#steven grant/gn!reader

[soft-girl-musings]

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for teasing, domestic fluff, author does not condone touching people's hair without permission, no use of Y/N

wc: 1,078

fic summary: Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

Marc Spector does not startle easily. So when he nearly falls from his perch beside the bathtub, you’re surprised you have to steady him.

“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Marc picks up the towel and small cardboard box he’d dropped because of your outburst.

Shifting your focus, you zero in on the latter: hair dye, just as you’d suspected.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m away?” You tut, cradling his temples and shaking your head. "What happened to you?" 

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

"-I wasn't talking to you," you sigh, resting your forehead against the crown of his head. "How long has he been treating you like this, you poor things?"

“Ha-ha.”

You release his face to study it. "But seriously, how long have you been dying your hair?”

 “... For a couple of years. Started to turn gray from stress a while back, and I guess it never stopped.” He fidgets with the loose edge of the container.. “You really never noticed?”

You take the box and set it beside him. “You hid it well.”

You’re not judging him for dying his hair, it’s just… surprising. Marc’s never been one to fuss over his appearance, as far as you could tell. When you first saw his closet, you’d half expected it to be lined with the same outfit ten times, like in a cartoon. Most days, “dressing up” means adding a jacket or blazer.

 “Since when do you care? About your hair, I mean.” 

He shrugs. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, honey.”

“Neither am I.” You kiss the bridge of his nose. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Goes double for me, don’t you forget it.” Leaning in, Marc tries for another kiss, but you duck and grab the hair dye before turning away with a mischievous smirk.

“Gotta keep you honest,” you wink and dart out of the room before he can catch you.

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

"Might fall out if you keep playing with it like that.”

You’d been standing behind Steven for the past couple of minutes, meaning to check in on his preparations for his morning tour but had gotten distracted. Very distracted.

“Sorry,” you sigh, your fingers leaving the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. “It’s just… hm.”

Your conversation with Marc must have taken root: over the past few weeks, you’ve noticed the hair that had been dangerously close to another round of boxed dye abuse steadily turning lighter. A subtle blend of silver strands mix with the darker curls that frame his face, making his hair shine a bit brighter in the light of the desk lamp.

“It’s like starlight,” you finally state, leaning in to rest your head against his.

Steven sputters and puts his book aside. “Starli- that’s a bit much, yeah?” His brow furrows, but there’s no denying the smile tugging at his lips.

“Not if it’s true,” you contend. You adjust the reading glasses that had slid down his face and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “It’s a good look on you.”

There’s no denying the heat rising to his cheeks when you talk. “This– you don’t–” Steven caves and sets his book down, hopelessly flustered. “Either go away or get over here. Cheeky.”

He makes room for you to settle into his lap, which you giddily accept. Your hands sink back into his curls and he shivers as you scratch his scalp.

“Did I ever tell you I had a thing for my professor, once upon a time?”

“Oh my days–” 

You’re not sure who kisses who, but you’re certainly not complaining. Neither is he.

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

You check your phone for the fifth time this evening. They’ve been gone for what feels like months (it’s been weeks) handling some business in California, of all places. Marc said he’d call when they were on their way home, meaning no news is sad news.

You’re pulled from your pity party by a knock on the door. It’s late, and you’ve already signed for your dinner delivery. Slowly, you get up and grab the bat you keep by the entrance (with a sock slipped over the end per Jake’s advice).

The knocking continues, getting more urgent. You take a deep breath and look through the peephole. A large brown eye stares back and you yelp, dropping your bat. The unmistakable boom of Jake’s belly laughter mocks you from behind the door.

“You’re hilarious,” you groan, standing the bat back on its head and unlocking the door.

You’re ready to lay into him when you open the door, but you’re stunned into silence. Jake’s smile is highlighted by silvery stubble, dusted with black. He adjusts his cap as his dark eyebrows raise in mock surprise.

“What, no hello?”

You tear your eyes away from his jaw. “Hm? Oh. Hi.” You open the door wider for him to step in. “Marc said you’d call first.”

“No fun in that, is there? Besides, you looked ready to handle some trouble.” he shrugs off his coat as you lock the door behind him.

“Trouble, yes. Nuisance, debatable.” You sidle up to him and drape your arms around his waist. You place a kiss on his cheek; it’d be impossible for him to not notice how you let yours drag along the rough line of his jaw.

“I missed you too,” he laughs again. “But man, is it warm in here…”

He tosses his cap and it takes everything in him to not lose it when your eyes widen at the sight of his hair, now more gray than black and curls longer than you’ve seen them before. You’re too enraptured to be embarrassed at your obvious loss for words.

“Your hair…” You reach up to touch it, but Jake grabs your wrist.

“Tsk, tsk, you threaten and barely say a word to me, then go straight for the goods without so much as a ‘please’? What happened to decorum, hm?”

“You fucking tease,” you huff. “...please?”

“Well, since you asked nicely–” Jake can barely finish his thought before your lips are on his, your hand tangled in his starlit hair as soon as he lets go.

“I take it we should cancel Marc’s haircut?” he murmurs as you catch your breath.

Your free hand grazes the scruff on his cheek and you grin. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

_____________________

A/N: marvel you cowards give us gray-haired moon knight

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Steven acting all smug with Marc and Jake because the other night it accidentally escaped your lips that he was the best sex you ever had.

👀👀👀👀👀 just a thought you can do with it as you please

I AM WHEEZING AT THIS!!

The Title

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven is apparently the best.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, innuendo, sex mentions, bickering, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 315

“Shut the fuck up Steven.” Marc practically growls

Steven smiles at his reflection, raising his eyebrows as he brushes his hair. “I didn’t say anything, mate.” 

“You were going to.” 

Steven scoffs, but can’t hide how his grin widens. “I wasn’t.” 

“You fucking were.” 

“Being a bit sore today, aren’t we, Marc? Yes.” Steven taps the mirror with the end of his brush. 

“You’re the one fucking swanning about and rubbing it in!”

“I’m doing no such thing, you’re being paranoid. Silly even.” Steven beams at him, definitely rubbing it in. 

“Steven-”

“Best sex they’ve ever had, you know?” He gives Marc a little cheeky glance, waiting until Marc’s eyebrow furrows in a scowl before he mouths ‘best’ again. 

“Fuck off.”

Steven chuckles. 

“No, literally,” Marc sticks his middle fingers up. “Fuck off.”

“Best.”

“Fuck-”

“As in, better than anyone else.”

“-Off.”

“Which includes you.”

“Fuck-”

The sound of you coming in the front door echoes loudly, snapping at Marc’s and Steven’s attention. 

Steven goes to call out, and at the same moment, Marc tries to force himself to the front. For a brief moment, they both shove at each other, speaking rapidly so that neither can really hear what the other is saying. 

In the hasty chaos, Jake silently slips forward. He fronts so gently that neither Steven nor Marc notices until they hear his voice coming from their lips. 

“Hello, amor,” he smiles as he greets you, kissing your cheek. 

“Hello, Jake.” You beam, giggling as he helps you out of your jacket and lightly kisses your neck. “What’s got into you?” 

“Well, Steven has been regaling us with tales of last night.” 

You pause, heat running along your skin. “I…” 

“Apparently, he’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” He gives you a cheeky smile and raises his eyebrow. “I was wondering if you’d care to give me a shot at the title?” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @cosmickid-inmotion  

@steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine  @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96  @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious  @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp  @eternallyvenus @lounilu 

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

 @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

 @sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord @heavydirtysoulsblog @kristinaluvsherr

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[ivystoryweaver]

Steven, It's Your Birthday?

Steven doesn’t think he has a birthday • tinge of angsty fluff • wc 700 • gn!boss!reader • not beta’d • inaccurate allusions to DID

Read Marc’s birthday story

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

9:45 A.M.

"Steven, could I please see you for a second?"

You buzzed your assistant, who instantly scurried in from his outer office.

"Hey," you smiled at him brilliantly. "That was quick."

Granting you a mock salute, Steven asked, "How can I help, boss?"

Pushing off your office chair, you eased around to lean against the front of your desk. "You've been keeping a secret from me?"

Eyes wide and blinking, his cheeks heated under your scrutiny. "A secret?"

"Mm-hmm," you went on conspiratorially, "Something about today?"

"Today, em," clearing his throat, he quickly scanned his phone for an appointment he may have missed. "I'm not sure..."

"Steven, it's your birthday. Right?"

He paused, tucking his phone back into his pants pocket. "Right," he agreed. "That's right, the 9th of March. I suppose it is, isn't it?"

Smiling wryly, you reached out and squeezed his forearm. “I know you’re the one in charge of birthdays for the office. Did you think it wasn’t okay for us to celebrate yours?”

His eyes flew to where your hand rested on his sleeve, then right back to your tender gaze.

“It’s alright,” he shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t eat the cake anyway, since I’m vegan.”

“Of course,” you quickly nodded, withdrawing your hand. “Since I didn’t realize it was today, I didn’t even get you anything. So, I wondered if I could buy you a drink. Unless you have other birthday plans?” You blinked at him hopefully.

“No. No plans,” he almost coughed out. “A drink sounds wonderful. Brilliant, actually.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

5:45 P.M.

“Steven, hi,” you gushed, seeing your assistant walk into the restaurant you chose. “I hope this is okay?”

“Of course,” he agreed, sitting across the booth from you. Live piano music drifted through the air. “Nice place.”

“Thanks, I like it here. But let me ask you something.”

“All right,” he agreed.

“Is it okay if we celebrate your birthday at the office tomorrow?” You asked, making sure he saw the menu that the server left for the two of you.

Gaze dropping, Steven pulled his hands to his chest uncertainly, compelling you to apologize for overstepping.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Chewing on his lip, he paused, inhaling deeply. “We're friends, aren't we?"

Smiling warmly, you agreed. "I feel like we are."

"Good. Good, so I feel I can tell you things, from time to time. You see, I don’t really have a birthday.”

Shaking your head in confusion prompted him to continue.

“I wasn’t ever really born,” he went on, gesturing animatedly. “I sort of…emerged, honestly. I told you I’m a system?”

You nodded. “Yeah of course.” You’d met Marc a few times. He’d even worked a couple of Steven’s shifts when Steven wasn’t fronting.

“So, you see, Marc’s birthday is today, but I-I don’t remember any of our birthdays. I wasn’t even really born then. Or ever, actually.”

Reaching across the table, you squeezed his hand gently but briefly. “That must be difficult. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right, don’t be.” With trembling breath, he grasped your hand, enveloping it with his own. “This is so kind of you, really, and you’ve been absolutely lovely today.”

“You deserve it. You deserve to be celebrated, Steven,” you assured him with a tender smile. “On whatever day, in whatever way you want. You’re a person and you were born and you matter.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes shining, fixed on yours. “No one’s ever…” Clearing his throat, he went on. “I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed my birthday before.”

“I notice everything about you, Steven,” you quietly gushed. Noticing his cheeks heat up, you cleared your throat. “Sorry, I mean, I’m your boss, but…I just can’t believe sometimes that no one’s ever…” You trailed off, hoping not to insult him. How was he possibly still on the market? Although you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself and avoid office drama, you couldn't help but flirt with him sometimes.

The corner of his mouth curled and he cocked his head as if imbued with a touch of confidence. “Are you trying to say this is a date?”

You gulped, noticing how his thumb brushed across your knuckles. “Do you want it to be?”

Leaning in, he fixed his gaze on yours. “It's all I could want for my birthday."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven masterlist • Moon Knight masterlist • Holidays masterlist

Main masterlist

[mylittledelulucorner]

Unspoken Words - Marc Spector

Marc Spector x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Marc doesn't know how to express his feelings

Word count: 755

A/N: This is my first Moon Knight / Marc Spector fic

Warnings: English is not my first, second or third language, so sorry for any mistakes

Marc went through a lot, so when he met you, he decided that maybe, just maybe this time everything would work out for him, a chance to breathe, to live and not just survive. You had been together for a while now, but he never uttered the three words you always hoped to hear. He had been hurt by the world and by those who should’ve cared for him. He built a massive brick wall around his heart, walls that you are trying to tear down each day that passes. You gave him grace, you gave him time and space.

Today is beach day. No thoughts, no worries. Just you, your lover and the gentle waves of the sea. The beach was quiet, almost empty. What else would you expect on a Tuesday morning? You had it all to yourselves, a little piece of heaven just for you two.

As peaceful as the scenery looked, Marc didn’t quite know what to do with himself. The truth was, he had never experienced simple days like this. Days where there is no tension, no anxiety. Days where the demons of the past weren’t consuming his thoughts.

You made him want to open up, but he was still learning how. The relationship was in his opinion still new, still fragile. How much of himself could he show you? How much of his darkness would you accept? His mind clouded with insecurity until he looked up and saw you walking toward him, two ice creams in hand.

“Stop thinking so hard,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he shot back, but the look on his face betrayed him.

You gave him a knowing look. “Marc, I can literally see the gears turning. Love, relax. We are at the beach, let the sea carry your worries away. Let’s just enjoy today, okay?”

He exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. Took his ice cream and sat down beside you on the towel. Quietly watching the waves, breathing, simply existing in the now, in the present. Slowly, his head found its way onto your lap, and sleep took over. One of your hands held a book, while the other gently caressed his soft curls.

Finally, he rests, you thought.

The day passes by quietly. When the sun dipped low, you woke him up, gathered your things and headed back toward town.

“I’m sorry,” Marc murmured.

“For what?”

“Well… we came for a fun day at the beach and I ended up falling asleep. I should’ve stayed awa-”

You cut him off with a gentle kiss.

“We came to the beach to relax and for the first time in forever, you actually did. That’s all that matters to me.”

A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

As you walked back home, you passed a little flower shop. Marc paused. “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing inside the small shop. When he came back, he was holding a small bouquet of red tulips.

“Marc? What’s the meaning of this?” you asked smiling.

He hesitantly handed them to you. “I might not say it out loud just yet, but I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Eum… well yeah…you can google the meaning of it.”

He stood there, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Watching how your fingers tapped the screen of your phone. Seeing the page load made his heart pound even faster in his chest. What if you are not impressed? What if this is not the right way to tell you… Stealing quick glances, waiting and hoping…

*Google search: Meaning of red tulips:

Result: Passion, love -> Their deep red hues evoke feelings of passion, love, and lust — making them an especially popular choice for new, younger couples. They can also mean “believe me” or “my feelings are true.” So, the next time you're trying to woo the person you admire, send them an alluring bouquet of red tulips.*

Your smile softened. There it is, the smile that calms the storm within him. The one that chases the cloudy days away.

“Love, come here,” you whispered, pulling him into the deepest hug you could give.

He might not have uttered the three words you longed to hear or translated his love into tangible, spoken words yet, but they were there. Lingering on the tip of his tongue and when he’s ready, you know he will repeat them every single day. You are his, and he loves you dearly.

_____________________

Posted this in this fun tag game and decided to post it as a stand alone fiction. Hope you enjoyed it!

@quiet-night-sky-writers-blog

[marksbear2]

Hi, ive been rewatching moon knight, i did forget how fine is oscar isaac. So, can i request sub!bottom!moon boys x dom!top! reader. I just love them so much i want to care of them. Smut Headcanons?

🐼

Jake, Marc and Steven x top male reader

The smallest mention of Oscar Issac’s name make’s me rip my clothes off. Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you enjoy, 🐼.

⚠️Warnings. Dom/ top male reader, bottoms are the moon boys, edging, blowjobs, orgasm torture. Riding. And I might add more later on today!! And etc⚠️

— Both Jake and Marc watch Steven trying to take your cock as best he could. They’ll laugh and playfully mock him for struggling.

— All three of them being on their knees sucking and licking around your cock.

— Steven and Marc walking seeing you and Jake sharing a cigarette while fucking.

— Marc and Jake sitting on your left and right both sucking and nipping at your individual nipples while Steven is riding and bouncing on your cock.

— Having all three of them to edge themselves all, having their holes prepped and ready waiting for your turn.

— If any of the two get you annoyed or upset you’ll fuck the only one who didn’t irritate the hell out of you.

— You three making out very often.

— They’ll sit and take turns getting fucked by you. Marc will sometimes get impatient and would want your cock already.

— One of Jake’s kinks are getting chocked so whenever you were choking him while fucking deep inside him. Marc was watching and he seemed to be curious about it. And the next time you two had alone time he brought up wanting to try out being choked.

— For aftercare, you mostly clean and take care of them but sometimes the boys take individual turns to get the towels or to clean the sheets.

— Leaving hickeys on their bodies in unique places across their bodies leaving each boy with a different pattern of hickey’s.

— Fingering two of the boys while the other none is either sucking and deepthroating your cock or jerking it off while making out with you.

— They have this unspoken competition like rivalry to see who can pleasure you the best, or who can make you cum faster.

— They all are very needy with different wants and desires. You having to remember which individual boy likes or doesn’t like. For example gets really embarrassed and shy by dirty talk, but for Marc it turns him on and he wants to hear you talk rough and dirty to him.

— Sending videos to the main group chat of an individual for example like Steven. Spending a video of the Brit getting completely dicked down.

— Steven finding it so hot seeing you pass Jake a cigarette using your mouths. But when you try it with Steven he ends up coughing and wheezing.

— While they’ll tease and mock Steven they’ll talk him through it. Telling him what to do and guide him how to pleasure you and how to take it.

— But for Jake and Marc they’ll degrade each other.

— Fucking them after a long day. For Steven it’ll be for work while Marc would be fighting and just overall having a rough week while Jake just wants to be fucked merciless.

— Having alone time with an individual boy is common.

— All of you laying on the bed together just in the comfortable silence of your guys breathing in the room.

— Steven and Marc walking in seeing you Jake getting ready for some very kinky sex.

— Being on the one with any of the boys while your at work/ being busy hearing his heavy breathing and the muffled wet noises through the other side of the phone.

THE END

[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

[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.

[starlight-writer]

Fighting

A)n: Heyyyy... I'm back :)

Warning: none, angst, yelling, arguing

Gn reader Masterlist

Steven

He doesn’t yell

But it’s that exactly that makes it worse

He refuses to yell, but he’ll be a sarcastic little shit

“Oh really? How lovely.”

“Oh my dearest apologies, my liege, I didn’t realize I had to agree with everything you had to say.”

Steven won’t back down, he’ll keep this energy until he’s done talking about it and then he’ll ignore you

He won’t ask how your day's been, he won't hug you, he won't even look at you

And it’ll drive you crazy

The only reason this started was because Steven missed a date and didn’t acknowledge that he would be late or wanted to cancel

He was working late for Donna again, but this time it just set off something in his head

Normally you wouldn’t be too upset about him missing a date, seeing as he’s got other people to take care of and he’s got a shitty boss, but when you asked him about the date, he blew up

“God, it was one date, why do you have to nag me about it?”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t trying to nag you, Steven, I just wanted to know what happened.”

“You’re not my bloody parent, you don’t need to know!”

“Take that back.”

“No.”

And now you're in your room and Steven's sleeping on the couch

That night will give him time to realize he was in the wrong and he'll feel super guilty

When he wakes up with a stiff back and sore neck, he'll think he deserves it

He'll wait until you come out to get up

And then he's following you around like a lost puppy

He won't say anything, but he'll look so sad and just be following you everywhere you go

It would be cute if you weren't upset with him

You'll have to be the one to start a conversation, but as soon as you say a single word to him, Steven's apologizing faster than you can process

"Love, I'm so so sorry. I was an absolute knob, I was so stressed and upset yesterday and I know that's not a reason to treat you so terribly, but it was such a bad day. I promise I'll make it up with 3, no, 5 dates! We can do whatever you want today and tomorrow and all week! Please forgive me, darling. I know I don't deserve it, but please just give me another chance."

He looks like he's about to burst into tears and kneel for you

(Which would be hot in a different setting)

Depending on how passionate you feel about this, it might take some time to forgive him, but he's there every second of the day

Or if you want him to leave you alone, he'll respect that

You'll find little notes of lovey poems around the flat and your favorite snacks littered around the living room

He honestly feels like a terrible partner so when you do decide to forgive him, just give him a kiss and hug him

He'll cry and apologize a bunch more so just pet his head and tell him it's ok

He'll genuinely sit you down and ask if there's something he can do to get his 'anger issues' under control

Poor baby doesn't have anger issues, he just has a shitty boss <3

Marc

He yells

He yells loud and painful things

He doesn’t care, he can’t bother to care

He’s angry and that’s all he feels

He can’t think past it, it’s like he sees red

He’ll shout until his throat is raw, but he’ll get as many insults and sarcastic comments he can before that happens

He knows what he’s doing is wrong, he knows the only reason you’re arguing is because of him

But he’s not backing down

He wants to hurt you and he does

And it makes everything worse for at least a week

Marc came home absolutely wreaked from a fight and refused your help, preferring to drink and just sit there

If you weren’t so upset at the fact he refused your help and instead wanted the help of alcohol, you’d yell at him about staining the couch with his blood

You’ll either have to deal with Marc breaking out into an argument after the initial one, or leave to stay somewhere else

If you come back the next day, Marc will still be upset

He won’t start yelling at you again, but he’ll ignore you

And it really just stops there

It’s the silent treatment for a week

He'll make dinner for you and all that, but he won't talk to you

He'll stare at you, wondering if you'll be the one to apologize

Or he'll be staring at you to see if you're watching him

You're not

He'll stay silent for an entire week, festering in his anger and guilt until it overflows

And when you come back home from work or being out late, he's waiting for you

And he looks like a kicked puppy

It was no surprise Marc had no idea how to apologize and admit/accept his feelings but at this moment, none of that mattered

His guilt and the feeling of missing you outweighed his discomfort of voicing his feelings

He'll start with an apology, saying how sorry he was and how terrible he felt

He didn't give any excuse or reason for his anger, he just apologized and stood there

He expects you to yell at him, leave him, insult him

Just gently take him in your arms and kiss his cheek

You don't even have to tell him anything, he'll promise to never yell at you like that again

"If I do, you can hit me as hard as you want."

Marc will say, though if you did actually hit him, he'd probably cry

He'll be so genuine with his words and.the nail in the coffin was the fact that he promised

Marc never makes promises, even if he knows he can fulfill them

But he swears up and down that he will never yell at you again

And he does everything in his power to reverse or heal the damage his words did to you

Even going out of his comfort zone

He loves you so much and he doesn't understand why you're still with him, but he thanks every God and Goddess that you are

Jake

He’s dangerously silent

He’ll stand there completely blanked face, eyes set in a slight glare as you argue about something that was definitely his fault

Maybe he missed a date and didn’t bother to let you know he wasn’t coming or wrote off your worry about a few injuries and called you ‘clingy’ and ‘overbearing’

Either way, he doesn’t respond to your anger, just standing there like he didn’t care

And it hurt

Once you were done explaining how you felt or what Jake did wrong, he’ll roll his eyes, pull out a cigarette and sit in the couch

He’ll play the baseball game he may have missed or just watch the news to really set in that something that boring was more interesting than your feelings

“Do you seriously find the news more important than our relationship?”

He won’t look at you

“I can’t believe this. If you care so fucking little, then why are you still here?”

“This is my house.”

“Then maybe I should go if it’s just your house.”

“You should.”

And you do

You go to a friends house, or a hotel, somewhere that you can rest for the night because you’re obviously not going to get anywhere with Jake and you can’t stand his attitude

The second you’re out of the room, Jake curses and throws the tv remote at the wall

He throws everything that he can without any worry of breaking something or getting a noise complaint

He'll throw bottles, plates, pillows, books

Once he's run out of steam, he'll shamefully clean up everything, throwing glass away and putting pillows back

That's give him the time he needs to realize 'oh shit, I fucked up'

He won't come out and admit it instantly, no

He'll fester in his guilt and figure out what exactly he should say

He'll even plan out when he should breathe during his apology

And when you get home, no matter when that is, Jake it waiting patiently with breakfast, lunch, or dinner

He'll give a nervous smile and walk up to you, giving you a hesitant kiss on your cheek before pulling you to the living room couch

Your plate of food is already made and somehow still warm despite Jake no knowing when you'd be back

He'll give an awkward apology, explaining how he's still not used to being something more than a protector for Marc and Steven, how he's still learning to let people in, how he loves you with all his heart despite being such a monster

He might start crying, but he'll try not to show you

He doesn't want to show vulnerability, but he knows it's important in a relationship

So he'll just ask very quietly if he can hug you

Is you say no, he'll nod in understanding as tears fall into his lap

He'll quietly mutter another apology and just sit there, unsure as to what to do

If you say yes, however, he'll gently wrap his arms around your waist and bury his head in your neck

He'll silently cry, muttering 'i love you' over and over again until you say it back

Just rub his back and kiss his head, tell him you forgive him or need time to forgive him and he'll understand either way

He loves you with his entire being, almost like he lives off of loving you

[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

[itsmarsss]

with a V [Steven Grant/Marc Spector x GN!Reader] (Moon Knight)

Word count: 785

This is another one in the 'scenes i don't wanna throw away from wips that i'm abandoning' series lol. No warnings.

When they 'speak' to each other, italics are Steven, bold is Marc.

Did I just ask them on a date? Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

[. . .]

"Hey, actually- I’m sorry if this is weird, but- are you an actor?"

"What?" 

What kind of pick-up line is that? 

It's definitely not a pick-up line!

"I uh- it's just- every time you come in you have like a different accent? Like sometimes you’re British, sometimes you’re american. Sometimes you even speak some spanish?”

Do you speak spanish? 

I can ask where the library is.

Why would you speak to them in spanish?

You think I came here and ‘donde está la biblioteca’d them? Why the fuck would I do that?

“... So I thought maybe you’re doing those method acting things or something."

"Uh, no. I'm not. Not an actor."

"Oh, okay. Sorry for being nosey, but it was eating me alive!” You joke.

"I work at a museum!" Steven blurts out. 

"Oh. You do?"

He nods.

"That's so cool! What do you do there?"

He averts his eyes to the floor in some sort of embarrassment. "I uh. I work at the gift shop right now. But I give tours sometimes! That's- that's what I actually want to do. Uh, teach people about… things."

"So you must really know your history then.”

"Enough to give tours about it. Not that I’m trying to be… you know. Presumptuous. Or anything.”

Is it even possible to be ‘presumptuous’ about that?

Shut up.

Who even uses the word ‘presumptuous’ anyway?

Shut up!

"Sounds like you have fun with it."

"Yes- Yes. I really like reading about these things- especially ancient Egypt. That's- that's actually what I give tours on."

Stop rambling.

I don't ramble! 

"Really? I've always been more of a greek-roman kind of person, so I don't really know that much about Egypt."

I cannot believe they liked the rambling.

You think so?

"You- oh. Do you want to- would you like to come by the museum some time?"

Yes, Steven! We gotta work a bit on the delivery but that's what I'm talking about! Make sure to put in a good word for me!

Don’t be stupid.

“What?”

“What?”

“You, uh-”

Oh, fuck, did he just say that out loud?

Idiot.

Fuck, he did. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was- I was talking to myself. Sorry.”

"Oh. Okay. Well, sure, uh… shit, I’m sorry, I never asked for your name."

"It’s Steven. With a ‘V’."

"Okay, Steven-with-a-V. I would like to come by the museum sometime."

Steven looked absolutely shocked, like the fact that you could say yes hadn't even crossed his mind. "You would?" 

After what you just pulled, I’m surprised too.

Or perhaps you’re just mean.

"Yeah, why not? Then you can teach me more about those things."

"Yeah. Of course. That would be… good. Great! It would be great. I'm- I'm giving a few tours tomorrow. Covering some shifts. If you- if you want to come by."

"I have the morning shift tomorrow. But maybe in the afternoon? What time are you out?"

"I'll be there until six, actually."

"On a saturday?"

"I switched with a colleague. Got both their shifts for tomorrow."

You smile, finally ringing up his order when someone else entered the place, cutting the interaction short. "6.99."

"What?"

"Your order."

"Oh. Right. Here."

He gives you a ten pound note, and you try to give him his change. 

He just smiles at you. "Keep it. As a tip. It's… for being nice to me. And showing up tomorrow?" He hoped he didn't sound cocky. Or like he wanted to buy you with a sorry three fucking pounds or something of the sort or-

"I'd need to know exactly where I need to be for that to happen."

"What?"

"There’s not exactly one single museum in this city, Steven-with-a-v."

"Shit. Right. It's-" 

No, dumbass! Don't just tell them!

What else do you want me to do? 

Holy shit.

"Steven?"

"Sorry, can I borrow that?" He says, pointing to your notepad… with that american accent, again. You then realize he never did explain anything about that, only saying he wasn't an actor, like you thought he was- which made this whole accent situation a lot more intriguing. You'd ask him about it again, but he'd just invited you to the museum and you weren't about to be nosey and ruin things.

Steven-with-a-v-and-an-american-accent grabbed the notepad and pen from the counter and quickly wrote his number on it.

"Just text me and I'll send you the address."

Eh-dress. What was this man’s deal? "Okay. Yeah. I will."

Did I just ask them out?

Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

Can’t you let me have this one?

If you put in a good word for me. 

Ah, yes, of course I will, that definitely won’t scare them off.

[. . .]

A/N: probably ooc but i dont really care lol this has been in my wips for like two years probably and it was never gonna see the light of day

[soft-girl-musings]

Comedy of Errors (MK Spring Bingo #3)

Steven Grant x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: theater kid slander (affectionate), amateur references to Shakespeare, steven and reader teach high school, no use of y/n

wc: 1,341

fic summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. And neither does the play you watch unfold.

A/N: as a recovering theater kid, this was a fun one. enjoy!

_____________________

It's poor etiquette to laugh. Right?

How you ended up sitting in a high school theater on a Sunday afternoon, you have no idea. Well, that's not true: you never can say no to your favorite students. When they begged you to come to their closing matinee, you had no choice but to cough up the ticket money (with no faculty discount, to add insult to inconvenience).

So here you are, seated in the darkened auditorium, watching what could only be described as chaos unfold on your school's professional-grade thrust stage.

In the lobby you'd heard whispers of how last night's cast party had gotten a bit too rowdy, rendering a few upperclassmen unable to attend their final performance. It didn’t matter what circle you ran in at their age: you’d learned years ago that a “mysterious illness” following any high school party probably isn’t the flu.

Thankfully there were enough students to fill in the missing principal roles, but with only the morning to prepare, it’s a wonder they've gotten through each scene. Draped in ill-fitting costumes with scripts in hand, the students have tried their best to piece together one last staging of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. All you know about this play is that it’s a comedy, but you don’t think you’re supposed to laugh at every blunder and mishap.

(It’s very hard not to.)

Across the house you see Mr. Grant, one of the younger teachers on campus, whose face mirrors how you feel. He’s probably trying for a look of statuesque stoicism, but all he's managed to pull off is mild bewilderment.

You haven’t spoken to your coworker much– mainly because there’s rarely a moment where he’s without another colleague talking his ear off or hanging on every word of his (admittedly delicious) accent. He’s a newer hire, having come from London to teach a few history courses but was moved to the literature department the moment your principal saw the top of his resume. The modern education system, ladies and gentlemen.

The man is dressed to impress: black turtleneck under a sharp tweed ensemble, his usually wild curls tamed a bit as they grace his forehead, he certainly looks the part of a private school instructor. But there’s no denying the entirely unserious look on his face: he is one blunder away from losing his cool.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring until his bright brown eyes connect with yours. In an instant you understand why so many students doodle his name in the margins of their notebooks: his exasperated stare has you instantly weak.

–which is poor timing, given the scene unfolding onstage between you. An unrehearsed kiss goes wrong, and the two of you slap your hands over your mouths to subdue your laughter.

The rest of Act I goes the same way. You try to follow along, but every so often your eyes drift to Mr. Grant white-knuckling his way through the rough performance. When your eyes connect again (and again, and again) you both struggle to contain your laughter. Knowing that tears are likely stinging your colleague's eyes the same as yours makes you feel like less of an ass.

The curtain closes for intermission and you rest your head in your hands. How is this only half over?

“Bit of a rough watch, yeah?”

Your head snaps up– those brilliant brown eyes widen at your expression, now only one row of seats between the two of you.

“Mr. Grant–”

“Steven,” he says quickly, offering his hand. You take it and smile.

“Steven,” you begin again, giving your name in return. “I don’t mean to be rude, but aren’t some of these kids–”

“–in my Shakespearean Studies course? Quite a few, really.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we’ve focused more on the historical tragedies. Don’t think a textbook can teach comedic timing.”

“Oh, I've laughed plenty.” You fidget with your program and look back to the stage. “At least they’re trying their best, I’m sure part of you is proud.”

Steven’s smile grows as he shakes his head. “I’ll be honest, it’s nice to know they’ve looked at the material for once.” He leans in. “Last week I asked them where the phrase ‘double, double, toil and trouble’ came from, and someone said Harry Potter.”

You laugh out loud for the first time all evening. It feels nice to not hide it. You miss how Steven takes in the sight of you, as well as his loss for words when you calm down.

“I have a confession to make,” you say hoarsely, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what’s supposed to be happening. I’m lost as hell.”

“Maybe I could–” he trips over his words and his feet as he clambers around the seats to sit next to you. “Maybe I could help you out. Bit of an expert, myself. What they pay me for, and all–”

“Sure,” you stop him with a smile. “I’d like that.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and settles in. Pulling out a pair of reading glasses, he opens his program.

“Right. So, A Midsummer Night’s Dream…”

The rest of your intermission is spent receiving a crash-course in William Shakespeare. You’re amazed at how he spouts the most minute details about recurring symbolism, character motivations, and even the historical context of the play up until the lights dim and the show resumes. You squeeze his forearm to silently suggest taking a break, and he chokes down whatever factoid was about to tumble out next.

Maybe it’s because the students have found their footing. Maybe your mini-lecture has filled in the gaps so you can better follow along. Or maybe it’s the sight of Mr. Grant– Steven– sitting beside you, rapt attention on the stage as his readers slide down his nose each time he laughs and leans in to explain the joke, drawing closer and wafting his subtle cologne your way between still-too-loud whispers. Whatever the reason, you’re enjoying the second half of this show much more than the first.

The play draws to a close with a happy ending. One of the fae characters comes downstage to address the audience as the rest of the cast departs.

“If we shadows have offended,

Think but this and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear…”

“Star pupil, that one,” Steven whispers once more. “Deserves every bit of the spotlight.”

You squeeze his arm again, this time not moving your hand or looking his way. You both take in the last words of the performance in dazed silence.

“...Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.”

With that, the fairy bows and the stage fades to black.

The audience erupts into applause as the cast returns onstage. You and Steven cheer and swap last-minute quips about the performance as the standing ovation thunders around you.

You exit the auditorium together and are immediately swarmed by a handful of students– some yours, some his– who eagerly await your feedback. You each congratulate the cast, getting them to sign your programs to commemorate the day.

Finally you’re able to break away and step into the brisk evening air.

“Well that was… something,” you laugh.

Steven grins as he fastens his coat. “‘Least they’ll be tuckered out in first period, yeah? Might get a bit of peace tomorrow morning.” He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Sorry, don’t want you to leave that behind. Could be worth something someday.”

You take your folded program back from him. “Oh, I'm sure.”

With an awkward wave, Steven steps back. “Right. Well, see you around.”

“See you, Steven.”

You turn to head toward your car. As you walk, you unfold your program to see a new signature on the back page, followed by a phone number.

Let me know if you need any more Shakespeare translated. I’m fond of the love poems, myself ;)

_____________________

A/N: mk bingo has been a blast, i'm grateful for the chance to put these guys in Situations. that's one for each of em now. we'll see who gets attention next...

also, some inspiration was taken from this post (rip)

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi! This is a (kinda nsfw) request for the Moon Knight Boys or only Steven, whichever you’re comfortable with!

So, reader is usually loosely trimmed or has fully grown hair „down there”. One day she decides to surprise her vigilante boyfriends and shaves everything off or maybe leaves a cute little heart on top?? Either way I’d love to know how they’d react.

(I myself am female but please write for which gender you’re most comfortable with)

~Cherry Bomb Anon 💖💖💖

Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I realise now that I misread this!

Anyway, it's now Marc and Steven with the shaved heart.

Glue It Back On

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Warnings: This is just Marc and Steven having a conversation really, I'm so sorry, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 851

“They’re gonna hate it, they’re gonna hate it. Fuck.”

“Shit.” 

“Fuck.”

“Shit,” Steven chews his bottom lip, “what if we shave it all off?” 

“All of it?”  Marc answers from the bathroom mirror. 

Steven nods. “All of it, like,” he motions with his hands. “Gone.”

“Bald?” 

“No, not bald Marc, it wouldn’t be bald, our, our-”

“Our balls would be bald.” 

“I was thinking more like, we just shave the top… bit?” 

“And nothing else?” Marc frowns in thought. “Wouldn’t that look-”

“Weird, yeah.” Steven sighs defeatedly. “It would. Like we just stopped halfway, and if we do it like a really neat line that will look like, ‘woah, too much effort here’, and if we don’t it’ll look a mess.” 

Marc nods. “Look, I know this isn’t helpful, but I don’t want to shave it all off. Because, one,” he holds up his forefinger. “I think it’ll look weird, you know like in porn, hairless balls just make me think of turkey wattles.” 

Steven pauses. “Wattles?” 

“Like the turkey red neck flappy thing.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that it was called that.” He nods a little, then shakes his head, trying to stay focused. “You think shaved balls look like that?” 

“Kinda.”

“Kinda?” He says, unimpressed.

“Yeah, look, I’m not the vegan who gets freaked out by certain types of mushrooms-”

“We’ve been over this, I heard Michael say in the break room that mushrooms on pizza looked like slugs, and I can’t unsee it, it’s not fair to-”

Marc holds up his hands. “I’m sorry, okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that all up again like that.” 

Steven nods. 

“They just look weird to me.” 

Steven’s lip twitches in a smile and Marc braces himself for whatever is about to come. “Is that what you say to yourself to justify only watching lesbian porn?” 

“Don’t.”

“Is it?” Steven grins. 

“I don’t just watch lesiban porn.” 

Steven scoffs. “Firstly, you do. Second, what’s wrong with watching lesbian porn?” 

Marc gives him a glare. “You’re the one that brought this up!”

Steven grins, enjoying seeing Marc squirm a little. “I did. So, why do you only watch lesibian porn?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Steven chuckles. “Spoil sport.” 

“You’re a bully.” Marc smiles. 

“What was your second point anyway?” 

“What?” 

“You’re second point? First was our balls would look like a turkey if we shave them, what was the other?” 

“Oh, I think it’ll itch like hell when the hair starts to grow back if we use the razor.” 

Steven nods, thinking. “Yeah, I bet you’re right on that one.” He sighs again, his shoulders slumping. “But what are we gonna do?” 

“We could glue it back on?” Marc says, only half joking.

“Marc.” He gives him the disappointed teacher voice. “We are not glueing hair back onto our.. Our… area.” 

“Area?” 

“You’re worried about it itching growing back, what the fuck do you think it’s gonna feel like with glue?” 

“Area? Steven, are we fucking three?” 

Steven puts his hands on his hips. “Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” 

“Well, yeah? Area?” 

“What would you call it then? Hmm?” 

Marc opens his mouth and then pauses.

“See, see?” Steven gestures at Marc, “What the fuck is it?”

“It’s the bit above the dick.” 

“Yeah, but what is that called? Like the actual name?” 

Marc thinks and then frowns. “Steven, I don’t fucking know, why is this important?”

“You made it important.” Steven grabs his phone from the side.

“What are you doing?” Marc sighs.

“I’m looking it up.”

“Steven.” 

“I want to know.” 

“Steven.” 

“All I can think of is pubic mound, but is that like, the word for everyone?” 

Marc shakes his head slightly as he pulls a face. “For everyone? What do you mean?”

“Like for all genders.”

“Oh…” Marc thinks again. “Maybe…” He leans forward as if he could see Steven’s phone from his angle. 

“See? You’re interested now.” 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t get too excited about it.” He huffs.

Steven rolls his eyes, and then quickly reads. “Okay, it is the pubic mound for everyone.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’ve learnt something.” 

“Doesn’t really help with our current situation, does it?” 

Steven puts his phone down and rubs his eyes, “Ugggghhhh, what if we just say, ‘Love, I tried to shave a heart into my pubic hair because I thought it would be funny and sweet and now I’m like what the fuck have I done?’” 

You knock on the bathroom door and both Steven and Marc jump at the same time. 

“Erm,” Steven scrambles with the towel around his waist before he opens the door with a flourish. “I-”

“I got back about ten minutes ago.” You give him a soft smile. “I’ve been listening to your side of the conversion, with rapt attention.” You tease playfully. 

Steven closes his eyes and chuckles bashfully. 

“If it’s any help,” you give his cheek a quick kiss. “I think the heart sounds lovely.” 

“Show them!”

Steven rolls his eyes, turning his head to pull a face at Marc’s reflection. “You wanted to glue it back on a second ago.” 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @romanarose  

@steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine  @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96  @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious  @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp  @eternallyvenus @lounilu 

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

 @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

@sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[ivystoryweaver]

Still With You

A With You standalone sequel - can be read on its own

"Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink."

"...but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands."

based on this nonnie and this @purple-amaranthe request

Pairing: Marc, Steven, Jake x gn!reader || Word Count: 3.2k

Content: they're all trying hard ok, domestic life, self worth probs, mentions of alcoholism/drinking, angst-ish, domestic fluff, moon dads-to-be, romance, sensual content, but nothing explicit

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

MARC

10:58 A.M.

Florescent lights flickered out an annoying buzz in the otherwise silent waiting room.

Thumbing through an outdated parenting magazine, you intermittently pointed out cute toys or outfits to your husband, who would grant you a curt nod each time.

Realizing you likely weren't helping the situation, you set the magazine aside and covered his hand with your own, if only to stop his fidgeting. "Almost time."

Marc squeezed your hand, grateful for your grounding touch. "You're sure we're not late?"

"We're right on time. It's still not even 11:00."

"Okay," he huffed out, his knee bouncing of its own accord. The cheap vinyl of his chair squeaked as he shifted, attempting to externally calm and internal storm.

You smiled at him sympathetically, remembering how far he'd come to even get to this point.

Just yesterday, he paced the floor half the evening, pushing his hands tormentedly through his curls over and over.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"They'll never approve me," he lamented. "I'm not...they'll think I'm not ready."

"Baby, we've taken all the classes. We've passed the home inspection." You nodded around at your new bedroom, eyes landing on the salvaged and restored night table he presented to you a while back.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc had taken on several projects since then, turning one bedroom of your new place into a workshop and the other into a nursery.

"Do you think she'll like girl colors?" He asked, flipping through paint swatches at the local hardware store.

"Uhh, what are 'girl colors'?" You smirked.

He swatted your nose with his finger. "I'm trying to pick out what color to paint that vintage toy chest I restored for Akeyla."

Your heart melted at the sound of your future daughter's name, not to mention the fact that Marc had put together nearly every piece in her nursery himself.

When he wasn't on a mission for Khonshu, he liked to keep his hands busy. Sometimes that meant his hands were all over you for "stress relief." Otherwise, he would drive around town in the old truck he bought, looking for unwanted and discarded furniture to fix up, repurpose for the house, or sell.

He still labeled himself unemployed, but he sold a few refurbished pieces a month, which more than paid for the hobby, his truck insurance and even left some spending money.

Salvaging discarded things knocked the edge off wanting to drink.

"Maybe like...turquoise?" He prodded, tracing his fingers over a row of various blues and greens. When you neglected to answer what you assumed was a rhetorical question, he assumed it was a no.

"Or purple? Sweetheart?" The full intensity of the Marc Spector stare fell on you as he waited for the verdict.

"Sorry." You smiled at him, nodding toward the turquoise swatches. "Trust your instincts. You're always right." Leaning closer, you kissed him adoringly on the cheek.

"That's not what you said about the yellow bench," he chuckled, selecting a swatch labeled "Ebbtide".

"That's pretty, I like it."

Marc needed to hear your words. After a couple years of marriage, you knew this now more than ever. Whether telling him what you needed in bed, or giving your seal of approval for his newest restoration project, he valued your opinion more than anything and it meant so much to him to hear you voice it.

Akeyla's nursery had been ready for weeks. The vintage toy chest was the final touch. Marc found a rocking chair, a book case that Steven requested, and chest of drawers to restore. You drew the line at a creaky old toddler bed. Steven went with you to pick that out, brand new.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

It was finally here. Today was the day you would meet your little girl.

You weren't ready to take her home yet - that was longer process - but you would meet her and start visits. Very soon, she would enter your home through the foster system, and after a while, she would be yours forever, by adoption.

"What if they change their minds?" Marc urgently whispered, there in the waiting room, gripping your hand so tightly it hurt. "They'll want to put her somewhere without someone - "

"Marc," you reminded him, "they know all about us. It's okay."

"I know, but - what if they find out about Khon- "

"Hi, are you the Spectors?" a kindly voice interrupted Marc's fussing.

A smartly dressed young woman holding a tablet adjusted her glasses and smiled.

"Yes," you quickly answered, standing up and pulling Marc with you. "That's us. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She shook each of your hands. "Ready to meet her?"

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*��ﾟ

"What if I..." Marc whispered against your temple, holding you against him in bed the night before. "I want to be there to meet her, but if I'm not, it isn't because I..." He shifted restlessly, trying to explain.

"You know what I always say," you gently reminded him, raking one hand through the curls resting above his ear.

"It's our body," he repeated your words back to you. "Whoever's there is there. It's not a problem."

"Exactly," you remind him. "I know you want to meet Akeyla as much as Steven, Jake and I do. I know that."

"I do," he breathlessly repeated, and you realized it might be a long night, when he added, "I just don't want to scare her. What if she doesn't understand, you know, how we are?"

"Baby, come here," You pulled his head down to your chest, wrapping him up tightly, pressing soothing kisses along his hairline. He wasn't voicing any fears he hadn't already talked through a dozen times with you, his sponsor and his therapist, not to mention his alters.

"Sorry," he murmured against the smooth column of your neck. Shifting pleading eyes up to yours, he relaxed, as your soft smile soothed him. "I'm so nervous."

"I am too," you sympathized. "Believe me, Marc. I mean, we're meeting our daughter. I'm just as nervous as you are."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc tangled his fingers with yours as you shuffled down the hallway toward the room that would change your lives forever.

The woman in front of you, who had identified herself as Elsie, paused before opening the door. "Ready?"

You glanced at your husband.

Sometimes he was so adorably terrified you were certain he forgot it was actually his idea to adopt.

Granting you a nod, he swallowed thickly. "Ready."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

STEVEN

9:22 P.M.

"So tense, mon cœur," your husband breathed against your neck, trailing tempting kisses over your damp skin. Strong forearms flexed against your abdomen, pulling your back closer to the slick heat of his bare chest.

Thick thighs surrounded you as you rested in your garden tub together, soaking in a bubble bath. Your head dropped to his shoulder as he whispered sensual French words on your ear. Long fingers traced down the shape of your abdomen, naughtily slipping between your legs.

"Steven, this is supposed to be a relaxing bath. Oh shit - " You moaned as touched you right where you craved. His other hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to his for a wet, hungry kiss. You went boneless in his embrace, completely at his mercy.

You should have known sweet Steven would seduce you during your "relaxing bath."

Later that evening, he sat beside you on the sofa, each of you working on a puzzle book from the "couch basket", enjoying a quiet evening in your new home.

“Got those pictures you wanted, love,” he commented. “The garden ones. Found another book too.”

You smiled adoringly at him, so excited to see them framed and hanging in Akeyla’s room. You had asked him to track down pictures of gardens from all over the world. Since Marc was in charge of furniture, Steven helped you pick out some unique decor.

He acquired a couple of first edition classic Children’s books as well. But you reminded him they would have to be stored way up high, away from the grabby hands of a toddler.

So he curated a brilliant little collection of toddler friendly board books for the lower shelves, as well as children’s books for her to grow into.

Steven had finished his bachelor's degree and was now working on a Masters of Anthropology. Already fluent in French, he was also studying Egyptian Arabic in an unofficial capacity, and toying with the idea of studying archaeology or linguistics as well. He just loved to learn and could never get enough.

After all was said and done, he'd probably end up teaching, which was a perfect idea because, in front of the right crowd, he was absolutely enthralling when he was passionate about something.

He still worked at the university library and thanked you almost daily for making most of the money for this little family, while he studied, and he, Jake and Marc worked part-time jobs.

You reminded Steven that their three part time jobs kind of added up to one job - plus as a student, you would give him a pass.

"Besides, you're going to be a sexy professor in another year or two, so I really see no downside," you'd tease him.

“Can’t wait to read to her every night,” Steven mused, pulling your mind back to the present.

Setting your puzzle book down, you snuggled up close to his side, wrapping your arms around his. “She’s always going to remember us reading to her. You’re going to be such a good dad, Steven.”

His throat bobbed. “You really think so?”

“I do. I know it.”

Gripping your hand almost as tightly as Marc had earlier in the afternoon, his head rested against yours. "Can't wait to meet her. Tell me again how she looked."

You warmly chuckled, nuzzling into his sleeve. "You've seen her picture a hundred times."

"I know, but...tell me again. What does her voice sound like?"

So you told Steven all about meeting your daughter for the first time, that afternoon, with Marc.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

JAKE

4:07 A.M.

The jangling of keys in the deadbolt dragged you from a foggy half slumber you'd managed in Steven's chair by the front door.

Jake had finally made it home after another night driving people around, and serving as Khonshu's fist of vengeance.

When he spotted you there, looking so adorably uncomfortable, he pulled his cap off his head and tossed it onto the entry way table with his keys.

Kneeling down in front of you, he smiled warmly. "What are you doing up, mi vida?"

"Mmm," you mumbled, relief surging through you at the sight of him. Leaning forward in the chair, you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." He held you for an indulgent moment before gently placing you back into the chair and standing to remove his jacket and gloves. Before you could whine out a protest, he helped you up just long enough to sit in the chair and pull you back down onto his lap.

Tucking you against his body, he reached for his jacket and draped it over you like a blanket. Jake knew you well enough. If he told you to go to bed, you would bristle and defy him, but if he held you like this, you would fall asleep in sixty seconds flat. Win win.

Your body settled against his and your breathing slowed, but you blinked up at him pleadingly. “Where have you been?”

Frowning in confusion, he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, underneath the jacket. “You know where, cariño.”

Looping your fingers around his tie, you coaxed his temping lips to yours for a lingering kiss. Jake shifted underneath you, sighing against your mouth as you held him there for an indulgent moment.

“I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

“I see you almost every night,” he volleyed back.

“You know what I mean.” Realizing you were tired and there was an edge in your tone, you touched your forehead to his. “I know you guys don’t exactly have a schedule. I just wanted to tell you about Akeyla.”

His eyes flickered away as his jaw clenched. You and Marc met your daughter yesterday. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

For a while, Jake had to be asked or reminded to participate in regular, daily things. Sometimes, you would go a week, only seeing him in your room at night, so you would ask him to eat dinner with you or take you out somewhere.

You started late night dates with Jake, just to build memories with him, in his world. It was never really your scene before, but you'd been to bars, out dancing, to late movies and your favorite - midnight bowling.

In fact, you all adjusted your schedules to fit the boys' night owl tendencies. You moved to second shift and Steven didn't take any more morning classes. You all slept in as late as possible, ate brunch or lunch and then got started on your day.

So it was not unheard of for you to wait up for Jake, but sleeping in Steven's chair until 4 A.M. was a bit unusual.

"I was busy tonight," he cryptically remarked, which tended to indicate he was probably doing Khonshu's bidding. "I wasn't trying to stay away."

"I'm not mad," you sleepily assured him, laying your head down on his shoulder. "I can't wait for you to meet her. And with her coming home soon, everything could change.”

"Change how?"

"Well for starters, I doubt a toddler will let us sleep in as late as we do. She'll probably climb all over our heads at like 5:30."

Jake was uncharacteristically quiet and you were half asleep.

"I'm not mad," you drowsily repeated, curling into him, murmuring "missed you" as you drifted off.

He rocked you gently, his heart burning with how he'd possibly disappointed you. Now that you were finally asleep, he didn't dare wake you, so he laid his head on the back of the chair, hoping to join you in slumber.

Jake had seen the horrors of this world, and of worlds adjacent. Terrifying, supernatural threats had met the crunch of his fist, and his vengeance.

But the thought of caring for a little girl shook him to his core, and in a different way than it did Marc.

Marc was always worried about his alcoholism, his past, the fact that they were a system, but he wanted Akeyla so badly. The whole thing was his idea in the first place. Steven was ready to show this kid the world, both metaphorically and literally.

Jake loved you, and he would love his child. Beyond that, he had no idea what to do, or how to contribute. The urge to not take time away from Marc or Steven was so strong it almost felt like instinct.

You, Steven and Marc had lovingly and rather expertly crafted her a dream-worthy nursery, but where Marc's hands restored and your hands healed and Steven's hands inspired and instructed, Jake had brutal hands.

Unwilling to disturb you, he pondered how he could prove to you he was still in this with you.

Reaching into his the pocket of his jacket, which still covered the top half of your body, he pulled out his phone. Opening up a picture of Akeyla, he smiled, studying her cute, chubby cheeks, dark, round eyes and her tightly wound curls.

Tracing the shape of her face with his thumb, he wondered what he could possibly give his sweet angel, besides protection.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Sleep came for a short while, but as the sun rose, so did you. Jake was asleep but his phone was playing a long playlist of videos. Hoping to not disturb him, you carefully removed the phone from his hand.

The video showed a young girl getting her hair styled. In fact the whole playlist was of dads styling their daughter's textured hair, including what products to try, and cute and useful clips, combs and the right brushes to help.

Chewing on you lip for a moment, you tapped on the search bar and saw that he had typed in, 'how to care for textured hair'.

Just the notion of Jake pulling off his gloves and styling your little girl's hair made your heart explode with love.

"Are these for Akeyla?" You whispered mainly to yourself, shifting your weight from one of his thighs to the other.

Jake groaned as circulation returned to that leg, making it tingle as he awakened from a very short nap.

"Sorry," you softly laughed. "I should let you get up, shouldn't I?"

The corner of Jake's mouth curled, but he nodded.

You helped him climb out of the chair and the two of you washed up. Jake slid into Steven's pajama pants and the two of you went to bed.

Already drifting back to sleep, Jake presented his small offering to you. Something to let you know he was all in.

"I think I could learn how to fix Akeyla's hair," he drowsily murmured, eyes already closed. "Watched a bunch of videos about it."

He couldn't build things and he wasn't book smart and he wasn't you. He wasn't even supposed to have a family. But you loved him so hard that he couldn't resist you and now he was about to gain everything he never knew he wanted.

Maybe the brutality of his hands could be used to do this tender thing for his daughter.

"I love you so much," you whispered, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

"Te amo," he whispered.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

ONE WEEK LATER…

“What’s your favorite color, Akeyla?” Marc asked on your next visit to with your soon-to-be-daughter. He sat beside her, adorably hunched with her at a child-sized table, coloring and drawing.

“Do you like red?” He asked, holding up a few choices of crayon.

“Fav-wit color wed!” She agreed, reaching for a yellow.

“Ohhh, you like yellow.” He winked at you, thinking of the yellow bench at home. “I like it too.”

“Yeh-yow,” Akeyla repeated, scribbling determinedly. Swinging her legs back and forth she repeated, “Yeh-yow, yeh-yow.”

“That’s right. We have a big yellow bench at home that I painted. We can sit on it together, just you and me. Is that okay?”

Akeyla seemed to ignore him, reaching over his arm to scribble yellow on his coloring sheet. Once she had saturated the paper to her satisfaction, she laughed out, amused with herself. “Yeh-yow bench. Okay, Dad-eee.”

Her nose scrunched as she showed him a silly toddler grin. Your heart completely melted as you watched them together.

“This is a good drawing,” Marc complimented, pointing to his paper she drew on. “Can I have it?”

Reaching out with chubby fingers, Akeyla scrunched the paper in her tiny grip, presenting it to Marc. “Here go. You hab it.”

“I can keep it?” He nodded hopefully. “Can I have a hug?”

She threw her arms around his neck. Lifting her up from the table, Marc offered one arm out to you and invited you into to this little family embrace.

Akeyla touched her forehead to yours, already a signature move for the two of you. Then she scrunched her nose and showed off that silly grin again.

"Want me to take your picture?" You offered. Grabbing your phone, you snapped a few selfies of you and Marc with Akeyla.

As soon as you were finished, she reached for your phone. "I watch Bluey."

And so it began.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration || Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[olydianwrites]

Steve Rodgers x Gn!Reader - Grocery Store Run In

Warnings: None, just awkward reader, reader has no physical description

Word Count:425

Like most people in the world, you’d followed the great ‘Captain America’s extremely public life story. From the memorials posted in his honour you’d waded through on spontaneous city trips with your friends, to the blaring and very hard to miss headlines when he’d been pulled from the ice. You’d cheered with friends and it had felt much more like watching a movie than a live event. You’d watched with bated breath as he and the avengers stopped the city from being destroyed by an alien raid. It was probably the reason you found it so hard to imagine him as a regular person, doing anything other than saving the world. 

But there he was, not even 2 metres away from you, and he was DEFINITELY a real person, he was also most certainly not saving the world at the moment. Unless taking down bad guys involved scouring the herbs and spices aisle of a grocery store. He must have been used to being gawked at because, despite your closeness and glaringly obvious staring problem, he remained focused on the rack of spices in front of him.

Up close, you could make out a lot of details that were lost in the dusty haze that marred the quality of the cameras that stalked him after a battle, or the grainy, deteriorating memorabilia plastered along the walls of museums. Details like, for example, the deep parallel creases that ran vertically between his brows, a physical manifestation of his years brooding and world hero stuff. 

You knew you should stop staring. Of course you should…but oh my god he was gorgeous. 

When he finally made his choice and turned away from the shelf, his eyes met yours and a soft but deliciously charming smile graced his chiseled features. You swore your neck had never moved as fast as it did, whipping to face the items in front of you, trying your best to act interested in the various types of herbs laid out at your eye level. You could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment, and you did all you could to stop yourself from returning the look.

The next time you saw him on tv, it felt different. Less like a show, and more like watching a person. A real person that you had seen fighting to keep your home safe. You couldn’t wait til you needed to stock up on groceries again, so that maybe, you could run into him again, and thank him personally. Take the chance to show your gratitude.

Photo creds:@jamjjamm

Divider creds:@aquazero

First post in four months...BUT WE BACK!!!🥳

[marksbear2]

Steven Grant x Male reader

I lowkey just watched the first season of bridgerton and I loved it 😫. So I wanted to write a confession somewhat how they do in Bridgerton so I did.

“Can I say something?”

Steven Grant had always been a peculiar man, and you adored him for it. From the moment you met at the British Museum—he working in the gift shop, you there to research ancient Egyptian artifacts—you were drawn to his quiet brilliance and his rambling charm. Over time, casual chats about scarabs and pharaohs turned into late-night tea at his flat, and you’d grown to care for him in ways you never anticipated.

The problem was, Steven Grant didn’t see himself the way you did.

He thought of himself as awkward, forgettable—a background character in a story too grand for him to star in. But to you, he was the sun, the stars, the constellations in between. Every glance, every shy smile made your heart ache with a longing you could barely contain.

And yet, you had held your tongue. You told yourself Steven deserved to heal first, to learn to love himself before someone else could love him. But lately, the weight of your unspoken affection had grown unbearable. So now, here you stood, beneath the soft glow of his modest London flat’s dim lamp, your heartbeat thundering in your chest as Steven offered you a cup of tea.

“Here you go, mate,” he said, oblivious as always to the storm raging inside you. His brown eyes shone with warmth, even as they darted nervously to his teacup. “I, uh… didn’t have the fancy kind you like. Just Earl Grey.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you murmured, clutching the cup tightly.

For a moment, there was only the sound of rain pattering against the window, and you took a deep breath. The words danced on the tip of your tongue, and finally, they tumbled free.

“Steven,” you began, your voice low and trembling, “I have something I need to say.”

He looked up, his brows furrowed with concern. “Everything alright?”

You set the tea down, unable to bear the barrier between you any longer. “No, Steven. Nothing is alright. Not when I’ve spent the last year pretending I don’t feel what I feel every time I look at you.”

Steven blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What do you mean?”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding like a war drum. “You’re brilliant, Steven. You’re kind and funny and so full of wonder that it makes my chest ache. And for so long, I’ve tried to bury this because I thought you deserved more—someone more put together, less complicated. But I can’t do it anymore. I love you, Steven. Madly, hopelessly. I love you in ways that words can hardly capture.”

Steven’s eyes widened, his lips parting in shock. You forged ahead, every word a balm to the ache that had built inside you. “I love you the way the poets write about,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “The way one loves a sunrise after endless darkness. You’ve made my life brighter, Steven, and even if you never feel the same, I need you to know that you are extraordinary.”

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then Steven stood, setting his cup aside with shaking hands.

“You… you love me?” he whispered, as though the very idea was impossible.

“Yes, Steven,” you said, your voice softer now. “With every fiber of my being.”

Steven let out a breathless laugh, his hands running through his messy curls. “I don’t—I mean, bloody hell, I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever said something like that to me before.” You smiled faintly, your chest tight. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

But then Steven surprised you. Tentatively, he reached for your hand, his fingers warm and trembling as they slid over yours.

“I… I don’t know if I deserve all that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But if someone like you thinks I do… maybe you’re right. And maybe… I feel the same.”

Your breath caught. “You do?”

Steven’s laugh was shaky but genuine. “Yeah. I think I do.”

And as the rain continued to fall, Steven Grant—your Steven—smiled at you in a way that made the world feel infinite. You had waited so long for this moment, and it was more beautiful than you could have ever dreamed.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Non-binary! Reader Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Non-binary! Reader Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Non-binary! Reader

Eventual! Father Figure! Jake Lockley x Teen! Non-binary! Reader

Book 1:

Follows the Events of Season One

Prologue: On the Precipice

Chapter One: In the Alps

Chapter Two: In the Flat

Chapter Three: To the Neighborhood

Chapter Four: In the Discussion

Chapter Five: Against the Jackal

Chapter Six: Across Cairo

Chapter Seven: Inside the Pyramid

Chapter Eight: To Mogart

Chapter Nine: In the Skies

Chapter Ten: Into the Tunnels

Chapter Eleven: At the Sarcophagus

Chapter Twelve: During the Ritual

Chapter Thirteen: Against Harrow and Ammit

Chapter Fourteen: After the Battle

Chapter Fifteen: In a New Chapter

Specials:

Pride Specials: 2024, 2025

Halloween Specials: 2024

Holiday Specials: 2024

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

@noodleryworld

@snowy-violet