you. but it didn’t - not right now.

you were afraid, alone, in a place that seemed like it went on forever and ever without stopping to catch its breath.

“is this…?” you almost whispered, looking around.

hathor seemed to understand what you were asking anyway. “the field of reeds, yes.”

it took a breath out of you, that somehow by some miracle, you had made it to a kind of heaven. you never expected this - not one bit. you were sure you had a first class ticket, straight to hell.

“it seems that in reliving your most traumatic experiences-”

“i got over it, yeah.” you finished for her, turning back to look at her. “so is that it? am i- fuck, am i stuck here? forever?”

a beat.

“hathor?” you were fully facing her now, body parallel to hers.

“it’s risky, y/n. there’s no guarantee you’d make it.”

your head tilted. “but there’s a chance?”

“yes,” hathor breathed. “yes, i suppose. if you can make it to the gates of osiris and he choses to let you pass, then you can go back to earth. if not… if not, you’ll end up the same way as if your scales didn’t balance.”

it took you only a few moments to weigh up your options. stay here, in this beautiful place forever, or go back to your life and find your husband? or die - again - trying? you were willing to take those odds.

“take me back,” you mumbled, nodding. “take me back, please.”

just as the words had left your mouth, the world around you changed once again. it went back to the familiar purple-orange skies, laced with clouds. you never expected to be happy to see it - but you were. you were relived that maybe, just maybe, you’d make it back.

while you were standing on the wooden deck of a ship the last time you were here, this time you were surrounded in sand, your white canvas shoes bright against the golden colour.

that’s when it kicked in - your fight or flight. you had been standing in one spot for too long, fuck, were you even trying to get back to your husband? run. it was the first thing your mind told you to do - run, and run until you’re at the gates. run.

time didn’t pass. it was paralysed - hanging in the air and suffocating everyone in the room.

marc still held you, weeping into your body. steven stood completely still. what was he meant to do? he wasn’t built for this - in fact, part of him was that he was meant for the opposite - to forget that death even existed.

the silence encompassed the entire space, not even the occasional bang from a few floors up daring to enter the room.

“we-” layla was the first one to speak. “we should put her somewhere, marc, we can’t stay here.”

it seemed as though she was the only one thinking rationally, because marc shook his head vigorously, pulling you tighter into him.

marc, please. steven was thinking too. give me control, i’ll do it.

marc seemed to have been waiting for those words, and for the first time in a long time, marc was more than relived to give steven control of the body.

the weight of you was the first thing that shocked steven. he had held you before, felt your body weight on top of him more times than he could count, but this? this was different. you were completely limp, lighter, even. you had less blood inside you, steven knew that. but for a second - just a second - he would have thought your weight loss was a lack of soul. the life, gone.

“come on,” layla put a hand on his shoulder. “there’s a nicer place than this.”

standing up, steven shifted you in his arms so he could carry you bridal-style. he was covered in your blood, from his hands all the way to his shoes. god, what he would do to go back in time and swap places with you. what he would do to stop marc’s anger, because the last thing he ever felt towards you was rage. pure, utter, disgusting rage. steven hated it.

every single bit of it.

layla led the way, down the hall and back down the stairs. she knew harrow wouldn’t be there. why would he? half way through his speech she had worked out what he was trying to do - pin everyone against y/n and then let them find her body. make them feel guilt, sadness, anger - then they would be easier to get rid of.

all the rage she felt for you had now transferred to harrow. she was ready to kill him - truly. layla would let marc and steven mourn you, while she would avenge you.

the room she led steven to was a room that looked totally out of place in a pyramid - it was covered in flowers. before steven could even ask, she explained;

“no, these haven’t been here forever. the ground underneath here’s fertile, so flowers bloom. and because there’s a water source, the survive.”

steven nodded, looking around. almost every kind and colour of flower was present, from red roses to baby’s breath. there was a puddle of water - well, bigger than a puddle. not quite a pond, though.

it’s like this place was made for you, he thought.

“i’ll, um,” layla cleared her throat. “i’ll leave you.”

he whispered a thank you, but he wasn’t sure any words even came out. he wasn’t sure he could form any words right now.

“fuck,” you mumbled, the various weeds in the sand almost tripping you up.

the gates were in sight now - only a hundred or so meters away. you hoped to any god that someone - anyone - would give you some sympathy and let you pass.

as you moved towards the gates, the ground seemed to solidify, turning to a stone-like pavement under your feet the closer you got.

giant was the first word that came to your mind. huge, giant, looming gates. they looked smaller from further away, and as you stood almost underneath them, they must have been at least two hundred feet tall.

you came face to face with a set of doors as tall as your house, bright white light seeping from the bottom. not really knowing what to do, you brought a hand up to knock the door.

“y/n l/n.” a voice boomed before you managed to knock.

the volume made you flinch backwards, but the voice itself wasn’t particularly alarming - it sounded familiar, friendly almost.

“you weren’t due here for a long time yet,” it spoke as you looked for a source. “but i suppose no one really is. enter, y/n.”

white light engulfed you as the doors swung open, too bright for you to be able to see what you were walking into. blinking as you walked through, your eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

it was just that - light. a completely white room, so white that it was like colour never existed. you thought of that one scene from harry potter - something like that.

“now, hathor tells me you’ve come to plead your case, correct?”

“yeah,” your voice broke. “yeah.”

“alright, let me hear it.”

still looking for a source to the voice, your eyebrows furrowed. “sorry- um, what do you want to know, exactly?”

an apologetic sigh travelled across the room. “sorry, i forget that not everyone is as well versed in these proceedings as your husband.”

the thought of steven made your heart twinge.

“i am osiris, although i’m sure you gathered that. to be allowed passage back to the mortal world, you must prove to me that you a deserving of it.”

it was then that all the hope you had drained out of you. deserving? there were seven billion people more deserving than you.

“sound good? let’s start with good deeds. what have you done?”

“i-” you paused. what had you done? “i- um…”

“come on now,” the voice encouraged. “there’s got to be something. charity donations, saved lives?”

everything seemed to crumble around you. there really wasn’t anything. you’d spent your entire life as a bad person - fucking teachers, stealing, killing people. maybe what you really deserved was to be dragged back into the sand and stay there forever.

a tear fell, and you were quick to catch it.

“alright, i get it, tough question. what about you as a person?”

this was only getting harder - you as a person? should you tell him about all the times you’ve lied, every argument, every human being you’ve killed? it wouldn’t do you any good to lie right now, surely?

“please, i-” you couldn’t stop the lump in your throat. “this is pointless, i- please.”

a beat.

“why do you think this is pointless?”

you shook your head, not really knowing if someone was watching or not. “i amen’t… i’m not a great person, alright? it would be easier for both of us if you’d just let me-”

“but are you loved?”

the question took you by surprise. you paused, eyebrows furrowing. “what?”

“is there people who love you? would mourn you? would feel that by you being gone, their lives are worse?”

the first person you thought of was marc. then steven, and layla, your friends, coworkers- the lady across the street who’s cat you always fed while she was gone. they would mourn you.

“now,” osiris spoke. “now we might be getting somewhere. would someone mourn you, y/n?”

“i think so,” you nodded. “a few people.”

“a few people is better than none. would someone’s life be worst without you?”

it took everything in you to not laugh. you had always been the one to ruin lives, after all. “i mean, probably.”

“good. now let me ask you again, what good deeds have you done?”

you took a breath. “well, when i was younger, i used to babysit, um, before i got kicked out. and when i got kicked out i- like, i gave all my stuff to charity. i know it’s not a lot, but i think that’s good.”

osiris hummed. “alright. what about caring for someone, you ever do that?”

“yeah,” the thought brought a smile to your face. “my husband gets in fights a lot.”

“oh, yes,” he laughed. “thanks to one of our own, no doubt.”

“that old bird, yeah,” you mumbled, making him chuckle. “he always comes home bloody and bruised, so i was normally left to patch him up.”

“would he mourn you?”

something stung in your heart. you didn’t have to guess or use maybes this time. “yes.”

“then you might not be a lost cause after all - but, i have to say, y/n, overall it is not looking good for you.”

you had been expecting that. “how so?”

“well, you’ve killed over a hundred people. that’s - that’s a new record for someone your age. you’ve ruined lives, including your husbands. i mean, i don’t have to tell you what you did, but… y/n, why? why would you do that?”

“it’s… fuck, i feel awful for it,” you choked out. “it’s such a stupid reason.”

“but a reason nonetheless?”

sighing, you nodded. “bushman - raoul - he hated having to share the money with marc. he thought that marc was this total dick, who was never nice or considerate - a completely and utter cunt, really. at the time, i was dating anton, you’ll know all about that i’m sure.

“anton was the one who employed bushman, and marc. he wanted some relic from a temple, or something like that, and marc and raoul were the best on the scene - apart from me. it’s so fucking stupid, but…

“when i met bushman in that bar, anton and i were fighting. we always fought - all the time. he used to buy me shit and leave the price tag on to make me love him again, but this argument… this one was different, i mean.. he brought up my family, you know?

“so i was mad. seeing fucking red. so when i went to that bar, i saw the perfect opportunity to fuck things up for anton. get one of his crew to kill the other one? that would be a massive blow - i mean, he’d probably never see what he was aiming to get anyway, because bushman would have to go on the run. you don’t kill your partner, not in the mercenary world, anyway.

“and that’s what i did. i told bushman to kill marc, to just leave with the money. fuck - it was so stupid. it didn’t even fix anything, either. as soon as anton found out he went fucking mental. like, off the rails. screaming and yelling and punching walls. we broke up that night.

“and it wasn’t him who broke up with me, by the way. i was willing to apologise, but then he hit me. so it was game over.”

you took another breath. why did this still feel so raw? like it didn’t happen a decade ago?

“go on,” osiris prompted.

“that’s it. that’s why i did it. to get back at my boyfriend, who i ended up breaking up with a week later anyway. and look what it did, huh? fucked up everyones life.”

a moment of silence passed, you couldn’t quite tell if it was good silence or not.

“y/n,” osiris finally spoke. “all the memories you had to go through, i saw them as well. there’s things in there that you can’t explain. not just getting back at boyfriends - y/n, you’ve killed people. for the sake of killing people.”

you swallowed. had you really expected your shitty explanation to be enough? not really. you were what he made you out to be. a monster. the ruiner of lives, someone who only left death and sadness in her wake.

“i understand,” your voice was hoarse and gravelly, scratching its way up your throat. “please- please, just let me see him once more.”

“i’m afraid i can only show you what he’s doing at this moment, and he won’t be able to hear you, or see you. hathor can accompany you, and i will be watching.”

nodding, you watched the room around you shift and change, until you were standing in a completely different environment.

hathor was beside you once again, standing a few steps away. she looked almost disappointed, hurt that you hadn’t plead your case as well as you could have.

the room was completely out of place for where you assumed you were. the space was completely covered in greenery, flowers blooming from almost every corner and crack in the ground. there was a small well of water on the opposite side of the room, barely visible through the yellowed, dim lighting.

whatever this room was, it was beautiful.

footsteps broke your trance, your head snapping to the doorway.

it was layla who entered first, face blotchy and mascara slightly smudged under her eyes - with just that sight, you knew exactly what you were about to see.

steven stepped into the room, you in his arms. but you didn’t look at your body, only him. the way his hair was messy and tousled, his big brown eyes bloodshot and puffy, even his posture was different. shoulders slightly more slouched than normal, no longer a skip in his step.

it broke your heart.

the two came deeper into the room, steven pausing almost in the direct centre, never taking his eyes off of your body.

“i’ll, um,” layla cleared her throat. “i’ll leave you.”

if you hadn’t been listening carefully, you wouldn’t have heard steven’s almost nonexistent ‘thank you’, and for a moment you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. even his voice was different.

layla was also the first to leave, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned and walked out of the room. you noticed her jaw clench on her way out, eyes filling with a familiar fire.

time stopped. steven stood, completely unmoving, for at least a minute. after what felt like a million years, he fell to his knees.

you rushed over to him, forgetting for a moment that he didn’t even know you were there.

steven moved your body, so you were laying flat on the grass-and-flower-covered floor, a small amount of your blood still spilling out and onto the daisies below you.

it once again hit steven that he was not made for this. he could not process any of this - never mind come up with the words to say, to say goodbye. for the second time that day, he welcomed the switch.

you felt the room around you change, the air turning thicker and stuffier. it meant only one thing to you - marc.

“oh, god, baby,” he whined, bringing his hand to your hair. “my baby.”

tears stung in your eyes, and you too fell to the floor, opposite him with only your dead body separating you.

“i’m sorry, baby, ‘m sorry,” marc said, tears dripping onto your body. “this is all my fault, all my fault, i’m sorry.”

“no.” you spoke, not even caring that he couldn’t hear you. you meant it so much - so fucking much - that it’s weight would carry through to the living world. the single syllable held so much, so much pain, anger, sadness, that everyone on planet earth would hear it.

marc took a breath, hand still running through your hair. “i can’t- what am i meant to do? baby please, i can’t do this without you. i can’t, you know i can’t. neither… neither of us can.

“i’m sorry i was angry, baby, i know- i know you didn’t mean it. you didn’t know what would happen, you were so young. fucking bushman, it was his fault and only his. you didn’t pull that trigger and you never would.”

not taking your eyes off of him, you watched marc bubble out his last words to you.

“i love you so much. god, baby, i adore you. if i could, i would take all of this. every last bit. it would be me lying dead - fucking hell, it should be me lying dead. you don’t deserve this, you’re an angel.

“you’re my angel, baby. you saved me. over and over and over again, you saved me. you brought me back from the edge every fucking day and every fucking night. i wouldn’t be here without you.

“y/n, please, you can’t… i don’t know how to live without you, baby. it’s always been you. since the day we met, i have always loved you. fuck - maybe i’m the worlds worst husband at showing it, but i have loved you with every moment of my life.

“if i could take back every argument i would, i swear to god i would. i never, ever, deserved you. you should have been with someone better than me, someone who would love you properly and not treat you like shit.

“i think you knew that, though. but you fucking stayed. through it all. even when i told you about steven, you stayed. never cheated, never tried to leave. fucking hell, baby, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.” marc brought his spare hand to rub his eyes.

you didn’t even try to stop the tears coming at this point. you let them - let them fall down your face and create a little puddle, watering the flowers.

“from the day i met you, y/n, you saved me. even with all this khonshu bullshit, you… you were the only real superpower i ever had, baby.”

a hand flew to your mouth to stop the sob come out. it would have sounded more like a scream - this was torture. worse than you had ever endured in your entire life, this was the worst thing you had ever had to watch.

“i love you baby, so fucking much. i know what we said in our vows but death won’t ever change that. wherever you are, i will always love you,”

he moved your body, shifting you so that you were lying completely straight and flat, and marc took both of your hands and laid them across your stomach, your hand wearing your wedding ring on top.

marc leant down, kissing your lips one final time, holding your face as he pulled back. his tears still dropped, washing away tiny specs of blood that covered your face.

stared, not caring that a literal god was in the room (she was just as upset, for what it matters), sobbing like a child at the scene before you.

your husband pulled away, getting back onto his feet, although he seemed slightly wobbly. he looked down at your body, and for just a second - a spilt second - you swore he made eye contact with you, like he knew you were sitting there.

“forever and always, baby. i’ll be counting down the days until we meet again.”

as he walked out of the room, the scene around you once again faded to the bright-white room. you remained on the floor, chest heaving in broken sobs as hathor stood in the opposite corner.

this was it, you thought. you would never see him again, ever. forever would go by, and you would never hold your husband again. never would you kiss him, sleep next to him, feel him inside you.

you would never have children, never sit until god knows when with steven as he babbled on about something or other, never have him compliment you, never have one of steven’s cups of tea, never have to patch him up again, never-

a ringing noise invaded your ears, making you open your eyes.

was the room this colour last time? no, you would have sworn it was completely white. so why, why on earth was it getting darker?

hathor laughed from the corner, your head snapping to her.

“osiris,” she smiled. “you old softie.”

it was like waking up from a nightmare. pushing yourself up, gasping for air, covered in cold sweat.

everything hurt. aches and pains shot through your entire nervous system, sending alarm bells straight to your brain.

you blinked. and again, and again. what the fuck?

it was the same room. the same flower-covered, yellow lighting, little puddle of water, indent in the flowers from where marc had been sitting.

everything was the same.

but this time, you weren’t watching from a third person perspective. you weren’t weightless, you could feel your heart pumping - so strong you thought it might beat out of your chest.

you were alive.

how were you alive? had seeing your husband break down really had such a big effect on osiris? god, maybe he was a big softie.

this was a strange sensation. everything burned a little brighter, colours were more vibrant. where you would have heard silence before, you could now hear hundreds of sounds. you could feel your blood running through your veins, your eyes focusing and un-focusing in the light.

“holy shit,” you whispered. “fuck.”

as much as everything hurt, the pain in your head was far greater than anywhere else. you brought a hand to it, feeling a deep cut just about your right eyebrow - exactly where you were shot.

but hey, you would take a cut over a bullet any day of the week.

with the feeling that time was ticking by, you pushed yourself onto your feet, the sensation of blood rushing to the limbs almost being ticklish.

walking in the same footsteps as marc and layla had, you left the room, a trail of blood following. the hallway was dead silent, quieter than you would have expected. were people still even here? you had no idea how long had passed from when you had died.

a bang down the corridor answered your question.

feet slightly unsteady as you walked to the source of the noise, you came closer to the room, bangs getting louder with every step.

find khonshu’s ushabti.

you flinched, instantly looking for the source of the voice. it was one that you recognised, mind registering it has hathor’s voice.

“what?” you hissed.

silence. find khonshu’s ushabti? like, those little stone things steven had told you gods get put into when they misbehave? surely khonshu wasn’t sentenced to that, you thought. but then your better judgment kicked in. he was on his last chance, after all.

“alright,” you nodded, talking to thin air. “sure.”

making your way down the hall, every room was empty. there could only have been two or three rooms left, and you’d need a lot of luck to find the exact item you needed in one of them.

voices sounded from outside the hall, making you question where exactly you were. they were echoing, as if in a massive chamber. what the hell?

quickly walking to the nearest exit, you poked your head around the corner.

surely fucking not. surely.

was this… the pyramid of giza? here? it sure looked like it, judging by the huge statues of different gods and massive interior.

what an impressive place to say you died in, you thought.

you watched the people in the chamber, they seemed to be waiting for someone. you hoped it wasn’t-

harrow walked into the chamber, coming from the corridor right next to you, everyone instantly turning to look at him. for fucks sake.

it was hard to make out exactly what he was saying, but in his hand was what you recognised as an ushabti. not khonshu’s, though, right? you prayed it wasn’t, because your job would have gotten ten times harder if it was.

harrow went silent for a second, before he threw the ushabti to the ground, making you flinch slightly.

sand collected around where it had smashed, the cloud getting taller and taller by the second, becoming more dense and coloured - until a massive creature was left.

your jaw dropped. this thing - this god - was exactly how steven described ammit. the exact thing that you were trying to stop harrow getting his hands on.

“fuck,” you whispered, seeing ammit get used to being out of her stone casing.

the urgency of finding khonshu’s ushabti pressed into you, your eyes scanning for a hopeful-looking corridor. then you realised - harrow had came from the next corridor over. with an ushabti.

you almost ran into the next corridor, praying no one spotted you. this hallway instantly seemed more promising, small torches lining your way.

the corridor opened into a single room. a huge, dimly lit room, the most noticeable feature being the hundreds of shelves on the wall. bingo.

rushing to the shelves, your eyes scanned for anything that you recognised as khonshu, starting from the top row down. you were beginning to lose hope when you reached the bottom rows, but there it sat.

a perfect depiction of khonshu.

picking it up, the grainy texture was cold in your hands - but it wasn’t in your hands for long. you threw it to the ground, a similar cloud of sand gathering around the impact area.

you never understood what marc meant when he said khonshu was terrifying. how scary could a big bird be? well, you were eating your words.

a massive skeletal figure looked over you, crescent shaped staff casting a shadow on your face.

y/n spector is back among the living, then. khonshu said, his voice booming in your ears.

“yeah, looks that way, doesn’t it?”

his massive head tilted. and here i expected your husband to have the attitude.

you scoffed. why did everyone always think marc was the only tough one?

ammit has been released.

turning to look at him, you couldn’t hide your impatience. “no shit, sherlock.”

a gust of wind blew through the room, making you laugh lightly. steven was right about his temper tantrums.

we must bind her in something more powerful than an ushabti - a human. khonshu stated.

you were about to nod, but then it hit you; “we?”

khonshu paused. only an avatar can bind someone. marc is not strong alone.

it almost made you laugh. “fuck no. i’ve seen what you do to marc.”

your husband will die if you don’t.

taking a few steps away, you shook your head. “i will do anything but that.”

and khonshu was gone. to see marc and steven, presumably, but gone nonetheless. god, you couldn’t stand him.

another bang sounded, far closer to you this time. the force of it shook dust and sand from the ceiling, some of it falling onto your head.

only an avatar can do it, and marc will die if you don’t. for fucks sake, why did it have to be you? of all people to manipulate into this, why you? which god would possibly take you as an avatar?

oh. oh.

“hathor?” you whispered, only half expecting a response.

a beat.

“hathor?” it came out more urgent than last time. “please.”

it was a strange feeling, a god speaking through you. it took you by surprise, feeling your mouth move with words that were not your own; yes, y/n?

“make me your avatar.” you were begging by this point.

i can, but it’s not that simple, you know?

“please,” you hissed, falling against a nearby wall. this was a weird feeling. “you can give me the ins and outs later, just please-”

a bang, before the ceiling right in front of you crumbled, almost squashing you where you stood.

then you felt it; your entire body being overtaken, like your heat beat went backwards, a tingling in your fingertips.

as the rubble cleared, you saw the chamber in front of you. looking down at yourself, you noticed the change of clothes.

material the same reddish-colour as hathors dress covered your body, gold detailing on the sides. it was a strange material - soft but harsh, protecting your body.

“nice outfit choice,” you smiled.

thank you. something special for my new avatar.

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