#moonknight x gn reader

[prismuffin]

A/n: Sorry this is a bit specific- I wanted to write smth for myself that I personally relate to and am dealing with. Made the reader gn so anyone at all can read this if they also relate!

Normal

Steven Grant x asexual(spectrum)!gn!reader

( summary: Steven and you had been together for a few months and he always wondered why you often pulled away from him whenever he tried to get explicitly touchy with you during intimate moments so he decides to ask ) warnings?: angst, pre-established relationship, talks of sex (no actual sex), reader is specifically portrayed to be both placiosexual (meaning they have no problem sexually pleasuring their partner but don't want their partner pleasing them) and cupiosexual ( meaning that the person often wants to experience a sexual relationship but can't for whatever reason) , reader being confronted about their sexual orientation, reader not being completely ok with their sexual orientation! !-!more under the cut!-!

You and Steven had been together for a few months now and everything had been perfect. You knew about Marc, accepted his flaws and quirks, were kind and loving, you were everything he'd needed.

Not too long ago he'd decided to ask you to get a little more intimate, it was clear that you were previously waiting on him to be ready which he appreciated. When the night finally came where you two were intimate it was a bit more one-sided than Steven had thought. It's not like he wasn't satisfied or anything, quite the opposite actually. You'd focused all your attention on him, making him feel good and completely disregarding your own satisfaction. He at first thought it was because it was your first time but now after being intimate with you for a while he realizes how uncomfortable you get with him when he tries to reciprocate any sort of intimate action towards you. Sure things like little love-bites are accepted by you but anything past that you shut down for the most part. It's gotten to a point where he wonders if its just him that you don't want to be intimate with, but the way you treat him, please him contradicts that entirely. So as you sat on the couch in your newly shared apartment he couldn't help but wanna ask.

"Y/n...?"

You hummed as you turned away from the random cooking show that played on the TV to focus on Steven. "Yeah?" You watched Stevens eyes fill with hesitancy as he looked at you. "Uhh, I just- I have a bit of a question.." He stated, speaking a bit quieter as he eyed you cautiously. You nodded, grabbing the remote and turning down the TV. This was obviously important if he's acting this nervous so you decided to give him your full attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?" You turned a bit so that you'd be facing him fully. "Not really, I've just been wondering about something for a while," He fidgeted with his hands before continuing. "I mean, we've been intimate for some time and I love it, I really do, but how come you never really let me..." He trailed off, gesturing between you and him a bit. "Let you...?" You questioned, you had a hunch where this was going but thought it'd be better if he clarified before you jumped to conclusions. "Let me touch you..." Your heart dropped a bit at the question, yup it was what you thought. You suppose that this was gonna come up sooner or later.

You usually only performed oral or manual sex on Steven, never really fully going all the way for your own comfort but you guess it can seem a bit weird after a while to perform only those things. "I...uh..." You hesitated, unsure of just how to go about answering this. You knew you were on the ace spectrum, placiosexual to be specific, but still there was something inside you yearning for a sexual relationship and though you technically have one you want to really feel it. But the thought of letting that happen sickens you. It's been an ongoing battle in your mind for years, you hope you'll eventually "grow out of it" but you haven't had many opportunities to try, anytime you do something in your mind just shuts the whole thing down. "I-I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me- it's ok you don't have to answer-" Steven stuttered out but you were quick to dismiss his worries. "It's fine, it just caught me a bit off guard ya know?" You chuckled dryly, nervously as you swallowed thickly and sighed. "It's uhhh, I'm sorry I'm just a bit...asexual..." Stevens eyes widened at the confession as he inhaled sharply. "Oh bloody hell- I didn't like make you do those things right?"

"No- Steven it's fine I was fine with all of that I swear." You smiled though your eyes held a bit of sadness to them.

"Are you sure? Don't asexuals not like to perform sexual acts like that?" He asked and you nodded. "Some don't sure, but asexuality is a spectrum Steven, I'm not completely uncomfortable with the idea of sex its just uhh it's a bit hard for me to receive any sexual favors." He nodded slowly as he took in your words, not entirely sure on how to respond. "So, how much are you comfortable with?" You hummed at the question, for some reason it made you want to cry though you bit back the thought before anything could show. "Well I'm Placiosexual, which means I'm completely fine with doing sexual acts on my partner, you." He smiled, grabbing your hand as you continued. "But when it comes to receiving those same acts from others I get a bit uncomfortable.." You looked down and he nodded, moving his head lower to catch your eye again. "What's wrong?" "It's nothing I-" "I accept you ya know? This isn't gonna change anything between us I swear." You were silent for a few seconds after that, you'd expect nothing less from Steven but that wasn't entirely the problem. "I know that." "Then what is it?" He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and you sighed, not being able to hold yourself back from tearing up a bit. "I just- Sometimes I really envy you." "Envy me?" "Yeah, you can just be ok with stuff that makes me extremely uncomfortable at times." You paused, trying to decide how you wanted to word this to get your point across. "I don't want to be this way all the time, I want to feel comfortable in those moments, to connect with someone like that but I just can't and I've always hated myself for it." You couldn't help the tear that escaped your eye, deciding to just let it fall. "I just wish I was...normal,"

"You are normal." Steven was quick to shut down your negative thoughts.

Looking at him directly you were shocked to see him tearing up a bit. "Steven..." "You're completely normal Y/n, nothings wrong with you, you just have a harder time getting comfortable with those things and that's ok, everyone's different love," "But I don't want to be different!" You choked out, more tears streaming down your face at the confession and he paused. Moving closer to you, he grabbed your face in his hands using his thumbs to wipe your tears as you shut your eyes. Leaning in he softly placed a kiss to your nose before sighing. "Who you are is completely okay love, and if you really want to we can try and take things slow for you alright? But you can't be mad at yourself for feeling the way you feel about something as futile as this." You sniffled, slowly opening your eyes though not looking at him directly. "What you do for me is enough already, I don't need to have sex with you to love you." That seemed to really hit you as you started crying again, moving to hug Steven. He stroked your back as you cried, whispering comforting words to calm your ragged breathing as you held back sobs. "I just don't wanna feel this way forever." You mumbled and Steven hummed, pulling back from the hug to look at you. You tried to wipe your tears but Steven had beat you to it. The small amount of affection making you smile briefly before you sighed. "Like I said before if you really want to try and change it we can take it slow," "I-I don't really know, I mean I want to try but I don't because I know I'll just feel disappointed." Steven offered you a smile as he continued to caress your face, ready to wipe away any stray tears that still fell. "Then we won't. Not unless you're 100% sure you want to try. And even if that day never comes it'll be alright." You were quiet as you took in his words.

Part of you hoped that one day randomly you'd just start to feel ok with it all but you know that's most likely never going to happen. But with Stevens words on your mind you feel a little less bad for feeling this way. Maybe you're not some weirdo after all, maybe you are just a normal person. Even if you never change the way you feel, Steven will still love you and at the end of the day isn't that all you really need?

----!----

( This was once again quite personal to me so I'm sorry that it's like so specific but I needed some comfort so I decided to make my own comfort fic LMFAO )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

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Masterlist

[acidbathmf]

Loving Machine

GN READERRRR

Pairings: Moon Boys x GN Native Reader

Summary: idk bro making native tacos skjsnm

Word Count: 577

Warnings: None

Notes at endd

Steven had just got back from a bit of a stressful day from his job at the museum and back to your guy’s shared apartment that he moved in not too long ago 

To the smell of oil 

As he walked over to the kitchen where you swayed you hips and sang to the music playing 

The music was so loud you didn't hear his footsteps and the slight slam of the door

“Maddie Klien and her fabulous loving ma-(hey)AH” 

You sang then got rudely interrupted by Steven suddenly touching your shoulder and greeting you

“jesus christ dude” you gasped as you put a hand on the counter behind you

“Oh sorry love” he giggled out “Yeah whatever i'm gonna burn this bread” you said as you turned back around to the stove as Steven turned the music down “what are you doing having a concert in here” as he turned back to you he asked “what are you making?”  “hmm looks like sopaipillas am i right?”

Marc said out of the blue “haha no it's not sopaipillas sorry marc” you laughed “then what is it?”

“My famous frybread, my grandma taught me how to make it after years of asking but the first two I made taste like sopaipillas if u want that” you smirked and pointed your head in the direction where the bread was kept. “Oooh dont mind if i do” he cackled and wiggled his fingers walking toward the box, “there's only two so no more after that!” you reminded him as he nodded “si si me acuerdo”

{time skip a few mins later}

“Finally done with that” you sighed as you poured the left over oil the sink along with the pan

And grabbed another pan.

“More cooking?” Jake complained, “oh calm down you child dinner is almost ready” you snickered as you poured the taco meat into the pan “meat? You sure Steven is okay with that”. Marc questioned “I’m sure its fine my mom made it, its a vegan recipe”

You replied “ohhh ok” he paused for a second “what are you even making anyways?”

Jake wondered “tacoss” you said while stirring the meat while putting the seasoning in

“If your making tacos then where's the shells or whatever” “dude the shell is the frybread”

“Oh” “yeah anyways can u get the cheese and stuff for me?” you asked.

“Sure” he opened the fridge and looked inside for a bit “wait we have no stuff” “ugh really?” you said in disbelief “well looks like your gonna have to go get some then” “what? Why me?” he objected

“Come on pleaseee” you begged.

“Sure yeah fine whatever” “Thank you Marcc i'll send you a list” “a list??” he questioned 

“Yes a list its short and i'll give you some money so don't worry man” you replied as you walked over to your jacket on the couch for your wallet “wait your giving me your money??” he asked 

“Yes now take it before I change my mind, Spector,” you warned him “okay okay i'll be on my way” Marc said while grabbing the money “wait!” you said while dashing over to him 

“Can you get me a drink at Starbucks?” you asked after giving him a kiss

On the cheek “yeah” he said while putting on his jacket, “hasta luego!” 

“Yeah yeah shoo now” you said as you smiled and waved your hand as you turned your music back on.

NOTES TIME

IVE WANTED 2 WRITE A FIC 4 LIKE EVERR I WROTE A PT1 IN MY NOTE BOOK AND HALF OF A PT2 BUT I NOW ACTLY MADE IT I RANDOMLY CAME UP W THIS WHEN IN THE SHOWER LMAO btw this is so bad so srry yall

[spacecowboyhotch]

Sprinkles

about this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC SPECTOR (aka the love of my life). gn!reader. contents: a birthday fic, illusions to abuse/mental health issues, canon typical mentions of DID, internal angst, fluff, kissing. wc: 738. not beta’d.

moonknight masterlist

Marc wakes to the smell of something distinctly sweet, though he isn’t sure what it is. He is hit with that deep sadness that has rooted itself inside of him since he was just a little boy. Another year has passed— he’s made another trip around the sun. Another year to remember and forget, to fight his demons, to look in the mirror and be nothing but a grim reminder of his broken family.

But, then he hears a familiar tune, a whistle floating through the air that makes him feel light. Your whistle. A new reminder that he has a new family. That in some ways he created a new family within himself, one that you readily accept.

He turns to bury himself in your pillow, smothering the goofy grin on his face. He’s still growing used to this feeling, of being happily and safely in love.

There is the patter of your feet, the chatter of dishes, the sound of a tea kettle. When he finally sits up, there’s a card with his name scrawled across it on his bedside table, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

He laughs as he reads the card, though your sentiment is sweet and means a lot to him, given his tumultuous childhood with little joy.

For the man who has a sweet tooth that rivals a 7-year-old. You deserve every confection on this earth— none are sweeter than you. All my love.

Marc tucks the card into his drawer, along with a few other things you’ve gotten him, a watch from his father, and his old wedding band. Things with meaning. He picks up the box of chocolates and heads out to the kitchen where he knows he’ll be met with the happiest sight on earth— you.

“Mornin’,” He calls out to you, his voice still rough from sleep.

You whirl around, fixing him with a smile so wide and genuine it makes his cheeks warm. “Good morning, lovey. Sit sit, it’s almost done,” You gesture to the kitchen table.

Marc sits as instructed, watching patiently as you start to get everything ready. You set down in front of him: coffee that he knows will be perfectly made, two different stacks of what both seem to be funfetti pancakes, extra sprinkles, whipped cream, and syrup.

“Did you know that most funfetti pancake recipes don’t call for any actual funfetti cake batter? Seems fraudulent don’t you think?” You ask as you fix a plate for yourself and sit beside him.

He hums in agreement. “Hence the two different kinds?”

“Well I wanted to see which you liked better, a traditional recipe or mine,” You reason, stabbing a candle into both of his stacks so that you can light them. Leaning close you, brush your lips against his cheek as the flames flicker.

At this moment, Marc feels like the only people that exist are you and him. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and tenderness before you even speak another word. Marc wants to be alive. He wants to live with you, year after year. He wants to know who could be with you by his side.

As if you’ve read his mind, you whisper to him, “Happy birthday, Marc Spector. I hope for you, more love, more growth, more happiness, and contentment.”

Marc inhales shakily, his eyes growing wet with tears. He nods, reaching out to grasp your hand and squeeze, hoping that the gratitude he’s feeling is clear. You raise his hand, kissing it gently before gesturing towards the candles.

“Make a wish, Marc.”

He could. He lets his eyes flit around the space, his mind flitting through ideas as he takes in his surroundings. A loving light in your eyes. The sweet scent of funfetti pancakes. Coffee the color of dark caramel. The perfect box of chocolates. This place that you both call home. Marc realizes he loves things just the way they are right now. He closes his eyes and wishes that every day will hold even a fraction of the warmth it does right now.

He guides a hand to your chin, pulling you close by it so he can press a grateful kiss to your mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart, all of this is great. More than I could’ve asked for.”

“Get used to it, Spector,” You laugh, mouth brushing his.

“I’m working on it, but for right now, I think it’s time for me to try some pancakes.”

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts , @rmoonstoner, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[flightlessangelwings]

Late Nights

Neighbor!Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word count- 1.8k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, feelings, protective!Steven,fluff, no use of y/n

Notes- This check two things: part of my neighbor Steven Grant series and a box (praise kink) for @moonknight-events Bingo. And tho it's part of a series, I wrote all the parts so that they can stand on their own. This as been in my wips for so long and I'm so happy to finally have written it!! I've missed our dear Steven too! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new fics!

~

It was late, and Steven should have fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, he laid wide awake, his mind racing as he fiddled with his rubik's cube. Steven just couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. He thought about you all day long- while he was at work, he wondered if you would like the exhibits he worked around. On the days he was lucky to pass you in the hallway on his way to his door, the image of your bright smile stayed with him well into the night. Even when he was in bed, Steven couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you there with him, nuzzled in his arms.

He felt too nervous to make the first move, though. 

But, a sound from the other side of the wall made Steven gasp- it  was you. He heard you whimper and he immediately shot upright as his mind raced. Should he go over to you? Were you just having a nightmare? Or did something happen and you needed him?

As Steven pondered the options, he heard you cry out again, louder this time. His breath caught in his throat as you whined again, but this time it was different. Steven was sure he heard his name.

“I’m coming, love,” he whispered to himself as he jumped out of bed and grabbed the spare key you gave him in case of emergencies. 

Steven scrambled to his door and his hands trembled as he opened it. Bolting the short distance to your door, he gritted his teeth as he unlocked your door and burst inside in a rush. Shutting the door behind him, Steven ran across the space to your bed, scared that he would find you hurt or in trouble. 

But, what he found instead froze him in his tracks.

You were sprawled out on your bed, one hand cupping your chest, pinching your own nipple and the other between your legs. Your eyes were shut as your hand worked to pleasure yourself and you were lost in bliss until the sound of your name in Steven’s voice made your eyes snap open.

“Steven…” you gasped as you locked eyes with him.

The world felt like it was on fire, and as much as Steven knew he should leave, having caught you in a private and intimate moment, he couldn’t make himself move. It was as if you enthralled him, freezing him to the spot where he stood.

And you were flustered, covering yourself with the sheet as you realized you were so loud that you caught Steven’s attention. But, the way he looked at you made your heart pound. More than being embarrassed that he caught you pleasuring yourself, you felt your skin burn at the thought that he heard you cry out his name while he did so.

It felt like an eternity where neither of you moved, both too unsure of what to do or say to ease the tension in the room. It was Steven who finally moved first, though.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he covered his eyes and turned away, “I should go.”

“Wait,” you replied out of reflex.

Steven turned back to face you, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into your figure on the bed.

“Stay,” you whispered in a soft tone as you sat up and dropped the sheet, “Please stay,” your voice shook as your nerves overtook you, but you figured it was now or never.

He swallowed hard as his hands trembled, “Are- are you sure?” He sounded just as nervous.

“I’m sure,” you replied in a hushed tone as you kicked the sheet away, exposing yourself completely to him.

Steven felt his skin warm as he suddenly felt overdressed. He felt like he was in a dream, but if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. Moving before he realized it, he crossed the rest of the space and leaned forward, placing his hands on the foot of your bed. “Are you sure about this, love?” he asked again in a low tone as his eyes drank you in.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Both of you were nervous, it was a bold move and uncharted territory for each of you. But, the need overtook the nerves. Slowly, Steven reached out for you, cupping your face tenderly in his hand. You let out the breath you held as you leaned into his touch. As his thumb brushed across your cheek, Steven also exhaled, “You’re so lovely.”

Your mouth parted as you gasped softly. Mirroring his action, you reached for him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer until your lips crashed together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you instantly deepened the kiss, and Steven’s hands roamed all over your bare figure. As you kissed him deeply, you tugged at his shirt, motioning for him to take it off.

“Let me see you too, Steven,” you whispered.

Steven let out a short laugh before he broke away to do as you asked. This time, it was your turn to gawk as your eyes roamed across his chest. You had always found him attractive from the moment you first met, but to see him shirtless before you made your heart flip in your chest.

“Wow…” you breathed.

He giggled nervously, “Wow to you too, darling,” he quipped.

That made you laugh as you pulled him close again, “Touch me, Steven,” you murmured as you guided him to crawl onto the bed so that he hovered over you.

Resting on your back, you looked up at Steven as his arms framed your face. The two of you froze again as you locked eyes, but this time it didn’t last. Steven was the first to move as he leaned forward and kissed you, taking the lead this time. His kiss was slow and soft, but you moaned into him as you felt his emotions in the kiss.

His hands roamed all over your body, running up and down your sides before cupping your chest. You broke the kiss to let out a louder moan as his hands ran across your nipples while he kneaded your chest.

“Steven…” you whimpered as you arched your back.

Encouraged by your moans, Steven’s hand ran down your body until one dipped between your legs. You gasped when you felt a finger at your entrance, making him pause.

“Keep going… please…” you begged.

“Can’t say no to you, love,” Steven smirked before he slowly pushed a finger into you and started to gently thrust in and out.

Your mouth dropped open as you cried out, “Steven… Feels so good…”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace before he added a second finger, “You’re exquisite, darling.”

All you could do was moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slickness as he did so. His fingers filled you more than your own could, yet you still craved more. “Steven…” you pleaded, “Please… Need you…” you choked on your words, flustered at just how desperate you were. 

“Shit love,” he breathed, astonished that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Carefully, Steven pulled his fingers out of you before he pushed his pants down to free his cock. His heart fluttered in his chest as your hungry eyes landed on his hardened length. Slowly, you peeled your eyes away and up his body, soaking in every inch of his skin before you met his gaze. Heat rose in the room as the two of you locked eyes, and the unspoken question lingered in the air. 

Swallowing hard, you nodded, answering without the words needed.

Steven whispered your name as he positioned himself at your entrance, crawling over you as the tip pushed in. Both of you gasped as he started to fill you, and you both clung to the other as your heat engulfed him inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside you.

“Fuck, Steven,” you murmured, “You feel so good,” you couldn’t help but moan as you wrapped your arms around him, “Fuck me… Please…”

He breathed a soft, “Fuck,” in your ear as his hips moved on their own.

Moans and groans filled the room as Steven’s hips rocked against yours. What started as clumsy and unsure quickly morphed into hot and desperate as Steven thrust his hips faster.

“Yes… Steven… So good… Feels so good,” you babbled in his ear as you dug your nails into the skin of his back, desperate to feel him as close as possible.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his climax already start to build. Between how good you felt and the babbling praise that flowed from your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last. “Fuck… Darling…”

You let out a loud gasp as he thrust as deep as he could into you, hitting that sweet spot with precision, “Fuck!” you screamed, “Right there!” you opened your eyes as he paused in that moment, “You’re beautiful, Steven,” you whispered.

“Not as beautiful as you, love,” he smirked back before his hips took over again, thrusting into you with abandon.

The cries you let out echoed in the room, and both of you were sure the other neighbors could hear you but neither of you cared. All that mattered to each of you was the other, and the climaxes you both desperately chased. Incoherent babbling dripped from your lips in between your moans until you screamed even louder as your peak hit.

“That’s it, love,” Steven wasn’t sure where that came from, but as he talked you through your climax, he found it turned him on even more, “Lovely,” he preened as he felt you clench around him as you came hard, “Fuck…” he stuttered as his own orgasm hit right after yours. Steven groaned your name as he spilled himself inside of you, and he clung to you just as much as you did to him as he rode out both your climaxes together. 

Completely spent and out of breath, Steven collapsed down on top of you, clumsily pulling out of you as he did so. He only relaxed for a moment, though; after hearing you gasp, he shot right back up onto his elbows to check on you, “Are you alright, love?” he asked with worry as he cradled your face.

Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and leaned into his touch, “Never better,” you replied in a hushed tone before you kissed his palm, “That was better than how my night started,” you added with a chuckle.

Steven’s face lit up as he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead, “I agree,” he whispered with a laugh of his own.

“Stay with me, tonight?” you asked in a meek tone.

“Anything for you, love,” Steven replied as he made himself comfortable and the two of you tangled your limbs in each other, curled up and safe in the other’s arms.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

how would the moon boys react to reader flirting w another person to make them jealous? (they're friends w benefits)

okay so I made this a tad angsty just bc I feel it suits and bc I wanted it, but shush, that’s neither here nor there. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

FWB MAKING THE MOONBOYS JEALOUS.

moonboys x gn reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. angst? bad writing/ thoughts and hcs

I feel like marc is a lot more insecure than he lets on or more than one may think. he's usually the type to shrug and gruff dismissively, not wanting to bring attention to it, or to the fact that he cares about something... you. because you're casually messing about, he tries not to expect anything else of you. to see you flirting may make him feel insecure and make him remember what a fuckup he is. it would make him feel stupid to think that you'd want something more with him. I don't think he would take it too lightly, and would most likely be wounded by your games. how you'd essentially toy with him when he put himself out there (he's probably had lots of casual sex before, but nothing quite like your situation) maybe he doesn't like to be on the opposite end of the stick - to be the one that is more invested in a 'relationship'. I feel like he'd brush you off, saying, "yeah, yeah im good. gonna uh— gonna head to bed now."

with steven I think he's always wary about situationships - it's not something he's usually down for. except maybe he really likes you, and this way being friends with benefits is as close as he can get to being with you, so he takes the opportunity. again, same with marc, it would make him feel insecure for you to flirt with someone else to make him jealous. it would make him feel inadequate to think he had a shot with you. he already felt like you were out of his league, and it would make him feel ridiculous for thinking otherwise. maybe he would laugh it off and pretend he was okay with you 'toying' with him, but really he'd just be upset and disappointed (in himself and dare I say... you... soz) I feel like he'd chuckle and say, "yeah, no— no, that was— yeah, you got me there." and he'd just walk off

for jake im on the fence a bit here. one hand I think he'd entertain it, maybe playing you and retaliating to make you jealous. he would find himself someone on their own at the bar, just in eye sight of you and would hit on them - making sure you can see. he thinks that becuase you're playing games, he gets to as well. BUT im also weighing with the fact of how volite and explossive he can be, and how he reacts before he can think. so perhaps if you're flirting with another man, he'd go up to you both and push him away, maybe holding your arm and walking you out the bar. mumbling to himself as he pushes past people. he'd be like, "what the hell was that? going around and flirting with people you meet at bars?" and then you say, "we're not dating. we aren't anything," and then he'd be like, "yeah, you're right," and then would let go of your arm and nod and walk away

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Stitches

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: T Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist •

Summary: Marc goes to A & E after you have an accident at work.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: *gestures vaguely*

Warnings: swearing, reader has hair that gets shaved at the back, slimy guy called Luke

Word Count: 941

Marc was going to kill him. Kill everyone. It was a workplace for fuck’s sake, there were rules, regulations, fucking health and safety. They were meant to be in place to stop things like this happening, to stop things from happening to you. 

He marched through the hospital entrance, the automatic doors taking a millisecond too long for his liking and he had been a hair's breadth away from kicking the glass in.

He turned sharply left, heading for A & E, and spotted Luke, fucking Luke, a moment after he spotted him. 

And apparently Luke had a fucking death wish, because Marc’s scowl wasn’t enough to discourage the man from jumping to his feet and making his way over to him. 

Luke swallowed nervously as he came over, brushing his hair back with his right hand. “Steven, mate,” 

Oh, ‘mate’ was it? Marc clenched his jaw. The sudden urge to punch him square in the jaw was blisteringly overwhelming. His hand tensed, tendons trying to curl into a fist. 

Kick him in the dick instead. Steven.

Not in public. Jake. 

The surprisingly, but honestly unsurprisingly, agreement to violence from both of his headmates made Marc pause. Swallow. Try to calm himself. 

“Where are they?” Marc said gruffly, too stressed to bother with even sounding vaguely Steven-like. 

Luke stammered, a little on edge at the vicious tone of his voice. “I… Well…”

Marc glared. 

Luke had been a lot more collected when they’d met a few weeks ago at your work’s Christmas party. Charming and slimy in the way he’d weaselled over and flirted with you right in front of Steven. Despite your blatant rebuttal of his advances. Despite your clear refusal of wanting anything to do with him. No matter how many times you’d showed disinterest at work he still just didn’t get the fucking message. 

“Where are they?” Marc repeated, his voice cold and quiet. 

“They, well, there was an accident…”

Marc bit his tongue, forcing the words ‘I fucking know that’, down. Even if he hadn’t been given the message already, the fact that they were in a fucking hospital should have been enough for Luke to gather that Marc had a vague idea of what was going on.

“They’re with a doctor now, they’re just getting some stitches and-”

Marc didn’t see red. Instead, it was as if everything went sepia, drained of colour to the point where nothing mattered at all. “Stitches?” 

“Yeah, just a few-”

Marc stepped closer and Luke visibly cowered back suddenly realising the danger he was in. 

“Can I help you?” A nurse, a young man with bright eyes who barely seemed old enough to be out of school, moved between them, glancing between Marc and Luke. 

Luke said nothing, eyes wide still watching Marc for any sudden movements. 

Marc spoke your name softly, looking down. “I’m their partner, are they…?” He swallowed, too many words all at once trying to force their way out of his mouth. 

The nurse smiled kindly, “They’re fine, just with the doctor now down the hall. I’ll take you to them, okay?” 

Marc faltered for a moment, his eyebrows pinched together. “Is that okay, is, is that allowed? I don’t want to get in the way of anything.”

The nurse shook his head. “No problem at all, come.” He gently touched Marc’s arm, just enough to get him to turn and walk with him. 

You smile when the door opened and saw a rather ashen-looking Marc being ushered in by a kind-looking nurse. 

“Doctor Ali, is it okay for the patient’s partner to come in?” 

The doctor smiled and nodded her head, “Of course, I’m nearly done anyway.” She was busying herself with the equipment cart. 

Marc rushed in and quickly knelt down next to you, “Baby,” he whispered, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles. 

“Hey, hey,” you rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” 

He looked up at you with glassy eyes and a growing lump in the back of his throat. 

Slowly you moved your hand to his cheek and ran your thumb lightly over his skin. Newly growing stubble prickled against your fingers. 

Marc closed his eyes for a second, letting out a long sigh through his nose and allowed himself to press into your touch before he placed a kiss to your wrist and looked back into your eyes. 

“Though,” you smiled, trying to lighten the mood a little, “I might look a bit like a fifteenth century monk for a bit.” You pointed to the back of your head, moving slightly so Marc could see the patch of shaved hair and stitches. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, his voice barely audible. 

“It’s okay,” you smile. “It’ll grow back.” 

Marc gave you a look, “you know I’m talking about the size of the wound.”

“I know.” You lean down and kiss his forehead. 

“How did it happen?”

“I fell down, didn’t I?” 

“Baby-”

You pull him a little closer so you can give him a proper hug, he lets out another sigh when you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple. “I’ll tell you the whole boring story later, I promise.” 

He nods. He knows, deep down, you’re only waiting until he’s calmed down a little, until the panic and nausea have left his heart and throat. 

“I saw Luke in the waiting area,” Marc mutters, still pressed close. “I nearly punched him.” 

You chuckle a bit at that in spite of yourself. “Amazing self control Spector.” 

Marc’s eyes crease as he smiles. “The day is still young.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Prologue

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Prologue: On the Precipice

Summary: In 2018, (Y/N) discovers grief as people turn to dust and the world turns to chaos.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Burden of Truth! Kind of a rough beginning, but, hey, how else do you become an Avatar to a god? Anyways, housekeeping: This is a platonic fic, so anyone who suggests anything inappropriate between an adult and minor will be blocked and deleted. That's pretty much it, but I wanted to make it clear. As for the actual fic, there aren't any warnings other than the violence that Marvel shows. I'm really excited to share this series! Please feel free to comment since I'm always up to answering questions and replying to comments. Plus it makes me keep writing. Without further ado, though, please enjoy!

2018…

            (Y/N) gasped for breath, but their lungs refused to bring in the air they needed. Every limb ached, and their heart beat against their chest. It stuttered, refusing to work correctly. The edges of (Y/N)’s visions blurred to black.

            Everything had gone wrong. They had thought this summer would be a beautiful one, traveling with their parents. Egypt was lovely, and (Y/N) liked to listen to their parents—anthropology and history professors—tell them about the rich history and culture of the country.

            Plus, they were far away from New York where strange aliens had recently attacked and fought Iron Man and a strange wizard. They were safe with their family and free to enjoy themself.

            And then people turned to dust.

            Screams echoed as loved ones disappeared before people’s very eyes. Cars crashed without drivers. Buses overturned and threw out people and sand. Cries went out as crashes sent metal through limbs—through torsos.

            Through (Y/N)’s torso.

            (Y/N) couldn’t even move to cover their chest as it bled. They didn’t try to. They knew they were dying. They didn’t want to (gods, please, no, I don’t want this I don’t want this) but they were.

            And they couldn’t even reach out to hold their mom and dad’s hands. (Y/N) felt like a child again, but unlike nightmares, they couldn’t run to their parents’ arms to feel safe. Even if they could, the chill of death had already taken their parents’ warmth and comfort.

            (Y/N) wished they’d all turned to dust. This was violent, painful, agonizing. Their parents had laid beside them in distress, calling out for help and rescue, dying. No one had come.

            And now (Y/N) was alone—the world hadn’t even been kind enough to let them die before their parents.

            This was just so wrong. Unfair. Unjust.

            “It is unjust.” A calm voice spoke.

            (Y/N) didn’t move. They couldn’t, and they were already dying. Their situation couldn’t get worse.

            “I can feel your pain.”

            This time, a woman, taller than humanely possible, appeared in their line of sight. She knelt among the dust and bodies of the bus and gazed at (Y/N).

            She was Egyptian, dressed in a red gown, and wore an intricate necklace of gold and turquoise. Multicolored Sleeves swept out with her arms like wings. Silky black hair fell around her shoulders, and her eyes were lined in kohl. An ostrich feather stood in a circlet and swayed in the wind.

            (Y/N)’s eyes landed on the feather, and something in their chest pulled towards it.

            The woman tilted her head and watched them in assessment. “You sense the truth.”

            “Who…” (Y/N)’s hoarse voice died.

            “I am the goddess Ma’at.” The wind whipped around her as she spoke. “I am in search of a guardian. To uphold justice in the face of wrongdoing. To protect harmony from discord. To defend truth from falsehood.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and Ma’at tilted her head.

            “I can see the truth in your heart. You want justice for everyone who suffers like you,” said Ma’at. She leaned in. “Pledge yourself to me, pledge yourself to the truth, and I will give you the life to do so.”

            (Y/N) looked into Ma’at’s eyes and summoned all their strength left.

            “Yes.”

l

2023…

            (Y/N) crouched on the roof and dropped onto the balcony below them. The house around them was quiet. The security guards were clueless to their approach, which was just fine. They didn’t want any attention.

            (Y/N) opened the sliding door of the balcony and slipped into the display room. They glanced around themself in distaste. None of the artifacts in glass cases belonged to the owner of this house. He’d “acquired” them in the aftermath of the Blip left countries in disarray, just so like many others.

            After the return of the Blipped, the problem of stolen artifacts had only gotten worse since the chaos had begun again, letting more people profit off the displaced people and their possessions.

            (Y/N) had spent years repatriating the stolen relics from the aftermath of the Blip. This man, Mr. Medrano, was among the worst offenders. He lied about his findings as an “archaeologist” and stole what he needed for glory. And along the way, he removed any competition. A thief, a liar, and a killer. Medrano was a man who brought injustice of all kinds to the world.

            And that was precisely what (Y/N) stood against—what Ma’at stood against.

            (Y/N) stopped in front of a case of Egyptian artifacts. Their eyes scanned the contents for the relic they were supposed to bring back to Egypt (send back, really, by way of another person. (Y/N) was still just a teenager, so they couldn’t send it back themself without raising suspicions. Luckily, putting something in a hidden box and not showing their face did the trick).

            (Y/N) frowned. The hieroglyphic tablet of Tethering wasn’t on the wall. It seemed they were later than expected, and Medrano had begun to work on translation.

            Which means it’ll be in his office.

            (Y/N) went to the door of the display room and peeked outside. No light, no movement. They moved into the hall and crept down towards the room at the other side of the house. Making sure their gloves were on—no sense leaving fingerprints—(Y/N) reached out and felt the door handle.

            The door was unlocked.

            Gently, (Y/N) opened it.

            Shick!

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they took a step back. A man in a white, bandage-like suit stood above Medrano. He pulled two crescent-shaped blades from his chest, and Medrano’s body slumped to the ground. The man paused and looked towards the door, the moon sighting the crescent-illusion in his hood and the symbol on the forehead and chest.

            “There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” said the man, but (Y/N) felt in their heart that he wasn’t speaking to them.

            “Does it matter? Your job is to punish the wrongdoers in this mansion.”

            (Y/N) blinked as they heard a voice echo from behind them. It was a god’s voice. Not Ma’at, no, but most definitely a deity.

            “I won’t hurt a kid, Khonshu,” snapped the avatar, and his hood folded back.

            (Y/N) turned around and found themself staring up (really up) at a half-man, half-bird skeleton in white wrappings. This was Khonshu.

            “I’m not a wrongdoer,” said (Y/N) to Khonshu, holding up their hands. “I’m, uh, an Avatar.”

            At that, Khonshu and man stopped.

            “You can see him?” said the man, frowning warily.

            “I’m the Avatar of Ma’at,” said (Y/N). They shifted. They weren’t used to saying that. “She’s the goddess of truth.” They could see the “truth” of the world more than others, and that included the gods that walked among them.

            “That ostrich is interfering with my work,” said Khonshu, irritated.

            “You are the one who is not supposed to interfere with human business,” said Ma’at’s calm voice, and (Y/N) glanced at the office’s large window to find her sitting on the sill.

            Khonshu’s avatar looked at the window but saw nothing. “Is another god here?”

            (Y/N) nodded sharply. This was a little too much. They were used to working by themself.

            “You are doing the exact same thing,” said Khonshu.

            “I am returning artifacts to our people,” said Ma’at. “I am not interfering in human life more than that.” She glanced at Medrano’s body. “Unlike some.”

            Khonshu tsked. “I am delivering justice.”

            “A type, yes,” said Ma’at.

            “Ma’at,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I’m going to take the tablet..”

            “Go ahead, (Y/N),” said Ma’at. “Khonshu will not harm you. You have done no wrong.”

            “They interfered with my work,” said Khonshu.

            “Irritating is not wrongdoing,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) decided to leave before the gods continued to argue. It made them uncomfortable. Then again, a lot of interaction did. (Y/N) hadn’t really gotten to slow down and make friends after 2018, so they’d grown used to their own company (or Ma’at’s). Everything else was business, and anything more was out of their realm of understanding.

            (Y/N) opened their bag and slipped the wrapped tablet carefully from the table inside. They looked decidedly away from Medrano’s body, glanced at Khonshu’s avatar, and left the room.

            If that’s what Avatars and gods outside of themself and Ma’at were like, (Y/N) didn’t want to meet them.

l

2025…

            “(Y/N).”

            The now-seventeen-year-old raised their eyes from the book they were reading. “Yes, Ma’at?”

            “I have an important job for you.”

            (Y/N) frowned. Ma’at never described anything as “important.” Necessary? Yes. Important? No. Everything was equally pertinent to upholding justice and order to Ma’at.

            “I need you to retrieve a scarab.”

            “Who stole it?” asked (Y/N).

            “You are.”

            (Y/N) looked at Ma’at in surprise. “What?” Ma’at disliked any injustice or unlawful actions.

            “You are stealing the scarab of Ammit,” said Ma’at.

            Ammit.

            Ammit ruled the scales in the Judgement of the Dead. Ma’at was the Feather of Truth against which human hearts were weighed. One had abandoned true justice; one continued to defend it.

            And (Y/N) was stuck in the middle with the burden to protect the truth of it all.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

[phantomspiderr]

Rest

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word Count: 750+

Summary: a sleepy cuddle with Steven

Warnings/Tags: just some cuddling fluff that I think about all the time, not really any description of reader, reader also doesn't talk, trying to keep it as neutral as possible, I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I've missed something

a/n: two posts in one week omg, Happy Holidays bbys😘

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

There is no sound throughout the flat, only occasionally is the silence broken by pages turning or scribbling of notes. Another evening of research had turned into being up until the early hours of the morning. Steven was hunched over his desk, hyper-focused on researching for a new exhibition that had been announced at his work. Since he’d finally settled back at home—after everything that happened with Marc, Egypt, Khonshu, all of those things that had been addressed—he’d been dying to get back to the museum. Unfortunately, Donna still worked there and everyone still remembered he’d trashed a perfectly good bathroom for no particular reason but luckily London had many, many museums. Steven felt like his luck had finally begun to change when he came across a part-time tour guide position at another fancy museum. Then the manager had loved his enthusiasm and knowledge so much that they’d offered him the job there and then. Now he's been working there for a few months but he was still set on making a good impression, that and he just found learning all of the knowledge therapeutic. There was a deep-seated comfort for Steven in reading over history books, especially on days like today when the streets of London are covered in snow and the flat is so cosy. He is so lost in his reading that he jumps when the floorboards creak, his head whipping around to your shadowy figure. Steven’s entire body softens, his fight or flight instincts calming down when he sees that you’re wrapped up in a blanket, standing a few feet away sleepily looking at him.

“Hi, little star. What’re you doing up?” Steven reaches a hand out to you, while his other removes his glasses and places them down on the desk. You quietly walked toward him, rubbing at your eyes with your blanketed hand and he can’t stop a smile from forming. As soon as you’re close enough Steven wraps his arm around you, looking up at you fondly, “you okay?” You only nod to the question, the memory of sleep still evident in your brain and Steven knows it’s late, so late, and that he should just allow you to drag him back to bed with him but he’s almost done with this chapter. Then you let out the quietest little whine and he almost gives up there and then, “I just have a few more pages love and then I promise I’ll come to bed. I swear.” Of course, you just pout and whine a little more and again he considers just leaving the rest for tomorrow but he’s so close to being done. He just looks between you and the desk a couple times before the idea pops into his head, “come sit with me till I’m done.” You don’t even take a moment to think about it, immediately climbing into Steven’s lap. With his help, you’re straddled in his lap facing him and he’s cupping your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing the tops of your cheeks while he takes a moment just to admire you. He gives your cheek the gentlest kiss as he allows you to make yourself more comfortable, your arms along with the blanket wrapping around his shoulders and your head resting to the side, tucked against your own shoulder and his face. Steven allows himself a minute to just hold you like this, he hadn’t even realised he was a little cold until your warmth was wrapped around him. He appreciates the comfort before he starts to realise how tired he actually is and now he has to fight his drooping eyes as he picks his book up again.

In no time you've dropped back into a slumber cosied up against Steven and he's struggling now. The urge to finish the chapter slipping from him, maybe he's learned enough for one night or maybe he can just rest his eyes for a moment and he'll find the energy to finish. He decides he'll just rest for a minute and he'll be fine. So, he ever so gently nuzzles his head into your neck, the book he'd been so absorbed with abandoned on the desk in favour of wrapping his arms around your body. Then within minutes he completely succumbs to sleep, research forgotten, now all he thinks of is you. Of how warm you are and that you smell so good and that all he wants at this moment is to stay like this forever. To always be this close and comfortable.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Ok but,

IMAGINE STEVEN WEARING HIS GLASSES AND TRANSFORMING INTO MR KNIGHT!!!

Without the mask of course, with his curlers and sweet face and- and- and- aghfhskaakhdd

Like- glowing eyes behind the lenses

And sophisticated and able to beat the shit out of you but cute but hot but cute but-

[deadqueerboys]

Jake: I told Steven his ears flush when they lie.

Marc: Why?

Person A: Shh, watch! Hey Steven! Do you love us?

Steven, covering his ears: NO!

Marc: that is adorable.

Jake: I know!

the fact that is Jake who thinked abt that is so cute

[shadystarlightgentlemen]

The Moon Boy’s React to You Calling Them “My Life” in Their First/Second Language

A/N: First fic on this blog!! Wooo! Hope you like it <3

Warnings: none, major fluff, slight angst?, I used Google Translate so I apologize if anything is incorrect!!

Gender neutral reader, but use of prince and princess in Spanish

Steven

Steven had never felt such joy in his life besides when he first asked you out and you said yes

He was just walking into your shared apartment, a tired yet relieved look on his face

Donna was up his ass all day and it really pissed him off, but coming home to you made the tension in his shoulders and frustration disappear 

“Hi Elliott, how was your day?” “Hi ma vie, it was alright. How was work?”

He stops breathing. Straight up. He just stands there and stares at you

He knew French was a common language and mostly used for it’s romantic sound, but it was coming from you

You learned a little bit of French just to make him happy and he fell harder in love with you for it

He knew you loved him, of course he did, how could he not?

You made that it very clear every second of the day from your random cute texts to making him tea just before he enter the door from work to the randoms love notes you place all over the apartment, but to call him your life? Oh his heart

He melted on the spot, he’s literally just a puddle

After he calmed his heart and tamed the ferocious blush on his cheeks, he tackles you in a hug, peppering your face with kisses and grinning like an idiot. An idiot in love.

"Mon ange, mon amour, mon cœur, mes étoiles c'était incroyable! Je vous aime!"

Marc

Oh baby boy

Touch starved baby boy

He wasn’t use to displays of affection, platonic or otherwise

His poor little heart

He had just gotten back from getting lunch for you and him, he was not ready for the bomb you were about to drop on him

He didn’t have a bad day per say, he was just so mentally tired, he almost didn’t recognize the Arabic passing through your lips

“Hey Y/n, I got you your favorite.” “Hayati, thank you! Did you grab the mail on your way up? I’m expecting a package and-Marc? Are you ok?“

Look what you did, you made him cry

He hasn’t even closed the front door before he’s crying and staring at you

You got up to make sure he was physically ok when he collapsed in your arms, desperately grabbing at your shirt and pulling you oh so close

He had never felt so loved, so appreciated, so soft

You life? He’s your life? Really?? You promise??

He was always so scared of messing up your relationship, but this eased any insecurities for at least a week

“Ana ahibuk.”

Jake

Jake is the most romantic alter, Steven coming in close second of course, but when Steven isn’t getting you flowers or sending you little notes, Jake is picking up a little more around the apartment, making you food, and giving you messages

He has such a bleeding heart for you, you don’t understand

He would do anything for you, all you have to do is ask

After a particulaly long night protecting the travelers of the night, he came home all bruised and tired

You had just sat down when he came plopping himself next to you and laying his head in your lap, ignoring the aching and pounding in his limbs and head

“Holà, príncipe/princesa.” “Holà mi vida! I got some pizza on the counter if you want any ok?“ “What?” “There’s pizza on the counter from your favorite place downtown and-” “No, no, no before that, what’d you say?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond

Jake had sat up and kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen

Hearing his first language on your tongue sent shock waves of happiness and love down his spine, he couldn’t even feel his sprained wrist and multiple broken ribs anymore

After he was done taking your breath away, he rested his forehead on yours

“You mean that? ¿Realmente significo tanto para ti?” “I love you, Jake, of course I mean it.”

Jake was down bad and by the wide grin and love sick sigh, he was more than happy to roll over and dive deeper in love

Fist of Vengeance be damned, he was so soft for you

“Te amo mi principe/princesa. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado.”

Ma vie = My life

Mon ange, mon amour, mon cœur, mes étoiles c'était incroyable! Je vous aime = My angel, my love, my heart, my stars, that was amazing! I love you

Hayati = My life

Ana ahibuk = I love you

Holà, príncipe/princesa = Hi, prince/princess

Holà mi vida = Hi my life

¿Realmente significo tanto para ti? = Do I really mean that much to you?

Te amo mi principe/princesa. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado = I love you my prince/princess. You are the best thing that’s happened to me

[boredzillenial]

MoonKnight Steven helping the reader choose a gift at the museum.

Thank you Anon! This one is just gonna be something a lil sweet 🥰

Themes: gn!reader, momentary Karen interaction, lil sassy Steven to the rescue, some self-depreciation on readers part, general awkwardness (workin on getting better at writing fluff bare with me).

Word count: 1,424

You make your way up the steps of the museum. Today was the first you’d had off since moving to London and you had spotted this on your bus route on the way to work this past week. Though you were supposed to meet up with some workmates in a a little over an hour for lunch you just could pass up the though if wandering around the museum.

Determined to make the most of your first day off you step inside, the soft sounds of voices and footsteps echoing off the high vaulted ceiling. You took in the sight like a kid in a candy store as your heart fluttered, ever the history nerd. You picked your way through the crowd gathered around the gift shop by the entrance. Your nerves get the better of you as you struggle through the crowd and push a little harder. The motion causing you to shoulder check a smaller American woman. The nicknacks and candies in her arms scattered around you as she shouted.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Her round face beet red as she stepped up to you, though she was only about chest height to you you were sure this was how you’d met your end.

“I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean.” You stammer and put your hands up attempting to take a step back. “I can get these-“ you continue and start to pick up her items scattered around.

“Seriously watch where your going! Can’t believe people these days!” She shouted and you winced internally at her voice echoing around you.

“Oi okay.” A soft but firm voice sounded from above you. “They didn’t mean it, obviously. We’ll clean this up you just go back to shoppin’ if you like -“ the source of the voice stopped as you looked up and your eyes met. His soft curls fell forward as he knelt down beside you, a blush rising on his cheeks. “You alright?” You hear an indignant huff and small stomps as the shouting woman stormed off.

Your mouth went dry as your heart thundered in your chest. “Y-yeah. Sorry it’s my fault. So stupid I can pay for all thi-“ you began to apologize.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He holds his hand up a bit in a calming gesture. “Happens all the time, it’s not your fault.” He says softly and smiles as he picks up the rest of the nicknacks. “I’m Steven.” He reaches a hand out.

Nervous panic shoots through you causing you to stand quickly. Feeling a bit woozy as blood rushes to your head as you grip onto the armful of candy and random items. You shift on your feet a bit and squeeze your eyes at the rush.

“Woah, alright.” Steven reaches out and holds your elbow firmly “You okay?”

You nod and look down at your armfull of stuff “How was she even holding all this.” You chuckle.

“No clue, here.” Steven nods towards the register and drops his handful of stuff across it “lay it here I’ll sort it.” He leans forward trying to help get some items out of your arms to help.

You gulp and nod as you lean forward to get everything on the counter. Your lean along with him leaning caused you both to meet in the middle. Steven’s blush reappeared and deepened as you met each others gazes over the counter, faces inches from one another. The moment seemed to stretch on for eternity until -

“Next guided tour, please follow me!” A call jolted you out of your frozen state and you took a step back from the counter.

“I gotta, the tour-“ you pointed at the woman who made the announcement.

“Yeah,” Steven replies, looking a bit disappointed as his gaze shifts from you down to the mess on the counter.

“But,” you take a moment to be brave and touch his hand. “I’ll come back by when it’s over.” You give a soft smile.

His eyes light up and that smile returns. He bites his lip just for a moment and nods, sending your heart racing.

You nod in return and jog off to catch up with the tour guide.

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

The tour feels like an eternity as your thoughts linger on Steven. While you do your best to focus on the information being given by the guide all your mind kept bouncing back to was the curls that fell out of place, the softness of his deep brown eyes, the curve of his lips, the -

“And that concludes our tour! Thank you everyone for your time, please don’t forget to donate and check out our gift shop.” The guide calls out, snapping you out of your dazed state.

As the crowd in front of you parts you see Steven nearly on his tiptoes looking around from behind the counter until his eyes settle on you. His smile sends your heart fluttering as he gives a single awkward wave.

You take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. Every time your eyes flicker up to him you see his gaze locked on you. “Hello again.” You say as you near him.

“Hiya, how was the tour?” He beamed, stepping away from the counter to come closer to you.

“Oh uh, guide was great it was just a bit hard to follow.” You admit as you shuffle slightly on your feet, not wanting to admit he was the reason you couldn’t appreciate the tour.

“Well I mean I could take you around -“ Steven begins.

“Ahem.” Sounds from behind you. You turn and see a harsh looking blonde woman, arms crossed and shooting daggers in his direction as she smacked her gum.

“Right, Donna sorry. After my shift I could show you around?” He says half to you half to the woman behind you. She rolls her eyes and walks off before giving a response. “I’ve got a couple hours left, if you’d want to come back later?” He nearly whispers as his eyes brighten.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You say as you try to steady your racing heart. You weren’t quite ready to leave yet, panic flashed through you as you blurted “Mind if I poke around the shop?”

“Oh yeah, here I can show you the best bits.” He begins to show you around the little bits and bobs on keychains and in small plastic packages. His voice bright and step light as he educated you on the inaccuracies of the candies and the details of the pyramid paper weights. You followed him for what felt like hours, in reality only a few minutes had passed. “Honestly the plushies are some of my favorites.” He pointed.

“Could I get that plush beetle and pick it up later when I come back?” You ask. “I’ve got some work colleagues to meet in a bit. I don’t think they’ll enjoy one of these at the table.” You chuckle and pick up a plushie beetle and hand him your card.

“Oh yeah, let me ring you out and I can put your name on it for later.” He looks up expectantly, just now realizing you hadn’t even given him your name yet. You right out your name on the receipt paper and hand it off to him. He reads over it like a love letter and repeats your name, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue send the fluttering in your stomach into a hurricane. “Right, it’ll be right here when you come back.” His smile widens a bit and the blush returns to his cheeks as he tucks the plushie scarab under the counter.

You return his smile and nod, you glance down at your phone to check the time and realize you’ve only got a few minutes to get three blocks down the road. “Shit I’m so sorry,” you begin to shuffle towards the door. “I will be back!” You nearly trip as you call over your shoulder and wave, bolting out the door to make it to your awaiting colleagues down the street.

“Laters!” You hear Steven call out behind you. You already pounding heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you ran out the museum and down the front steps. You had no clue how you were going to focus on any of the coming conversation. Stevens’ voice and image replayed in your head as you sprinted down the block, giddy for the moment when you’d be sprinting back up those steps back to him.

———————————————

Masterlist

Raaaaaaa okay I am so deeply out of practice writing fluff. Please tell me what y’all think! We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled debauchery soon 😘

Taglist: @lunar-ghoulie @melodygatesauthor

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Homecoming

Title: Homecoming

Part 8 of Scribe of the Gods Series: Epilogue Pt. 1

Pairing: Steven grant x gn reader (platonic), Marc spector x gn reader (platonic)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6k

Description: Many months after the attack of Cairo, Marc and Steven have done their best to return to normalcy. While doing so, they await for the return of the Scribe, who had been away during this time to help the Ennead return to its former state. Finally, the scribe is able to return home, with much to discuss.

A/N: .... HI.

It has been... far too long. This was long overdue, and I want to say thank you to those who have been patient. It means so much to me that you all were so willing to wait while I was away, a lot has happened but I genuinely did not want to leave this unfinished. I felt like I had to finish the story. Originally, I wanted to have one single chapter for the epilogue, but I decided that I should split it up as a thank you to those who were patient. I hope you all enjoy, I'm incredibly rusty and i didn't go back to edit this because i just wanted this out so you guys know what i've had collecting dust for the last few months. 100000 percent promise that i plan to and will most likely go back and edit this, but I really couldn't wait to throw this out there. Love you all. RAHHHHHH

London library has felt more empty in the last six months now that it has one less presence. Taking the weekly trips to the library just wasn’t what it used to be for Steven, who often took the trip to rotate his book cycles for his nightly readings. Now that y/n had gone off to all ends of the earth on behalf of the Ennead, there was no one to carry the same conversations the unlikely duo had prior. Steven didn’t blame y/n or feel any ill towards them leaving him and Marc and the life they had in London. In fact all he had was pride for them. They had a big job to accomplish, judging from everything they’d told him with all of the letters they’d sent to his and Marc’s flat. Writings on postcards that served as a reminder that the scribe thought of them, that they were still around in his life.

Despite their loud absence, Steven still kept the habit of visiting the library, but not under the same urgency as before now that he was no longer as afraid of wandering about under the night sky as he was before. His relationship with Marc had finally found balance. The man no longer stayed awake at night , fearful of ending up in obscure places. Marc promised Steven that now that they were no longer serving Khonshu there was no more reason for him to leave the apartment during the night to go on missions. Steven was relieved to find this out, as it meant that he was able to put himself to ease during the night, and now he got to read for his own pleasure rather than a desperate attempt to remain awake. 

Not only that, but Steven managed to get a job at the museum- thanks to Marc’s help- as a tour guide. He needed to refresh his knowledge of Egyptology and the library had a large selection of books for him to choose from. 

Steven thanked the librarian, a rather stern sort of woman who liked to drone on and on about herbs, picking up his books with a little polite nod, and made his way out towards the exit. He paused a few steps in, looking back at the desk once more with memories of the conversations he and y/n had floating in his head.

He gave a sigh. Thank goodness they were coming back soon.

He couldn’t wait.

One last look and he made his way out of the door and into the London streets.

—----

It’s been too long since y/n stepped foot in the London Library. Six months. Give or take. They’d stopped bothering to keep track after the numerous tasks they’d completed on behalf of the Ennead. For whatever it’s worth, the six months were filled to the brim with ensuring the gods’ work in the mortal realm ran smoothly. 

The first few weeks were the worst of it. When the temple had just fallen and all the avatars had died there was nothing short of utter chaos. All of the gods were adamant for y/n’s help, insecure that they no longer had a human vessel to be able to oversee their work; they insisted that they were the first to receive the young thing’s assistance. Y/n did what they could to assist the individual gods, trying to tend to their needs in a matter of urgency rather than agreeing to any given moment.

They had to be firm about their servitude, Osiris told them after a meeting gone poorly- one of the gods had complained over y/n’s unavailability to help their request. But Osiris vouched for y/n and reprimanded the god for expecting y/n to waiting for a job to simply be handed to them, they were a human child, Horus. Where are your children now that we are all scrambling to get back on our feet?- they need to be mindful that the gods can forget themselves in their place of power. The god told the human scribe that as they continued their service and aid the gods, they had to prioritize what work needed to be accomplished. If a god came to them with a mundane task that could wait, y/n was allowed, even encouraged, to tell the god that the job will be done later. 

“If they have a problem with it, tell them that they can come discuss it with me.” Osiris would tell them this time and time again. He wanted to make certain that the scribe didn’t overwork themselves or felt the need to always say yes. And y/n took this advice, and had to use it many times, but they were grateful to have a god look out for them the way Osiris did.  

While the gods were generous enough to allow y/n an opportunity to work outside of the library, the only issue that came from this  was that y/n had no reliable place to stay. On normal accounts, before the collapse of the Ennead and their temple due to the demise of Ammit, they were able to rest between councils within the chambers of the temple. They’d find a little corner far enough where no one could disturb them and catch up on sleep while the avatars drank and caught each other up in their lives outside of ceremonial duties. 

Such was not the case anymore. All that resides in the chambers now are the ghosts of the avatars and the destruction of Ammit. Neither suitable company for the scribe to stay as they worked for the gods.

Despite all the time that'd passed, the chambers still suffered from Ammit’s destruction. Not as badly as before as every now and then y/n would lift random debris out of the way as a way to pass time, but even they didn’t have the technical skills to completely reform the chambers to what it once was. 

But six months had passed since the events of Cairo. Why was it that the pyramids and the realm of the ennead was yet to be restored? One day, amidst the gods after completing several tasks for them, the scribe inquired about this as they sat on a loose stone. Horus, in all his questionable glory, answered to the scribe. Without proper avatars, the gods had no ability to fix the destruction as they lacked a physical form. They needed humans.

Y/n thought that was bullshit, if they were being honest. They were literal gods. Why did they need an avatar’s body to be able to fix the chambers? Couldn’t a simple snap make it all better?

Whatever. It was not their place to question the gods, despite their obscurities and lack of explanations. Eventually, the chambers’ reconstruction finally started. It took longer than it should have when very few followers came for the call of Horus to aid in reconstruction, but progress was still being made. 

So, with construction happening at the temple it meant that y/n was unable to reside in the rubble of the chambers anymore. Instead, they spent their off hours in between hotel rooms and air bnbs. They didn’t mind it though, they finally had a proper bed and had a decent meal that consisted of something other than the Molokhia the gods had given them for the last six months. But really, to y/n, anywhere was better compared to staying in the london library. 

There was no point renting an apartment space when the gods started to send them to the ends of the earth for all sorts of missions. Whether it be recruiting a potential candidate for one of the gods, or scavenging artifacts stolen from the temple, the scribe had more on their plate than they’d anticipated and had no time to settle in one place for very long. They didn’t complain. The gods gave them the means to pay for living arrangements and for meals, and the pay was better than the one they received from working for the library. 

Six months. Six months was a long time, now that they thought about it. 

Thank the gods they were finally able to go home now. 

—-----

Now that they thought about it, the first time y/n had been to Steven and Marc’s apartment they weren’t even invited in. Should they knock? 

They stood in front of the door, but weren't sure how Steven and Marc would react to them suddenly showing up the day before they were supposed to. The two men were expecting y/n to show up the next day. They’d even insisted on picking them up at the airport and going out for lunch. Well, that was the original plan. Until the gods had decided to let y/n leave earlier out of gratitude and granted them a portal to anywhere they desired, it was only natural that they decided to end up at the front steps of the system’s apartment. A little surprise visit doesn’t hurt anyone, right? 

The scribe straightened up, realizing they’d spent too long standing idle at the door and needed to make a move. They raised their fist and rapped on the door several times. And when no one answered they waited a few more moments before knocking once more. 

Hm. No one was home. y/n uncomfortable shifted in place, waiting a little longer to make sure that no one was actually home before they began deciding their next move. Should they stay in place and wait for the men to come home? Would that be too awkward? Having the men walk into their apartment floor and find the young adult sitting on the space next to their door? Would it just be better to leave altogether and try to come back later? What if they miss the men again? They could always go, but the question is where? It’s not like they have a place to stay nor anywhere that seemed decent enough to crash, and-

“y/n?”

The voice from across the hall snapped y/n out of their thoughts almost immediately. Steven, in all his glory, stood at the space of the elevator that’d just opened. He stared at the scribe as though he’d unable to perceive that they were actually there. 

y/n faltered a moment, unexpected at the sight of the man faster than they were anticipating, and gave Steven a small smile, a little embarrassed that at the end of it they did just loiter in steven’s space like they didn’t want to.

“Hey, Steven.” They greeted him warmly. 

The gift-shopist turned tour-guide seemed to stumble in his words as an incoherent string of words fell numb to y/n’s ears. They tried to give him an encouraging smile, walking to steven’s space in the elevator as he remained frozen in place. Too frozen, in fact, as the door of the elevator began to shut with him still inside. 

“Uh, the door-” y/n jumped in their place, arm outstretched for the door though the gift shopist stuck their arm through in time to alert the motion detector. The doors stretched open as did Steven’s arms as he took y/n in for a big hug, which they happily reciprocated. It was the kind of hug where they teetered in place very slowly, taking in each other’s presence after months of being apart, 

“What’re you doing here so early?” Steven asked between breathy chuckles, slowly  pulling y/n away from him, they took a good look at the man and realized he’d sported a light stubble. “Ain’t we’s supposed to pick you up tomorrow?”

The scribe gave them a warm smile. “The Ennead let me go early!”

“Hmm. Are you sure it was ‘cause they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.” y/n didn’t miss the sly smirk steven sported.

“Shut up.” They retorted, lightly pushed Steven’s shoulders. “Just be happy I wanted to come back.”

The gift shopist grabbed at his shoulder and glanced at the doorstop, “Is that all you’ve brought with ye? Let me help you.” He of course was referring to the two duffel bags of y/n’s personal belongings that sat at his doorstep. For six months they’d lived off of everything in the bags and it was painfully obvious from the wear and tear of the bags themselves. Before they could insist that they could carry the items Steven already had his hands on the bags and was looking through his keys for his front door. 

The door flew right open in a matter of moments and Steven stepped to the side, grinning at the scribe as he gestured for them to go ahead. 

“Right, come on in. Make yourself at home”

—------

No matter how many times they’d reassured Steven that really, they didn’t mind, Steven profusely apologized for the state of his apartment. He droned for a few moments stating that with his new job he’d not had the time to tidy up nor did Marc want to clean after Steven, (“He says I’m in charge of cleaning up my own mess. The nerve of ‘him, talkin’ to me like I’m a child!”) all the while y/n paid little mind and allowed their eyes to wander. Yes, they’d been in the apartment once, but that was many months ago. And it wasn’t like they had the time to take it in back then. Back then, when they were observing Marc and Steven from afar under the orders of a concerned Djehuty. They hummed to themselves, remembering the late nights sitting atop of Marc’s rooftop while listening for any sign of disturbances that could happen to the men. 

Y/n sighed deeply, eyes wandering to the window they used to sit by. It wasn’t that long ago. Look how things have changed. 

From where they sat nestled in a quaint green armchair, y/n felt like they were back in the London Library. Nestled amongst an alarming number of books, manuscripts, a tombstone of forests and papetry. Every nook and cranny of the apartment was filled with paper. All that was missing from the library was the occasional bun-wearing, shushing librarians and underpaid security guards. 

“Did you read all of these?” y/n picked up a loose book resting close to them, lifting the cover to their sight.

Steven responded from his kitchenette, fiddling with three assorted mugs as he kept himself busy making something to drink for the two. “Yeah, more or less.” 

“Huh,” y/n lowered the book, smoothing their fingers across the cover as they glanced again at the books around them. “With all of these books there’s not much use going to the library. You have your own here.”

Steven walked over to the scribe and offered out their drink to them. “ I make a habit of buying books I like after reading them borrowed ones. Keep ‘em here like little trophies, yknow.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people.”

“Yes, I’m one of those people, but at least we’re a reason why you have a job at the library.”

They didn’t miss the amusing smirk that Steven shot their way as he plopped himself into his seat at the armchair opposite of theirs, not before settingy/n’s designated cup on the table in front of them. He took a swing from his own and a silence fell between the two. Doing their best to ignore it, y/n took another moment to discern the gift shopist’s apartment.

Steven must’ve noticed them observing the fish tank that stood loudly in the middle of the apartment, as he shifted in his seat and gestured to the papers that decorated the glass pane. All held up by magnets and were numerous by the numbers. y/n had barely noticed them with their admiration of the two fishes that swam inside. “We kept all your letters. Marc thought putting them up close to the water was a bad idea but I’s quite like them there.”

“Oh,” y/n let out a small smile at this, struck with warmth that the system liked the letters enough to put them up. Like drawings on a fridge. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

“Of course we would. Marc wanted to know what you were up to, and liked to keep note of where you’s been since you had to be secretive about it.” Steven beamed proudly, standing up to approach the fishtank. 

“It was a necessary sacrifice,” y/n spoke, leaning over to grab their drink that Steven had prepared for them. “This was the best way I could keep in touch.”

During their time in the ennead, y/n was unable to communicate to marc and steven very often. Communication through modern devices were limited due to risks of tracing and exposing their location from those with malintentions. To help their friends know that they were still alive and well, the young avatar developed a habit of sending postcards to the system from locations they were sent to during a mission. Most of them were written with the generic, “I’m having fun’s” and “Wish you were here’s” to maintain obscurity, but y/n never missed a chance to send them so that Marc and Steven could figure out their last whereabouts from where the postcard originated from, and be relieved by the very fact that they were still alive and well. 

 “Wells,” Steven hummed to himself, turning to give the avatar a small smile as he returned to his seat. He had collected several postcards from the fishtank and waved them in the air before dropping them onto the table. Y/n watches the postcards splatter across the table, recognizing the images on the postcards from places they went to during their trip. “You have to tell us about your trips.” 

And so the scribe told Steven about their life the last six months. Giving an explanation to why they were so absent outside of handwritten letters. As they spoke Steven gave them all of his attention, sitting at the edge of his seat, forearms rested on his knees as he leaned in to every word they spoke. They made sure to speak in great detail as they continued, knowing that the gift shopist had waited a long time to be able to hear their experience firsthand. Marc finally made an appearance to make his own comments. Immediately y/n was ecstatic to hear from the marine and they began to catch up amongst themselves like they did with Steven minutes prior. By the time they were finished their mugs were empty and the sun had set.

“They had me go out and find the avatars,” y/n continued telling their story to Marc, pulling out a map from one of their bags and displaying it onto the coffee table. Marc leaned over, eying the jumbled scribbles written all over the world, marked with locations and field notes from your travels. “The gods, they chose their patrons from different parts of the world, Marc. I-I mean, I had to go to the most obscure places, finding these people, I even ended up in Jersey City, of all places looking out for this one girl-”

Marc closed the front door as he watched y/n run to their bag for the map, carrying takeout from a Vietnamese restaurant down the road. At some point during their conversation he proposed that they went to get some food. He chuckled at y/n’s demeanor now that they finally got to take out the map that they said they wanted to show him, gushing over their trips. 

“The Jackals are from Jersey,” Marc sat himself back in the chair, opening up the bag and placing their food onto the table. He lifted up a box, opening it up to make sure that he didn’t get the food switched, “My old man took me to one of their games back when I was a kid.”

He frowned at his food, eyeing the noodles. Steven began looking around the table before reaching his hand back into the bag, shuffling through napkins. “Bollocks, I think they’ve forgot my peppers.” 

“They’re here,” y/n took a small container of peppers from their side of the table and handed it over to Steven, eyes still trained on the marked locations of the map. He gave them an appreciative smile, humming as he opened up the container and poured its contents over the steaming bun bo hue he’d ordered.

He took a large bite of his food as he leaned over to take in the map displayed before him, trying to make sense of the scribbles. “Did you find all of them?”

Y/n nodded, finally reaching to grab their food. They couldn’t help but smile in content at the food when they flipped the box open. “I did. Finding them was the easy part. A lot of them were still distraught and panicked over the fact that the gods were real. One guy was so convinced that someone snuck him drugs and he was having a really bad trip. Other people took the whole thing really well, but a majority of them needed as much help as they could get from assimilating to the concept that an Egyptian god chose them as their patron.”

Marc nodded knowingly at them, “Not everybody is okay with the whole ‘gods are real’ schtick.” 

The scribe stopped looking over their map to gaze at Marc. They hesitated for a moment. It had been a really long time since they’d seen Marc, they realized now that they really had no idea of how he’s been since the attack on Cairo, whether the attack had left him with any mental troubles or injury now that Khonshu’s power was no longer there to speed up his body’s natural healing process. On the topic, y/n was greatly concerned on how Marc and Steven had been handling themselves now that they were no longer indebted to Khonshu. 

Y/n hesitated a moment as they observed Marc, who was keeping himself occupied with his meal now that there was a bit of silence to dwell in. 

Finally, they spoke. They were sure that Marc could be able to hear the hesitence in their voice, but it was too late to stop now. 

“So, how have you been? Like, with Khonshu and everything.” 

Marc said nothing for a moment. Finally, he deeply sighed. He kept his eyes trained on his soup, picking at the noodles with his utensils as he slowly spoke. “I feel much better, I would say”

“Yeah?” Y/n responded. They reached for a napkin laying on the table. 

Marc nodded. He shifted himself to lean forward more on his knees. “Like, you know how we were pretty much forced to serve Khonshu? Well, now that that’s over with, I feel like I can do whatever I want now,” He let out a sort of dry chuckle, seemingly pondering over his own words. “Like, I never understood how limited our life actually was… it feels really… open now, do you understand that?”

He continued, not waiting for the scribe’s response, a look of content written on his face. “Honestly, I feel good about it.”

Marc didn’t sound like he had any doubt about his decision to end the system’s relationship with Khonshu. When he spoke, he sounded so sure of himself and where he was currently, trying to return to normalcy after Cairo. Well, as normal as it can get for people like them, y/n reminded themselves. There was no way that either of their lives would ever be the same. They were forever thrusted into the world of the gods, and even though Marc and Steven had chosen to retire that life, y/n knew very well that they were still a pawn waiting to be used in the eyes of the gods. They just hoped that that would never be the case. For Marc and Steven’s sake, they deserved to have their retirement be undisturbed. 

“That’s,” y/n began, trying to find the courage to speak after realizing they’d remained silent a little too long. They blinked several times. “That’s great. That’s really great. I’m happy for you two.”

Steven beamed at them, shifting in his seat after putting his meal back on the table. “Ye, it is really. I’s been real nice not havin’ any more trouble at work because of that nasty old crow.”

“He caused you both more harm than good,” The scribe nodded knowingly at Steven’s words. 

Steven swallowed another portion of his soup, rubbing off the droplets that trailed from his lips. He cleared his throat, but y/n’s attention was fixated on the napkin he’d dropped on the table. He didn’t wait for the scribe to acknowledge him, but they were able to hear the way he was trying to tread lightly as he spoke.

“Speakin’ of the gods,” He began slowly, waiting a moment to make sure that y/n had nothing to say before he continued, “now that you’re done workin’ for the Ennead, have you put any thought to what you’re going to do with Djehuty?”

It was obvious that this question came to y/n as a surprise when they jolted at the mention of the god. Steven hummed anxiously and raised his hands toward the scribe, profusely apologizing for bringing up the god in question.

“No, no it’s fine,” y/n raised a hand to reassure Steven. “It’s just, it’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Djehuty hasn’t approached me since I first started working for the Ennead, and everyday since then it’s been this waiting game of when he’ll actually show up again. I’m a little on edge, I guess.”

“You still don’t want to see him?” Marc stood up. He stretched his arms into the air briefly before throwing them down again, observing the contents on the table. By this time, all of their food had been finished save for the spring rolls they’d decided to split together. There was one left that sat there for a lot longer than it should have, neither y/n nor marc wanted to be the person to take it out of courtesy. 

“No,” y/n glanced up at Marc. He stood over the scribe with the spring roll offered out to them, they gave him a brief monotonous look before accepting the spring roll from him. They inspected it before taking a small bite. They hummed, scanning the table for peanut butter sauce while Marc began clearing the plates away. 

“Why is it you don’t want to see Djehuty, again?” The utensils clinked in Marc’s hands as he gathered up what he could, swiping his finger into the peanut butter sauce as y/n grabbed the container. He raised it to his mouth to taste and made his way to the kitchenette to dispose the takeout boxes. 

“ ‘cause most likely he’s going to ask me to be his avatar again,” y/n states after swallowing from their bite. The scribe took another bite of the roll, gathering their own mess of napkins and peanut butter sauce and making their way to where Marc was in the kitchen. They spared him a glance as they approached. He had this look on his face that told them that he was choosing his next words carefully. 

They opened Steven’s fridge, eying for a spot before placing the peanut butter sauce somewhere for Steven to taste later. Marc reached for his drink from the countertop, “And what would your response be?”

There’s a pause. And Marc is observing y/n with a look on his face that made them feel like they were being read like an open book. 

y/n straightened themselves up, slowly closing the fridge door to look at Marc with skepticism in their eyes. They had yet to say anything to the ex-marine, but they didn’t have to when the look that they gave him told him that he was pushing a nerve with them. But 

“You’re talking to a guy who’s well-versed in this whole avatar schtick,” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter. The man gazed at y/n with a look, “I know coping mechanisms when I see one. Instead of facing Djehuty head-on, you decided to play it safe and hide behind Ennead, but now that you’ve ditched that strategy, you’re still avoiding Djehuty even though you’re technically still his avatar. I just want to know why exactly it is you’re doing that, that’s all.”

y/n turned away from Marc, uncomfortable at the pressing question he’d asked them. They tapped their fingers against their upper thighs in an attempt to dispel the anxiety growing inside of them.

“Its just that,” they began slowly, articulating the feelings they had kept to themselves for so long into words as they spoke. They hadn’t thought that they would share this with anyone this soon, let alone the System. “if I wasn’t his avatar… then what would I even be? I can’t even imagine what I would become. It’s all I've ever known. It’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Well, yeah, its why you were alive the first time.” Marc countered plainly, a resting his face onto his open palm as he had his weight on his knees.  He didn’t miss the glare that y/n had shot him. They didn’t like to be reminded of the whole situation they’d had with Djehuty in the Duat. Although Marc did his best to respect it there were times where he wasn’t shy to tell them how it was. It struck a nerve with them every time he did so. 

“Yeah, cause who wouldn’t want their entire existence defined by being a puppet for an ancient deity. At least I wasn’t dumb enough to be manipulated into it.” 

Marc blinked at y/n’s words. He leaned back slightly, eyes fixated on the scribe as they snapped at him with a hostile air to them. He was unable to see their face as they had turned their head away from him, but he knew deep down that their outburst at him was simply a defense mechanism, a way of protecting themselves from the blunt remarks and sudden pressure to answer questions he’d put them under without warning. Marc didn’t blame them for lashing out in such a way, he probably would have done the same too if he was in their position. 

Slowly, Marc sighed from behind y/n. They could hear the slow movements he made behind him as he made his way to refill his water from the sink. They sighed, pushing their hands to their face and wiping it across their eyes. They’d forgotten themselves in that moment, and felt guilty at how they responded to Marc’s questions, he was kind enough to invite them to food and there was too much time that had passed between the two to snap at him, even if it was through a joking manner. 

“Look, Marc-”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.” Marc stood by the scribe, clamping a firm hand onto their shoulder. He had faced them now, carrying a water in his hand as he offered them a small nod, acknowledging his words. He extended the glass in his hands towards them, waiting for them to take the cup from his hands before patting his open palms onto the pockets of his pants. He seemed to be looking for something as his eyes searched the room. 

“You know what? It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re tired after all that traveling.”

“I literally went through a portal,” Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the marine with an incredulous look on their face. 

“Well you’re still in Egypt, aren’t you?” Steven mused, raising his eyebrows at the young thing. y/n rolled their eyes at Steven's whit. “It’s a whole two hours difference. What is it… it’s midnight for you, right, let’s get you ready.” y/n groaned at the statement. They weren’t tired at all from their journey. Steven was only using that as an excuse to go to bed early. They knew that he and Marc, despite being in their late 30s, were really just old men who slept for more than they should. 

“You can take the bed tonight, y/n. I’ll set up the couch for myself-ah.” Marc raised a hand to them with a firm voice telling them that there was no room for arguing. “You’re taking the bed. Tomorrow we can regroup and have more time to figure out what we’ll do now that you’re here.”

Marc left their side with one more pat before he approached a cabinet on the far side of the room. He opened it and pulled out a few blankets and a pillow before making his way to the couch. y/n observed the marine from their place in the kitchen, not daring to move until they were certain that the man was not at all disturbed by their presence. They kept watch as he made a hmph, releasing the noise while plopping himself across the couch with a blanket over him and a book in his hands.

The scribe, still unwilling to move from their place, observed the marine for a little bit longe, hoping to find reassurance that he held no grudge against them for their earlier attitude. They watched closely, but neither Marc nor Steven showed any visible signs of resentment. Instead, Steven gave them one last look, offering a genuine "goodnight" before settling down with his book.

Filled with a mix of relief and lingering guilt over their behavior, y/n glanced between the man in the couch and the bed they'd offered to him. They looked back at Steven, and after a few moments realized that they were fully staring at the man who had clearly told them goodnight. Slowly, they walked past the couch and took a peek into Steven and Marc's designated sleeping spot in their open apartment. Not to the scribe's surprise, their bed was surrounded by mountains of books that Steven had collected. Despite the overwhelming number of books it all seemed to be a sort of organized mess that only Steven could understand.

The scribe took their bags from the floor beside the couch where Steven read their book and took out some pajamas and bathroom bag. They made sure to stay quiet while they went to change and prepare for bed, scared that if they made too much noise, they would bother Steven. In the bathroom, they pulled out a shirt that read "I survived my trip to NYC," a memento they bought from a subway giftshop during a recon mission on behalf of Horus. Slipping the shirt over their head, y/n caught their reflection in the mirror.

Staring at themselves, they recognized their own face staring back at them, but a nagging sense of detachment washed over the scribe. The conversation Marc tried to have with them minutes before was fresh on their mind. They stared at themselves in the mirror, eyes flickering between one another as they tried to discern what exactly it was, they were feeling.

y/n raised their hands to grab onto the fabric of their shirt, looking down at the words as they rubbed their fingers across the fabric. Suddenly, the shirt's message seemed to mock them. The only reason they were able to get this shirt was because of their work for the Egyptian deities. In this life that they'd lived, they'd accomplished so much. They'd made a name for themselves amongst the gods and had earned their respect, but even that didn't outweigh the dangers and mental exhaustion that came with being an avatar.

But it was all that they'd ever known. This life. The life of servitude for the Egyptian gods. y/n had confidence that if they were to continue their involvement in the affairs of the gods, including Djehuty, the scribe had no doubt that they would thrive.

But was that really what they wanted? y/n slowly let go of their grip on their t-shirt, raising their hands to their face as they observed themselves in the mirror.

This was something that the scribe had contemplated since the first day they began working on behalf of the ennead. They agreed to help the gods reform the Ennead so that when it came down to it, they could go to the gods and ask them to return the favor out of the kindness that they may be able to show to an avatar that dedicated so much time to them.

The scribe had enough of staring at themselves in the mirror, hoping to pick up their toothbrush and toothpaste. They poured a dollop of paste to their brush, raising the toothbrush to their mouth, leaning over the sink to brush their teeth.

On the other hand, they pondered while brushing, there was the very big resentment towards Djehuty that held them back from being so willing to work for him again. Djehuty, who had betrayed their trust long ago by revealing that he'd stolen their soul without disclosure. They found it extremely difficult to fully trust that old bird, fearful of being deceived again.

But... despite their reservations, y/n grappled with the uncertainty of letting go. Being an avatar and serving the gods had become their identity, their purpose. It was all they had ever known, and the thought of severing that connection to become a normal human filled them with uncertainty of what their human life would hold in store for them.

Could they even do it?

If they were being honest, y/n was very jealous of Marc and Steven. The men seemed to have severed their connection with Khonshu so easily. They barely even hesitated. Now the men were building a life of their own, getting jobs, healing.

The young avatar spat out into the sink, cleaning any paste that covered their mouth before finally leaving the bathroom. They entered into the dimly lit apartment, slowly making their way to Marc and Steven's bed, not without sparing a glance to the couch where the system was settled in. Probably still reading their book. They made a mental note to themselves to ask about the book at a later time, when they'd find a good opportunity.

As they settled into the bed, y/n covered themselves with the blankets Marc had laid out for them. It felt peculiar to sleep in the bed of another man. The scribe felt like they were completely violating the system's personal space, despite Marc insisting on the arrangement, assuring them that it was completely fine.

They stared up at the ceiling, unsure if they were quite ready to sleep yet. The scribe hummed, turning to their side after some time, They listened to the water filter of Gus the Second's fish tank hum amidst the stillness of the night and the occasional turning of page as Steven flipped through his book. In the moments before sleep finally took over the young thing, y/n laid in bed and observed Gus the second swimming around in his little home. They could see him clearly, swimming and exploring in his own little world, and they couldn't help but wonder if Gus ever caught glimpses of Steven and themselves about the apartment and dreamt of leaving his home in the fish tank to explore Steven's apartment.

-----------

@astrobuzzsstuff

@blustalker

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[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

[slimearchon]

You bang your toe and how they would react Marc, Steven, and Jake with GNreader

The 🍮- is my blog signature @slimearchon

🍮- The quiet apartment silence shattered by a loud bang and and a bellowed “Ow!” Falling from your lips. You were walking around the apartment and smashed your toe into the bed frame.

🍮- Steven would instantly be by your side, “Oh no Sunshine! Let me go get you some ice! Here sit down first!” Helps you onto the bed while he fetches the ice.

🍮- Marc would come over, his eyes scanning the room for any danger then realizing what has caused your injury. “I freaking hate this bed frame. I did the same thing the other night Moondrop. I think we should start shopping for a different one.” He would also fetch you some ice after he was done glaring at the offending furniture.

🍮- Jake would rush in, quickly coming to your side. You would be knelt over clutching your thumped toe with a wince. “Stupid bed frame.” You mutter, bitterly.

🍮- Jake handles it the way a mother would in their toddler bumped into something and started crying. By starting a one sided fight with it to make you feel better.

🍮- His feet deliberately kicking the villainous bed post with harsh thumps, moving the bed a bit with his force. “That will teach you to hurt mi amor! Just wait until I come back with my sledgehammer.”

🍮- You sitting wide eyed at his outburst, the shock did help keep your mind off the pained foot.

[autmism]

friendly neighborhood gift-shopist

pairing(s) ; steven grant x teen!reader (platonic + gender neutral reader)

warning(s) ; bullying

synopsis; (requested) teen reader goes on a school field trip to the museum and is rlly excited about it but a couple people in their class are being kinda mean to them. Maybe they go to by something from the gift shop and have a wholesome conversation with Steven about bullies or something?

-> masterlist

a/n; ty for the request! ive been dying to write moonsys x teen!reader for the longest time! :3

field trips are always the highlight of the academic year; a whole day where you aren’t expected to do any boring worksheets and get time away from school. well, they tended to be fun for those who got to spend a day outside of school with a friend, but for those like y/n… not so fun!

“hey y/n, what are you up to? trying to make friends with the dead guy in the coffin?” thomas, one of the many people that made y/n’s life hell on a regular basis, leaned over the glass casing that protected the sarcophagus with an almost disgustingly fake smile.

“it’s called a sarcophagus, thomas, maybe if you left me alone for once you’d actually learn something for once,” y/n huffed adjusting their tie, “piss off, will you?”

“fuck off, you neek.” thomas scoffed, standing up straight. classic ‘alpha male’ move to intimidate y/n.

“you’re the one still standing here, i’m trying to do this thing called reading, try it some time.” y/n rolled their eyes, their hand languidly gesturing towards the text of writing going into detail about the artefact.

“you’ll regret that, freak.”

“ooh, big deal,” y/n muttered under their breath as he stormed away. suddenly the text about the sarcophagus seemed much less interesting than it had been prior to their encounter with thomas. school had always been hard for y/n, mainly the social aspect. the academic part was easy, y/n passed all their exams with flying colours. when they started secondary school, they couldn’t tell which group of people they fit in with, or how they could figure that out. but before they could’ve had a chance to figure it out, everyone was already in cliques and groups, it was like everyone else just knew what to do and y/n was a complete outsider.

“you’ll regret that freak, blah blah blah, oooh so scary,” y/n mumbled, rolling their eyes and walking away from the display, “you’ll regret these fucking nuts in your mouth.”

“ello there! how can i help you?” y/n looked up to notice they were stood at a gift shop stand, a man with the name tag ‘steven’, smiling at them.

“unless you know a thing or two about beating teenagers up, not sure if you have anything of interest for me, steven,” y/n chuckled, noticing a basket of hippo plushies. taweret.

“how do you… know my name?” he raised an eyebrow and y/n just tapped on their shirt where steven’s name tag was on himself, “oh! yeah, always forget that’s there, classic me.”

“that’s okay,” y/n laughed, picking up a taweret plush, “how much is this?”

“twenty quid, bit overpriced i’ll say,” steven rubbed the back of his head. y/n dug through their school blazer pockets, searching for their wallet to see if they could afford the taweret plush. they opened the wallet to find only fifteen pounds and sighed.

“five pounds short, thanks for the help, i probably would’ve been picked on for buying a toy anyways,” y/n laughed putting the plush back onto the pile of identical hippos.

“by that plonker that bothered you earlier? knew he seemed like a wrong’un,” steven shook his head, “tell you what! you give me the tenner and i’ll give you the plush and it’ll be our secret, yeah?”

“won’t you get into trouble?” y/n lowered their voice.

“nothin’ old steven over here can’t handle!” he tapped on his name tag with a goofy smile, “save the fiver for a meal deal, or somethin’.”

y/n smiled shyly, taking the ten pound note out of their wallet and sliding it to steven and then passing the taweret plush to him to scan, “thanks, steven.”

“taweret is a lovely goddess, goddess of childbirth and fertility, but also of children and protection, so who knows, maybe she’ll protect you from those bloody plonkers that keep botherin’ you, yeah?” steven spoke, whilst scanning the plushie’s barcode and putting the money into the till, but also sliding his own ten pound note in along with y/n’s.

“you think so?” y/n smiled sadly.

“met her once, lovely hippo woman goddess, she is,” steven nodded, smiling to himself knowing that he was telling the truth.

“oh yeah? and how does steven the friendly neighbourhood gift-shopist happen to meet taweret an egyptian goddess?” y/n laughed, playing along.

“oh you know, we go way back we do! steven of the gift shop and taweret egyptian goddess of childbirth, like two peas in a pod,” steven laughed with y/n, “happened to tell her all about this kid who was having trouble with some other kids at school, you know what she said?”

“what’d she say?”

“she said, ‘not on my watch!’, fixed those bullies right up, she did,” steven did a horrible impression of a woman’s voice, but nonetheless it made y/n laugh and he was happy he was able to cheer them up.

“you’ll have to thank her on my behalf,” y/n smiled, “i’m y/n.”

“ooh, lovely name, innit?”

“you think so?” y/n made a face, hinting that they didn’t agree.

“i do, sounds like the name of a very smart young person,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“well, you’d be right about that,” y/n smirked smugly.

“year eleven!! it’s time to get lined up, please finish what you’re doing and come here!” a man raised his voice not too far away from where y/n was standing.

“that’s my cue, thank you, steven,” y/n smiled at the man and made their way over to their teacher, the taweret plush tucked under their arm tightly.

“steven, the friendly neighbourhood gift-shopist, huh?”

“what? i thought it was sweet,” steven smiled at the reflective surface that marc’s voice came from.