summary: you received nothing but radio silence from your partners for months. one day, jake comes home and calls you by an unknowingly offensive endearment. your insecurity acts up, and jake won't give up control until he fixes it.
a/n: more ANGST. MORE! *insert kylo ren meme* don't worry though. it's just miscommunication. also, it's time for our boy jake to shine and show his simpery.
and the thought of this fic came from listening to "porque" by maldita and also finding out that querida is an endearment in spanish. in filipino, it means the complete opposite opposite – a married man's lover/mistress.
warnings: can be standalone; ANGST with fluff ending; hurt and comfort; separation anxiety/fear of abandonment; miscommunication/language barrier; insecurity in a poly-relationship (hinting at my wife layla in the loop as well); jake lockley is a simp and kinda romantically intense; use of chavacano (spanish-creole filipino language) by a non-speaker (so idk how it would translate for jake who is fluent in spanish) (just assume he does understand it lol)
It has been months. Months since Marc woke up and said Khonshu needed him somewhere. He and the god insisted that you stay home after a little mishap got you seriously injured from the last mission. You didn’t argue.
You just wished that there wasn’t any radio silence between you and them. When the first week passed, you managed to find out that they were with Layla, but neither of them bothered to call. They just left you to be the goldfish sitter. Not that you minded that much at first. You knew that Marc was still bothered over the fact that he accidentally killed Real Gus.
During the first month, you thought you were going crazy. You stopped by every day at Steven’s flat to feed the Gus-es and check his tank. Then you’d make yourself some tea and call out, “Do you want one, Steven?” before realizing that you were alone.
Halfway through the third month, you somewhat grew accustomed to the routine. Sometimes, you would spend the night at his flat, not because it was easier – it was harder actually – but because you were afraid that you might forget them. It was a silly thing to worry about, but you didn’t want to be so used by their absence that the feelings would just go away.
You used to have a whole speech on what to yell at them the moment one of them steps through that door, but now… you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d be lucky if you’d get a word out as a matter of fact. Maybe you could get a slap in.
They came back on the last week of the fourth month.
You just finished cleaning the two Gus’ filter, which probably took longer than you should have. You felt like you were running slow when you woke up that morning. Putting on music on the speakers, you had planned to make a quick sandwich for lunch then curl back in bed.
Bakit sa’yo pa nagkagusto? // Why did I like you out of everyone else?
Parang bula ika’y naglaho // Like a bubble, you disappeared
Between the heavy daze in your mind and the music crooning all over the flat, you didn’t notice at all that the front door swung open. You had your back to him when Jake silently set his newsboy cap and leather gloves on the side. He was very careful that you weren’t holding anything that would injure you or him when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.
As expected, you stiffened and immediately relaxed when you recognized that scent. You hated how you still know it too well. The flat had been long cleared of any of their scent after the first month, and you cried about it for a whole night once.
But now, you weren’t sure what to feel. Like you expected, you wouldn’t muster any words. You couldn’t even distinguish the emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach. Anger, relief, sadness, happiness?
Instead, all you said was “Jake?”
He merely hummed then buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in after months away. He didn’t want to let you go, even when you tried to move so you can turn to face him. He immediately felt months’ worth of tension leave his body. That and the soft music playing in the background started to make him aware of his fatigue.
“Let’s go to bed, hm?” you offered, catching the slight tired slump of his shoulders.
Jake hummed in acknowledgement again, but instead of walking normally, his hands moved from your waist to threading your fingers together, swaying you through the music across the apartment. Jake held you close to him as you both continued to sway in the free space near the foot of Steven’s bed. He didn’t understand a word of what the song meant, that is, until the chorus played again.
Bien simple lang I yo tapidi // What I ask is simple
Era cin ti tu el cosa yo ya cin ti // I hope you feel my sorrow
Jake still didn’t understand it completely, but fragments of the lyrics, chosen few of the words, he caught and interpreted the gist of it. He stopped moving and tucked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Is that how you feel, querida?” he asked.
Jake didn’t miss how your eye twitched at the nickname.
You tried to not to let it bother you. You really did. It’s his endearment for you. Jake rarely fronted, and when he did, he was incredibly loving towards you. There was no reason to take offense on what he calls you.
Hiding your discomfort, you buried your face in his chest and continued to sway. “It’s just a song, Jake,” you said. “My playlist is on shuffle.”
Na dimio rezo ta pidi yo // In my prayers, I ask
Era olvida yo contigo // I hope I forget you
“Well, I don’t like it,” Jake said bluntly with a plump pout on his lip. He stopped dancing once again and walked to turn off the speaker. “Let’s go to bed, querida.”
Again, Jake saw you relent but not only after you exhaled in a self-soothing manner. He pulled you under the covers, and you fell asleep within a few minutes. You seemed tired, emotionally drained to the point that you’d sleep to avoid them, and even though Jake was exhausted as well, his worry for you now kept him up.
I told you we were gone too long. Can she no longer stand endearments? Steven piped in their head. Let me have control. I want to talk to her.
“I’ll fix it,” Jake assured him, cutting himself silent when you stirred. He tucked you deeper into the covers and watched the furrow between your brows relax.
Jake will fix it. He always did. That’s why he’s fronting now when the others couldn’t even forcibly take control. Something was wrong.
~
When you woke up a few hours in the late afternoon, you were still tangled up in your boyfriend’s arms. You couldn’t tell who would be out once he woke up, but you were sure that if it were either Marc or Jake, they’d wake up as soon as you sit up in bed. Your thoughts were answered when the grip around your waist tightened when you tried to slither off to the corner of the bed.
“Marc?”
An agitated huff told you that you were mistaken. The sleepy daze immediately wore off. If he was still fronting, something might be wrong. “Is everything okay, Jake?”
“I don’t know, querida. Is there?”
At his pointed question, you immediately closed up. “You’re the one who disappeared for months without contacting me,” you shot back. “I’m surprised you didn’t mail me divorce papers as well.”
“We’re not married yet, querida.”
You scoffed and got out of bed, stomping your way to the kitchen. You took the tea tin and took a bag, then slamming the cabinet shut. It was only until you were filling up the kettle on the faucet did you realise your hands were shaking and tears were dripping on your outstretched arms.
Well, done, Fabio. You really did so well. Marc snarked at Jake from the mirror in front of their bed. Let me out.
“No.”
Let me out! Marc demanded.
Let him out, Jake. Steven pleaded. She needs—
“What? You? Us? Who exactly? We left. Everything will be exactly the same if either of you comes out.”
From the kitchen, you peered at Jake arguing with Marc and Steven from the mirror. There was no doubt they all were concerned now from your outburst. You didn’t even know why you were upset.
Well, you were, are, upset that they disappeared like ghosts for months. What you didn’t understand was why Jake’s endearment bothered you even more. It was an endearment. It’s not like he knew your language that well to deliberately calling you negative names.
Jake was cursing up a fury at the mirror when you silently sat on the spot beside him at the edge of the bed. He immediately stopped staring at his reflection to look at you. Really look at you. That’s one thing you loved about Jake. His gaze made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered to him. More than Khonshu. More than…
You shook the thought from your head. It was absurd to be jealous of your lovers that way. It wasn’t fair to you nor was it fair to them.
“Talk to me,” you said, grasping his hand in between yours.
“You didn’t deserve it. I know you deserve better, but I want you, cariño. You’re all I’ve wanted. I will always come back to you.”
In the background, you heard the electric kettle click itself off, but you were more focused on Jake baring his feelings for you. He was barely around for as long as you knew Marc and Steven, but he had never failed in being sincere with how he felt for you. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed.
Jake’s face fell, and if you could only see what he saw, Marc lowered his eyes in the mirror, while Steven retreated back in the recesses of their mind. Even Khonshu was eerily silent and nowhere to be found, which was odd enough as it is. The god was fond of you in his own way that he kept a safe distance hovering nearby.
“Don’t be,” you said. “I know what I signed up for when I decided to be with an Avatar.” You let out a weak chuckle at the unintentional reference. “Steven would’ve loved that one.”
“Do you wish to talk with him instead, cariño?”
You didn’t miss the hurt that seeped through Jake’s words. You barely spent time with him, and you knew him the shortest. You shook your head and cupped your hands over his cheeks, tilting his head to face you.
The same furrowed brow wrinkled his forehead again, and if it wasn’t for the stiffness in his eyes, the conflicted look behind those brown orbs would’ve easily misled you to think he was Marc. Jake’s hard expression was easily remedied when you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. The hurt and fear were now exposed, and you had to come clean with your own issues.
“I’m not mad that you left for months,” you said and immediately caught yourself at Jake’s pointed look. “Okay, yes, I was mad, but only during the first month, especially when I found out that you took Layla with you.”
“It wasn’t all us, love.” Steven snuck out for a moment. “But she was also worried that it was too early for you to take this mission on.” His eyes rolled back, and Jake was back, annoyed from those few seconds of being interrupted.
“Sometimes…” you took a deep breath, finding the right words to say, “I feel like I’m just a liability to you guys, you and Layla.”
This time it was Marc who took the wheel. “You can easily put us on our asses, baby,” he laughed softly, trying to lighten your mood. “Sure, we’d put up a fight, but your powers are kinda scary sometimes.”
Your hands pressed against Marc’s chest before gripping his jacket in tight fists as if you were scared that he’d vanish after your next words. “That’s not what I mean, Marc.”
When the realization dawned on his face, Marc immediately cupped your face. “Why on earth would you even think that?” he asked, hurt from your words and from how you felt. “I mean, you were dating Steven when he had no idea of Layla and my existence, and we were even on the verge of divorce by then.” He continued, “and Jake… Well, I think Jake only likes you. That ass only shows up when one of us are dying or when it comes to you.
“And Layla adores you. Otherwise, she didn’t finish our job for us just so we can come back to you,” he added. Swallowing whatever weight that clogged his throat, he finally said, “You’re a part of this crazy relationship whether you like it or not.” Realizing what he accidentally implied, he softly asked, “If… if you were to leave…” He trailed off, his voice ending in a shuddering breath. His shoulder tensed for a split second, and he was gone, overwhelmed from his own fears.
“We will marry you in a heartbeat,” Jake said, grasping your hand. “If that meant you would never leave us.” That wide-eyed gaze he pointed at you showed that he was frighteningly sincere.
But it was quickly cut off with Steven nervously chuckling. “If you would have us, love,” he said. “Of course, consent is key. No need to be psycho about it,” he shot a pointed glance at the mirror.
You exhaled, feeling all the tension and issues wafting away from a single breath. “One thing though,” you stated.
“What is it, querida?” Jake returned, and this time, he finally noticed the twitch in your eye from the endearment he gave you.
“Two things I hate though,” you corrected yourself through gritted teeth. “Call me anything but that word, and propose to me properly. And we won’t have any problems.”
Jake would never admit it but the coldness in your voice and suddenly shifting to a sweet smile after you listed your terms made the hairs on his arms stand a bit.
Later that evening, Jake discreetly looked up what ‘the forbidden endearment’ meant on Steven’s phone. He sucked in a sharp breath at his massive mistake, and a pit formed in his stomach when it sank that he had been accidentally feeding your insecurity all this time. He immediately rushed over to you on the stove and pulled you into his arms.
“Jake! What the—” Unable to pull yourself out of his embrace, you barely managed to reach for the stove and turn the heat to low before you accidentally burn down his flat. “Now barely seems like the time to—”
“You’re the only one for me. I revere you. I fear you. I worship you. Cariño, mi vida, mi corazón…”
You laughed in the midst of your confusion while Jake pulled you in for a tight hug. “What brought this on?” Your eyes landed on Steven’s phone at the kitchen counter with the latest search page still on display. A more genuine smile tugged at your lips as you buried your face into his chest, embracing his warmth.
“Also, I’m marrying Layla first.”
SMACK!
You barely registered the sting on your bottom when you were pushed away. Steven’s wide-eyed puppy eyes gazed at you in horror. His mouth hung open in surprise as he raised his hands in innocence.
“It wasn’t me. I swear!” Steven cried out. Then he paused, glancing off somewhere. “Jake says he’ll be back once he gets a ring before Layla comes home next week.”
All the Wrong Right Reasons (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.3)
a/n: we are entering spicy territory. nothing explicit unless you want me to? but we got maybe one more for jake's intro series...
next up is a layla fic. can i get a wahoo?
Prev: IV. Jake pt.2 | Next: IV. Jake pt.4 | AU Masterlist
warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; khonshu is a little shit; one-way intense turned thirsty pining; show’s interpretation of DID; non-hispanic writer using one (1) spanish word (in my not-so defense, im filipino (i remembered we have a celebrity kristine hermosa with that name. imagine having 'beautiful' for a name and looking EXACTLY ETHEREAL) okay i'll stop rambling); non-canon Philippine mythology
Maybe Jake’s reaction was a little unprecedented.
He never had to front unless the system was in mortal danger or if Khonshu needed him for a mission.
All he’s known was being on a constant state of fight or flight with adrenaline in his veins.
So, what happens when the person he’s been incredibly attracted to threatens his life?
He wants to fight back for all the wrong right reasons.
Have you met my friend, Jake Lockley?
As much as Jake was thankful for the moon god intervening, the bird was having the time of his life not allowing him to summon the suit as well.
Let him go. Khonshu’s playing with you.
A dark masked figure materialized behind you. A dark shadowy void with glowing violet eyes.
Probably made new friends the last time you died, Jake thought.
Glaring at Jake with your glowing golden eyes, you let him go and stepped back.
“Khonshu, you lied,” you spat out. “You were supposed to let him go.”
“Marc only meant Steven and himself, hermosa,” Jake finally spoke once he got to catch his breath. “I had no plans of leaving. I’m the real Moon Knight.”
Your golden eyes found him again, and Jake found some sort of satisfaction of you looking down at him… even with disdain.
Or any attention finally directed at him… not at any of his alters.
“What do you want from me?”
Jake resisted the urge to smirk.
There were many, many things he wanted from you.
“I want to finish the job.”
Arthur Harrow, the shadow said.
Then it clicked. “You were in Cairo.” You weren’t asking. You said it as a fact.
You never knew what happened after Ammit was sealed in her Avatar’s body, but you knew for a fact that that psychotic maniac was still breathing somewhere.
Steven didn’t have the stomach to kill anymore, and Marc…
Either his mind would be changed by Steven or not kill Harrow at all to spite Khonshu.
“I suppose you were the one who ran off and went on a killing spree when Marc blacked out?”
Jake nodded; his eyes guarded.
“You were protecting them.”
He nodded again.
“Do they know you exist?”
“No.”
“If you stay with me or with Khonshu, they’ll find out soon enough.”
“That’s why I want to get to Harrow before that, hermosa.”
You raised your brow at the second time he called you that. “Charmer,” you smiled playfully.
Finally relaxing and letting your guard down around the new alter, your eyes glowed again.
“Give me one hour.”
…
You were starting to regret not taking the passenger seat.
Yet you also needed a breather from Jake.
You were trying to tell yourself it was because you missed Steven so much…
… but Jake was waking up something else inside you.
It scared you. Scared that you might give into him.
You couldn’t do that to Steven.
“Why would I ever need anybody else when he has no idea how troubled he truly is?”
You hated to admit it, but you sided with Harrow for a split-second while Khonshu gloated on keeping Marc as his Avatar.
“And you’re okay with that, langga?”
You hissed at the name, but you tried not to get too riled up.
“You don’t want those to be your last words, you piece of shit.”
It’ll all be over soon.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter what I think. Marc and Steven don’t know.”
Arthur’s face twisted in confusion.
“Meet my friend, Jake Lockley.”
You barely flinched when you felt the bullet whiz past you and straight into Harrow’s head after Jake said his final words to the cultist.
Harrow slumped forward and fell to the floor where he slowly bled out.
It was over.
You hoisted yourself through the limousine partition window and sat on the passenger seat, not wanting to spend the rest of the ride with a dead body.
Jake narrowed his eyes when your shoes touched the leather seat.
“Really? You’re complaining over my shoes when Harrow is bleeding on your floor mats?”
Jake ignored you and didn’t waste any time and began driving away from the hospital.
Despite being ignored, your eyes continued to watch him, studying what made him so different from the rest.
Jake seemed to be more comfortable with Khonshu’s idea of vengeance, and it made you wonder if he was created because of Khonshu or because of something else.
Either way, the rush of a thousand innocent lives being avenged felt good.
And you had Jake to thank for that.
Now, you really felt that Egypt was a closed chapter…
“I can hear you thinking loudly over there, hermosa.”
His gloved hand reached out and gave your thigh a comforting squeeze.
word count: 1.7k (mostly just resolution so it isn't that long...)
a/n: i said to myself that i wasn't going to be that author, but i totally am. so in the past months, i started this new job (entirely WFH babyyy) and i lost two grandparents in less than half a year.
anyway, my sleep schedule is totally reversed now because of work, so expect sudden updates at weird times. i don't post anything else here other than blurbs and actual updates, so if you wanna read stuff as soon as i drop them, feel free to turn on notifications.
considering my current situation, i feel like this was just right to post. it was actually sitting in my draft for months. it'll be bittersweet and full of goodbyes.
warnings: not proofread; i make steven even more BIG SAD; violence and death; ANGST (grab some tissues maybe?); non-canon Philippine mythology and the afterlife; non-canon depiction of babaylans (Filipino shamans); jake lockley peek-a-boo
When Steven woke up in their body, he felt the pain in their chest, but the bullets were no longer there. You were right. You made it easier for Steven and Marc to come back to the living realm.
And right next to them were your lifeless body.
The sight alone was enough to pull Steven to the front and break down as he pulled your body in his arms. Marc could only watch from the reflection of the water, guilt bubbling in his stomach that Steven wasn’t able to say goodbye and woke up to this. It wasn’t fair.
A rush of air blew inside the tomb, and Steven looked up to see Khonshu looking down at them. They could be mistaken, but Khonshu almost looked solemn at the sight of your corpse in the arms of a heartbroken Steven. With Khonshu, it was always impossible to tell, but Marc was grateful at the brief moment of silence the moon god gave Steven with you.
“Steven, buddy, we have to go,” Marc gently urged from the reflection of the water.
Almost as if Steven wanted to disappear from the grief, Marc experienced the quickest switch back to his body. He knew Steven was hurting, but he knew that it was something to deal later once Ammit was stopped. He also wanted to keep Steven from what you told him before you parted ways from the Duat.
It was better Steven didn’t know what your plans was once you release Bakunawa back in the living realm.
~
They were losing. No doubt about it. Ammit and Harrow had grown far too strong with all the souls they consumed. Layla, now donned in Taweret’s armor, could only do so much to protect the civilians, while Marc and Steven held off Harrow from wreaking more havoc on Cairo. But damn if they were going down without a fight.
“Young Randall’s life would’ve been saved!” Harrow taunted, blasting him from Ammit’s scepter. The force of the hit dropped Marc to the ground, yet Harrow was relentless. “Your family could’ve been happy! She would’ve lived!”
The words hurt, but Marc knew the truth now. Steven was with him to remind him of that. Even if they were to lose, Marc wouldn’t be alone. He was never alone.
Marc and Steven watched from the distance as Ammit overpowered Khonshu and brought him to his knees. He looked at Layla desperately trying to shield herself from the bullets shot at her by Harrow’s followers. At that same moment, Khonshu’s armor could only take too much and began cracking from the assault of Harrow’s sceptre.
It was over.
Amidst the fear and helplessness, a brief second of silence filled the air before a flurry of green, blue, and golden lights, blasting the sky with multiple exploding auroras. The magnificence of the sight was enough to pause all the fighting from Harrow, from his men, and from Ammit. A deafening shrill roar echoed through the glowing night sky, loud enough to send shivers down everyone’s spines.
Another long silence filled the battlefield, but the tension was set enough for Marc to catch his breath and Harrow to ready his grip on his scepter as he searched the sky for a target. The target first appeared in the form of an elusive silhouette almost slithering through the lights. As the mysterious figure made its way from the distant desert to the city, it gradually grew giant in size. Where it moved, the auroras seemed to follow it, the iridescent streaks of lights flowing through the shadows like water.
The lights passed above them in the city, and Marc could make out rumbling from the sky like an incoming thunderstorm was quickly approaching. The auroras stopped right above the Pyramid, swirling like a hurricane would. Suddenly, it stopped for a split second before it imploded in on itself, sending out a blinding light that even Ammit and Khonshu turned their heads away.
Another shrill roar broke through the sky, and the blast of light revealed itself to be a gigantic menacing dragon floating above the Pyramid. Bakunawa in his true form. He flew down to the very top of the Pyramid and sent another threatening roar in Ammit’s face.
At that moment, the fight was back on. With a loud shout, Harrow tried to drive is scepter into Marc’s body again, but this time, with a renewed resolve, he was going to fight back twice as harder. It probably worked…
… since Harrow was already incapacitated by the time he woke back up.
~
“Well, it’s not so bad now, is it?” you asked cheekily, sitting by the riverbank of the spiritual river, Lalangban.
“You say that now,” Sidapa said glumly, choosing to stay far away from the river and closer to the tree line, “but the gods will want their answers.”
“He didn’t deserve to be destroyed. He deserved far worse than that. Not what after he did to Bakunawa, to Mayari.”
When you had surrendered your spirit to Sidapa back at the Duat, you were surprised that instead of going back inside to face the Filipino moon god, he went to the moon instead. As it turned out, Libulan had not only blessed Mayari’s sister to destroy Bakunawa and curse him. The curse he set upon Bakunawa was bound on Mayari’s soul – her soul that he also cursed to be stuck on the moon, forever in agony, forever searching for her also-cursed half, the true reason why he desperately sought out the moon.
Once Sidapa was able to free her, most of Bakunawa’s sanity as well as his powers returned.
“Indeed, but to leave him to the judgment of the other gods, his family,we risk for him leaving unscathed and wreaking more havoc,” Sidapa argued. “It was the only way to break the curse, and now, Bakunawa is fighting Ammit as we speak.”
“Which god will come after me?” you asked, turning back on the river to face Sidapa. Even at a distance, his towering figure was still prominent. Libulan’s defeat also broke the curse inflicted on him, and Sidapa can once again freely roam the other realms than being stuck in Lalangban to deliver souls to Magwayen, which had earned him the title “God of Death” for centuries.
All because of his love and compassion for mortals when he used to be the god of Fate and Destiny.
Once he had been freed, the scars and tallies on his body had faded and his monstrous horns shifted into a crown with similar ten varied branches as its arches. The only thing that remained was his mask that he had chosen to keep on, despite it not magically fused in his face anymore. You had your suspicions that he no longer wished to share his infamous beauty to any being, god or mortal, ever again to avoid any altercations with people like Libulan.
“Did you hear me?” you asked again when Sidapa didn’t reply.
Instead, the masked god pointed behind you, and you couldn’t help but groan out your complaint.
“What ever happened to good manners?” you muttered, turning around then immediately paling at the goddess in front of you. She stood in a small rowboat, dressed in a black cloak and shrouded in a dark violet veil. The rowboat she stood on was small, seemingly enough to carry only two passengers, but it was not discreet at all. The dark wood was incredibly rich that it was almost black, and the intricate carving on its body was no less fit for a primordial goddess.
Magwayen.
“So, you do know who I am,” Magwayen stated, her voice calm. “I offer you my sincerest apologies for the pain my family has cost you in your lifetime.”
The tension in your body almost dissipated from her words alone, but then she continued.
“But you did conspire to murder a god, my grandson. Not only that, you released Bakunawa in his true form in the mortal realm. These are grave crimes, child, and I’m afraid I cannot give you passage through the river into Paradise.”
“I already knew that. I’ve made my peace with it,” you told her, casually shrugging to hide how scare you actually were. “I have no regrets releasing Bakunawa if it meant saving lives back in the mortal realm. I’ve made my bed, now I must lie in it.”
Magwayen hummed as if she was taking in your words. “I have raised Sidapa to be one of my own,” she began, glancing at said deity, “just as my daughter raised Bakunawa as one of her own, as Libulan’s brother.
“I thank you for saving them,” Magwayen said. “To show my gratitude, I will send you back to the mortal realm. If I am not mistaken, you left before your time.” She glanced at Sidapa who nodded to confirm.
You gasped in surprise. “Thank you.”
Magwayen raised a hand to stop you. “I’m not finished,” she said. “I’m sure you know what the price is when you summon Bakunawa in his true form… if you ever attempt to do it again. Your physical body will be torn apart.”
You nodded.
“Since you now also possess Sidapa’s blessing, you can always return to your human form. It will be painful, but Sidapa can extend your life that way.”
“But?”
“The situation regarding your soul in the afterlife will remain the same,” Sidapa continued. “You will return here when your time comes, unable to move on to Paradise.”
“I can never see my mothers? Ever?”
You could’ve been mistaken, but Magwayen almost looked as heartbroken for you behind her dark veil. “I’m sorry, my child,” she said. “The gods forbid you to set foot on Paradise.”
“But…” Sidapa spoke up, staring into your forlorn face. His purple eyes seemed to glow even brighter. “They are proud of you. Always have been, always will be.” A raven flew over his shoulder to perch on yours.
You watched it carefully as it stared at you with its uncommonly dark amethyst eyes. When it finally opened its beak and sang, you couldn’t stop the tears anymore. It was the same lullaby.
The one you grew up listening. The one Yatzil sang to calm the curse. The one Mayari sang for Bakunawa.
Lasting for what almost felt like split seconds, the song lulled to a stop, and the crow transformed into two black butterflies, slightly larger than any you seen before. Under the light, their fluttering wings shimmered a hint of amethyst. One landed on your cheek while the other perched on the tip of your nose. Each flutter of their wings felt like a kiss on your cheeks, and to your dismay, they soon had to leave.
“Goodbye,” you whispered to the wind that seemed to carry them further down the riverbend.
Worshipped, not Bound (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.2)
a/n: guess who's back on their Moon boi shenanigans? Me. I literally speed-wrote three parts in my attempts to procrastinate writing my Miguel O'Hara spicy WIP, so our favourite limo driver now has 4 parts in his introduction.
also I quit my job. :))
Prev: IV. Jake pt.1 | Next: IV. Jake pt.3 | AU Masterlist
warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; angst as a sub-genre?; one-way intense pining; divorce babe; show's interpretation of DID; Tommy Wiseau joke; language / one (1) f-bomb; non-canon Philippine mythology
You returned to London with no problems.
Well, maybe two.
Marc and Steven.
Maybe Layla, but she didn’t return to London with Marc after the entire fiasco in Egypt.
It was cruel to make Steven and Marc think that you remained dead after releasing Bakunawa.
But it would be even crueler to bring them back into your world after they’ve been set free by Khonshu.
Still thinking about that twerp?
You rolled your eyes as the snake tattoo slithered around your hand while you raised your paintbrush to the easel.
It’s surprising how they didn’t even try to stop by in your workplace.
While Sidapa still had his glum demeanor, he definitely started picking up Bakunawa’s habit on being a pain in your ass.
We heard that.
“You were meant to.”
“What was that, dear?” your mentor called out from his desk.
“Nothing.”
“You should go get some rest. It’s quite late.”
You didn’t argue and began packing up.
Luckily you lived close to your work place. Just a half-hour walk.
But suddenly… you felt the scales under your skin out of instinct.
You looked up to the tops of one of London’s old buildings.
Nothing. Just the glow of the full moon.
A deep sigh left you at the sentimental sight.
For the rest of your walk, you refused to look at the sky.
...
Jake didn’t know why Khonshu wanted him to watch over you.
There were more better ways of him spending time while he was in control of his body.
Like finding where Harrow is for starters.
It wouldn’t be that hard to find the cultist harboring an equally murderous god in him if it was that easy to find you.
Jake tugged his cap lower to avoid the cameras as he snuck in the apartment building entrance before the door locked.
13th floor, Jake noted as he watched the lift stopped. He waited a beat before calling down the lift back down to follow you.
As the lift doors open…
“Oh, hi, Marc.”
Jake froze at the sight of you still in the lift, now smiling at him like catching his hand in the cookie jar.
Now, he was sitting in your living room with a good cup of joe with you in the loveseat across from him.
Where the hell was Khonshu?!
“How long have you been following me?”
“Two days.”
Damn it, why was he being honest?
“It’s good to see you.”
Jake swallowed heavily and kept his head down, hiding his eyes under his cap.
Probably not that honest.
“Did Steven tell you where to find me? Or was it Layla?”
Jake winced again.
While it was Marc who handed the divorce papers before all this happened, but now…
Layla did. All signed and delivered.
She wanted to stay in areas closer to Egypt, and Marc desperately wanted the freedom he’d been asking for since the beginning of being Khonshu’s slave.
It was a quick and easy process, and Marc barely put up a fight when the papers arrived.
It would’ve probably been different if Steven was around.
But Steven…
Steven hasn’t fronted since Cairo… wouldn’t even talk to Marc.
During the aftermath of the battle and Ammit was defeated, Steven just… faded away.
He was still in there but in a deep sleep.
If he only knew that Khonshu still had a hold of their body, Steven would know you were still alive.
But Jake wanted to keep you as his alone for a little while longer.
…
You watched Marc’s silent demeanor very carefully.
You expected him to be angry… or to at least be sarcastic with you.
Actually, you expected Steven to be the one to find you first.
You weren’t exactly hiding in the first place.
Something wasn’t quite right.
“Marc, why did you come looking for me?”
Finally… Khonshu appeared.
I need you to find Arthur Harrow for us.
Without hesitation, your scaled, armored claw had the stranger in a chokehold.
Their reaction to you always taking care of your apperance like long af nails, snatched makeup and killer outfits? 🤤🤤🤤
a/n: ooooh, first ask on the blog. i really appreciate it. 🥺🥺 ngl i'm on the ropes on this one. those reading, tell me you like it or i'll cry. 🥲🥲
i didn’t know if you meant Bakunawa!reader or just a general one, so i did the former. you can only notice the au references if you squint anyways, but feel free to shoot me another request. 😊😊
warnings: just fluff; mild sexual references (if you squint); steven being a cinnamon bun; marc being sassy and emotionally constipated; jake being a simp king
Steven Grant (would focus on the dress)
You were often invited to art galas and gallery unveilings due to your line of work.
That means you had to keep up with appearances, especially during black tie events.
Sometimes, if schedules between Marc and Jake allowed him, he would always be your plus one.
Yet you also had that small bit of joy dressing up outside of work just for its own sake.
Knowing his reaction to Layla’s armor during the Cairo incident, he would forget everything else and decide to fawn over you.
“Darling, you look absolutely beautiful. Your nails – they can poke an eye out – but they are a gorgeous accent to that clutch bag.”
Among the others, Steven had a better eye on style, and if he wasn’t so fidgety and often self-deprecating, he would fit in with the socialites without question.
“Isn’t it a little too much?”
You gave him a little twirl and posed for him, sticking out your leg to show off the high slit of your evening dress.
Steven shook his head, a little too aggressively that sent his curls flying.
“No! It’s perfect. A little too perfect,” he muttered that last part.
Oh? You smiled slyly and slowly made your way to him.
Steven’s cheeks warmed at your movements, so graceful that he thought you were gliding across the wooden floor of his flat in those heels and flowy dress.
Steven couldn’t gasp out the allurement you had on him when you pressed your palm to his cheek.
The tips of your long nails tickled the start of his hairline, and he inwardly groaned at the thought of you running your fingers through his curls and scratching at his scalp.
You were about to lean in when Steven painfully pulled away.
“Come on, darling. We’re gonna be late. Let me grab my jacket, and I’ll be good to go.”
A serpentine hiss escaped from your deep red lips, something Steven thankfully missed.
“I’ve been thinking of skipping. Let’s just have a night in.”
Steven looked at you with that wide-eyed lost puppy look.
“Don’t be silly, darling. I can’t wait for them to mistake you as the painting with how gorgeous you look.”
It was only until the elevator ride down did Marc and Jake yelled at him from the reflections over how he completely missed your invitation to stay in.
Marc Spector (would focus on the nails)
Would be very snarky about them at the beginning.
“How can you even hold a paintbrush with those? Much less your tenegre swords?”
In between missions, you may have to replace your nails, quite often, but with you kept them as long as you could…
… and sometimes even enough to inflict serious damage.
Bakunawa is a very proud deity, sometimes rivaling Khonshu if you would ignore the self-righteousness.
His prideful serpent-like behavior rubbed off on you by killer outfits and makeup that often resemble the scales that grew a place in your heart over the past months.
Maybe the outfits and makeup you saved on special occasions, but the nails were a constant.
Marc would never admit it, but he loves it when your nails change very often.
It reminds him how beautiful you are but can also be lethally dangerous.
The first time he found out about your frequent trips was when he went on a frenzy looking all over for you in London.
You mentioned you would be at the art studio that day, but the old man there said it was your day off.
Why would you lie?
Did Harrow’s crazy disciples find you again? What if it was someone from your village who managed to track you down?
But no.
You were chatting and giggling with a nail aesthetician who you were talking with in your native tongue at a high-end salon in downtown London.
You specifically turned to her because she was the Crawley to your Steven, and not many people in London would notice your incessant babbling over your three boyfriends… and your girlfriend who is always away on business trips.
Marc wanted to be mad, but he could settle being annoyed for now.
He knew why you lied. It was now his chance to be honest about it.
About how you actually looked hot with those nails.
How he was happy for you that you had some semblance of self-care after you go on missions with him and Khonshu.
Maybe he’ll tell you those words later.
Or maybe not.
“Was that your boyfriend just now?”
You smiled and continued to glance at him walking away and back down the street from the mirror.
“Yep. He’s just being a worry-tart. Always.”
“What design are we going for this week?”
“Something white and gold. Maybe a lunar design.”
Jake Lockley (would notice your makeup)
Jake is obsessed with your body, especially your face.
He could stare at your eyes for forever if he could.
One of his favorite moments are mornings after you stay the night.
He would just watch you from across the bed doing your makeup while holding a handheld mirror.
Jake offered once to hold the mirror for you.
You ended up being late for a meeting with your client because he became a little too distracting with all his eye-fucking staring.
He knows you love glitter and how you never skip on putting shimmers.
And he knows you know that he absolutely loves when you go out with the body glitters and chunky glitters.
Jake loves when your scales from Bakunawa’s iridescent armor emerge and shimmer into an array of colours under the lights.
Something about the power and confidence it holds.
It makes him want to worship you more than he already does.
So when you try to replicate that look during fancy galas, it would take all of his self-control to keep his hands on the wheel when he drives you both to the venue.
However, when the event is over, it’s all fair game.
You would be his own personal art show.
Because that is what you are to Jake.
Something to be revered, a feast for the eyes, art.
Often times, Jake wouldn’t even do anything but just hold you – skin-on-skin contact.
As the protector alter, Jake was often stern and always on alert.
But with you in his arms, all the tension in his body leaves by staring at something so beautiful as you.
a/n: heh. i'm back, and still here with the irregular updates. the written chapter is taking longer because my indecisive ass keeps adding more and more stuff. i initially planned to split it into two, but the flow would get messed up, so i thought "why not introduce our good ol' cab driver first instead?". might as well get the introductions out of the way first before i dive into heavy au narrative storyline.
Prev: III. Marc pt.3 | Next: IV. Jake pt.2 | AU Masterlist
warnings: jake "the simp king" lockley origin story; extremely short update; one-way pining; spoilers for this au(?) if you squint; non-canon Philippine mythology; non-canon depiction of babaylans (Filipino shamans)
When you first met Jake, it wasn’t his first time seeing you.
He had always caught glimpses of you when you were chasing Marc all over Cairo on Layla’s behalf.
Marc would always front back before he took a good look at you.
Then Harrow, now Ammit’s Avatar, almost killed Marc.
He had no choice but to front.
… and there you were.
There was no way for you, and even Layla, to know he wasn’t Marc.
So, he took his time looking at you.
He thought you were the absolute sight.
An unstoppable force that couldn’t be contained but should be revered, feared, worshiped.
Jake was completely aware that his system’s relationship with Khonshu, especially Marc's, caused hostility between you and them.
Yet it didn’t spark any protectiveness in him.
No, not like Harrow’s disciples.
He was aware that you couldn’t help it as much as him forcibly fronting whenever those two idiots got themselves in mortal danger.
You, you were different.
While Marc tried his damnest to keep himself away from you, Jake wanted to answer to whatever calls their body to you.
And now, seeing you, in full-serpent armored form, perfectly wielding Bakunawa’s power, thanks to Khonshu shining the moon on full-blast, Jake felt the complete force of his attraction to your sublimity.
Unfortunately, he had to recede as soon as Harrow was incapacitated.
The next time Jake fronted was when Khonshu called upon him.
The Cairo incident had been weeks ago, and he noticed that he was back in the London flat.
You’re going to have to rescue an old friend of ours.
a/n: okay, anyone still here? *echoes* no one? that's cool. i turned back on my word again and not only updated really late but still haven't finished this part of the story. i know all of you are just eager to see jake at this point.
i tried. really. had an outline and everything to get on track, but still managed to pull out 6k words. there isn't even a lot of moon bois here, but on the final part (FINAL I SWEAR), more moon bois. enough of my bullshit. lmao.
still, i managed to really love writing this massive boi. very heavy on philippine mythology here, and i definitely mixed each region deities on purpose. don't come at me for that.
Prev: Breaking the Curse (pt. 1) | AU Masterlist
warnings: ANGST; betrayal/stabbing people in the back (and front); violence/death; steven hate crime; marc needs a hug; non-canon Philippine mythology; non-canon depiction of babaylans (Filipino shamans); messed-up narcissistic gods; exposition in Bakunawa's mind palace; lost memories, memory loss
“Oh, God, there’s another one,” Marc groaned, while you pointed out, “There’s two of you?”
“Love!” Steven exclaimed and pulled you into his arms, completely ignoring the golden-eyed look standing right in front of him. Then he gripped your shoulder and pulled you at arms’ length. “Wait, if you’re on board the Duat, that means…”
“She died too, Steven,” Marc said, still eyeing Bakunawa cautiously. “You were supposed to keep the ushabti and Layla safe. Now, she’s likely to be going on a suicide mission.”
“Why are you blaming me?” you snapped back. “You’re the one who tried to fight off Harrow without the suit.”
“Uh, guys?”
“Not now, puppy,” you said off-handedly then turned back to Marc. “Besides, I healed your dead body, so once I break the curse, I can send you back.”
“Uh, guys…?”
“Steven, the adults are talking,” Marc once again shushed Steven without sparing him a glance. “That’s what Steven and I are doing,” he pointed at the scales that were swinging from end to end. “Besides, what can that snake do anyway?”
“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “Bakunawa is a deity of the underworld,” you paused, glancing at the boat and the endless sea of sand off board. “Well, one of them anyway. I can get you back to the living, release him to his true form, and defeat Ammit if I break the curse.”
“Oh, because that’s definitely a piece of cake for you.”
“GUYS!”
“What?!” you and Marc chorused.
“Is that right?” Steven asked, pointing at the unnatural purple and golden sky. Somewhere far off, the golden patches started to glow brighter, sending off a rumbling noise. Well, shit.
“We’re running out of time. That’s not good,” you said, keeping the panic at bay.
“You know what that is?” Marc asked.
“First-generation gods,” Bakunawa sneered. “They know we’re here. We have to go now.”
“You think it’s them that did this?”
“No, but I know they’re not happy you’re trying to bring someone back to the living plane, including me,” Bakunawa cattily replied.
“We should all try to get back as quickly as possible then,” you said. You turned to Marc, tilting your head to the corner of the boat. “A word?”
Marc nodded and followed your lead while Steven gingerly stepped close to Bakunawa and tried to make small talk. “So… why do you have my face?” Unfortunately, his starter wasn’t strong and only made Bakunawa annoyed.
“I won’t be going back.”
It was definitely not what Marc expected because the shock was written all over his face. “But you just sa—”
“I know what I said,” you interrupted. “Summoning fallen deities are tricky. With Khonshu, he has the moon, but for beings like Ammit or Bakunawa… they need life, souls to be taken”
“You’re going to give him your body so he can reach his full form.”
“My body back there will be ripped apart by the transformation,” you said, “but… it’s the only way we have a shot defeating Harrow and Ammit. Bakunawa, you and Layla.”
“Do you think Steven should be the one to hear this?” Marc said.
You chuckled dryly. “He’s never going to let me do this. Besides, it’ll make goodbyes harder.”
“You’re not really giving him a chance to say it.”
“I know,” you said. “I’ve always been unfair to him, lied to him. I failed to protect him… and you. He deserves more than that.” Your eyes began stinging at the unshed tears pooling. “It’s too late anyway. I’m dead either way.” You quickly looked down to keep them out of Marc’s sight.
For the first time, Marc showed you comfort by cupping your face, lifting your head up. “Hey, hey,” he said. “We both failed. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for that.” His thumbs gently stroked away a couple of rogue tears that traitorously fell. “I’ve been hard on you. I’ve been unfair to you, and for what it’s worth, I see you.”
Behind tear-filled eyes, you stared up at Marc. Those last three words, you didn’t expect. It was true that he was hard on you, but you understood it as him being overly protective of Steven. You never blamed him for it. There was a tremendous amount of pain he was trying to hide from Steven – and even Layla – and you understood that, also lived by that.
It was those last three words that you truly understood Marc’s feelings for you. He wasn’t cross with you because he thought you were a danger to Steven — well, for the most part. Marc saw parts of himself in you. You both saw Steven as a reminder of your innocence, of what left was good in you, as someone you wanted to fiercely protect. While he couldn’t redeem himself what he done in his past, he wanted you to be at peace with yourself.
Anguish, love, regret, sadness – you saw it all and more in Marc’s eyes. This time, you held Marc’s face, finally seeing him beyond his rough-edged exterior, and he immediately leaned into your palms. You may not know what demons he has been facing, but the pain was all too familiar.
“I wish it was different,” you said, pulling him down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then on the crease between his furrowed brows, on the tip of his nose, before finally on his lips. Just a brief one but enough to make Marc sigh into your mouth, grab at your waist.
“Take care of Steven for me. Be happy. Patch things up with Layla, okay?” Reluctantly and almost painfully, you broke free from Marc’s hold and ran to the doors back inside the Duat.
“Love!”
You halted in your steps and looked back at Steven, looking scared and lost. You did that. Your bottom lip quivered at the thought of having to break his heart again. “Bye, Steven,” you said with a heart-wrenching smile before stepping through the doors.
The doors shut behind you and sent you in the middle of the woods again, only this time it was in the middle of the night with the full moon as your only source of light. You carefully treaded through towering balete trees and thick shrubbery trying to make sense of where you were going. Somehow, the trail was familiar, but the greenery was also different, much healthier, much more alive.
“Bakunawa!” you called out. You turned around to see the door you came from was now gone, and the deity didn’t seem to have followed you on your impulsive walk-out. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m going.”
As soon as you grumbled, your foot sank in a little stream. There was water nearby. Since you didn’t have much of a choice, you followed the water to wherever it may take you rather than walking around in circles in the woods.
At the edge of the tree line, you found yourself at the edge of a large body of water of two distinct shades – an estuary. A man was standing in the middle of the water basking himself in the moonlight. It was an ethereal sight.
The man didn’t look human. His long black hair was half submerged in the water, tinting it black as it flowed along the stream. The golden-lined teal robes he wore almost felt one with the water, yet the moonlight reflected off the material like iridescent scales. Finally, when he opened his eyes to follow a rustling sound from the other edge of the tree line, you almost gasped at the glowing serpentine eyes, golden as the threads on his robe.
It was Bakunawa, and you were in his memories.
Suddenly, a sharp whipping noise tore through the quiet wind, and an arrow struck Bakunawa through the shoulder. A loud monstrous scream broke out of his lips as he dove back into the water. A hooded archer from where you heard the noise ran to the shoreline, loading their bow again and aiming for the rippling of the water.
But the ripples calmed, and the water stilled.
Just like the calm before a storm, a loud splash burst out from the deep water and out emerged Bakunawa in his true dragon form. He was pissed. Definitely pissed. The archer wasn’t helping either as they continued to shoot at their deity, who now was soaring through the night sky and evading each arrow.
Bakunawa peaked from the sky, halted, before diving straight down, aiming for the archer. The offender decided to make a run for it but only made a few yards away from the tree-line. Bakunawa landed on the archer, pinning them to the ground with a giant claw.
“Foolish mortal,” Bakunawa spat out. “Why on earth do you try to take down a deity with no magic to defend yourself?” With his other claw, he crushed the bow that fell a few feet away from the archer during their attempted escape. “And you had to ruin my robes. Just when the night was so splendid.”
Realising that you weren’t going to be noticed, you stepped forward and out of hiding to get a closer look at Bakunawa and his attempted murderer. During their struggle, their cloak had come loose, and the hood fell away from their face. Gone was their ill-mannered attempt and was replaced with the panic of angering a deity. A man-eating one at that.
“Please,” a woman’s voice said. “I only wish to prove to my village that I am worthy despite being born without magic.”
Bakunawa scoffed, licking at his wounded shoulder before snarling at the woman. “And you thought a deity’s head would be a good idea instead of gaining a god’s blessing?”
“My prayers fall on deaf ears,” she said, almost spitefully. “They are left unanswered for years, while my younger sisters are abundantly blessed with magic.” Then she closed her eyes and laid back against the rocks, finally struggling no more. “You have already taken what has given me worth in my village,” she continued, referring to her now-crushed bow. “If you wish to devour me, I only ask you do it swiftly.”
Bakunawa opened his jaws, exposing rows of sharp teeth. He had seemed to show a sick enjoyment of the woman’s scared whimpers before he huffed and stepped away. “If you think your worth only lies on a measly little bow, you are a far pathetic hunter than I thought. Leave.”
The woman sat up, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She watched as Bakunawa curled his body in itself and continued to bask in the moonlight a few feet away from her but now rather uncomfortably. After a few seconds of collecting herself, the woman got to her feet and began picking up the broken pieces of her bow.
“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?!” Bakunawa snapped with an annoyed roar. “Leave it, and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
The woman jumped and dropped the pieces from being startled. She pulled the hood over her head and began to run back into the woods. However, she stopped behind a tree and lingered for a moment, her eyes watching the snoozing dragon carefully.
“That’s when I first met her.”
You jumped when a voice spoke from behind you. “Jesus, Bakunawa,” you cursed, seeing him now in his human form instead of being a Steven impostor. “Where have you been?”
“Same as you, watching.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” you asked.
Bakunawa was silent before he began walking away.
“Hey! Wait!” you called out, almost tripping over a fallen branch. You were more impressed how he managed to walk gracefully along the forest without stepping over his flowy robes. You kept a light jog trying to catch up with his pace, and when you returned back to the shoreline, you only wished you could throttle him for dragging you along in a circle. “We’re back to the estuary,” you panted. “Why?”
“The forest trails work differently in my mind. Just like one cavern in yours lead to somewhere unexpected,” Bakunawa explained, carefully watching the sky. It was still a full-moon, but the stars have changed. It was a different time, another memory.
“I… can’t seem to remember what happened before I was bound to you,” he said.
“But you knew her.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Everything I see, I know it happened,” he said, touching his shoulder, the same spot where the archer hit him, “yet I can’t recall it ever happening as if knowing and happening are now two different things.”
“Who is she to you?”
A growl rumbled in his chest, and scales began to emerge from underneath the back of his hands, a similar sight as you did whenever you were about to transform. Then he calmed, soothing his own breathing. He let out a defeated breath when his memories failed to help him.
“Mayari.”
You and Bakunawa turned back to the memory unfolding at the shoreline. The familiar hooded figure emerged from the tree-line, but instead of ill-intent, she approached the human-formed Bakunawa with a girlish demeanor. “You know who I am,” she said, smiling impishly.
“You have been coming to my resting place for days now.”
Mayari shrugged. “It’s close to my traps, and you gave me the good suggestion that I should gain the favour of a deity instead of resorting to murder,” she continued, “but I guess you can only come out during the full-moon.”
Bakunawa’s annoyed mask fell and an amused smirk graced his serpentine features. “A fellow god helps with the tides and opens the door for me to slip into this realm,” he explained briefly. “The full-moon gives him more power during this time.”
“Do you have powers?” Mayari asked, then smiling sheepishly when Bakunawa flashed her an offended look. “Other than turning into a beast, of course.”
Bakunawa hummed in thought. “If you sing for me, I’ll show you a trick.”
“Sing? A song?”
“Music and any beautiful sounds are my joy,” Bakunawa stated proudly. While waiting for her to sing, Bakunawa waded in the water and basked himself under the moonlight again. It was as if he bathed in the moonlight rather than the water itself.
Mayari followed him but stopped at where the sand met the water. She carefully removed her footwear before submerging her feet in the wet sand. She cleared her throat before humming what you recognized as a lullaby. It had no words, but the melody you knew by heart.
It was the lullaby your mothers sang to you.
The same lullaby Yatzil sang to calm Bakunawa back in Cairo.
At the end of Mayari’s song, a soft calmed smile was present on Bakunawa’s lips. He had other mortals sing songs to him over the centuries to gain favours from him. Yet, he appreciated the sincerity of this particular mortal, even though she was also trying to earn some kind of blessing. Also, it wasn’t that often that mortals placed aside their fear and had the audacity to shoot at him with a tiny arrow.
“Follow me.”
Mayari looked apprehensive at the deity’s offer. There was no light, and even at a low tide, the water was still deep and terribly cold. Even if she took his hand, he could pull her down to drown and be devoured.
As if sensing all her worries, the water that only reached her ankles receded, and soon the rest of the water parted to form a path. The brisk night wind slowed to a gentle breeze and brought in a light posse of fireflies. Further along the water where the bugs couldn’t reach, the dark menacing water sparkled from a group of bioluminescent algae.
It was truly a sight to behold, and you thought it was something you heard in fairytales. You turned to the Bakunawa standing beside you and was surprised at the look on his face. Never before had you seen so much longing on the deity’s face before. Gone were his pride and bloodthirsty nature. All you saw was adoration and longing.
“You loved her,” you stated as a matter-of-fact, watching Mayari tentatively accept her Bakunawa’s hand and walk down the parted path he laid for her.
“That he did. What a fool…”
Both you and Bakunawa swiftly turned to the source of the voice. You were met with nothing but the balete trees. You could sense a presence there, but it was powerful enough to hide from you. Time was running out. You needed to find the god who did this and quick.
“Who was the god who let you slip through the realms?” you asked Bakunawa with urgency.
“Stupid girl, he already said who it was.”
You groaned in annoyance and whipped your head towards the trees again. “Who are you? Show yourself!” Your eyes focused on any slight movement on the trees, on every leaf, searching for anyone who was spying on you this entire time.
Snap.
Without hesitation, you burst into a sprint to the direction where you heard a twig snap. All you could see was bushes shaking and low branches swinging violently from the person avoiding you, but you have yet to see even a distinct shape to try and recognize who that was. A menacing laugh echoed through the wood as you felt the ground fall beneath you. You barely had time to catch yourself before you went tumbling down a steep hill.
You rolled down a few feet before your hand managed to grip a sapling to stop your fall. You grunted as you hoisted yourself back on your feet, panting from the wind knocked out of you. Damn it. You lost Bakunawa again, and you were most likely inside another memory.
“Are you okay being this far from the water?”
With the lack of choices on your hand, you followed Mayari’s voice instead and see what happens now. She had her hunting cloak on and was walking side by side with Bakunawa, still dressed in his teal and golden robes. In her hand was a different kind of bow, something that you have never seen before.
There was no doubt that Mayari received it as a gift from Bakunawa. It was metallic turquoise, a slight shade off from Bakunawa’s usual teal, but still obvious enough to know it was his. As you approached the pair, the bow had golden engraves of the moon cycle. A deity’s blessing.
“This island floats right above the estuary, and all these trees contain magic for all anitos. I can be summoned anywhere if needed be.”
“With your god friend’s permission,” Mayari added as a matter of fact.
Bakunawa nodded.
“What is it like in your realm? Is it up there? Or beneath the water?”
“You are quite the curious mortal, Mayari,” Bakunawa said with a sly smile. “I am forbidden to reveal such things by the gods, but… let’s just say that when your final breath is released, we shall once again meet in my realm through your kalag, your soul.”
You raised your brow at that. You knew that Bakunawa had ties to the underworld, but that narrows your guesses now to just two gods.
“Find anything?”
“Jesus!” you jumped again, your heart doing a complete somersault when your Bakunawa suddenly appeared behind you.
“Wrong deity, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
You looked at Bakunawa unimpressed. “Did you at least recognize the creep watching us?”
“No, but whoever it is knows about the curse. Be on your guard.”
“Can’t we just wait for the first-generation gods? Have an audience with them like the Ennead.”
Bakunawa stared at you as if you had complete lost your head. “That family has no time to listen to the accounts from a lesser deity such as myself as much as that wounds my pride,” he said. “Vain, self-important bastards, the lot of them.”
“Like you’re the one to talk,” you rolled your eyes at them.
“Trust me, child, you haven’t met a god until you met Kaptan or his family.”
“You think the god of all gods did this?”
“No, but I’m sure he is complacent about this whole ordeal.”
“’Vain, self-important?’ You hurt my feelings, old friend.” A voice whispered through the wind.
Someone was definitely out there toying with you, and you didn’t have time for it. People were dying by the second, and you were still stuck with figuring out this curse. You didn’t know if your powers worked in Bakunawa’s mind palace, but you were sick of playing along with their games.
“Show yourself. Come out!”
Suddenly, it felt like everything stilled. The wind was silent, and even the wildlife in the forest cease to make noises. The only sound that was heard were the crunching of your feet on the ground as you carefully stepped back closer to Bakunawa.
“Please… don’t hurt me.”
What the…?
“Bakunawa, why is there a child here?”
The child looked no more than ten, and there was no doubt that this child was not of this world either. His silver-white hair contrasted with his warm brown skin, paired with a set of golden eyes that shined with a richer luster than Bakunawa’s. He was clothed in traditional Filipino loincloth, but the material was almost sparkling white lined with gold that flowed like moonlight even under the morning light.
“How did you get here?” you asked, sensing uneasiness the longer you were with this unknown child.
“I’m scared,” he whimpered.
Bakunawa took a hesitant step forward to approach the child, but you reached out for the sleeve of his robe to stop him. Instead, you spoke, your voice seeping with magic, “Come forward, child.”
The child stopped his pitiful noises and looked straight at Bakunawa, ignoring your magic and presence overall. “I can’t move,” he said, his words almost seeming like a challenge than words of helplessness. “Please come closer.”
“Don’t,” you whispered to the deity. “We don’t what he is.”
“He’s a child,” Bakunawa stated the obvious.
“And you just said to be on our guard,” you reminded him. “My magic isn’t working on the child, and you’re cursed.”
“Maybe magic doesn’t exist here.”
Out of blue, the child stomped his foot like he was pulling a tantrum for being ignored even for a few seconds. “Both of you are no fun,” he pouted.
“Who are you?” Bakunawa asked, and his question only seemed to irk the child even more.
“You seriously don’t remember me?” the child spat out, now slowly approaching us. The menacing and spiteful look in his eyes were enough warning signals for you and Bakunawa take steps back to every step forward he took. “I guess that curse really did a number on you.”
“Wha—”
“Shut up!” the child snapped at you. His voice alone sent a blast of sharp wind on you. You reached for your cheek, and when you drew back your hand, your fingertips were streaked with blood. “I should destroy you for even trying to use your inferior magic towards a god.”
Then the child looked up at the morning sky as if the sunlight was a mere inconvenience to him. “Let’s change things up, shall we?” he tutted. With a wave of his hand, the sun quickly set and was replaced by the moon, and when you laid your eyes back on him, it was as if the child grew older by a decade.
“Mm, much better, is it not?” the god hummed, running his slender fingers on the fabric of his vest.
“Libulan,” was the only name that left your lips.
The god smiled smugly, looking impressed but only felt condescending for you. “So, you aren’t totally stupid,” he said. “What gave it away other than it being obvious?”
“But why?” You tried to ask before Bakunawa cut you off. “You were the one helping me pass through realms. You took me here and brought me back.”
“That, I did,” Libulan confirmed, a haughty laugh escaping him. “You’d be surprised how amusing it was seeing you struggle in the mortal realm for centuries. It’s like watching a headless chicken running loose in a labyrinth.”
You sneered at him, something that the god didn’t take lightly. Bakunawa was not joking. This particular god had an insane ego. “You could’ve just left the door closed and left him here. Why curse him?”
Libulan’s face turned even more sour the moment you spoke to him. “Lower deities are mere playthings to gods as much as mortals are,” he said. “But,” he continued, “my mother thought otherwise. Always fascinated with pretty things, that one.”
“Does the goddess of the sea know that her son is a little psychopath?” Bakunawa asked off-handedly, aware that his aloofness would piss off Libulan more than any spiteful tone.
Except the moon god only smiled bitterly. “Okay,” he clapped, “since I’m feeling generous, I’ll throw you a bone… a fish? Were you a dragon or a snake? I can’t remember.”
You rolled your eyes, and yet, you had no choice but to play along. Your best and only option was to let this asshole gloat and gloat until you can catch him off-guard.
“I’ll grant you your memories back,” Libulan declared, the sinister smile still plastered on his beautiful face. “I admit, casting away your memories were a little overkill from those witches I blessed to take you out.” He approached Bakunawa, who shielded you from the mad god by pulling you behind him.
The protective gesture was not left unnoticed by Libulan. The god sneered and gripped the Bakunawa’s face. “You are going to enjoy this, brother.” Wisps of moonlight began seeping from the god’s fingertips as his eyes glowed white, similar to Marc and Steven when they were wearing Khonshu’s ceremonial armor.
The moment Libulan let go, Bakunawa fell to the ground like a stack of bricks. It only took a few seconds for him to recover and get back on his feet. “Me… You… We grew up as brothers,” he said, his voice wavering from the bombarding wave of returning memories. “I cared for you.”
Libulan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And yet, you betrayed me!” he shouted, sending gusts of wind blowing from every direction. “You were willing to stay here for your disgusting mortal who didn’t even have magic! You were going to leave me!” The wind grew stronger as his voice rose to a crescendo from every word.
All of his calm, menacing demeanor was now replaced with pure unadulterated rage.
“So, you blessed Mayari’s sisters to destroy me?”
“Wasn’t the first time I did it, and it won’t be the last.” Libulan conjured out a weapon, a spear that resembled closely to Khonshu’s crescent moon staff but slimmer and was bladed on both ends. With undeniable grace and ease, he struck down Bakunawa with the flat side of the blade. “You underestimate the greed of these humans. You didn’t even realise that your favour towards Mayari sowed discord in her family. If we’re being honest here, this whole thing was your fault.
“I’m sure your pathetic little host understands that better than you do,” he laughed at you. “Your village elders were so willing to accept my blessing just to put a little handicap on you,” he said, referring to Bakunawa unconscious on the ground. “Pity they tried to go against my back. When I told them to kill you with Bakunawa inside you, they tried to take all your powers instead. They had to go. All of them.”
Libulan aimed the spear at you. “That includes you.” Then he scoffed distastefully, “Oh, please, there’s no need for the scared doe-eyed look. Did you really think you and a fallen deity could defeat a god?” His eyes glowed white again as you felt the air leaving your lungs. “Think of it this way. I’m just cleaning house. That includes you. It was fun watching Bakunawa for the first few hundred years, but you,” he spat. “You just had to stick your nose on things that aren’t yours, just like that mortal Mayari.”
The moment Mayari’s name left Libulan’s lips, Bakunawa’s taloned hand shot up and grabbed the spear, pulling it out of the god’s grasp when he was unguarded. “Enough.” Bakunawa rose to his feet, his hands still gripped firm on the spear. He didn’t look angry or upset at his brother.
Bakunawa looked weary.
“Haven’t you done enough? You’ve killed people, destroyed families, tempted them through their greed. You were supposed to protect them.”
There was nothing else you could do but stare as they both straightened up for a fight. It was over. There was no way you or Bakunawa can win against a god who was powered by his wrath. All Bakunawa could do was prolong what time you had left before Libulan would strike both of you down and destroy your souls, leaving you far, far away from eternal peace.
The only way to defeat a god… was to summon another god.
You panicked at the thought. There was no way to ensure that whoever you’ll summon would be a friend, but with each passing second, Libulan grew closer to gaining back his weapon, overpowering Bakunawa who was barely standing his ground. You didn’t even have anything to call out a god in the afterlife.
Unless you called a god who was already here.
“Taweret!”
In an instant, you fell through a door and found yourself back on the deck of the Duat. The hippo goddess peered down at you from where you were lying on the floor and waved. “That didn’t go well as planned, was it?”
You jumped to your feet. “Steven,” you said. “Where’s Steven and Marc?”
“Oh, dear, you’ve missed a lot,” Taweret chirped. “They’re back. Back to the living realm. You certainly made it easier by healing his body before you followed. Smart one, aren’t you?”
“Not that smart, I suppose,” you muttered mostly to yourself. “I left Bakunawa in there to fight a crazy god.” You stared at the doors leading back inside the Duat.
“Mhmm, he's barely holding on. I see everything that happens in my boat,” Taweret informed you, “but unfortunately, as much as I want to help you, I cannot fight deities from other realms.” With a remorseful tone, she continued, “I can give aid to them, but I can never directly harm them. It’s kind of an unspoken rule between us gods.”
“Then you know other gods who can. Gods from his realm,” you said, unable to stop thumping your foot against the wooden floorboards from the raw urgency flowing through your veins. “Please, Taweret, I don’t have much time.”
“There is one. A god from the underworld realm,” Taweret trailed off. “It was quite the scandal, and quite the subject of gossip even for gods in other realms.”
“Yes?” Your foot never ceased its incessant tapping and only increased rapidly as the goddess fell into a tangent of gossip.
“I don’t know if he would come. Details come fuzzy as they travel through realms, like a bad game of telephone. Last time I heard he was sleeping inside a mountain.”
“A mou— you just told me he’s a god of the underworld.”
“Yes, well, he’s quite fascinated with you mortals as well, albeit quieter and tends to keep to himself. So, he keeps himself near his own little portal.” Suddenly, her face looked very distracted. You stared at her for a brief moment until she snapped back. “Oh, dear,” she said without leaving room for context. “My dear, I can try to summon him, but he wants to keep hidden… Well, Layla needs my help.”
“Wait, are you bailing on me?”
“Ta-ta!”
What the fuck just happened?
You heard rustling from the corner of the boat, catching your attention. When you turned to look, you found out that your situation was about to get worse. You sighed and grabbed a wooden plank from a corner, ready to bash in some sand zombies.
You were definitely fucked, but you weren’t going without a fight.
“I’ve been possessed, shot, and beat up by a manchild god,” you spat out, gripping the narrow plank tight between your hands. “Try me because I am so fucking pissed right now.”
“As expected of Bakunawa’s host.”
The zombies slowed in their steps and titled their disfigured bodies down, almost like a bow. However, you turned to whoever was behind you and began poking at their chest with your wooden weapon.
“I am so sick with you gods just appearing out of nowhere from behind,” you complained, more exasperated than angry. “Can’t you just face us right ahead? Is this some kind of complex I don’t know about?”
Finally getting all of your frustrations out, you looked up and paled at the god in front of you. Dressed in black lined with deep dark gold loincloth, the god’s body made out of wood, a mix of dark and red wood with notches all over him that could easily be mistaken for scratches or scars. Standing three heads taller than you, he looked down on your short figure while you tried to decipher what he was thinking when his face was nothing but an empty wooden mask with glowing purple eyes.
However, you couldn’t even call him plain. No, not with those wooden horns that almost seem to fan out like branches. Each branch was different and never the same, one had spiked ends, the other had the tiniest of green leaves, while another had delicate flowers.
The groaning from the sand zombies caught your attention again, and you gripped your plank defensively in case they would try and approach you again.
“Leave.”
At the god’s command, the zombies collapsed into a pile of sand, but before they could hit the wooden floor, the sand dispersed into a kaleidoscope of black butterflies. An eerie but beautiful sight.
It also told you everything you needed to know about the god. Ten horns, the notches that signified the life of each mortal, the butterflies. You knew exactly who he was.
“Sidapa, god of death.”
“Indeed,” Sidapa said, gesturing to the notches on his body. He gestured to a particular notch on his chest. “You went far too early, I see, and strayed over to the Egyptian gods’ afterlife. Odd.” He continued, “So, why did Taweret summon me to the Duat? To give you another chance? Bring you to our afterlife?”
“I want you to help me free Bakunawa’s curse.”
Sidapa’s face grew grim for a moment as he took in my request. “What can you offer me to face Libulan again?”
“’Again’?” you echoed. “So, you know about the curse? About Libulan being…?”
“The moon god has a fascination with gods and deities associated with death,” Sidapa explained. “When he isn’t the center of attention… well, look what he did to me.” He gestured to himself.
“You’re… cursed too?” you asked carefully.
“Not necessarily.” Sipada looked away. “I didn’t use to be associated with death.” Then he shook his head as if trying to break free from painful memories. “But that’s a story for another day,” he said. “Right now, I know you need my help. Not for me, but for… whatever is going up there.”
“I thought gods from other realms aren’t supposed to meddle in other gods’ business.”
“You’re the one borrowing my blessing, child,” Sidapa pointed out. “I should be asking you if you’re prepared for the possible consequences of your actions.”
“I have no choice,” you shrugged, trying not to look as terrified as you felt. “Steven is out there and needs my help. Ammit is out there killing innocents by the thousands. Bakunawa needs me; he needs peace for what Libulan did to him.”
“And you understand what you’re giving up to free him? You will be destroyed, body and soul,” he reiterated. “I can offer you Paradise right now. You have suffered enough on a childish fight between gods.”
You hesitated for a moment. Sidapa was already here, offering you an out. You wondered if Taweret knew about the dilemma of what you were about to face, if she was aware of what you really wanted. After all these years, you desperately wanted peace. You didn’t even know what it felt like, and now, you have the chance to take it.
“I see you.”
And yet… it wouldn’t be fair to them. To Steven, to Marc, to Layla, to Bakunawa. To your beloved mothers.
“Take my soul. Bakunawa can have my physical body once he’s free.”
A kaleidoscope of black butterflies swallowed you whole until everything else was dark.
The Flight Risk (Marc Spector x Bakunawa!Reader Intro pt.1)
a/n: obligatory shirtless marc gif for what lies ahead
i actually had fun and laughed at myself writing this. shit's about to get real in the next part, but i haven't written it yet. i'm also going on a trip, so... that update is a lot unsure. i'll try to stick to the usual wednesday, 9am pht.
Prev: II. Layla pt.2 | Next: III. Marc pt.2 | AU Masterlist
warnings: violence (mentioned); swearing; non-canon Filipino mythology; marc being a grumpy eagle; reader thirsting for marc for ten (10) seconds
“No.” “Yes.” “No.” “YES.”
“No!” You yelled at Layla as soon as you got to the airport exit.
“You can find Marc way faster than me. Just make sure he doesn’t get himself killed while I reacquaint myself with some old friends.”
You looked at her unimpressed. Not counting the fact that you did not know Marc at all, you were very wary over the fact that there was strong deity magic at play all over Cairo.
You weren’t going to disturb another one.
“Just two days. And I’ll call you every day.” She slipped a burner phone in your jacket pocket. “I promise.”
Sigh. You relented.
Layla was right.
You found Marc staying at a shoddy inn within a couple of hours.
You knocked and waited for a good ten minutes at his door before it opened.
Dear Lord.
Steven – or rather, Marc drunkenly swayed at the door, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
You knew you felt some muscle when you snogged Steven a couple times, but you didn’t expect him to actually look like he did before you.
An annoyed grunt pulled you out of your staring.
“Oh, hi, Marc.”
SLAM!
You knocked incessantly at his door, until it angrily swung open the second time.
“What?!”
“I can help you find Harrow.”
Now, you sat in his messy room, glass strewn across the floor from a broken mirror that was hastily covered by a blanket.
“Well?”
You clicked your tongue behind your teeth before you shushed him.
“This is a waste of time. Get out. Go home.”
You glared at him. If it weren’t for Layla…
“Harrow has powers that shields him from Bakunawa’s sight, but he’s here.”
“No shit. Do you even know how big Cairo is?”
Your eyes flash topaz as you hissed at him. “Careful, mortal.”
You slam your fist on the floor, pushing Bakunawa back down, then rose to your feet.
“Get dressed. There’s a guy who knows something about a dig site. That’s a start.”
Then the idiot left you in the middle of the road half an hour later.
“Layla, your husband is a fucking flight risk.”
“Get used to it. I’m a little busy tracing an old collector friend. Just find him again.”
“What am I? A bloodhound?”
Two hours later, you were at a cliff, not far from the city.
Ah, the little serpent has found you once again.
You desperately tried to ignore the bodies littered across the ground, keeping your eyes on Marc, yet the smell of blood was taking over your attention.
“I’m guessing you missed the information about the dig site?”
That got me a chuckle from ol’ Grampa Crow.
“Why don’t you play with your little rocks and be some help in finding Ammit, huh?”
“So, now you’re willing to have me stick around and not leave me in the middle of the road to go on a murder spree?”
“Hey, I did not do this,” Marc pointed a finger in your face.
“Sure, they all stabbed each other and dropped dead,” you rolled your eyes and shoved his hand away, but not before you noticed the open cut on his arm.
You took a bottle of water from your bag and poured it over his arm.
“You just got my jacket and jeans we—” “Shush.”
You covered the wound with your hand, summoning the strength of any nearby Diwata for their healing powers. Your hands briefly glowed an icy blue before it faded into Marc’s cut, sealing it shut and leaving his arm good as new.
“The armour could’ve fixed that easily.”
Wow, he’s an asshole. Just like his master, the sand Diwata scoffed, unknown to Marc, before vanishing back into its realm.
Tell me about it.
Since Marc was being difficult, you turned to Khonshu instead. “Any better ideas? It seems like even Harrow’s followers are shielded from any form of divination.”
“What about the other gods? Are they just gonna stand by and allow somebody to unleash Ammit?” To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath.
“Can we trust the old bird?” you turned slightly to mumble to Bakunawa.
Khonshu and his Avatars have not fared well to any gods, deities, and other Avatars for the past centuries. I suggest we go back to London.
You rolled your eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t you being moon-hungry talking?”
If I wanted the moon, I could’ve easily taken over your body and slit your wimp’s throat to draw out the bird.
“Try to keep it family friendly, why don’t you?”
Suddenly, it was quiet, and you could feel the wind change.
You turned to Marc and Khonshu.
“What did you do?” “What are you doing?”
Sending the gods a signal they can’t ignore.
You felt the familiar movement of Bakunawa under your skin, tattoos moving like scales.
When you looked up at the sky, it was a solar eclipse.
“No! What did you do?!” Your voice began blending between yours and Bakunawa’s.
“Hey, what’s happening?” Marc grasped your biceps, which only caused searing pain even on your clothed skin.
He immediately let go of you, and for a moment, the concern in his eyes almost made you mistake him for Steven.
“No,” you panted. “Go. You need… to go… now. While I can… still control him.”
I suggest you do as the little serpent says, Marc.
“Shut up, you worthless god!”
Your outburst suddenly changed Marc’s stance. He now looked more alert, defensive.
