#moonknight system x reader

[spacecowboyhotch]

NOISE with any member of the system, and make it dirtyyyyy 😏😏😏

White Noise

summary: when Steven hears a sound in the night, he thinks he’s coming to your rescue.

pairing: afab!reader x steven grant (mentions of marc and jake)

contents: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, reader listening to spicy audios, masturbation, embarrassment, kissing, fluff, get together

wc: 1k

an: here you are my loveee, i hope you enjoy this. it turned a little softer than I’d anticipated but i see potential for something a little spicier in the future 😏😏. also yes reader is listening to a quinn audio, @/quinn SPONSOR ME. (banner below is @cafekitsune)

sumner blurbs masterlist | moonknight masterlist

Steven is a light sleeper. Marc could sleep through a nuclear war, and Jake…well he hardly ever sleeps. But, Steven stirs at the softest of sounds.

It’s not often these days that the system switches without permission, especially not in the middle of slumber, but while Marc has fallen asleep earlier in the night it’s Steven who wakes to this noise in the middle of the night.

Despite its obvious disruption the noise is soft, a simple hum that comes from the shared drywall between your room and his. The next sound is a little louder— it comes from your mouth, he’s sure. A muffled cry, one that has his heart racing and his worry up.

He jumps out of bed with grace— a grace he’s still growing accustomed to. That and the other to men in his head, the old pigeon that rules parts of their lives. He slips into the hallway, starting the short walk to your room. As he gets closer the sounds get clear, louder.

Are you crying? Did you hurt yourself? Or watch another sad romance film that brought you to tears?

Yes, as he gets closer the sounds do get clearer— especially to Marc. His mind always goes straight to the gutter with you even though he tries his best to be respectful. But he’s imagined what you would sound like during sex time and time again and right now, you sound pretty close to the edge. Where he wants to lead you over and over.

Wait Steven, Marc calls out in the headspace but it’s too late.

He’s opened the door, and his eyes find you immediately. He opens his mouth to say something but it dies in his throat at the sight of you splayed out in bed.

The moonlight must be made for you, the way it feels like a spotlight, lighting up your skin. His eyes slowly travel down your body, drinking in every detail about you.

There’s a white set of overhead earphones on your head, your eyes squeeze shut as you moan softly. It must be the reason why he could hear you, the reason you haven’t moved yet to yell at him. You’re in an oversized t-shirt that’s seen much love— it would go down your knees if it wasn’t currently scrunched up at your belly. Like this he has a view that has only ever lived in his dreams, in their dreams, Marc and Jake’s too. They can all deny it to each other all they want, but at the end of the day they share a brain. And though they’d all discovered it differently, they all share a deep desire for you.

God, he shouldn’t be doing this. He should close his eyes right now and walk back into his room. Apologize to you and forget this ever happened. He’s about to do just that when you whimper his name. His eyes fly to your own once more, he’s sure he’s caught now but your eyes are still closed.

Are you…thinking of him? Getting yourself off and thinking of him? The idea has his knees weak.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Steven,” You whine, back arching as you reach the peak of pleasure. He can see the your slick on the head of the vibrator, and reflexively licks his lips.

There’s no mistaking it now. You’re thinking of him, cumming and thinking of him. He shifts on his feet, all too aware of how hard he is right now. It seems Marc and Jake are nowhere to be found, they must be in just as much shock as he is.

You shriek, sitting up and covering yourself, the moment causing your headphones to fall off your head. “What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Steven’s cheeks burn, turning a bright red as he stumbles over his words, “I—I’m sorry, I— you— I thought you were crying and I— I should go.”

“You thought I was crying?”

“Well, yeah, I sort of…heard you whimper and I thought you might need some…comforting. But that is obviously not the case, you’ve just taken quite good care of yourself,” He says, wincing as he regrets the words immediately.

“That’s um, that’s sweet of you. Did you— you heard I imagine.”

“Heard? Oh, um, not if you didn’t want me to. I’ll change my name. Actually, I don’t even have a name anymore. Taken care of,” He jokes, fiddling with his fingers.

“I’ve made things so awkward, I’m sorry. I know it’s not like that for you. For any of you.”

“You think…you think we don’t feel the same?” He asks incredulously.

You stare back at him, completely confused. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Your mouth opens to ask but nothing comes out, your throat dry.

“You drive us mad, love,” He says once he realizes that you won’t speak.

Jake and Marc immediately start to protest, but what’s done is done. There’s some twinkle in your eye, a glimmer of hope that what Steven says is true. And while this is scary for all of them, when met with the thought of rejecting you, neither of them could stomach it.

“Really?”

“Really. Can I?” He points to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, uh, sure,” You awkwardly move your vibrator and phone to the nightstand to clear some room for him.

He comes to sit, not too far but near enough to reach your hand, squeezing it, “I know we’ve skipped quite a bit on the standards of dating. The whole living together, and well now this. And I know there’s…three of us but would you—“

“Yes,” You say easily, not letting him finish.

He chuckles, “I haven’t even asked completely, love.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’d do anything with you.”

Your words warm him from the inside out, breeding confidence. He cups your cheek, leaning forward to press his mouth to yours in a sweet, tentative kiss. You melt against him, hand raising to rest over his own. He smells good, like pine and citrus and the feeling of his lips against yours makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I’m sorry that I walked in on you like this,” He mumbles into your mouth through a smile.

You lean back, a wide grin on your face as you shake your head a little, “I’m not.”

[ronn-uuu]

Stay up for me?

I made a part 2 for y’all bitches!! 😁 I hope you y’all enjoy!! 🫶🏾

|Part 1|

Summary: It’s been 4 weeks since the music incident with Steven. You’ve been trying to talk to your neighbor(s) to befriend ‘him’ but he’s never there. One day you hear him through the walls one night and decide this is your chance.

Pairing: Marc x Reader (heavily), Steven x reader and Jake x reader.

You were laying on your bed with your phone in hand reading some random stuff (like you are now.) trying to cure some sort of boredom or need inside of your chest. Your mind wondered onto the neighbor, the one you met about a month ago, you kinda wanted to see him again. Your attempts to talk to him always failed. He was never home and when he was you were out. One time you passed him without realizing it, he was leaving and you were heading to your Flat. You walked right past him no words at all. You didn’t realize he might be your neighbor until you were trying to fall asleep.

You huffed in embarrassment, you really missed your chance and you don’t know when—

Muffled speaking cut your self loathing. You looked at the wall next your bed, waiting to see if you were just hearing things.

“We need to talk to Khonshu about these hell of hours, yeah?” Muffled through the thin wall. It took you 5 seconds to hop off your bed put some pants on, slip your fluffy boots on, and clean yourself up in the mirror. It was embarrassing how quickly you changed emotions, your looks and self esteem just for a guy who knocked on your door a month ago. Though you didn’t care, you wanted to finally speak to him. The very pretty Steven Grant was home and you just had to shoot your horrible shot.

You closed your front door and walked next door. Your heart was going so fast and I you were literally beaming, like a kid who just got praised for something. You knocked softly after fixing your hair one last time.

Marc was currently in control, he got them home and cleaned them up. The month after meeting you was full of them running around meeting up with Layla, protecting people, artifacts, and people. Their sleep schedule was totally fucked, once steven finally fell asleep and in the same minute Jake woke up and went out to go fight crime. They had an altar meeting after waking in a dark alley bloody, bruised and still in the suit.

Marc sighs as he feeds Gus 2.0 since Steven will never let Marc get away will killing the original Gus. Just when he was beginning to start his horrendous sulking he heard a knock.

“Who could be awake at this hour?” Steven questioned.

“Who knows,” Jake replied. Marc walked towards the door and opened it. None of them would have thought it would be the pretty neighbor from next door, Marc should have given the body to Steven but Marc didn’t give him an ounce of control. His eyes racked over your frame. You looked so snug in that fluffy faux fur jacket and those fluffy boots, he couldn’t help but think you looked cute.

“Hey Steven!” You exclaimed. You were excited to meet him again but hearing a name that wasn’t his but his altar’s made him jealous.

“Hey, it’s been awhile,” Marc says. You notice his accent was American, his features were more rougher, and he stood more confident than when you last saw him. Maybe it’s because last time you saw him, he was tired. But he changes accents when he’s tired…?? You shoved the thought of it down. Maybe he’ll tell you one day.

“Yes it has. I’ve been trying reach you for a while,” you admitted. Marc smiled, you we’re trying to reach them and it won't be the first and definitely not last time he cursed khonshu. He could have been spending his time with you but he knew deep down that lives would have lost so he kept the cures to a minimum.

“Really?” Marc smuggly asked. Steven was partying in their mind., their neighbor literally sought for them after the music incident. This was the close he got for someone showing interest in him. Jake praised him for it too.

“Yes, steven,” you said as you playfully roll your eyes. Marc would be lying if he didn’t say ant to tell you everything… First with his DiD. That he was Marc Spector and not Steven, but one thing held him back. Rejection. If you reject him even the slightest about his identity he’ll never feel alive again. His mind is already ‘broken’ enough.

"I should have asked this when I knocked on your door. What's your name, sweetheart?" Marc asked looking down at you. You smiled and told him your name before he parriot it back to you with such softness, like it was a delicate flower. Your eyes soften towards him, if he keeps saying your name like that you'll never let him go. Their mind was filled with steven and Jake repeating it.

“Hey I’m thinking of getting a late night snack… want to come?” You ask and ‘steven’ nods. You smiled widely that would have your cheek bones hurting for a bit.

[moonknightsonata]

Acts of Service

pairing: moon system x reader, marc x reader centered

summary: You learn Steven and Jake’s love languages quickly, Marc’s takes a little longer to realize but it doesn’t surprise you.

cw: not many, a brief non-explicit mention of sex, Marc getting anxious about your relationship

wc: 1199

a/n: Happy new year! This is not beta read, my first time writing for the moon boys and also my first time posting and sharing a fic in probably like 5+ years. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings, and let me know what you think! I tried keeping the reader as inclusive as I could, but please let me know if I slipped up with anything.

—

When you first started seeing the system, they all showed affection in similar ways. Holding hands, chaste kisses, flowers at the start of dates and walking you home at the end of them. They each had their own ways of going about it, but at the start all 3 of them were stereotypical in their affection.

Now, months later, you could easily tell each of the boy’s love languages.

Steven fluttered between quality time and words of affirmation. He was a romantic at heart, so in reality, he would do anything you asked of him, really. But you could tell he was happiest just being near you, telling you how much he loved you, and hearing the words in return.

Date night with Steven would be art galleries, museum tours, site seeing, or just walking around the markets hand in hand. Cafe’s and bookshops for rainy days, which there were plenty of in London, filled weekends with him where you could just sit in each other’s company and read besides one another.

Jake was the master of physical touch. You think it’s because he didn’t have as much time fronting as the other two, and his only physical touch with humans up until the three started getting along was when he took over the body in emergencies like in Cairo. When Jake was fronting, his hands were always on you.

Jake always had his arm on you when in public. Around your shoulder, or on your waist, he didn’t have a preference as long as he had you in his arm in some way. You liked to compare him to a livestock dog. Not like sheepdogs who herded them, but like a pyrenees that would fight a wolf off a lamb.

He was also the most handsy in the bedroom.

Marc took the longest to pinpoint his love language. Mostly due to the fact that he was the last to open up to a relationship with you.

You had met Steven first, dated Steven first, and then met Jake and Marc along the way. The relationship with Jake blossomed easily, but Marc still had walls he had built standing steady, that he wasn’t ready to break down yet. For a while even, you weren’t sure he liked you. After anxieties about it were aired out, Marc reassured you he did like you, he was “just shit at showing it” as he had put it. He hadn’t wanted to get close, mess things up with you and risk everything Steven and Jake had with you. That was the turning point for you and Marc’s relationship.

You thought it was behind you, until you noticed Marc’s odd behavior one day.

“Marc, baby, are you alright?” You asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he washed dishes.

“Hm?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, nodding as he kept his attention mostly on the pan he was scrubbing. “Yea, fine, why’d you ask?”

“Because you’ve been scrubbing that pan for about 10 minutes now. I think it’s clean.” You smiled softly, as his brow scrunched when he realized.

“Fine… yeah. I just… you know I love you?” He finished his sentence more like a question.

“Of course I know. I love you too.” You moved closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek to look him in the eyes. “What brought this about?”

“I don’t… I don’t say it enough. When we met you weren’t even sure I liked you, and now I don’t even say I love you as often as Jake or Steven do. So I just…” Marc lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand to his hair, pushing his curls out of his face as he steps away from you. You give him his space, you know when he needs it. To work out emotions without feeling suffocated or closed in.

“Just thought maybe you weren’t sure again.”

Marc avoids looking directly at your face as you look at his. You understand him, more than you probably know, which scares Marc. Not in a bad way, but scares him in a way he can’t believe there was someone out there who could.

Which is why what you say shouldn’t surprise him, but it does anyway.

“You don’t have to say it in the same way Steven or Jake do for me to know.” You start softly. “You have a different way of showing it, than they do.”

Marc’s eyebrows furrow, even more than the wrinkled brow he usually has.

He can only describe the look on your face that you give him as adoring, as you continue.

“The days that you front, you’re always up before me. Whether you’re an early riser or you never really fell asleep that night - you know exactly how to make my coffee in the morning and I always wake up to a cup made the way I like sitting on the counter waiting for me.

“I also know that it isn’t Jake who had my car’s oil changed, or the tires rotated a couple weeks ago.”

Marc shrugs at that one, mumbles something that you think is “That’s not a big deal.”

As you tell him all this, you can’t believe it took you this long to realize that Marc’s love language was acts of service. Because of course it was. Marc, the giver. Marc, who always felt he needed to prove his worth and make up for sins of his past, by any means necessary. Your Marc, who did so much for you without expecting a ‘thank you’ because that was how he showed he cared.

You kept going with more examples.

“Last week I forgot my umbrella and my lunch in the apartment and you came all the way to my job to drop them off for me.” You wrap your arms around Marc’s waist at this, resting your head against him in a hug.

“Or, when it’s cold, you always turn my heated blanket on the bed while I’m doing my night time routine, so that the bed is nice and warm by the time I climb in. And when -“ You could keep going, listing the things you notice Marc does for you, but he stops you with flushed cheeks.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I do a lot for you.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully as he wraps his arms around you to return the hug. “I like taking care of you.”

“You take care of me because you love me.”

Marc nods, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I do. I’m just sorry I don’t say it more.”

“I don’t need you to. It’s nice to hear, but I still know it. You show me every day.” You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss, which Marc gratefully returns.

“And I’ll continue to show you every day, until you get tired of me.”

“I’d never get tired of you, baby. You, Jake and Steven are all stuck with me.”

Marc laughs. “Stuck with you? Making it sound like that’s a bad thing. Honey, I think you’re the one ‘stuck’ with the three of us.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[phantomspiderr]

Always

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰

a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?

(not my gif)

The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.

“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.

“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.

“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.

“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.

“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.

“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”

For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.

Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.

The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.

Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.

“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.

[bitchyglitterfox]

Pegging The Moon Knight System - F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, pegging, sex,

this came from a convo me, @howaboutcastiel and @mccn-bcys had, i said pegging the moon boys and we threw around ideas. enjoy

Steven Grant 

“You want to do what love?” 

“I want to peg you” 

Loves it, like will ask you to do it when spicy time happens

Literally is a sobbing mess

So cock drunk he can't even form sentences 

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his orgasm

Mommy kink they all have it haha 

Marc Spector 

Is a no at first until you both sit down and talk about it and he sees you do it with steven first

Lets you try it for the first time and actually finds it enjoyable

Gripping the sheets moaning out loud 

“Fuck” he lets out the most delicious grunts and moans as you pick up speed

“You like when i fuck you dumb on my cock dont you baby?”

Loves when you domme him, enjoys just being able to let go and enjoy being taken care of. 

Is babygirl 

Jake Lockley 

Loves it the most out of the 3 of them. 

Enjoys when you are rough with him, loves the hair pulling 

However 

If you are slow and sensual with him? 

This man is gone 

Loves that when you are fucking him you slowly rub you hands against his cock. 

Whimpers, this man, the same man who is Khonshus fist of justice? WHIMPERS as you fuck him. 

Loves when yall do it infront of the mirror so he can show off for Steven and Marc

[whoreish-behaviour]

Steven Grant + Marc Spector x Reader

Warnings >~< = Hair pulling, mild brat taming

Not proof read

Shutting your eyes, you attempted to breathe normally - anger radiating off you in waves as you sat criss cross on the sofa - gaming controller almost on the brink of breaking in your tight grip.

It's just a game, it's just a game, its-

Marc's scolding words repeating in you head as you (forcefully) dropped the controller on the floor, the satisfying sound of the plastic doing little to ease your frustration.

'Just a game.' You murmured, shutting your eyes momentarily so you didn't have to keep staring at the DEFEAT! on the tv screen.

However, as soon as you reopened them - the anger flew right back.

'Fucking assholes! Spamming the same controls doesn't make you a better player-.' You rambled, face flushing as you felt yourself getting worked up.

'And my stupid fucking team, like seriously-'

'Darlin’?'

You snapped your mouth shut at the sudden voice of Steven, turning your head to look at where he was stood by the front door. He was dressed in his usual oversized attire, brows pinched together.

'You okay there?' His voice was soft, head tilting in that adorable way when he was unsure.

You pursed your lips, one side of you knowing that you should just take your loss and move on. But, you couldn't shake it off, it was too fresh.

'I'm fine.' You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the sofa as you looked back to the tv.

DEFEAT! PRESS 'X' TO CONTINUE

You heard Steven's footsteps as he migrated through his apartment, the sound of something heavy dropping on the counter before the tapping of his shoes made their way to you.

You felt slightly stupid for staring at the unmoving tv screen but made no move to change the channel or start a new game.

You felt him loom over you from behind, hand coming up to rub the top of your head lovingly.

'Aw darling, you know its-'

'I know Steven.' You yourself almost winced at the bite in your tone.

He didn't respond, a pregnant pause hanging in the air before he gently removed his hand from your head.

'Okay, well let me know if you-'

'Uh huh.' You cut him off, the rush of being an utter brat going straight to your head.

While Steven was sweet, you also knew that he loved to ring you back and put you in your place - problem was that it took a long time before that switch would set off inside him.

Giving you the perfect open window to let your frustration spew with no consequences.

Uncrossing your arms, you leaned forward and away from Steven to reach for the remote - lips set in a pout.

You weren't expecting the tight grip your hair was succumbed to, fist unforgiving as you were yanked back to your original position, back flat against the sofa.

'That any way to talk to Steven pretty girl?'

You swallowed thickly at the sound of Marc's unmissable American accent, throat bobbing at the sudden nerves racking your body.

'Hm?' He probed, hand pulling your hair even more taught as he leaned down into your space, running his nose over you jaw and then down to your neck.

Your body immediately shut down, Marc's intimidation and dominance usually having that effect on you.

'And now you're ignoring me, just digging yourself a deeper hole.' He reprimanded, using his hold on your hair to give himself more access to your neck.

'I'm sorry.' Your voice was quiet and meek, complete opposite to your earlier coldness.

Shutting your eyes, you accepted your fate when you felt him chuckle into you - lips brushing your skin and making you feel like an exposed nerve.

'No you’re not.' He pulled away, cold air cooling your warming skin.

You gasped, eyes shooting open when the hand in you hair somehow tightened, pulling your head back until it was rested over the edge of the sofa, Marc's displeased upside down face coming into view.

'But you will be sweet girl.'

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Hopelessly in Love with You

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Summary: Even after all these decades you’re still head over heels in love with your husbands. And sometimes you can’t help but say it out loud. Warnings: Absolutely none. Just fluff—so much fluff! Word Count: 2805 word count A/N: I saw a facebook post about a woman saying that even after like a decade, she still got butterflies and stuff when she was around her husband, and so that’s what prompted this. 

This is technically in my Falling For Them series, but can be read separately. This was just something I wrote at 4 in the morning because I could. It was originally just Steven, but then I found it again 18 months later and decided to add more. So here it is

“I am in love with you.” 

Your husband looked up, his beautiful brown eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but when you’d looked up at him across the room, it was like all the air had rushed from your lungs.

Steven blinked again, his smile a little bewildered and soft as he said, “Well, that’s good, love. What with us being married and all.” 

It was a Wednesday afternoon and you were both doing your own thing. It wasn’t a particularly spectacular Wednesday afternoon—it wasn’t your anniversary or anyone’s birthday. You were spread out across the floor working on your novel and Steven was at his desk going over his notes for the new museum exhibit. 

But when you’d looked up to ask him about—hell, you couldn’t even remember what—you were hit with such a powerful wave of ‘Oh gods I am so in love with you’ that you could barely breathe. 

It had been thirty-two years since you’d said “I do” and you were still so much in love with him. And some days it would just hit you like that. Like a cannonball to the face that you were in love with these men, and they loved you back. It was the giddiest feeling in the world. 

You stood up, stepping over the papers that had seemingly exploded around you, and headed to Steven. His arms were already open to you as you scrambled awkwardly into his lap. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been in your twenties, but it made him chuckle slightly and you got there eventually. 

“No. You don’t understand,” you whispered solemnly, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “I am madly in love with you.” 

His face burst into a beautiful smile as his arms came around your waist. “I am madly in love with you too,” he whispered, leaning up to kiss you. 

Kissing Steven was like fireworks and slow dancing. The decades since you’d met hadn’t diminished the fire his touch sent racing through you. Every brush of his lips against yours had your heart racing and your soul singing. You tipped his head back to deepen the kiss, suddenly desperate for more, and his moan sent shivers through you. Your hands slipped into his hair and his slipped under your shirt. 

Gods, I could do this all day. 

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to rest your forehead on his as you both caught your breath. 

“If that was your proof, love, I may need some more evidence,” he teased. His thumbs drew circles on the skin under your shirt. 

You grinned, closing your eyes at his touch and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. He lit a fire along your skin as he grazed his lips along your jaw to your pulse point. 

“Thirty-two years and you still make me feel like every kiss is our first kiss,” you whispered as he traced circles into your skin with reverential tenderness. You pulled one of his hands from your waist to over your heart where you could both feel it pounding away. “You make my heart race every time you look at me.” You brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “I feel like my face is going to break with how much I smile just thinking about you.” You move his hand to our stomach. “And I still get butterflies every time I wake up next to you in the morning.” 

Steven looked up at you like you were his reason for living. He looked at you like you’d taken all the air from his lungs and were filling them with pure oxygen. 

You leaned forward to trace his lips with yours. “Kissing you is like I’m learning to breathe all over again.” You couldn’t help your smile as you pulled back slightly. “It’s like I’m back at the start, falling for you all over again. And it is as easy as it was back then.” 

There was a shine to his eyes and he held you close as you placed soft kisses along the backs of his eyelids. 

“Except it’s better,” he said when he could finally speak. “It’s so much better than the beginning.” He cupped your cheek with a holy reverence like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want to spend every second of my life kissing you. I don’t have to live with my imagination of what a future with you would be like.” His kiss was so unbearably soft you wanted to stay there forever. “I get to wake up every morning knowing you’re beside me. I get to tell you every day how much I love you. I get to be your husband.” 

Even after all these years the word still made butterflies erupt in your soul, and you could tell in the way his heart fluttered underneath your hand that it was the same for him. 

“Falling in love with you for the first time was breathtaking, but being married to you—it’s a dream come true.” 

You just had to kiss him again for that. 

You pulled back and settled into his arms, content to never move again. Steven shifted you slightly so he was comfortable and returned to his work on the exhibit. 

But eventually, your body made its complaints known and you had to move. You weren’t a spring chicken anymore and as delightful as it was to sit on your husband’s lap all day, you needed to move to a comfier spot for that to work. You tugged him after you, determined not to do anymore work, and headed to the couch. Today was officially now a cuddle day.

“Also, it’s been thirty-two years, four months and seventeen days.” He shrugged when your eyebrows shot up. “Jake’s been counting.” 

“Well,” you leaned in for another kiss. “Here’s to another twenty-two years, four months, seventeen days. And forever.” 

“Forever,” Steven breathed, wrapping you in his arms.

~~~

He looked so soft in the mornings. Like he’d never worried about anything in his life. 

You’d both been awake for a few hours now, but it was Saturday and you didn’t need to get out of bed at all if you didn’t want to. And lying next to your husband, you never wanted to move again. 

“You’re staring,” Marc murmured, eyes still closed.  

You reached out to trace his nose, softly following the path to his cheeks, his jaw, his eyelids. He kissed the tip of your finger when it passed his lips, and you died at the cuteness. 

“I can’t help it,” you said, biting your lip at how damn cute he was. “I am so in love with you.”

Under your finger his lips curled into that gorgeous smile you adored so dearly. “I love you too, baby.” 

You huffed out an exasperated sigh and shuffled closer. “No,” you said like he was being deliberately obtuse. You rolled both of you so you were on top of him, straddling him. Marc snorted, still grinning as his hands came up to hold you in place. He didn’t open his eyes. “I am in love with you.” 

“Ah.” He nodded like he finally understood. You poked him in the chest and he pressed his lips together to keep back a laugh. “Of course. My mistake.” 

He still hadn’t opened his eyes and you knew he was doing it just to be stubborn, so you leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. When that didn’t work, you pressed a line of soft kisses down his nose, mouth, chin, along his jaw and to his ear—right where you knew he was ticklish. 

He huffed a laugh and finally opened his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved those eye crinkles. Your boys hadn’t had them when you’d met them. They hadn’t had much to laugh about back then, but over the years their laugh lines had deepened. And boy did you adore them. They were a sign of your darlings growing as people, and letting themselves be comfortable again. 

They were no longer ‘Moon Knight’ anymore, and it was mornings like these that were a reminder of that. They were all yours. You didn’t have to worry about losing them, nor did they ever have to worry about you getting hurt because of them. 

You were safe. All of you. 

And it was because of that safety your darlings could have laugh lines and lazy Saturday mornings with you. 

It was like Steven had said. Falling in love with them had been amazing, but being married was a million times better. You wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. 

You shrugged helplessly, almost too overcome for words. “I really am just so in love with you.” 

Marc melted at that. His grin softened into an adoring smile, and his hands came up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your cheek and you melted into his touch. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he said “I do”, and of that night, and every day since. 

“I am absolutely in love with you too.” He pulled you closer to brush his lips against yours. “Every day I think I can’t possibly be more in love with you. But then the sun rises and I can’t breathe with how much more I love you.” 

You started at the unexpected poetry from your normally close-lipped husband. It wasn’t the first time he’d blown you away with his words, but just like always, you never expected it. You buried your face in his neck, cheeks aflame and heart racing. “You are impossible!” 

His laugh rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter against him. “I learnt from the best,” he agreed, planting an adoring kiss on the side of your head. 

~~~

Jake was pouting. Every time you’d look over at him, he’d poke his bottom lip out and turn away, arms crossed. And every time you asked him what was wrong he’d just pout harder. He’d been like this all day and you were starting to wonder if this was a prank. Or if maybe you really had upset him. 

So finally you cornered him in the bathroom when he was hunched over cleaning out the cupboards. You stood in front of the door and raised an eyebrow at his back. He couldn’t escape now. 

He stood slowly, eyeing you and his blocked escape before he eyed the window too. But when he looked back at your narrowed eyes he knew he was pushing his luck so he just pouted. Again. With those damn puppy dog eyes. 

Gods, he’s killing me. And he knew it too. He knew what that look did to you. He’d seen you cave to Steven with it enough that he knew it was your weakness. All your darlings knew how to use it on you, but Jake wasn’t getting away with it today. 

“I don’t think so.” You took a step closer. “You’ve been pouting at me all day.” You closed the door. “And every time I ask you what’s wrong, you pout even more.” You stalked towards him until his back was against the wall and you were toe-to-toe. “So tell me. What. Is. Wrong?” 

Jake looked away, his chin tipped up so he was staring at the ceiling and resolutely avoiding your eyes. 

“Jake Lockley,” you warned. 

Your patience was wearing thin. You’d already ruled out this being a joke or a prank, and now you were left with him being upset over something you’d done. And it was exactly like Jake to avoid an issue upsetting him until it went away. If Marc or Steven were upset, all hell broke loose, but Jake? No, he’d let that simmer until he had an ulcer. 

And even after all these years, that was something you hadn’t helped him work through entirely. Hence today’s issue. 

You raised an eyebrow when he still hadn’t said anything. 

“You haven’t said it to me,” he finally muttered, pouting harder. 

You reached out to put your fingers to his chin, tilting his face back down to yours. “Haven’t said what, baby?” 

He avoided your eyes so you stepped even closer so you were all he could see, and finally he blurted, “You haven’t said you’re in love with me.” 

You frowned a little. “What do you mean? I say it all the time.” 

And you did. Every chance you could you’d tell your boys how much you loved them. You’d both gone through points in your lives where you thought no one loved you, so all four of you had made it a point to say it every chance you could. 

Hell, you had even instituted a system where three taps meant ‘I love you’ so you could all say it whenever you felt it, all without saying it. 

But Jake was shaking his head, pouting even harder as he forced himself to look away. “No, not like that. Not like you said to Steven and Marc. Not like that.” 

Oh. He was talking about yesterday with Marc and last week with Steven, where you’d been so in love with your husbands you couldn’t help but tell them. 

Oh, baby. Your other hand came up to cup his face, ducking your head so he could look at you and your heart skipped at the emotion in his eyes. 

He was jealous. 

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at how cute he looked. You hadn’t seen it before because you’d been focused on other things, but when Jake pouted…

Gods, you loved that look. You wanted to make him pout like that all the time. Maybe you could get him to look like that next time you were in bed. Make him beg a little…

You shivered at the delight that brought, and his eyes lit up a little at the movement. 

Stop it. Now’s not the time. 

You reached up to cup his cheeks and you knew there would never be a moment in your life where you weren’t in love with this gorgeous man. “Falling in love with you was inevitable,” you whispered, echoing the words of your vow all those years ago. “There has never been a moment where I haven’t been absolutely head over heels in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

“Yeah?” He gave you a small smile, and you knew he was lapping up your words, just like he did every time. 

It had broken your heart when you’d learned that of all of them, Jake had been loved the least. That not once in his life had anyone told him that they loved him. From then on you’d made it your mission to tell him so often that he would never doubt his worth ever again. 

“Yeah, baby.” A smile escaped your lips and your eyes creased with how much you adored him. “Sometimes it just hits me how much I love you. Before I met you I didn’t realise I could love someone this much, and then I fell in love with you and—” you shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.” 

Jake’s smile bloomed into a grin that had his eyes crinkling and his cheeks blushing. “Good.” 

Before you could react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted up into the air. You shrieked, laughing, and clutched his shoulders to keep from falling. Even as old age crept into the bones of your darlings, they still surprised you with how much they could still do. 

He spun you around before setting you back on your feet, your back against the wall. He leaned in, trapping you against him as he curled a hand against your cheek. His nose brushed against yours and he was grinning so hard you knew his cheeks were aching. Just like yours. 

You arched into him, biting your lip as his thumb traced your cheekbone. 

“Tell me again,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours in just the way he knew drove you crazy. 

Your heart pounded, and you wanted to bury your face into his chest to hide the blush burning across your cheeks, but you knew nothing but the truth would save you. So, you took a handful of his shirt and pulled him even closer. Then, with a brush of your lips against his, you said, “I am madly, deeply, inevitably and hopelessly in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

He snickered. “Gross,” like he wasn’t entirely head over heels for you too, and pulled you in for a searing kiss. “But me too.”  

A/N: Reblogs, comments and likes give me the dopamine to keep writing, so if you liked this oneshot,

Let me know what you think 💖

And if you want more like this, follow me here or on AO3 (or both)

[mochimoqa]

The Climax Problem

Literally thought that this was so funny and I wanted to make it a small story lol

Also, this was basically from this post by @faretheeoscar

This is the link to the original post! ^^

Gender neutral Y/n x Steven Grant

Warning: 18+ Mentioning of climaxing (aka: c*mming), some inappropriate jabs here and there

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

We all know of how innocent Steven is and crazy for you. But him releasing during a make out session? That's crazier.

You cupped his face as you kissed him passionately. Your tongue fighting with his and moaning into each other's mouths. You gently pulled his curls as he moaned from the action.

The passion needed to die down as you needed to go to work.

"I gotta go, baby." You pecked his lips and he responded with a small whines.

"A- Alright, love! I'll be waiting for you!" He waved goodbye to you as you waved back and closed the door.

Steven sighed as he looked at his pants. The noticeable bulge in his pants as he unzipped them and revealed a patch of his seed in his boxers.

"Bloody hell..." Steven mumbled to himself.

He got up and took off his pants and boxers to the dirty laundry. He walked to the restroom and looked at the mirror.

"Why do I even do that..." He massaged his temples.

"Looks like someone has a hard time to stop cumming." Marc looked at Steven in the mirror with his little smirk.

"Look, I just can't help it...! Y/n makes me feel so good! I- I- I just can't help it!"

Steven turned around facing at another mirror staring at his reflection.

"You gotta ask some advice for that problem of yours, hermano." Jake crossed his arms and cocked a eyebrow.

"You don't think I know that, Jake?"

He sighed as he cleaned himself with a wet towel.

"Have you ever tried to masterbate before? That could help you, Steven." Marc chuckled.

"What!? Marc! You know I could never do that! And I'm gonna wait til I marry Y/n...! How could you even think of that!?

"Steven, you poor sad little virgin." Marc sighed.

"What about you go on reddit and go to r/Advice?" Jake smirked.

"Reddit...? No, I shouldn't..."

"It's the only thing to help you." Jake chuckled lightly.

"D'oh... alright..." Steven sighed as he grabbed some new boxers and put them on.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"Steven, I'm home!!" You placed your bag on the floor as you took off your shoes. You walked into your shared bedroom and see him laying down.

You laid down next to him and peppered his face with small kisses.

"Hi." You smiled lightly and played with his curls.

"Hey..." He smiled lightly but then faltered to a small frown.

"Aww... what's wrong...?" You cupped his face.

"It's uhm..." He sighed. "Love, uhm... during out make out sessions... I uh... I cum."

You frozed when you heard that.

"Like, pre-cum or...?"

"No, like full-on climax... and it's embarrassing... just instantly releasing during a make out session...! And I went to Reddit for advise... I- I just know that you're gonna judge me..."

"Steven, that's not embarrassing at all... to be honest, I find that really flattering."

"Really...?"

"Yes, it makes me feel good. It let's me know of how good I can make you really feel..." You leaned into him and gently kissed him softly.

He pulled away and smiled.

"Thank you, love..."

This got me cracking up 💀

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this :]

[faretheeoscar]

TURNING FROWNS

into soft touches

Pairing: Marc Spector x Gn!reader

Warnings: just fluff, poor Marc needs to be comforted from time to time, although gets a bit suggestive at the end

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes, no proof read.

Word Count: 1k

Listen… taking care of Marc by giving him small featherlight kisses and soft caresses when he’s all grumpy and frowning after a hard day and being away from a mission, he ends up reluctantly letting you help him and your touch turns him into a tired, grateful and maybe horny mush.

After returning from a grueling three-day mission, Marc collapsed onto the couch, his clothes clinging to his body with sweat and dirt. Despite the pressing need for a shower and fresh attire, exhaustion rooted him in place, rendering even the slightest movement an arduous task.

His brow furrowed deeply, like the creases of a turbulent sea, Marc sat, amidst the chaos of his thoughts. The weight of the day hung heavy upon his shoulders, each line etched into his features a testament to the battles he fought within.

You slowly approach him and climb on his lap to try to help him relax. Startled by your sudden presence, he jolted slightly, his frown deepening at the intrusion.

"Not right now baby, I'm tired," he grumbled, his voice a weary murmur, as if carrying the weight of the world in each syllable. Yet, despite his protests, his hands found their way around your waist, drawing you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace.

With a tender touch, you began to massage his temples, your fingers tracing soothing circles against his skin. The tension in his muscles slowly began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over him like a gentle tide. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the serenity of your touch as if seeking refuge in the tranquility you offered.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice a soft murmur against the hushed silence of the room. "Just breathe."

And as he exhaled, a sigh of relief escaped him, carrying with it the burdens of the day. In the quiet intimacy of that moment, surrounded by the gentle cadence of your breath and the tender caress of your touch.

“I’m here my love, let me take care of you”

As you whispered in his ear, the words washed over him, bringing peace to his rattled soul. Letting out a deep sigh, he let out a faint smile, the corners of his lips curling up as he continued to surrender to you.

You gently trace your fingertips along the furrowed lines of his forehead, feeling the tension slowly dissipate beneath your touch. As your fingers work their magic, his frown begins to soften, melting away with each stroke. His breath steadies, deepening into a more relaxed rhythm as he gives into the sensation.

As you continue to work your magic by massaging his temples, your other hand begins to trail delicately along his jawline, tracing the contours of his face accompanying it with feather-light kisses. Each touch and kiss is filled with tenderness, a silent reassurance that you're here for him, to ease away the weight of the world, Marc cannot do anything but softly hum and let out small sounds of satisfaction.

Your lips brush against his furrowed brow, leaving a trail of soft kisses that slowly erase the creases of worry. Moving downward, you plant gentle kisses along his closed eyelids, coaxing them to flutter open and meet yours with a newfound warmth, a glint of appreciation on his eyes.

And as he finally opens his eyes, there's a softness in his gaze, a gratefulness for your presence and the solace you've bring him, but you let Marc close his eyes again as he sighs and let’s you keep kissing every single part of his face.

Your lips trail across his face, your hands delicately weave through his curls, fingers gently massaging his scalp in a rhythmic motion. With each touch, his tension begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washes over him like a gentle tide.

You whisper words of comfort against his skin, your breath mingling with his as he lets himself be consumed by the soft trail of your lips when you brush them against his cheekbones, the slight curve of his nose, going down to his jaw, stopping on his beard stubble to brush it against your lips before you make your way down to his neck.

Caresses and kisses on his neck pause momentarily as you accidentally make a gentle tug against his hair, and a small gasp escapes your lips, trying to quickly apologize for the discomfort you could've caused. But to your surprise, instead of a complaint, you're met with a satisfied low grunt from Marc. His eyes, still closed in bliss, flutter open slightly, a hint of amusement dancing within them.

“Careful there…” he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a playful undertone, he squeezes your hips and his hand ends up going down further to your lower back to push your body as close as he can get you to him.

Marc's hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, as if wanting as much contact as possible with your body. Leaning his weight back against the couch, he pulled you into his arms and you settled properly on his lap, your weight resting against his frame.

As your soft lips continued to kiss his face, he tightened his grip on your hips, his muscles pulling you into him as your bodies pressed together, your breasts squished against his chest.

He buries his head on your shoulder, you feel his warm and hot breath against your skin, mixed with his musky scent, it sends tingles down your spine. Specially when his hand slowly guides your hips to his, and there’s when you finally notice what your soothing and sweet touches have been doing to him, feeling the hardness against his tight jeans.

“Oh.. Marc baby, weren’t you tired?”

A small hum escapes from Marc's lips when he finds the sensitive pulse point on your neck, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His husky voice, laced with desire, stirs something within you, that has you squirming on his lap and making him chuckle.

“I was… I am…but… I really want this… No I need this” Marc quickly corrects himself. ”Although you’re probably gonna be doing all the work baby, is that a problem?”

A playful grin tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, your own voice a whisper of desire. "No problem at all," you reply, your tone dripping with anticipation. "I've got you, Marc. Always."

And of course you wouldn’t complain why would you? You’d gladly volunteer for that kind of extra comfort he seeks any day.

I might start a TAGLIST, cause I've been writing more lately? Let me know if you wanna get on it!

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fics Masterlist

[tyblackthornsheadphones]

Hiya! Maybe some hurt and comfort fic with the moon boys after the reader got hurt in a street scuffle thing? :)

i reread this only once and yes, i did notice the inconsistent verb tenses but honestly i don’t have the energy to go back and change it. i tried to keep physical descriptions of the reader to a minimum so it should be gender neutral and any race. if not, please let me know so i can fix it.

i also kind of forgot the reader was supposed to be hurt and wrote it more emotional but i hope it’s fine anyway. (i’m so bad at following requests i’m so sorry)

if you wanna support me you can buy me a ko-fi.

the two men had come out of nowhere, forcing you into an alleyway under the dark cover of the night. your only comfort was the thought that your boys were watching the city for these exact types of people, maybe they would come save you. and if you managed to hold off the two men for just long enough, you could get out of this alive.

you weren’t a fighter. marc had taught you basic self-defence, but even so you wouldn’t have been able to take on two big, buff men with guns and eyes that spoke of deranged thoughts and lack of care for any life but their own.

the rest was a blur. a white caped hero throwing punches, a body jumping in front of your own, blood on the concrete and on gloved hands.

“let’s get you home, amor.”

jake was angry, you could hear it in his tone, but you were still frozen in fear from the encounter, your mind buzzing yet simultaneously unable to string together any coherent thoughts. so you didn’t respond, and he carried you home in his arms, jumping into the loft through the window you always kept open for him on nights like these, the one you’d forgotten to close before leaving.

you have a routine for when your boys come back from their duties as moonknight. the suit heals their wounds, but it doesn’t wash away the blood. you run a warm cloth over their skin until the blood and grime is all washed off, a slow repetitive process that gives their mind the time to deal with the violence they committed and store away the memories somewhere far back.

it’s easy to let your muscle memory take over.

“you don’t have to do that tonight,” jake says, “let us take care of you. we want to make sure you’re alright after that.”

you shake your head. there’s still a part of you that’s numb, and you don’t think you could put your feelings into words, you don’t think there’s any real way to voice the way you were convinced you were going to die, the way your brain flashed through everything you regret and your friends you haven’t seen in a while and the goals you’d never accomplish.

the suit falls away and it’s just your jake. not the hero of london or the fist of vengeance, just your worried boyfriend.

you clean his knuckles of the blood that always somehow manages to seep through the bandages that make up their suit. his body tenses, and when you look up, you meet marc’s eyes. his jaw is clenched in a way that you recognise, he wants to speak but doesn’t quite know how to say it, he’s worried talking about it might not be what you need right now.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, “for going out. a friend needed my help and i thought i could walk back home after. i didn’t think…”

“not your fault,” marc replies, “we should’ve gotten them before they even had the chance to touch you.”

“it’s not your fault either, you know,” you put the dirty cloth down.

he shakes his head. there’s no point in having this argument, it’s the same every time. you argue that it’s impossible to save everyone, that london is a huge city and they’re just one body that can only accomplish so much. marc’s dumb guilty conscience convinces him that any person he can’t save in time is blood on his hands, not the fault of the criminals who committed the act, but his for not being able to save them.

you understand why, and the fights always come back to the same thing.

the last remnants of adrenaline are fading and your hands grow shaky. marc leads you to bed, but you know this is the part where he leaves, back into the headspace while one of the others (usually steven) hold you under the safety of the blankets. he likes to take care of you, to provide, but he still struggles to be soft.

“i was so scared,” you finally admit when the lights are turned off and the room is dark and the boys can’t see your face. it’s easier to admit when you don’t have to look into the eyes of the men who act as london’s protectors, constantly in dangerous situations. you don’t have to deal with the feelings of inferiority, like comparing yourself to marc’s strong and brave ex-wife who would surely have been able to defend herself.

you don’t even know which one is fronting. maybe they all are. when the tears start to fall, all you care about is the comforting familiarity of the strong arms around you and the scent of the men you love.

[spacecowboyhotch]

In the Eyes

summary: marc is dating the most competitive mario-kart player he’s ever met. and he loves them.

prompt: reader and marc are playing mario kart and getting very competitive (but still fun, no actual fighting). they both end up ordering pizza and snuggling up on the couch watching ancient aliens cause why not. idk

pairing: marc spector x gn!reader, implied reader x steven grant/jake lockley

contents: fluff, internal angst, cheating during mario-kart (a cardinal sin), food mention, cheesy love confessions

gif credit: @nowritingonthewall

word count: 2.5k

an: this is a little late but, happy year anniversary to moonknight! thank you to @juneknight for putting together this moonknight anniversary fic exchange. all the smooshes and all my love bb. and to my lovely friends in Marc’s girls i love uuuuu 🥰 (p.s. internal angst is a must with marc spector so sorry in advance)

moonknight masterlist | requests are open

Nights like tonight are the sort you look forward to all week. And they’ve started to become a staple in your relationship with Marc. It’s partially because you like to have specific things that you do with each of them— the other half is that Steven and Jake suck at MarioKart. Marc is the only one who’s any real competition and with your competitive nature, it’s a requirement for game nights such as these.

Marc shows up to your apartment on time, as always, and just the sight of you has all of the tension that habitually sits in his shoulders dissipating. You look mischievous, mouth turned up in a smirk that he can’t help but want to kiss. Although your eyes say it all– bright and sparkling– it's abundantly clear that you’re ecstatic about him being here. It's something he still adapting to but would it be so terrible for him to believe that you genuinely do enjoy his presence? Horrible no, but terrifying. Nevertheless, he’s trying and will continue to show up if only to see that twinkle in your eye, no matter how hard it is to believe that he is the reason.

His self-deprecating train of thought is interrupted when you reach for him, pulling him in for a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Marc melts against your mouth, a hand raising to cup your cheek. There’s nothing that clears his mind like the feel of your lips against his– he would happily give up oxygen to kiss you for the rest of his days. But eventually, you pull away, grinning at him.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, Spector?” You huff breathlessly into his mouth.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down on it teasingly before saying, “Ready to do the ass-kicking, actually.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Marc is all about routine, it's just who he is. It's the only thing he’s taken from his time serving that he is grateful for as it helps balance his mind– all of their minds. So when the two of you get the game loaded and make it to the characters screen he chooses Donkey Kong as he always does. Sometimes to mess with and throw him off a bit you’ll choose Donkey Kong. He has his list of backups– Link, Mario, and begrudgingly, Toad– but those never feel exactly right. Tonight you decide to give him a break, you’ll prove to him that you can beat him in his element or not.

The two of you are neck and neck on the last race, with Marc starting to lurch forward ahead of you. There’s a healthy distance between you, ample room for dramatic turns and frustrated bouncing without either of you accidentally elbowing the other. But, when he starts to leave you in the dust on the last lap around you know exactly how to distract him. Without taking your eyes off of the screen, you scoot an inch closer to him. He’s well aware of your movement, heightened observation comes with Khonshu but he makes nothing of it, focusing on making it to the finish line. The sly grin on your lips spreads and you shift even closer, this time your shoulder rubs against his. Marc stiffens, his grip on the controller fumbling a bit. It's the perfect opportunity for you to make your move, and you brush up against him again to ensure that he’ll glance over at you.

“What’re you doin’?” He asks suspiciously, and out of the corner of your eye, you see that for just a moment his eyes flicker over to you.

You grin, eyes firmly glued to the screen as you watch his character slow down. You pass him easily, your voice innocent as you say, “Nothing.”

When his eyes return to the screen they widen in disbelief as you cross the finish line a few seconds before him. “You cheated!” He accuses, looking over at you with narrowed eyes.

Your mouth drops open in feigned offense, “Did not!”

“Bullshit, baby, I know what you’re doing when you move closer to me.”

“You’re warm, I was cold.”

“Liar.”

“Alright, since you’re so sure, let’s go again. Best 2 out of 3. I’ll even sit on the ground this time, can’t cheat that way,” You insist, before shifting off the couch to sit crossed-legged between his knees.

As nonchalant as ever, Marc bends to wrap his arm around your waist and lifts you with no effort to place a pillow underneath your butt. The simple act of care contrasts with the competitive look on his face as he hands you your controller once more, “No funny business this time baby.”

He lets you get comfortable, waiting to strike. He’s trailing a few places behind you up until the last lap. You’re sure that you’ll win and halfway around the last pass you relax back against the couch. Unseen to you, Marc grins just before he starts to shift his knees back and forth.

“Hey now,” You quip, but you don’t look away from the screen or make any movement, assuming that he needs to readjust in his seat. But it continues and you glance up at him with a knowing look.

“Oh now, who’s cheating?” You ask, trying to lean away from his knees that he’s bumping into your shoulders.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over my impending victory,” He teases, nodding his head toward the screen.

When your eyes follow his over to the tv, you watch as he shoots you with a red shell before zooming away over the finish line. The shell disrupts you completely, and you’re passed by half of the computers. You end up in 7th place and huff in frustration, “Marc!

“Hmm?” He hums through a laugh, bending to press a kiss to your cheek.

You try your best to glare at him, but with his smile this wide and genuine, you can’t even hold the expression for more than a few seconds. “You only beat me because you cheated and I’m hungry.”

Marc frowns at you, setting his controller down on the coffee table before fishing his phone out of his pocket, “What? Why didn’t you say that before? What do you want— pizza?”

“Pizza’s good. I want—“

“I know, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What if I was gonna say something different?”

He looks up at you with an expression that says ‘really?’. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was upset, genuinely feeling impatient with you. But, in the time that you’ve gotten to know him— all three of them— it’s become much easier to read them. It’s always in the eyes. And when it all boils down, no matter what he’s feeling or saying, all you ever see in Marc’s eyes is understanding and adoration for you.

“Ok, fair, I wasn’t but if I wanted to?”

He shrugs, a knowing smile on his face, “Then I would know.”

Your cheeks warm and you rest your head on his knee, looking up at him with this soft look on your face that makes him feel melted. To know and be known. It’s all either of you have ever wanted.

Marc clears his throat to distract from the flush in his cheeks he knows is there, “While we wait…y’know, Steven told me about this show— we don’t have to watch it if it doesn’t sound interesting to you.”

“I’m listening.”

Marc goes into an entire spiel, using his hand as he and Steven always do, though Marc’s movements are sharper and smaller. You’ve known that Marc is nerdy by how easy he navigates technology, casually throwing out terms here and there that you never understand. But to see him like this, with bright eyes as he explains the contents of the show, it displays you that similarity between him and Steven that’s always buzzing beneath the surface.

“Are you talking about Ancient Aliens?”

He snaps, eyes going wide, “Yes! You know it?”

You resist the urge to cup his face and dust his cheeks with a flurry of kisses, a difficult feat when he’s looking so adorably excited, “Hell yeah I know it, I watch it with my dad sometimes. I didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”

“Who doesn’t wanna know about aliens? Atlantis?”

“You always poke fun at Steven for stuff like this,” You say matter of factly.

“That was before I gave it a chance.”

While you get the controllers put up and decide on an episode, Marc heads into your kitchen to get drinks, the tube of parmesan out of your fridge and the red pepper out your fridge knowing that these are all necessary for pizza night. When he returns, you’re curled into a blanket and he sets everything down on the coffee table before pressing in beside you, his arms caging you into his chest.

Both of you are distracted. Not by the usual attraction— that’s manageable. Snuggled together on the couch like this, you both feel it. There’s this pool of some overwhelmingly delightful feeling neither of you has felt before. You can identify it immediately as love. Pure and gooey, like the warm insides of a chocolate chip cookie. Marc on the other hand refuses to look it in the eye, pushing it deeper and deeper until it’s light and fuzzy, ignorable. The last thing he will do is love someone who won’t love him. It isn’t the same— this time he is simply unworthy, not easy prey to a wounded predator— but he’s been there and done that. That wound sits on his chest, refusing to heal no matter what he does.

You lean back, lifting your head out of the crook of his neck to look at him, “Marc?”

He paused the show and met your gaze before you finished saying his name, “Yeah, honey?”

The remote almost slips out of his hand at the look in your eyes. Could it be more? Marc’s only ever seen that look in the eyes of one other— luckily after everything he and Layla are on amicable terms. But could he really have something like that again? Is that twinkle in your eye what he craves so much that his bones ache?

Under his intense gaze your resolve flatters, your heart, feeling as if it will beat right out of your chest.

“I—,” You breath catches in your throat that’s suddenly gone dry. What if he doesn’t love you back? Losing him means losing Steven and Jake. It means losing the only love you’ve ever known. You swallow those words and opt for others, “Tonight has been one of my favorite nights yet. Thank you.”

He can hear it in your tone. He knows that isn’t what you were going to say and by the look in his eyes, you know that he knows. He stares at you for several moments longer, giving you a chance, hoping that you’ll take the plunge because he can’t. Not yet.

Eventually, the pizza arrives and that cuts some of the tension that’s in the room. Something is clearly off but neither of you can find the courage to say anything as you finish eating and the credits roll on the episode you’d put on.

You let him leave. You kiss him goodbye and watch as he crosses the hall to the stairwell, only closing the door once he’s down the first flight. You feel like an idiot— why couldn’t you have just said it? He was waiting, eyes practically pleading, and yet the words wouldn’t form.

It only takes two minutes for you to decide that this isn’t how the night should end. Fears be damned, he deserves to know— they all do eventually. So you grab your keys, knowing that if you’d left your door unlocked for even the short time it would take to get him back, Jake would scold you about it.

Despite the quickness of your decision to chase after him, Marc is well down the street once you make it out the front door of your complex.

“Marc, wait!”

He stops immediately, recognizing your voice even from so far away. His eyes scan the street when he turns around and as soon as they find you, he’s walking towards you, brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong? Did I forget something?” He pats his pockets, noting that his wallet and keys are there.

Maybe you’d decided to tell him what you were planning to say earlier and his heart begins to hammer again. His mind goes to the worst-case scenario, that maybe you weren’t going to confess deeper feelings for him. That you’re ready to be done with him, that he’s not worth it. That every disparaging thing his mother had ever said about him is true and you’ve just come to realize it.

“No, it’s just that I—“

“Yeah?” He prompts when you go quiet for a minute. His voice is fused with preemptive disappointment and he begins to prepare to leave the headspace, to retreat so far within that not even his alters can find him— Steven or Jake can deal with the aftermath of you. He’ll sulk and disappear like he had promised Steven a couple of years ago.

“I love you. I don’t know what I didn’t just say that before, I’d planned to but then you looked at me and it’s like I was scared all over again,” You whisper, eyes slipping down to look at the ground.

He tilts his head at you, his hand rising to cup your cheek. His voice is tender, and confused as he asks, “What do you have to be afraid of?”

“You know what,” You mumble, refusing to look up at him.

“That I wouldn’t want you? That I’d be stupid enough not to love you too?” He says the words as if they’re blasphemy like they’re the most ridiculous thing imaginable and you can’t help but look up at him.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

His other hand raises so he has both your cheeks in his hands, “Because it's complete bullshit, of course, I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, now come here,” He pulls you closer by his hand on your cheek, leaning in to press his mouth to yours. He kisses you fiercely, licking into your mouth with a fervor like never before. You match him, just as hungry and needy to show him how deeply you feel for him not just with words, but with actions.

He pulls away, breathless, “Steven’s saying we shouldn’t make out on the street.”

“Yeah, and what’s Jake saying?” You ask, though you can imagine his opinions on public indecency.

“You don’t wanna know.”

You giggle, before saying once more— firmly this time, unafraid to take the plunge because you know he’ll catch you, “I love you.”

“I love you,” He repeats, his mouth brushing yours as he says it.

You arch a brow at him, smiling against his lips. “Enough to settle who’s won and stay the night?”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” He murmurs cheekily through a grin, pulling you back towards your apartment.

It’s safe to say that you both got it.

moonknight taglist: @angelfxllcm, @in-between-the-cafes, @honeybrowne, @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @julydaydream, @welcometostayingawake, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @minigirl87, @campingwiththecharmings

[ronn-uuu]

Party Pooper

I'm writing my own request(?)

An: Ok I wrote this request:

POV: You're hyping yourself up/ while getting ready for a party with loud music. And Marc/Steven/ Jake are trying to sleep but guess what causing them not to sleep? Your music. So they go next door to have a chat. And when you open up the door they're dumbfounded on how they have not seen such a FINE ASS PERSON WE AREEE the rest is up to you babe 🥰💕 ( and please either do gn or with he/they/she prns😊)

Me being meek and not very out there,,, I decided not to send this out there so I decided that I'll write it myself. Also this is my first posted fic pls have mercy on me. I hope you enjoy it.

pairing: Gn!reader x Marc spector, Gn!reader x Steven Grant, & Gn!Redaer x Jake Lockely

Warnings: none. (other than me using google english to spanish. Pls if you found a better website, PLS TELL. pls dont gatekeep. ) Fluff(?) also bad grammar???

Part 2

You stared at the 2 outfits you had rested on your bed, you couldn't pick between the slightly slutty one or the one that had more decency. You knew you were going to be slightly fucked up by the end of the night, so did you want to do it in a slutty way or sexy way? You still didn't know. You decided that you were going to play some music to get you in that partying mood. The music rang in your ears and your next door neighbor's.

Marc was laying in his bed finally being able to sleep after being up since 2 am the day before. Khonsu had been making Marc, Jake and Steven do his unforgiving bidding, all three of them were exhausted from all the trouble they had been in. Just when they thought they could get a break, they heard their neighbor's music.

"Jesús puto cristo," Jake spoke as the weak and exhausted body jolked up.

"Bloody hell. I think the universe just hates us, yeah?" Steven said as he took over the hands and rubbed their eyes.

"I don't think they know the walls are kinda thin," Marc mumbles out tryin to excuse their actions. Jake started saying that they could just go next door and warn them but Marc and steven felt way too tired to do so. And after they responded to Jake's proposal the music died down.

"See, I think they're done," Steven said as he takes over and lays back down and closes their eyes. Oh it was painful how wrong he was. They got 10 minutes of sleep before hearing the music even louder this time.

You weren't doing this on purpose, you didn't even know that you had a next door neighbor. You and the boys never crossed paths, and they were never loud so you had thought maybe you could blast music with no interruptions. Though you were about to be proved so wrong. That's when you heard a knock. You were confused, " I thought I told them I'll meet them at f/n's house," You said as you pressed paused on your phone. You smoothed your skirt/pants one last time before opening up your door.

"Hello," The man said as he waved at you. You waved back as you noticed that he was in his slightly rinkled Pjs. Steven did that same to you and lawd have mercy on him, you were so fucking fine.

His eyes rack over your frame, you had your hair pulled back, plum lips with beautiful jewelry hung around your neck, and gods your clothes looked fucking hot on you. Steven felt all the air in lungs leave and so quickly that his chest started to ache. Marc and Jake were the first time in history very quiet in a long time. There were no remarks on how they were sleepy and this to be over, they were only in awe of your form.

"I'm sorry, is there something I could help you with?' You asked as you tilted your head in question. For the first time Marc, Steven and Jake had gotten this nervous about someone. They all knew that steven had to stay in control but it felt like they were going slightly override.

"A-ah! yes the music... the music is too loud," Steven softly said. Then it finally hit you, he was trying to sleep and your music was too loud. He's your next door neighbor! Guilt started to flow through your veins, how could you keep a tired man from sleeping, reader???

"Oh! Im so sorry! I didn't know that I had a next door neighbor! I'm so sorry for keeping you awake! Yes! I'll keep the music down!" You rambled. The boys thought it was very cute. Now all three of them were wondering how they could get your number without making it sound cringey nor weird.

"Again, I'm so sorry for keeping you awake.." You paused waiting for a name. You wanted the name of your cute neighbor you had no idea about.

"Steven Grant," Steven stammered out. He started to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"Steven Grant," You repeated, "I really like that name." Steven smiled widely and Jake remined him that he was still fucking tired. Don't get him wrong he liked 'speaking with you' but their mission was not only nerve racking but exhausting. Steven started to feel the sleepiness weigh his bones down. He'll have to settle for just speaking to you. Marc told him to tell you thank you and good night.

"Thank you... well I should head to bed, have a nice night," He promptly said before you replied with a good night back. He went back to their flat while they talked about how to get your number next time. All three of them wanted that to be very soon. Now they all started to feel a little grateful for the loud music you played. And all in that moment they remembered that they don't even know your name...

[soulsforsales]

Imagine Marc pillow fighting with the reader on their bed and he gets a bit too carried away (because Marc never really got the chance to do stupid things like this in his childhood and has no idea how fun it can be) and hits the reader a bit too hard which makes them tip over the bed and fall on the ground with a loud thump. It scares the hell out of Marc and the horrible thoughts and fear of hurting the one he loves come rushing back to him and he's just like, 'I'm sorry, babe, I am so sorry. I didn't think of your strength as mine. Are you hurt? Babe?' But the reader ends up laughing until their stomach hurts and tells Marc it was fun. And Marc? He has never felt better.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter One

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: In the Alps

Summary: (Y/N) goes to the Alps to find Ammit's scarab. They encounter much more trouble than they ever had before.

            (Y/N) tugged on the ends of their sweatshirt as they walked through the village. The search for the scarab of Ammit had brought them unexpectedly to the Austrian Alps, but according to their information, the Followers of Ammit’s leader, Arthur Harrow, had many cult members there, and (Y/N) had to get to the scarab before he got possession of it.

            Everyone in the village headed towards the town square, and (Y/N) drifted easily into the flow. If they caught sight of the person delivering the scarab, (Y/N) would pick their pocket and be on their way. They glanced over the crowd. They just had to be careful of the men with guns.

            Their eyes landed on a man with a white hood pulled over his head. (Y/N) frowned. Isn’t that Khonshu’s avatar? They watched him look around almost in fright. That wasn’t like the man they’d seen before. He’d seemed much more self-assured then.

            Still, (Y/N) remained on guard. They had never met an avatar other than him, and Khonshu hadn’t seemed nice, so (Y/N) wasn’t sure about getting closer.

            Their attention went back to the crowd as they all came to a stop at the town square. Murmurs and excited whispers went up as they parted to let a single man walk through.

            Harrow strolled through the crowd as they looked at him reverently. His cane tapped the ground rhythmically. Ammit’s followers bowed and murmured praise to him, thanking him for his presence and for the guidance of Ammit.

            (Y/N) shivered at how honest all the devotion was.

            The people around them jostled to get to the front. They all wanted to reach out to Harrow and even just brush his clothes. (Y/N) and Khonshu’s Avatar ended up nearer, and (Y/N) averted their gaze. They didn’t really want to deal with him. If he was there, it meant something dangerous might happen, and (Y/N) had done a very good job working in the shadows for seven years. They didn’t need it to change now.

            “What a beautiful day,” said Harrow in English. “It’s like we’re in heaven.” He chuckled. “Only it’s not heaven, isn’t it? It’s a darkness.” He smiled kindly. “Sometimes it hides in our very hearts. We are here to make Earth as much like Heaven as possible.” Harrow looked around with a benevolent expression. “Who’d like to go first?”

            (Y/N) watched as a young man stepped forward. They were about to see firsthand what had made Ma’at dislike Ammit so much, what made her want Harrow to never get closer to her teachings and power.

            “You are a brave man, offering your soul for judgement,” said Harrow.

            Judging before their time, before their death? thought (Y/N). But they have no Feather of Truth for their hearts to be weighed against. This was nothing but a perversion of the Judgement of the Dead.

            “Wanting to serve out goddess even before she wakes,” said Harrow.

            He rolled up his sleeves, and (Y/N) spotted the tattoo of scales on his forearm. He balanced his crocodile-headed cane in the man’s hands. The cane began to rock back and forth, and the scales on Harrow’s forearm moved with them.

            “I judge you in Ammit’s name with but a fraction of her power,” declared Harrow.

            The scales balanced and turned green. The crowd gasped, and Harrow smiled at the young man.

            “This is the face of a good man!” he said benevolently. He hugged them, and applause went up in the crowd.

            “Who would like to go next?” said a man next to Harrow.

            “Me,” said an old woman. “Please, Harrow, I must know.”

            “Call me Arthur.” Harrow extended a kindly hand to her. “Come.” She stepped up to him and allowed him to take her hands. “Will you accept your scales, regardless of the outcomes?”

            “Yes,” said the woman.

            The cane swung back and forth, and the woman stared at Harrow’s scales apprehensively. They froze unbalanced and turned a sickening red.

            “I’m sorry,” said Harrow sadly, but (Y/N) felt the lie. He was happy to rid the world of people judged to be unrighteous.

            “I’ve been good my entire life,” said the woman desperately, unable to understand the results of her judgement.

            “I believe you,” said Harrow. Truth. “But the scales see everything. Perhaps it’s something that lies ahead. He sighed. “Well, I wish you could live to see the world we make. Yet, Ammit has decided.”

            The woman gave a gasp that died in her throat. Her body froze before collapsing, dead.

            (Y/N)’s stomach twisted, and they grimaced as every part of them surged angrily at the injustice of these people being given no chance, even for their future. It went against the proper order of life. It was just wrong, and (Y/N) could feel it.

            Harrow knelt sadly beside her body before it was carried away. One of his men walked up and crouched, holding his gun tightly.

            “I’m sorry. There was a problem with the exchange,” he said in German.

            Someone already took the scarab? thought (Y/N). Their eyes went to Khonshu’s Avatar.

            “We got ambushed. Someone killed two of our men,” continued the man.

            It was definitely Khonshu’s Avatar’s doing.

            Harrow stood. “Is he still here?”

            “We think so, yes,” said the guard.

            They know his face, thought (Y/N), glancing at him again.

            Harrow looked out over the crowd. “Bow to Ammit!” he said in Ancient Egyptian.

            The entire crowd knelt ((Y/N), too, to blend in). Khonshu’s Avatar was late, having no idea what the order was and not being part of the cult.

            “Oh, bollocks,” cursed Khonshu’s avatar.

            (Y/N) frowned. That was a totally different accent, English (weird English, too) instead of American. What was going on?

            “You,” said Harrow, looking at him. “I know you.”

            “Me? Hi, uh…” The avatar stood up nervously.

            “Mercenary,” said Harrow coldly, and all eyes went to Khonshu’s avatar.

            “ ‘Mercenary?’ ” repeated the man nervously as the crowd stood up again. “No, no. I’m not a mercenary. No, I’m a gift shop-ist. I work at a gift shop. My name’s Steven Grant.”

            No lies at all, thought (Y/N). He really was Steven Grant and worked at a gift shop. Which, incidentally, made the whole situation more complicated because Harrow was also telling the truth. A regular job as cover? But what about the accents?

            “I’m trying to get back home. To London,” said Steven nervously as Harrow approached. “London? I dunno why I’m saying it like that.”

            “Well, Steven Grant of the gift shop,” said Harrow.

            “Yeah?” said Steven.

            “Will you return to the scarab?” said Harrow, holding out his hands.

            Shit, can’t let him have it, thought (Y/N). Now that they’d seen Harrow judge people and kill them, they knew that even beyond Ma’at’s instructions they needed to stop him. (Y/N) refused to let innocent people get hurt.

            “The…The what?” said Steven, confused. “Oh, alright.” He patted his pockets nervously. “Yeah, the…Oh, you mean…” He pulled the scarab out of his pocket. He stared at in, not having expected it to be there.

            “You will give him nothing.”

            Khonshu’s voice echoed over the street, and Steven looked around for it wildly. He swallowed and held out the scarab to Harrow anyways.

            No! thought (Y/N). They took a step forward.

            Harrow reached out. Steven’s fingers closed suddenly over the scarab. He looked at them in confusion.

            “I strongly encourage you to return that,” said Harrow.

            “I’m not-I’m…” Steven stammered, perplexed. He glared at his fingers, willing them to open. “I’m try—” He hit his hand with his other. “Come on, now. It’s like my fingers froze.” He tried to peel open his fingers. “But here’s some of that…I don’t know, maybe it’s part of the high altitude or something.” He managed to open his hand and grabbed the scarab. “Aha! There, take it, so strange. Sorry, but—” Steven’s hand swiveled behind him, again unbidden.

            “I will not ask again,” said Harrow firmly.

            “I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Steven. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

            Completely truthful, thought (Y/N). This whole thing was proving strange.

            Steven turned his whole body in an attempt to his hand nearer to Harrow. “There, take it, take it.”

            (Y/N) couldn’t let that happen. They darted out and snatched the scarab. Steven and Harrow’s eyes widened, but (Y/N) didn’t wait around to find out their other reactions. They turned and made a run for it.

            “Grab them,” ordered Harrow.

            Several adults emerged from the ground and grabbed for (Y/N). They dodged through a few, but two snagged their arms. (Y/N) yelped and pulled to get away. It didn’t work, so they just curled their fist closed around the scarab, refusing to let go.

            “Who are you?” said Harrow, tilting his head in confusion as his people tried to pry their hand open.

            “Hey, wait, mate, you can’t hurt a kid,” said Steven, brow creasing in concern.

            “Stay out of this, worm,” said Khonshu’s voice.

            Ma’at remained silent, apparently uninterested in getting near Khonshu again.

            The people holding (Y/N) twisted their arm, and they cried out, straining to keep control of their arm. They couldn’t let Harrow get the scarab, not when he was going to hurt people.

            Steven’s eyes rolled into his head for a moment before returning to glare at Harrow and Ammit’s followers. The entire body language had changed.

            “Finally,” said Khonshu.

            Not-Steven—this wasn’t Steven—surged forwards and attacked the people trying to take the scarab for Harrow. He pulled them off of (Y/N) and punched them violently. One tried to attack him in return, but he kicked him to the ground and stomped on his head. (Y/N) stumbled back as their attacker let go, and Not-Steven swung for his head, catching the scarab as it fell. Another grabbed for (Y/N) again, and Not-Steven hit them in the face with the scarab. All the people fell to the ground against Not-Steven, left with bloody knuckles from no wounds on himself.

            (Y/N) stared in surprise, as did Harrow and the crowd. Not-Steven turned to face Harrow, and then his eyes rolled into his head once more. He blinked furiously and looked around in confusion.

            “No, the idiots back,” grumbled Khonshu’s voice.

            Oh. (Y/N) put it together. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Steven and Not-Steven were alters, and one was clearly more of Khonshu’s avatar than the other. (Y/N) had met Not-Steven a year ago, and now they had encountered Steven.

            Steven cleared his throat uncomfortably as he stared at his bloody hands. “S-Sorry…” He put his hands up and glanced at (Y/N). “A-Are you alright?”

            (Y/N) nodded sharply, but they warily eyed the crowd backing off. They needed to get out of that village now. They had been seen by Harrow, which made them a target. If they didn’t leave with the scarab, (Y/N) was going to be killed. Or at least judged, which may end in death.

            “We need to go,” said (Y/N), taking a step back as Harrow and the crowd approached again.

            “Right, right…” Even Steven knew that was the best course of action now. He looked at Harrow warily. “I’m just gonna…we’re gonna go, alright? Yeah.”

            Steven and (Y/N) ran around the crowd, dodging behind tractors and barrels before they could be grabbed. The only escape route they could see was the cupcake-truck. But, seeing as they were desperate, (Y/N) and Steven jumped on.

            “Don’t you dare drop that scarab,” said Khonshu.

            “Alright, alright, alright!” shouted Steven, starting the vehicle.

            “Go, go, go!” said (Y/N), kicking away someone trying to open their door and locking it tightly.

            “We’re going!” cried Steven, stepping on the gas and speeding out of the village onto the roads beyond. “What am I doing, what am I doing?! I don’t even have my license.”

            “Just don’t crash,” said (Y/N), as encouraging as they could be considering the circumstances. They looked behind them. “We’ve got a lot of company.”

            “This has to be a dream,” said Steven nervously.

            “It’s not, Steven,” said (Y/N), grimacing as they saw Harrow’s men catching up. The cupcake van wasn’t going to outrun them.

            “They’re gonna kill us!” cried Steven as he wound around the curves of the roads.

            He tried to speed up, but a chicken-transportation truck appeared in front of them, and he had to slow down. The followers of Ammit rammed into them from the back.

            (Y/N) grit their teeth and squeezed their eyes shut. This isn’t 2018. This isn’t 2018. They weren’t going to die in a car accident. They weren’t.

            Steven honked and swerved around the truck of chickens. “Come on, move your ass!” he grimaced as he saw the old lady glaring at him. “Thank you. So sorry. Thank you.”

            Shots rang out, and a guard jumped from the front of his car to the back the cupcake van. He pulled at the doors, letting them swing wildly in the wind.

            (Y/N) scrambled into the back of the van and kicked him back. The guard fell onto the road, and they grimaced as the cars hit him and kept going. No sooner was he down, though, then another man jumped towards the open back. This time, he kept his gun raised, and (Y/N) dodged to the side. He grabbed for Steven and the scarab, and (Y/N) grabbed his ankle, tripping him. He stumbled and aimed downwards at him with his gun. Alongside them, another car was pulling up with a man with his gun trained on Steven.

            “Wait, no!” shouted Steven, and (Y/N) pushed back to try to avoid being shot.

            In the next moment, Steven—No, Not-Steven—grabbed the man aiming for (Y/N) and smashed his head into the steering wheel. He jerked back, and Not-Steven grabbed his gun. In one fluid motion, he shot the driver of the other car, sending it careening off into the mountain, and he shot the man aiming for (Y/N), letting his body fall back and out of the van.

            No sooner was it done than his eyes rolled again, and Steven dropped the gun in shock and disgust. “I don’t understand what’s happening!” cried Steven.

            “Truck!” shouted (Y/N), grabbing the seat they were behind as Steven screamed and swerved violently around a log truck. It tipped over and crushed a pursuing car.

            Two others pulled up on either side of the van and tried to hit the sides of the cupcake truck. A man on either side raised a gun and aimed.

            (Y/N) ducked and prepared to take the wheel if Steven got shot.

            His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Not-Steven’s eyes focused. He glanced at (Y/N) before spinning the wheel. (Y/N) held onto the seat as the van spun around, hit one car, and ended up backwards. The car crashed off the side of the mountain, and now the cupcake truck faced the final car pursuing them.

            Not-Steven’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Steven focused again.

            “I’m driving backwards!” he cried.

            “Watch out!” said (Y/N), bracing as the car behind(?) them tried to hit them.

            Steven threw the gun at the car, and (Y/N) groaned.

            “Did he just throw the gun?!”

            “I don’t know what I’m doing!” said Steven.

            “Then leave us be, parasite!”

            Steven panicked and turned the wheel, spinning the car around again. They sped towards the forest in the valley, and then…the engine died.

            They coasted to a stop, and the car behind them pulled up to block the road in front. The men got out, readied their guns, and headed towards them.

            “Come on,” said (Y/N), pulling Steven towards the back of the van to escape.

            At the perfect moment, the logs that had come off the truck from earlier landed on the road and crushed the men.

            “Oh, shit!” cried Steven.

            “Oh, god,” said (Y/N), eyes widening. What an unfortunate way to go. Still…it meant they were alive.

            “We need to go.”

            (Y/N) glanced at the man beside them. It was Not-Steven again.

            “Do you still have the scarab?” said (Y/N), following Not-Steven.

            “Yeah,” said Not-Steven. They headed into the woods and walked along the road towards the next town over.

            “What’s your name?” asked (Y/N).

            “Marc,” said Not-Steven. He glanced back at them. “You’re Ma’at’s avatar.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “You’re Khonshu’s.”

            Marc narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

            “…I’m (Y/N),” said (Y/N). They realized they should have introduced themself earlier.

            Marc nodded. “Do you have a way back to…wherever you live?”

            “Ma’at will tell me where I need to go next,” said (Y/N). “I’ll figure it out from there.”

            Marc frowned. “You don’t live anywhere?”

            “No?” said (Y/N).

            Marc looked at them and furrowed his brow before turning back to the front. “Be careful.”

            “I know,” said (Y/N). They were the avatar of a god and took back (stole) relics from criminals regularly. They wouldn’t be alive if they didn’t know to be careful.

            But, still, there was something nice about someone saying it instead of (Y/N) having to just take care of themself.

l

            “You were filming our judgement, correct?” Harrow smiled at a young woman.

            She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Harrow.”

            “Please, call me Arthur,” said Harrow. “Would you mind if I took a look?”

            “Of course, Mr-Arthur,” said the young woman.

            “Thank you,” said Harrow, smiling.

            “Mr. Harrow,” said one of his guards, walking up to him. “They got away with the scarab, but we’re already tracking down ‘Steven Grant.’ ”

            “Good,” said Harrow. He held up the phone with a still of the crowd from the video. “And I need you to figure out who this is.” (Y/N)’s face stared out of the crowd.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

[thestoriesfold]

Question:

Is the Moon Knight fandom still alive? I've got a potential series sitting in my lap atm. I just wanna know if I'm gonna indulge in this alone? It is what it is.

Edit: here y’all go

[whoreish-behaviour]

He’s so freaking adorable and very Steven-coded lool !!