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jakelockleysdoll · 8 months

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Popstar 🪩✨

headcanon: how the moon boys would be if you were a popstar

pairing: Jake Lockley x reader, Marc Spector x reader; established relationship

Warnings: smut, suggestive language, swear words, anxiety, panicking

18+ only!!!!

- side note: grammar isn’t my biggest concern, didn’t realise how similar of an approach I took for both Jake and Marc until now, hope that’s okay bb’s xx -

I imagined wearing Sabrina Carpenters recent tour outfits for this!

In no way is she associated with the story, I am solely using her outfits as inspiration, that is it. I do not mean any sexualisation or harm to and of her. I fully respect her as a human being. Please take in the outfits and the outfits ALONE as inspiration, as I am! respect women and their bodies <3

Jake

MY GOD. this man. He would be all over you as a popstar. He’s completely obsessed and is head over heels in love with you. He would help you get dressed and touch up your hair backstage. “you’re gonna do so well, amor” he says, reassuring you as you begin to have anxiety before your performance. “just think about how much they love you”. Jake seeing you in the outfit above takes everything in him not to rip your white lace tights off and fuck you right on the spot. he couldn’t take it anymore, and would absolutely take you inside a private room and have you bent over. “don’t let them hear you, Amor” he says smirking. It takes everything in him not to do it all over again, seeing the way you’re dolled up. He absolutely respects what you want to wear, in love with each look of yours, though from time to time he’ll ask you to wear the same outfit but in red / pink / whatever he wants. he helps pick out your clothes, the man loves to dress you. He absolutely loves seeing you dolled up, and seeing how passionate you are about what you do. it makes him happy that you’re happy. When you feel anxiety starts to creep up before stage, he one hundred percent will reassure you are going to be okay using physical affection- make out seshes backstage, sweet praises, telling you how good you look while his hands explore your body. He loved having you a moaning mess before you headed on to stage. Seeing you on stage is another thing. He’s obsessed with every word you say, your voice, the way you’re dancing sensually, the way your lips move. the man is crazy in love. Take a good guess of what he does backstage when you’ve completed your set.

Marc

MARC. Marc would help you take out the rollers in your hair, as he admires you in the mirror, a full face, hair in rollers, sitting in your white silk robe. “you look absolutely stunning, baby” he says with his thick accent, as he turns you around and caresses your thigh with strong eye contact. You make him wait outside to change because you wanted to surprise him. “my angel…” he whispers in disbelief as he sees you for the first time, and will do this each performance night, even if it’s the same look he’s seen, because he’ll never get enough of you, and is always in disbelief that you are his. (you would have to resist him being in your changing room a thousand times, knowing how it’s going to end) “Come here” he’d leave kisses everywhere along your chest and arms. He absolutely loves it when you wear corsets and thigh high socks / boots, it drives him wild. If you’re open to it, he’d ask if he can make you feel good, fingers interlocked, as he goes down on you in your dressing room, to relieve the stress he knew you were feeling. Plus he couldnt wait any longer, seeing your glowy Victoria secret model inspired makeup paired with your confidence turned him on. “Let me make you feel good, baby”. He loved everything about you, the sweet scent you were wearing drove him insane, as he caresses your arms and takes your forearm to smell and kiss, as he towers over you. God, they would both absolutely tower over you and you loved every second of it. He’s quick to pick up when something’s wrong, he would absolutely shower you in forehead kisses, reassuring everything is going to be fine and you’re going to kill it out there. He would for sure bring up evidence on why he knows you’re gonna do so well, bringing up the previous rehearsals he wouldn’t dare to miss (no matter how long they were, he loved hearing you and watching you sing and work) and saying how angelic you sounded in them, and that you were gonna sound just as beautiful on stage, possibly even more “if it’s humanly possible” he says. When you’re verbally panicking, marc would respond to every sentence you blurb out, out of stress and anxiety. “I’m gonna fall over” “I’ll catch you, baby” “what if they laugh at me” “they’re here to support you” “what if I muck up the lyrics” “then that’s okay, it’s okay to make mistakes” he says as he has you sitting on a platform, him standing between your legs and caressing your hair. he would be so reassuring and loving. As you’re performing, he would look at you like you hung up the stars for him. He would be in absolute awe of you, and still cannot believe you are real, sharing your light with this earth. He scans you, and reads you like a book. he can tell when you’re getting nervous, and will mouth sweet words to you “it’s okay, baby” “you’re alright” as he gives you a reassuring look. He’s obsessed and loves the way your legs look on stage, decorated in lace, glowing in the beautiful light. you would dance sensually, being the biggest tease to him knowing he’s watching your every move, and knowing damn well what he’s going to do to you right after you finish your performance. “you did so good, baby” he kisses you on the forehead. “now I’m gonna show you what happens to brats when they tease me like that” he says smirking, grabbing your hand and leading you to your room. afterwards, he’d lean onto you, caressing your face, looking into your eyes and admiring your features, telling you how proud he is of you. His brows are furrowed, eyes on your lips, caressing it with his thumb pad “you were incredible, baby”.

thank you for reading xoxo mwahh 🎀

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you-heard-what-i-meant · 1 year

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Let Us Take Care of You - Moon Knight

Summary:

Reader is recovering from surgery and the Moon Boys are helping to look after her. Frustrations erupt when she makes a bad decision, and a truth from the Moon Boy's past is revealed (it explains a lot of their behaviour in this fic). Angst, emotional Moon Boys, fluff in the end. One use of the F word.

Notes:

Purely self indulgent! I wrote this four days after I had to have some fairly intense surgery, and Moon Knight was still being released weekly at the time and I really needed to have our Moon Boys looking after me. Descriptions are based on exactly how things felt to me at the time. Not Beta read, all strange occurrences are my fault! Posted on AO3 Here!

Steven had left you in bed with a promise to take the fastest shower he could. He was worried about leaving you at all, but they hadn’t even had the presence of mind to change their clothes since you were rushed into hospital 3 days earlier.

So when Steven opened the bathroom door to find the bed empty, worry was already creeping through his veins. It was replaced by the icy cold rush of panic and adrenaline when he heard a crash and a sharp cry of pain from the direction of the kitchen.

The events of the last few days had given the three of them many reasons to be grateful for the athletic condition their body remained in (thanks to their service with Khonshu, although that was a delicate topic right now), and as his legs gave an incredible burst of speed and his brain automatically steered him clear of obstacles Steven wondered if part of the power came from having two other people feeding energy and control into the body.

When he rounded the corner and found you hunched over against the kitchen counter, barely holding yourself up and your fingers in a white knuckled death-grip, he felt the blood drain from his face. Your name erupted from his lips in sheer panic.

“Oh God, love, what happened?” He’s doubled over beside you, his terrified eyes staring up into your face as one hand grips your elbow and the other tries to wrap around your shoulders.

Needless to say he’s shocked when you try to shake him off, your face screwed up against the pain in your abdomen and your breath coming in and out of your nose in short, sharp bursts. He notices the glitter of tears on your eyelashes.

“I’m fine.” you grind out through gritted teeth. Your bravery is betrayed by faint tremors running through your body.

“What do you need me to do, darling?” The front of Steven’s body is pressed against your side, like he’s protecting you from an armed intruder, the grip of his arm around your shoulders and his hand on your elbow is firm. Through the pulsing red haze and burning heat of shock and pain, his presence is too much for your already overwhelmed senses to handle right now. The humiliation is starting to set in and with everything else it’s making you short tempered.

You try to push him away, but the movement sends another sickening flair of pain through your body and you can’t stop the choked whimper that escapes. Your name sounds broken on his lips as he almost whispers it.

“Just back off!” you snap, and you don’t miss the hurt that briefly crosses his face. Guilt prickles in your chest. “Please…” you add weakly. There’s a pause, and you work to fight away the pulsing darkness at the corners of your vision.

“Would you please let me help you? Please?” Steven implores softly as he puts a half-step of space between your bodies. His impossibly dark eyes are almost desperate as his hands move, one makes a warm presence as it strokes your back, and the other carefully pries your tense hand from the work top and grasps it. You can see his deep need to care for you, to protect you from harm, glittering in his eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to just sit around and have you guys run around after me.” You grind out, trying to ignore the screaming agony and flashing lights dancing across your vision.

“C’mon, love, it’s not like that. And it won’t be for long, you’ll be back up ‘n’ at ‘em before you know it.” Steven’s slightly-shaky words are meant to bring reassurance, but instead the pain and frustration digs itself in deeper and your temper gets the better of you.

“I can take care of myself! They said I only needed help for the first 24 hours. I’m already messing with your life. I’m not enslaving you to me like Khonshu-“ you felt the change before you saw or heard it.

“-For Christ’s sake you had emergency surgery three days ago!” Marc’s voice comes out in a harsh burst. You flinch slightly, sending pain through your body again, but you hear the fear behind his words. His hand on your back has stilled, the other is gripping yours tighter than Steven had.You can feel his strong pulse through your gripped hands, competing with your own racing heart. Suddenly you’re beyond overwhelmed, tears pricking harshly at your eyes as the pain seems to be refusing to settle and a strange mix of anxiety and anger bubbles in your chest at Marc’s reaction. Your legs have started to feel strange, like they’re being burnt but are numb at the same time, and there’s a blinding pressure building somewhere behind your eye sockets.

“Yeah, three days ago-” you challenge, only to be cut off by Marc.

“-They said you couldn’t be left alone for 24 hours! You’re signed off work for two weeks, and you’ve got 3 months of physio!”

His response, although factually correct, hits a nerve and your frustration explodes out of you in one last burst of energy. “Right I’ll just sit around like the damsel in distress so you can play hero! They said I could move around by myself after the first 24 hours, I just wanted make a fucking drink like a normal person!” The pain is still raging, your entire body tight like a strained rubber band, your breathing short and sharp. Yelling has used up the last of your energy reserves and you feel both the light-headed swirl of impending unconsciousness, and the prickling burn of a complete emotional meltdown coursing through your bloodstream.

Marc lets out a huff of air through his nose. For a moment he’s quiet, and you know he’s studying you, assessing how you’re doing. Maybe Steven and Jake are talking to him, because his hand resumes a gentle motion up and down your back and his voice is softer when he speaks again. Your eyes burn with tears and you have a futile hope that none are escaping.

“I know baby, I know. Breathe through it, it’ll get better in a minute.” You find yourself starting to time your breaths to the motions of his hand on your back - no doubt his intention - and slowly the impending darkness and flashing lights fade out as the pain recedes from a raging inferno to a persistent stabbing feeling.

After several long, tense minutes, you attempt to stand more upright. You make it nowhere near fully straight, that will take days - maybe weeks - yet, but you get far enough to look into your boyfriend’s dark eyes. The fear is still there, but the shock and mis-placed aggression has gone.

“Do you think you can move to the table?” He asks gently, and you’re glad he’s giving you the agency to move by yourself rather than just telling you what to do or manhandling you himself. You take another couple of deep breaths and nod.

He slowly guides you to sit in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, one hand at your elbow, the other on your lower back. He never applies any pressure, just maintains an alert closeness as you make your way to the chair on your own terms.

When you finally reach the seat, Marc helps to lower you down into it, taking the vast majority of your weight and accounting for your inability to bend (or straighten) the middle of your body and your shaky legs. His eyes dart around your form constantly as he gets you settled. Under his -unintentional- scrutiny you feel the need to explain yourself.

“I just wanted to make some tea. I tried to reach up for the tea bags, but it hurt really suddenly and I knocked the mug off the counter and it was instinct to try and catch it... I didn’t think about it…” Your voice is small. Marc’s raised voice and outburst has made you edgy on top of the shock of the incident itself, and the pain has made you feel unsteady and sick. You suddenly realise just how rough you actually feel.

Marc sighs as he drops to a crouch beside you. He knows he’d be exactly the same, refusing to be helpless in any way. Hell, he knows he was exactly the same back when he was a mercenary, before Konshu and the suit.

“I get it, I do. But you gotta be patient. It wasn’t exactly minor surgery and you’re still on the heavy drugs. We can’t risk messing up the repairs they’ve done, and there’s no need to make it worse for yourself when we can help-”

“- I don’t want you all to-” you begin, shaking your head but Marc is already gesturing for you to stop.

“- don’t, baby, please. We can’t bear to see you hurting, especially when we’re right here and can help you so much if you’ll let us.” The burning compassion in his eyes kills the response you were formulating. You suddenly find yourself unable to meet his eyes.

Marc’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones and swiping away the wetness of traitorous tears. He looks -and sounds- close to crying himself. “Alright. I need to check your stitches, is that ok?”

You nod silently. Marc softly runs his hands down your arms, then carefully pulls up your shirt and delicately checks for any damage. There’s a long, stressful silence as Marc carefully manipulates the dressing on your stomach to see your wound better. You clench your teeth and focus on breathing evenly to prevent a whimper from escaping your throat.

“Looks okay, just a bit raw from the sudden movement.” Marc confirms finally, and as he lays gentle fingers against your skin to check for signs of internal bleeding or infection, you find yourself blurting out what’s currently on your mind.

“Is Steven freaking out?”

He glances up at the mirror, then focuses back on you. “Yeah. You know how he is.” His answer is surprisingly honest, and suddenly his head jerks up again, staring into the mirror steadily.

Marc is silent for a moment too long, glaring into the reflection of the mirror on the wall behind you. “What’s he saying?” You ask, an edge to your voice. Marc shakes his head, an annoyed look crossing his face. “It’s not Steven.” You blink. You’d only met Jake once.

Marc had fallen badly ill and wouldn’t accept any help. With a raging fever, violent cough and unable to keep any food or water down, Steven wasn’t able to convince Marc to either give up the body or accept help, and Marc was still the strongest of the alters when it came to control of the body. When it reached four days of not eating, the fever still hadn’t broken and Marc was no longer coherent. He was weak enough that Jake finally managed to take over. The two of you had spoken very little, with Jake struggling to maintain their failing body and only conscious long enough to refuse professional medical help and request whatever he felt they needed to get better (electrolyte drinks at first, then meal replacement shakes, and eventually soup. Open the window - another blanket - close the window - take the blanket away - around and around.). On the sixth day the fever broke, and finally on the eighth day an exhausted Jake surrendered the body to Steven, who carried them over the line to recovery.

“Okay, what’s Jake saying?”

A muscle is twitching in Marc’s jaw. “He wants to help.”

“Fine.” You manage a small shrug, tiredness starting to take over.

Marc gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. I don’t trust him.”

By now you’ve had enough. Your elbow thuds onto the table, forearm upright to support your heavy head as you drop your forehead into your open palm. Your other arm has found its own way to drape protectively around your swollen, sore abdomen. Staring at the floorboards you grind out “What the fuck is he gonna do Marc? Put a bullet in my head to put me out of my misery? Jesus, just let him help if he wants to. But if you and Steven want to take all the responsibility for putting up with your useless lump of a partner then… Whatever.”

Marc is silent for an unexpected length of time. You don’t really care to notice, the haze of an abused body making you miserable and strangely detached. Your attention is busy floating off somewhere outside your body when movement catches your eye and your boyfriend shifts to kneel right in front of you. His warm hand rests gently on your knee, and when he dips his head down to gaze up into your face it isn’t Marc you see. It isn’t Steven either.

You lift your head slightly. “Jake?”

Jake’s expression is sombre. “Honey, you’re not a ‘useless lump’, you’re recovering from some pretty heavy surgery.”

Your expression is almost dead, but tears spring to your eyes again as you tilt your head towards the smashed mug “kinda useless -“ then gesture towards your uncomfortably swollen stomach “- kinda lumpy.”

Jake looks incredibly sad. You suddenly wonder how many times he’s heard Marc’s internalised self-hatred, whether he tried to comfort him only to find himself talking to a metaphorical brick wall. He gently squeezes your thigh. “I know it sucks right now, okay? I know you’re uncomfortable, and in pain, and I know it’s wearing you out.” He pauses, and you can see the minuscule movement of his throat as he swallows. “We know you’ve been struggling for a while, even before the surgery, and not just with the physical stuff. We can see it. But we really want to help, honey. We’d put you in the suit if we could, I swear. So please let us help however we actually can?”

You find yourself having to divert your gaze from his, reminded too much of the fear in Steven and Marc’s eyes earlier.

“Honey?” Damn Jake and his incredible perceptiveness. You sigh.

“Is… I’m sorry I made Marc angry.”

You see Jake’s startled recoil in your peripheral vision. You feel it in your soul. Then he’s leaning in closer again, his hand squeezing your thigh so firmly you wonder if Marc is back. The voice that whispers your name like a prayer is all Jake, though.

“You - you didn’t make him angry, honey. He just - we just need to make sure you're okay.”

You don’t answer, and there’s a few beats of silence before Jake lets out a sigh like he’s been holding his breath for hours. He shifts his weight slightly, and on the edge of your gaze you see his head drop.

“There was no care for us, no-one to make sure we were okay when we were growing up. Marc especially took the worst of it - and there was no help for him when he was in pain, no-one to try to ease his suffering other than me and Steven, but it’s the same body so it wasn’t ever really a relief. We still feel the pain even when we’re not in control, y’know?”

Your brain boggles at his words. You notice him nod his head slightly, you wonder if he’s talking to the others in the headspace, then he raises his head with a movement so decisive you can practically feel the resolve rolling off him in waves.

“And it terrifies us to think that you might feel the same way - that you might be hurting, or scared, or just down, and think there’s no-one to help. Because we will do anything, give anything for you. So please, please let us help you. Please?”

You lift your head, stunned. Jake’s face is so sincere, the tears that threatened to fall earlier start to trickle down your cheeks in earnest. Jake's thumb is rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he patiently waits for your answer. Unable to find words, you slowly nod. He nods in response; a small, lopsided smile easing the tense lines of his face.

“It’s not forever. I know it feels like it right now, but they said you can go back to work in two weeks. And I think that means we have an excuse to spend some quality downtime together, y’know?” Jake’s thick accent adds a suggestive edge to his words.

A bark of a laugh escapes you, and you feel the tension in your face ease slightly. “Well.. We can’t do that until at least week four, so you’re out of luck there.”

A stricken look passes across Jake’s face in a flash, but he quickly smothers it with a smirk. You feel a frown twitch through your eyebrows before Jake speaks again. “Damn, I guess we’ll have to get started on that ‘watch list’ we’ve been making. And the doctor said to eat whatever you want, whenever you want while you’re on those good drugs, so I really hope you want a lot of take-out…”

You snort out a laugh but it’s short lived, the mirth washing away like the tide. That look you caught sight of is bothering you. “Jake… what was that look just now?”

Jake feigns innocence. He’s terrible at it. “What look?”

“Just now, right after I said we couldn’t…” You trail off leadingly. He doesn’t take the bait.

“You mean my sexy look?” Jake wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. A smile breaks across your face but it’s fleeting and you’re not letting this drop. Your tone is almost one of warning.

“Jake…”

The look on your face seems to say more than your words or tone ever could. Jake sighs and drops his gaze to the floor. When he looks up at you again a few seconds later, his expression is serious.

“I wasn’t suggesting that. I wasn’t even thinking about it -”

“-Jake -”

“ - I would never think that was okay. Not right now. Not any time you're hurt, or just don’t want to -”

“ - Jake - “

“ - You know that right?”

You sigh. Jake’s being so powerfully sincere it feels like all three of them are speaking to you as one. Maybe they are. You gently cup his face in your hands, having to use your grip to pull him closer as you can’t bend nearer to him. He follows willingly, kneeling up to bring his face an inch from yours, his hands snugly tucked against the chair under your thighs so he doesn’t put any pressure on your body at all.

“I know. and thank you, all of you.”

He genuinely looks confused. “What for?”

“Everything.” Giving him no chance to argue, you press a -very gentle - kiss to his lips. His response is so careful it makes you want to cry again, especially when he eases away after just a few seconds. Resting his forehead against yours, your entire vision is swallowed by his deep, incredibly dark eyes as he murmurs. “Siempre, mi angel.”

#moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #Moon Knight fan fiction #Moon Knight fanfic #Moon Knight fan fic #steven grant #marc spector #Jake Lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #Steven Grant Angst #Marc Spector Angst #jake lockley angst #Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac Character

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brockify · 2 years

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heaven’s cloud— steven grant

steven grant x barista!gn reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: the tiniest bit of angst, sleepy steven, fluff, steven w/ sweater paws BEWARE

note: this takes place at the beginning of ep 1 so no mentions of mk shenanigans or marc but hints at it!

“london fog with extra vanilla!”

hearing the order that steven knew by heart, he wiped the sleep from his eyes with his sweater sleeve.

truth be told, steven liked tea, but it wasn’t what truly woke him up. if he had it his way, he’d drink the strongest mocha he could ever have made but he had a special reason for always getting the same drink.

that reason was you. watching you make his drink every morning made his days slightly better. some days you’d look a little disheveled after pulling an all-nighter from watching your new favorite actor’s movies, and others with you being energetic after having slept more than a few hours.

today you seemed more tired than normal, (perhaps you had slept late again? he knew you were currently on a tv show binge) or perhaps you had just woken up earlier than usual. walking over to the counter, steven grabbed his cup before giving you a small smile while you made one of the long line of drinks waiting for you.

“cheers.”

you watched steven leave the store, humming a tune that you couldn’t quite place where you had heard it before. steven was one of your favorite customers who came in everyday. most mornings it wasn’t too busy, and you were able to chat with him about everything and anything. your current topic of discussions in the morning were about best book adaptations into film. depending on the day, he’d stand there next to the pickup counter while you worked and made the orders, and others you would chat while ringing his order up.

you weren’t sure why steven always picked the same drink everyday, but it did make it easier for you to predict and ring up.

today was unusual though, as it had been the first time you had seen him in over a week. the dark circles under his eyes became more prominent, seemingly protruding outwards in some angles. He also barely conversed with you, and started to fall asleep on the pick up counter.

you were worried, hoping that nothing was going on that was stressing him out. it was known to your coworkers and every other usual who came around that you and steven had a very… interesting relationship. Everyone assumed you two were together, both of you ignoring the other’s flushed faces and reddened ears when stating you were just friends. you had hoped that he would come back soon, and look a little more like his normal self to ease your nerves a little.

3 weeks had gone by since the last steven sighting and you were concerned. you woke up extra early today, wrapping a present that you had bought him. it was simple, but you had hoped it would lift his spirits a little. in the box, you had folded the new slate cardigan you had bought him, with little clouds embroidered on it. you had also put a card in, a little anxious about the card and its contents, but pushing through nevertheless. you noticed that he typically cycled through the same 4 shirts and wanted to give him something that you thought fit his vibe.

you were thankful that you had the day off of work, and also grateful that you had your own little coffee station in your apartment, albeit less expensive and complicated than the one at your job. quickly whipping up a coffee for yourself, you drank the steaming mug while getting ready to go visit the gallery. your conversations with steven had ventured into talk about work before, which is why you knew where he worked and what department.

checking the time, you quickly ran out of the house to catch the bus, not wanting to miss it. you were able to snag a seat, happy not to have to stand the entire ride smushed against another stranger. you weren’t sure how it happened, but you found yourself dozing off, only to hear the automated voice state that the next stop was for the gallery. you quickly gathered your stuff together, and pulled on the signal cord as fast as you could. The bus came to a halt, swaying everyone forward with the force of the brakes. getting up from the seat, you made your way to the doors with a series of “excuse me” and “my apologies”.

stepping off the bus you stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the entrance. hanging from the top of the building you could see banners posted for the new ennead exhibit they were hosting. tightening your grip on the box ever so slightly, you took a deep breath before walking up the stairs. at the entrance you stood there, not sure if you should ask for directions but figured you’d walk around until you found him. that is if you found him.

you ended up walking around the entire gallery, enamored by the exhibits and all of the little plaques explaining each item in detail. you finally made it to the gift shop area, where you saw a tuft of hair that was eerily familiar. steven was sitting in a chair that he had found behind his counter, arms covering his face. his woven beige sleeves seemed to act as a pillow for his face, and you could hear the soft snores emitted from him.

letting out a soft giggle, you looked around the gift shop before grabbing the taweret plush and walking over to the counter. placing the neatly wrapped box, you tapped ever so slightly on steven’s head. he jolted awake, nearly jumping out of his own skin.

“oh my days, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

he wiped the sleepiness out of his eyes, and his breath hitched slightly when he saw you standing in front of him holding the plush. he knew you were aware of where he worked, but he had never thought that you might show up one day.

“oh, hullo.”

you raised an eyebrow at him which in turn made him let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck out of habit.”

“steven, i’m so glad you’re alright. you had me worried sick! i haven’t seen you in weeks!”

he grimaced slightly knowing that he didn’t know how to explain his sudden absences. he seemed to sleep for days, and had to double check his ankle restraints. recently things had gotten…weirder in his life, strange occurrences happening that even he wasn’t sure truly happened. his gaze landed on you gently, trying to gauge your emotions through your eyes.

“I'm truly sorry I worried you love, it’s just been busy.”

letting out a particularly loud exhale you shook your head and gave him a small smile.

“it’s alright, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

steven kept his gaze on your eyes only to find understanding and a warmth that brought him comfort.

he nodded, and snapped out of his daze before realizing you were holding the plush and had a neatly wrapped box on the counter. pinching the taweret plush from your hands he quickly scanned it before pointing to the box.

“What's the box for?”

you had forgotten all about the box and the present you had gotten him inside.

“oh! it’s uhm for you.”

you slid the box towards him, not making any eye contact and opting instead to look around the shop once more, ignoring the tips of your ears burning.

steven placed the plush on the counter and picked up the box. he admired the wrapping, a light blue wrapping paper that was admittedly very simple but made his heart flutter, seeing the scribble of his name written at the top.

he smiled his big smile that he always made when he was content or excited (something you loved to see) and placed the box next to his bag.

“thank you. i’m sure it’s very lovely. you didn’t have to get me anything though. your banter and wit are more than enough for me.”

shuffling through your wallet, you picked your card out handing it to him.

“It's no problem really, I just thought you might enjoy a pick me up!”

he swiped your card and printed the receipt before asking for your signature.

“I promise I'll open it the moment I get home and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

hearing him say he was going to see you tomorrow made you nod and hide your smile, feeling a little silly for acting like a child with their first crush.

“sounds good. I have a few errands to run but i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

he nodded and waved you off, watching you exit the gallery with the taweret plush in hand.

he would never admit it, but steven rushed home for the first time in a long while. he was staring at the gift all day, trying not to open it then and there at work. even donna had noticed that he was in a more cheerful mood, making a comment about how he was finally doing his job right. finally getting into his apartment, he threw his shoes off and tossed his bag to the side.

taking the gift to his dining table, he set it down before looking for a pair of scissors. after a few minutes of rummaging through drawers he finally found a pair and made his way back. steven tried his hardest not to rip the wrapping paper, but to be fair it was just so quick to rip so it hadn’t been his fault when he tore it to shreds.

the box was an ordinary box, taped on the top just to have it not open. cutting the tape, he opened the flaps to reveal the cardigan you had bought him, folded neatly with a card atop it.

pulling out both the card and cardigan he placed then on the table before opening the card. inside the card you had written him a note, and made him smile.

the note read: “hope these keep you soft n warm, steven <3 let me know how it fits?”

at the bottom of the card he noted a phone number with a small heart next to it. he let out a small laugh, the beating of his heart loud enough in his ears that he could hear it. he was never aware that you shared the same feelings as him, but he was ecstatic.

he was looking forward to seeing you tomorrow for his tea in his new cardigan.

#moon knight #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fanfic #steven grant imagines #steven grant drabbles #steven grant fluff #steven grant x you #moon knight fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #steven grant moon knight #moon knight steven

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fictive-fodder · 2 years

Text

|| Steven Grant vs. You: I ||

A tiny story where you discover that your sweet, handsome coworker is just as much into Egyptology as you are into ancient Greece- and the playful battle that ensues.

*May become a multi-mini-chapter-moment-thing because it seems more fair for battles to be best of 3 or even 5 than best of 1. Also just a ton of slow burn fluff, which should really be my username at this point cause that’s all I write*

Word Count : Soooo tiny, 1.1k

PART I - PART II - PART III

Tag List

Read this on A03!

“But how can you prefer the ancient Greek world when it was so much more patriarchal?” Steven stammered with a half laugh. He was swinging his croissant around on the other side of the table from you and you couldn’t help but smile as flakes of pastry landed on the table, in his coffee, his lap. “Egyptian women could sue men! They could run businesses and own property and-”

“I’m not saying ancient Greece was better than ancient Egypt!” you assured, laughing. “I just have always been infatuated by the myths. And I don’t know, to me it’s like those Gods were really there, once, you know? These gorgeous, terrifying, giant presences that were all at once infatuated with humanity as they were spiteful. It’s such a different relationship than religious folks have with their deities now. They lived on a mountain that really exists, you could hike up it and speak to them if you wanted. They lived in the depths of the earth, and in the ocean, they were here, you know? Not a heavenly body, but here.” You rested one of your hands on your chest as you said it, impassioned. You thought you caught Steven’s eyes tracing the line of your clavicle, what he could see of it past your shirt, and up your neck, how it met with the curve of your jaw- but no, you quickly corrected your thoughts- this was Steven. He probably wouldn’t have noticed you existed if, weeks ago, he hadn’t overheard you lamenting that ancient Greek history wasn’t as well represented in the gift shop as you would have liked.

The playful argument that had ensued led you to this tradition of a full fledged debate in the employee break room during every lunch break the two of you had together. You had taken to checking the break schedule as soon as you clocked in, your heart always skipping a beat when you realized that it would be a Steven Lunch Day.

It didn’t happen as often as you would have hoped, it seemed like Steven’s manager gave him odd shifts quite often. If a late night was needed, or two, four hour shifts three hours apart, Steven was the one who got them. Since you worked mornings it was always an unexpected treat to see him working.

“You have to admit that that is neat.” you pushed, grinning as Steven set down his crumbled wad of a croissant.

“No!” Steven laughed, “No, no no no…” he ran his fingers through his hair, croissant flakes tangling into his curls. “You get me all wrong- of course ancient Greece is neat.” he conceded, his tone earnest and bright. “It’s beautiful and there is so much to learn about, so much history. I can totally understand why you like it so much-”

“But?” you raised your eyebrows with mock defensiveness.

“No buts!” Steven said a little too loudly. A few of your coworkers glanced over before continuing to do their best to ignore you both for the umpteenth time. You snorted and had to force yourself to take a sip of coffee so you wouldn’t keep laughing. You were sure that you and Steven must have been annoying everyone else with these talks, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Here was this man with a beauty that rivaled silent film actors. A Rudolph Valentino stand-in who also was one of the sweetest people you’d ever met. And he was smart. Your coworkers seemed weary of him for his awkwardness, but you’d take that over how most of the museum’s patrons treated staff.

“But-” Steven said softly, with a playful wince.

“Yes?”

“You have to admit that, as far as intensity in awe… the ancient Egyptians prospered in ways we still can’t replicate or understand. We don’t even know how they accomplished what they have left us behind.”

“That’s true with the Greeks!’ you scoffed, “We still don’t understand how the Hellenic sculptures carved marble that is so delicate and top heavy that still hasn’t crumbled. Even the Romans couldn’t figure it out and just gave all their sculptures thick tree trunks carved beside the sculpture’s legs. And let’s not forget the whole cement with marble veneer thing.”

“Oh, we can’t forget that.” Steven replied wryly, which made your face feel very warm.

“Are you teasing me?” you asked, astounded. You tapped your boot against his under the table.

“No!” Steven said, jumping in his seat. He held both of his hands up and waved them frantically. “No I would never, honestly, it’s just so nice to know someone that likes something as much as I like… well, as much as I like another thing.”

“Until I convert you.” you said, smiling softly.

“Right-” Steven chuckled, his voice broke mid laugh in a way you had come to covet. “That’s not gonna happen though, you know? You know that the whole reason I work here is for Egyptology?”

“I know it is why you came here.” you granted, pushing your feet together so you could resist kicking him again.

“But?” Steven tilted his head, eyes warm.

“No buts!” you mimicked, “But, it might not be the reason you stay?”

“Hey!” he frowned, “But you did but!”

“Okay how about this-” you started, leaning against your side of the table conspiratorially. “Ancient Egypt and Greece were very intertwined, right? We would probably both be very happy if we could just-” you made a sweeping gesture with your hands, Steven’s eyes watched as if fully expecting for something to appear between your fingers. “-be there. Let’s say the Library of Alexandria, for fun’s sake. At least tens of thousands of papyri, Grecian philosophers on Egyptian earth-”

“Grecian dominated Egyptian earth-” Steven mumbled, intrigue shining from his eyes despite himself.

“Macedonian.”

“That’s still Greek!”

“I can’t help that my favorite ancient civilization conquered yours! You guys had a good run!” you teased, popping the last bit of your pastry into your mouth with a satisfied gesture. This awarded you a very flat glare. “I guess history is repeating itself right here and now.”

“Silly.” Steven murmured, “I am not conquered and you have not won me over.”

“Yet.”

He opened his mouth to make another playful retort, but before he could the timer on your phone went off. You pretended to not notice Steven’s shoulders slump downward as you turned off the alarm and stood up.

“Does that alarm mean you’re going?” he asked.

“It means that we are!” you replied, leaning down to wrap your arms around one of his, you pulled him up from his chair. “Last time you forgot to clock back in and I didn’t want you to get in trouble again so I just put a timer on my phone.”

Steven stood still, looking past his shoulder and into your eyes. His expression was calmer, less full of anxiety and enthusiasm. “Thank you-” he said softly.

You gave his arm a last squeeze before he let you pull him out of the break room.

#steven grant #moon knight #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fan fiction #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #moon knight imagines #mcu moon knight #non binary #non binary fan fic

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avatarofseshat · 2 years

Text

Roses

Pairings: Steven Grant x f!Reader, Marc Spector x f!Reader

Warnings: Smut (not too explicit) , Minors DNI. 18+ Only (to be safe)!

Technically part four of The Sun & The Moon series but can be read alone as well.

Moon Knight Masterlist

—

“How are you always so sensitive?” You whisper half in amusement and half seductively as you run your fingers down Steven’s toned chest admiring how the golden hue of the morning sun made his olive skin glow.

“Anything for you, love,” his voice trembles as you continue to brush your finger across his torso as you admire every slight imperfection.

“You are so pretty,” you praise as you place a kiss to his toned chest.

“No, y-you are,” he stutters as your hand wonders lower and dips beneath the duvet that covers your shared bed “c’mere…” he mumbles cupping your cheek and pulling you into a passionate kiss “I love you” he voice his husky as he briefly pulls away. As soon as his lips meet yours again he flips you over causing your hand to rapidly move to his back in an attempt to move with him “as much as I adore your touch, darling…I have a better idea.”

It was late morning by the time you both emerge from your shared residence with fingers entwined as you headed towards the street to hail a taxi. It was Saturday - and it happened to be your anniversary - it had become your custom to attend the local outdoor market.

You had caught Steven staring at you doe-eyed more than usual that day and you could help but notice how his eyes would scan up and down your light blue sundress before meeting your gaze.

“Like what you see, Mr. Grant?” You mumbled against his lips before peppering him with sweet kisses.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled against your neck completely oblivious of the odd looks you two were probably attracting. He had that effect on you, when you were together the rest of the world didn’t exist.

As the warm rays of the sun gave way to the cool night air you noticed how he seemed to grow more anxious. You were hoping it wasn’t because they had leave and cancel your dinner plans. You were relived when that wasn’t the case as you sat across from each other at the restaurant. He looked beyond gorgeous in the shirt and jacket you were sure Marc made him purchase as it was classic black and white.

In a sudden burst of confidence Steven reached across the table and took your hand in his as he other hand fidgeted with his jacket pocket.

“Y/N, darling…” he whispered as he took your hand “do you have any idea of how much you mean to me…us,” you had no doubt that Marc had just said something “and I don’t know what I would be without you…you’ve excepted us and have loved us unconditionally. I only hope that I can return it.” You could just hear Marc scoff at that.

Your eyes widened when you noticed the small box he had in his free hand as he slides from his chair to kneel before you on the stone floor. You smiled as he struggled to open it with one hand before relenting to release your hand “Sorry…darling,” he mumble an apology as he opened and a smile spread across your face.

It was a gorgeous natural oval cut Lapis Lazuli surrounded by several smaller diamonds all set in gold. You met Steven’s chocolate gaze both of your eyes rimmed with tears with overflowing emotion.

He took a breath to steady his racing heart “Y/N…darling…my love…will you marry me?” Us.

“Yes!” You instantly replied, you weren’t just saying yes to Steven, even though he was the one to ask. You were saying yes to Marc as well and even to the third alter, whomever he may be. They’re a packaged deal.

A big grin spread across Steven’s handsome face as he went to place the ring on your finger. Before both of you embraced, few knew of how great of a kisser your shy boyfriend - fiancé - was. This kiss easily took the cake, it was full of passion, devotion, and promise.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive,” He mumbles into the crook of your neck and you just smile into his his neck “I love you so much, darling.”

The rest of the evening passed in a daze as Steven just started at you with doe eyes. He was endlessly adorable and charming and unbelievable gorgeous.

“Steven, let’s go home.”

The morning sun glinted off the blue stone around your ring finger as you rolled over just to find the bed empty. You sighed to yourself as you found a set of lounge wear before gathered up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. You couldn’t help the but smile as the memories of the previous night filled your head and your heart.

When you reached the kitchen you couldn’t help but smirked when you saw Marc’s T-shirt and Jean clad figure. Steven may be keen to hide himself behind too big clothes but mark was the opposite as he usually preferred his clothes snugger.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” He cheekily inquired in that deep slightly-Chicago accented voice as he turned slightly in profile so he would slightly see the pink rise to your cheeks.

Everyday it amazed you how different they where - not that you didn’t expect it. Steven was awkward and somewhat shy while Marc was confident and intense. Their personalities weren’t the only stark difference you have come to know.

“Always.” You cheekily respond as he playfully shakes his head.

He turned to completely face you as his dark chocolate orbs met your (eye color) ones “I’m glad you’re not disappointed.”

You round the kitchen island so that your face-to-face with him “When have I ever been disappointed to see you?”

“This is a special time for…”

You cut him off as you step closer “all of us…a packaged deal, remember?” He wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you in for a kiss that is full of promise and relief.

Suddenly the smell of something burning reaches your nostrils “shit!” He curses when he realizes breakfast is burning. You give him a peck on the cheek as he releases you.

Something catches the corner or your eye and you turn curiously towards it. Your eyes soften as a smile spreads across your face when you spot the bouquet of red roses sitting on the counter. You look to Marc thinking they must be from him as you snatch the small card from its holder.

Don’t believe everything you hear.

I’ll see you soon, mi amore.

The signature looked like it read “Jake Lockley”. You drop the card as realization reaches your mind - the mysterious third alter!

Once Marc finishes preparing breakfast he turns to see why you’ve become so quiet. He nearly runs to your side when he sees the paleness of your features “baby, what’s…,” he stops short as he spots the card on the counter and quickly picks it up to scan it.

‘Marc! What’s are we going to do?!’ Steven is so frantic Marc can barely think.

You’re not afraid of Jake, apprehensive yes but not afraid. You’ve see monsters and as far as you knew Jake wasn’t one. If he was he’s had ample opportunities to show such. The color had quickly returned to your features as you took a calming breath.

“Y/N?” Marc’s chocolate brown eyes were fixed on you, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” you assure him “I wasn’t expecting it…that’s all.”

“Sausage? Bacon?” You question eyeing the spread before you and knowing of Marc’s Jewish heritage.

“Turkey,” he clarifies before pulling you into a sweet kiss and pulling out your chair. Breakfast was delicious and much to Marc’s amusement you ate more than your share “where do you put it all?”

After breakfast Marc was insistent on joining you in the shower despite having already showered himself. He now had you with your chest pinned against the cool tile as he devoured your neck and shoulder, his hand griped your hips as he ground his hard length against you.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He breathed into your ear his breath hitched as you ground against him “Shit! You’re such a tease!”

“Marc…” your body ached for him as you turned your head and he eagerly consumed your mouth with his.

“I know honey,” he breathed as he he slid one hand between your bodies as he adjusted himself so that he could enter “you are so perfect,” he groaned as he steadily entered you and he only paused when he heard your sharp in take of breath as your core stretched around him.

Marc soon had you pressed tightly against him as you met his rhythmic pace and you could feel the familiar coil in your stomach as his calloused fingers came into contact with your sensitive perl “that’s it…baby…come for me.” He had you seeing stars as you came around him and you could tell that he was close himself as his rhythm faltered as his mouth sought yours.

Marc had been unusually quiet all day and by the far off look that graced his brown eyes you could tell he was lost in thought as he rubbed a palm up and down your bare legs that where resting across his lap. He only made eye contact when you went to move.

“I’m gonna call him,” he suddenly spoke as you shifted your legs off of his lap.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he respond with a sigh “I’m doing it right this time…I want us to be a family. You know. If we have kids they should know their grandpa.” You simply smiled at him as he pulled you close to bury his nose into your hair.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel moon knight #mcu fanfic #mcu #moon knight fan fiction #the sun & the moon #moon knight

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ivystoryweaver · 7 months

Note

2, 14, 74 for the fic writer asks? 🫶🏽

Hi bb, thanks for the ask!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Both. Some stories are mapped out pretty well, but some, I roll with the feel. My first MK fic “With You” (my baby) was supposed to be about 3-4 chapters, with Jake’s role MUCH smaller. It’s 16 chapters lol.

Whereas my Poe fic “The Only One” is planned out pretty well to the end.

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

Omg I live for angst. I’ve been writing a lot of fluff lately, but I love angst. You might notice in my stories that, instead of being how 2 people get together, it is how they stay together. Kind of after the ‘happily ever after’. Loving someone long term is hard work and it can hurt.

Yes, I feel what my characters feel. I feel deeply for and with Marc and Steven (or whomever). I don’t know what it’s like to be them - I’ve never had nearly those struggles. So Idk if I draw on my own life so much. I’ve had loss and danger in my life, but I think what I put into my writing from my personal thoughts is more of a wish.

A wish for how 2 people could communicate and love beautifully.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

This is a great question! I write (or at least I think I write) how people talk. I write in short, choppy sentences, using plain words. My sentences aren’t beautiful and flowery. I love fics that are. But when people actually speak, there are pauses, short phrases and “um’s” and I feel that’s how I write. Maybe…

So, probably that style plus you know there’s gonna be angst. Also probably one of the main characters is going to do something like really precious or sweet.

I also have a thing for domesticity. There is a lot of life lived and loved shared (or feelings hurt) in bed, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, over supper. “With You” took place entirely in the building where the boys lived with reader.

Get to know your fic writer

#ivy replies #📥 inbox #📤 answered #lovely moots 💕#writing #moon knight fan fiction #Star Wars fanfiction

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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years

Text

Battle Born

Marc Spector x Female Reader

Summary: Marc calls you up after nearly a decade of silence and wants to meet up for drinks. You can’t say no.

Warnings: NSFW!, 18+ only, Explicit Smut, Choking, Spitting, Biting, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Nipple Play, Fist Fights, Attempted Gaslighting, Medical Lingo, Military Background

Word Count: 3239

Tags: @acutecupidity @letsby @likedovesinthewnd

Read more MARVEL stories HERE! Read more Oscar stories HERE!

“Take your shirt off, Spec.” The gray cotton of his t-shirt clung to his chest in an uneven black oval as his skin peaked through a jagged tear just below his collar. He should be bleeding, hunched over, grabbing his chest in pain and struggling to breathe, but his lungs appeared to be working just fine. The splattering of blood that covered his hands and upper body didn’t seem to belong to him, drying and cracking over his unscathed knuckles in the brutal August heat.

“Let me examine you, it’s the least I can do.” You offered again.

“It’s nothing,” he brushed off, beads of sweat dotting at his temples. “I’m fine.”

He’d called you out of nowhere from a number you didn’t recognize, asking to meet up after nearly a decade of radio silence. His voice was shaky, almost desperate as he told you he needed to see your face, someone he trusted to level him out from whatever it was he was going through. If he were any other man you might have brushed him off, gone back to sleep after he woke you from your sleepy marathon of Ancient Aliens, but he wasn’t just any other man. He was someone you’d spent years in the service bonding through blood, sweat and tears with; only to have him disappear on you in the middle of the desert without a trace.

Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say while the other part just selfishly wanted to see him again. His rugged face had been worn by the time you’d spent apart, still remarkably unforgettable as you spotted him from across the bar. He seemed to have gotten even more handsome somehow, his olive skin barely wrinkling around his sable eyes as he smiled at you with his back against the wall. His high and tight haircut had grown into streaks of silver snaking their way into long charcoal curls, slicked back with a coat of summer sweat.

You’d caught him up on the past ten years of your life as you drank together, telling him more about the horror stories you acquired working in the hospital than he would about his life as a private sector mercenary. His eyes glazed over about halfway through his tale, something dark and unspoken weighing heavily on his conscience. It was bothering him more than he let on, but he danced around it the way only Marc Spector could, telling you just enough about a job gone wrong in Egypt before asking the waitress for the tab. He paid in cash before walking you home, before two men jumped out of an alley, mistaking his lack of height for weakness.

They’d grabbed you first, a mistake he made them pay for with fountains of blood and broken bones only after you saw the glint of a knife dive deep into his chest. The street lamp in the corner flickered on and off, the electrical short tricking your brain into thinking you were watching an old moving picture as Spector effortlessly incapacitated your attackers. It had all happened so fast, you barely had time to register the image of Spector ripping the knife out as it clattered onto the pavement at your feet. You’d seen him fight dozens of times before when you served together, but never like this. This time something was different.

“Spec,” you started again softly, folding your arms across your chest in the safety of your own apartment.

“You’re overreacting.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started washing the blood off his hands and face.

“Overreacting? He fucking stabbed you!” You glared at him with concern. Overreacting? Overreacting?! I’ll show him overreacting… no. No, I won’t. Take a breath, just… breathe. You grabbed a clean hand towel from the drawer and stepped toward him, pointing at the hole in his shirt as proof. “I saw it go in, Spec, I swear I did, I...” At least you think you did, didn’t you? Yes, you were absolutely sure of it.

He took the cloth from your hands as little droplets of water collected on the tips of his curls, dampening his shirt even more as they took their time falling onto his chest. “You wanna see?” He challenged. “Huh? Is that gonna make you feel better? Is that gonna calm you down?” His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as the speed of his words increased with his frustration.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” you pressed. “You could have a hemothorax right now, a pneumothorax even, but you were so insistent on not going to a hospital after all that back there. I mean what the hell was that?” You paused and took a breath, pointing a finger at him. “And just because I’m a nurse doesn’t mean that I have all these life-saving supplies here at my disposal! So before I can go to sleep tonight I’m gonna need to know that you’re…” You lost your train of thought as soon as he pulled his shirt off over his head, dropping it onto the floor.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a knot start to twist in your belly.

He grabbed your hand and placed it where the blade should have cut through his skin, pulling you in close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. “See? You feel that?”

“Mmm hmm.” Your whisper vibrated through your lips as the skin beneath your palm felt perfectly smooth, without scar or blemish. But how could that be? How could he heal so fast, even if the man had only nicked him with his blade? Surely there’d have to be a scrape or scratch somewhere on his torso. What wasn’t he telling you about what happened out there?

“I don’t need a hospital.” His calloused fingers held your hand in place, sending a shiver down your spine as he traced the inside of your palm with his fingertips.

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing hard. “I can see that now.”

The intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed in with the sweat on his chest as it rose and fell beneath your touch, his heart beating even faster than yours. You felt your breath hitch, your throat begin to dry up as you stared at his body for fear of looking up into those eyes from this insanely intimate angle. Your desire to know what made him heal so fast was suddenly overridden by the desire to know what his mouth tasted like instead. “What do you need?”

Spector lifted your face with his opposite hand, curling his fingers beneath your chin until his mouth pressed against yours. Notes of smoke and honey faintly remained as he parted your lips with his tongue, a mere ghost of the aged liquor he drank earlier as his grip on your hand tightened. You breathed him in, smoothing your hand up and over his shoulder until you cradled the back of his neck, fingers weaving their way into the base of his hairline.

His kiss became intense, an attack on nearly all your senses as his lips and tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Teeth clashing against yours, he hummed as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it taut into his mouth before letting it fall back into place, nipping at your bottom lip. He smiled and grabbed recklessly at your hips to pull you in even closer, creeping his hands up beneath your shirt to find the hook of your bra, unclasping it in one fluid motion.

“Your turn.” He broke the kiss, watching you raise your arms as he pulled both items off you, tossing them on the floor next to his shirt. He was kissing you again before you could even blink, backing your thighs up against your kitchen table as he lifted you onto it with a hurried fervor. His lips left a trail of fire down your neck and jawline as he cupped your breast, sucking little spots into your skin that you knew would bruise later, but didn’t really seem to care.

You pressed your fingers up his scalp as he kissed down your chest, gooseflesh unevenly raising up your skin as he took your nipple between his lips. The tingling sensation of his tongue circling around it was quickly interrupted by the sharp pain of his teeth. The sudden bite drew out a mewling moan from your lips before you tugged on his curls in retaliation, leaning back to give him full access to your chest.

“You like that?” He kissed his question into your breastbone, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he bit into the other one.

“Uh huh,” you sucked in your breath, already missing the taste of his mouth.

“Good,” he muttered, biting down even harder before slowly licking his way down your abdomen. “You know how long I’ve wanted to taste you?” He looked up at you with those eyes, black and languid as a single curl fell down in front of them while he mouthed his way down your pelvis.

“How long?” You gently moved the curl to the side, running both hands through his hair as he slid his fingers beneath your pants and underwear.

“Ever since I met you.” He pulled your clothes off of your hips, the hot summer air barely a relief as he completely disrobed you.

“Oh yeah?” You remembered feeling some kind of way the very second you saw him on your first assignment. His face alone had made you blush, made you turn away in frustration as you tried to do your job in peace, but his voice, his smile, his hands and eyes? Well, those had sent your hand straight down your PT shorts as you tried to keep quiet in your bunk while everyone else tried to sleep overseas. You’d gotten along with everyone in your company just fine, but you always thought that Spector favored you above anyone else. He always laughed at your jokes, saved your favorite snacks for you and kept you company on fire guard, but he never made a move. Not until tonight.

“Yeah,” he confessed, getting onto his knees and pulling you close to the edge of the table. He winked at you and wrapped his hand around the outer part of your thigh before licking a stripe up your already soaking wet length.

Fuck, that felt good. You still couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Three hours ago you had almost forgotten who he was entirely, and now he was here eating dessert at your dining room table. His breath warmed the delicate skin between your thighs, patiently kissing you everywhere except for where it counted until you rolled your hips forward, brushing your clit against his nose. You felt him laugh, tracing his fingers up and down your lips to collect the juices at your entrance before spreading them apart to get a better look at you.

His tongue suddenly returned to your sex, keeping your folds spread wide open as he lapped up the natural heat from your swollen cunt. His fingers eventually eased their way inside of you, his saliva mixing with your arousal to lubricate them as he buried each knuckle even deeper. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” He brought his thumb up to your bud, pressing it up as another moan echoed from your lungs against the kitchen walls, drowning out the dull hum of the old air conditioning unit in the window.

“Yeah?” You pulled tighter on his hair, putting his mouth back onto you.

His response was muffled as he took the hint, looking up at you one last time before closing his eyes and getting to work. His mouth was insane, working in tandem with his fingers that pushed into you as he took your clit between his teeth, sucking on it the same way he had your tongue earlier. Oh God, he was too good at this; you could tell that he had done this dozens of times before just to become absolutely perfect at it in time to reunite with you.

You let your own eyes close, focusing on that blissful feeling that he sent to the center of your body with each flick of his tongue and thrust of his hand. You couldn’t help but gasp and hum as he pushed wave after wave of pleasure into your core. Each one was bigger than the last, building on top of each other as they swam up your spine one by one until they finally crashed into your brain, roaring loudly with insurmountable crests of delight. Your body shook as the peak shattered, arching your back toward the sky as he continued to consume you, relentlessly making your thighs twitch and your toes curl.

You nearly ripped the hair out of his head as you rode the aftershock, bright white stars appearing on the inside of your eyelids as your humming turned into even louder moans. You could feel his saliva dripping down your lips and ass, the sound of the droplets hitting the tile floor almost as loud as his fingers slicking in and out of you. He barely slowed down his penetrating rhythm as he suckled your bud into his mouth one last time, pulling it out before letting it spring back into place. He opened his eyes and ran his fingers through the layers of your sensitive skin, making you quiver with overstimulation as he grinned like the cat who ate the canary.

He got up off his knees as you propped yourself onto your elbows, gazing down at him in the haziness of your afterglow. He’d never looked as good as he did right now, your scent and flavor smeared all over his face.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, standing up between your thighs.

“Okay,” you whispered with a nod, letting him grab your chin with his sopping wet fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.” He hovered over you, pressing your cheeks together until you did as you were told. He looked down on you with a lustful gaze, studying your face before spitting directly into your mouth, watching the white string of saliva fall down the back of your throat.

You felt your heart beating in overtime as you kept your tongue out for as long as you could, savoring the taste of your sexual concoction before gratefully swallowing his secretions. You licked his lips before he kissed you, a salty tartness taking over as he made a mess of both your faces.

“Tell me how you want to be fucked.” He rutted his clothed cock between your legs, squeezing your ass with his opposite hand.

Jesus God, what have you done in your life to deserve something this good, this… undeniably delicious? In all of your fantasies about him, he was never this aggressive, this fucking filthy.

“Let’s move to the couch.” You didn’t tell him that you were skeptical this table would support your own weight, let alone the weight of the two of you going at it.

He grinned and kissed you again before letting go of your face, grabbing both of your thighs and hoisting you onto his hips before carrying you down the hall into the living room. Tossing you onto the sofa, he unfastened his belt and jeans, pulling them down to his ankles to reveal just how ready he was before stepping out of his boots.

“Tell me how you want it,” he ordered again, licking his palm before slowly stroking himself with a needy stare.

“I want,” you paused as you watched him slick his fist over his girth, a motion you could watch him perform forever, if you were being honest with yourself. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” you confessed, unsure if you could handle any more stimulation from him, or from that.

“Turn around, baby.” His voice was like wet gravel on a back road, halfway between a whisper and a growl as he climbed onto the sofa, grabbing your legs and tilting them to the side. He slid himself inside you the second you got onto your knees, stretching out your smooth muscle with a pleasure so intense it made your head start to spin. Those stars returned to your eyes as he bottomed out with a stuttering grunt, wrapping an arm around your waist to draw you in even closer with each thrust.

“Oh my God, Marc,” you groaned. You slipped up and called him by his first name as those indulgent stars seemed to shoot up and down your body, barely escaping through pathways of clenched fingers and toes.

He followed suit and muttered yours against your shoulder, biting into it as he wrapped his other hand around your jawline. His pace quickened as he turned your chin to face him, planting breathy little kisses onto your lips and face as he relentlessly snapped his hips into your cheeks.

“Marc, please!” You begged, unable to handle any more stimulation as his balls continually collided with your sweet spot.

“You want me to come inside you?” He slid his hand around your throat, pulling you down onto him with a tightened grip as you barely whispered the word ‘yes’ into his mouth. “What was that?”

“Yes!” You shouted, tears welling up in your eyes as your ecstasy all but consumed you, forcing your teeth to chatter and your arms to give out as streams of saline ran down your face.

He cradled your body, the sweat from his stomach saturating your lower back as he held you against him, spilling his orgasm inside your well spent heat. His fingers clutched at your throat, nearly halting your already stifled breath as he rattled and hummed, almost breaking the skin at the nape of your neck. He sucked your flesh into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue as he howled deep vibrations into your very bones with his wild and untamed groans. His cock twitched against your walls, leaking down your inner thighs as he pulled out and pushed back in, slower each time until both of your moaning had stopped.

“Wow, that was…” you whispered, finally collapsing onto the couch as he reluctantly let you go. “Amazing,” you finished, frowning as he pulled himself out of you, the brief loss of contact making you feel instantly alone before he laid down beside you.

“Yeah.” A genuine smile crossed his lips as he kissed you again, wiping the tears off your face with the back of his thumb. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Well, this way we don’t have an audience of the whole battalion.” You kissed his palm as he held your face, fingering the golden star pendant that dangled from his neck. You’d always imagined what his dog tags would say if you got close enough to look:

SPECTOR, MARC D. O NEGATIVE. JEWISH.

But this was better, more meaningful, him coming to you out of desire instead of leaning on you in a time of stress and confusion just because you were the closest one there. He’d remembered you after all these years and sought you out, looking you up to rekindle what you both had been holding a pretty strong flame to.

“Yeah, I guess not.” He looked up and over at the kitchen, playfully biting his lower lip. “You got any popcorn?”

#moon knight #marc spector #oscar isaac #marc spector x reader #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight fanfic #marc spector fanfic

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bluemoonperegrine · 4 months

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Chapter 14: One of the Good Ones

The silly MK/WBN romance takes a somewhat serious turn with this chapter. It's all in the name of character development.

An excerpt:

A few minutes later Marc padded into the living room wearing his gold necklace with a small Star of David and Jack’s red gym shorts to find Jack on the couch with the TV on and the volume down. On the slightly scuffed coffee table were two glasses of water, a bag of chips, and the small bowl of fruit he usually kept in the kitchen. Jack had quickly learned that “No, thank you” was Marc’s default answer to “Want anything to eat or drink?” More often than not if snacks were offered, he’d partake.

Trying to not undress Marc with his eyes, Jack said, “Better?”

“Yeah.” He sat close beside Jack, picked up one of the glasses, and took a long drink. With his heart in his eyes he said, “Thanks. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“It’s not trouble.” Marc seemed to apologize for existing sometimes. Not for the first time Jack wondered what exactly he’d gone through. Perhaps Marc would tell him one day.

Read the rest on ao3.

#moon knight #werewolf by night #fan fiction #fan fic #moon knight fan fiction #werewolf by night fanfiction

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jakelockleysdoll · 8 months

Text

ive been trying to find this marc fic I read last year for so long-

marc walks you to the club in a dress he wants to take you home in and rip it off and have you right there, but wants you to have a good time out with your friends (one of them named frankie) he notices immediately one of your friends keep flirting with you and he gets jealous and possessive but you reassure him everything is fine, he drops you off and walks home arguing with steven as he wants to stalk you and make sure you’re okay with that one friend of yours but steven is telling him not to (I might be getting this part mixed up with another fic) then early hours in the morning he gets a call/text from you, drunk, and he comes and picks you up, finding your drunk state cute, and tucks you into bed. PLEASE HELP ME FIND THIS LOVELIES ILY’S

<333

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you-heard-what-i-meant · 2 years

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Pain is Contagious - Moon Knight

A/N - Self indulgent fic, not gonna lie!

AO3 available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42039369

Female!Reader is in a relationship with the Moonboys - but she's behaving strangely. The Moonboys spin themselves into an anxious frenzy and decide they're finding out the issue regardless. Vague discussion of menstrual / period issues. Angst with a fluffy ending!

Perfunctory statement that I do not own any of the Moon Knight characters. This is unbeta'd, please excuse any strangeness! One swear word...

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

“- it’s really cool, innit?”

“Mmm.”

Steven can’t help the thrill of worry that runs through his veins at your response. He’s been trying to keep a smile plastered on his face all evening, but as time has worn on he’s found it more and more exhausting to battle the anxiety running riot in his mind. Something is off with you, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Something's off. Marc observes in his ear. He’s watching from the reflection of a particularly shiny artefact on a shelf of the nearest bookcase. Jake is observing from the window.

Steven runs his eyes over your face again. Your response had been a short, tight smile that didn’t reach your eyes, and a quick glance in his direction before your gaze returned to the TV screen. You’d been pressed up against the other end of the sofa since Steven had tried to wrap you in his arms two hours ago - over an hour later than you’d arranged to meet, and after trying to excuse yourself from your evening together before you’d even arrived.

Your whole body radiated tension, right down to the thin, pale line of your lips set against your clenched jaw.

Finally, Steven can’t take it any more.

“Is something wrong, love?” He tries for open, offhand. He knows he misses spectacularly.

“No, of course not.” you reply just a bit too fast, another quick glance and tight smile sent his way. To your credit, you try to hold his gaze and offer a reassuring version of your smile. Then your head swings back to the TV.

Ok. Something's definitely wrong here. Marc’s tone is flat - his way of trying to hide his worry.

Steven swallows hard.

“Y’sure? You’ve been awfully quiet all evening. And far away…” He attempts a playful tone, making silly grabby hand gestures in the void of space between you. They fall into his lap with a thump when you don’t even turn your body towards him, just offer him another unconvincing smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” Steven doesn’t miss the way your hands clench and re-clench in your lap.

Yeah, no - something’s going on here. Marc again. She looks tired, look how pale she is. Jake cuts in quietly. No. She’s clingy when she’s tired. How many times has she fallen asleep on us? Marc is starting to join the worry-train that Steven has been on for a couple of hours now.

“Yeah, me too. Why don’t we call it a night?” Steven suggests, gesturing vaguely towards the bed area with his hands anxiously hidden in his sleeves. His heart stutters when your gaze drops to your clenching hands.

“Actually, Steven, I’m sorry but I think I’m going to head home tonight. I’ll stay over another night if that’s ok?” You finally look up into Steven’s wide eyes, and your apologetic smile is off.

Steven’s mind is whirring with possible responses. He’s running fast towards total panic now.

“Oh, right… uh, what’s - why’s that?” He wants to kick himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your gaze drops again, the awkward attempt at a smile vanishing.

“I - Uh - I’m really tired and I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow, and…uh…” You trail off vaguely. Your hands are almost wringing now, picking mindlessly at the dry skin on your knuckles.

Struggling to swallow, Steven lays it out as best as he can. “What’s wrong? Please, you’re scaring me.”

Your head snaps up, and your hand shoots out across the sofa - but doesn’t quite reach Steven’s. It’s retracted as soon as he notices it, giving him no chance to take comfort in your touch. “No, nothing, really. I just… I need to get myself sorted out, y’know? I promise I’ll come over another night.”

Not “tomorrow night”. She said “another night”, not “tomorrow”. Marc’s voice is suspicious, verging on defensive. She’s allowed some time to herself. Maybe something happened and she needs to get her head straight. Jake sounds almost too casual in the headspace, but inside his mind is starting to whirl.

“Is… Is it something we can help with, love?” Steven offers hopefully. But you’re already gathering your things. Your jacket had been in your lap all evening, and now you’re wrapping it around yourself and fishing your keys out of the pocket. Even Jake starts to feel concerned at the speed you’re attempting to get away.

“No, no. Honestly, I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll speak to you later, yeah?” You’re already nearly at the door. Steven’s panic almost makes him do something drastic - block your path, grab your wrist. He barely resists, following along behind helplessly, almost tripping over his own feet in his clumsy hurry to keep up with you.

Let me talk to her. Marc demands. No, you’ll make it worse. Let her go, Steven. Tonight it would appear that Jake is the rational alter.

You pause at the door, giving Steven a quick peck on the lips. “Night.”

Then you’re gone, the door closing behind you.

… Only one kiss. Marc’s voice is quiet, even in the headspace.

You normally kissed them three times - one for each of them. It was a cute little ritual the four of you shared.

For a moment all three of them are frozen to the spot, something like shock hanging in the atmosphere around them. It breaks when Steven begins to spiral into a frantic frenzy, pacing around the room, his fingers tangling around themselves and knotting in the cuffs of his sweater so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t dislocate or break any of the digits.

“Gods, we’re losing her. She’s going to leave us. The best thing that’s ever happened to us, and I’ve driven her away. What did I do? There must have been something -“

We’re not losing her, Steven. Why do you think YOU did something, Steven? Marc and Jake cut in at the same time, their voices overlapping in Steven’s head. Marc is pacing inside the headspace and he’s reflected in the long mirror by the bed, his fingers alternately rubbing against themselves and tugging at his hair. Jake is momentarily distracted by the similarities of the other alters’ behaviour, their pacing and nervous habits almost identical. He stores it away to study at a later time.

There’s got to be something we missed. Did we forget something? It’s not her birthday for a few months. Was it something to do with work? Or an event? There must be something important we didn’t notice…

By now Steven is struggling to hold back the full scale panic that threatens to engulf him. He can feel that sickly tingling in his chest, the ringing in his ears growing to an almost unbearable cacophony. He can practically feel his bones grinding together as he moves.

“Today on the phone, when I called her at lunchtime, she barely spoke to me. She said she was busy at work, but she always made time for our chat before…”

She tried to make an excuse not to come over tonight, remember? And the way she was speaking… It’s like she didn’t want to speak to me. Marc adds, his memory replaying that incredibly brief conversation you’d had with him only a few hours before at the end of your work day.

“I mean, we have just sort of… disappeared on her a couple of times recently. But she always seemed ok after - we made it up to her and everything…”

Of them all, Jake is the most steady. In fact, he’s alarmingly still, like a sniper waiting for the perfect shot. Reflected in the glass of the fish tank, he’s staring at the sofa, the gears in his brain whirring and churning out snippets of… something. Fellas, I think there’s something else going on here, I don’t think it’s us -

- of course it’s us! Marc cuts him off. She wouldn’t let Steven touch her all night, and she couldn’t get away from us fast enough!

“- yeah, you saw how much she didn’t want to be around us!” Steven adds. “She was so far at the end of the sofa I’m surprised she didn’t just sit in the kitchen!”

Jake sighs irritably. If those two would stop with their panic, he could think clearly. There’s something… something he can’t quite grasp.

The switch is so sudden, Steven finds himself propelled into the headspace and disoriented as Marc suddenly takes front. Jake practically steadies Steven, irritated by Marc’s disregard for their agreement not to force each other to relinquish control of the body unless there’s real and present danger.

“I’m going to talk to her. We can’t let her go like this.” Marc is grabbing his jacket and keys and is out of the door before either of the others in the headspace can formulate a response.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

The look on your face when you open the door isn’t encouraging. At first there’s surprise, then a flash of irritation before it’s replaced with a false cheer.

“Hey Marc, what’re you doing here?” Your pyjama-clad body is distinctly blocking the doorway, and you're not inviting them in. Marc feels Steven’s panic rise in the headspace and it solidifies his resolve. Jake is too busy watching the tension vibrate through your body under the baggy hoodie and loose pyjama bottoms, a slight bend in your middle like you’re trying to hide something. Those gears in his head pick up speed.

“Can I - can we come in?” Marc’s hands are clenched into tight, slightly shaking fists. Your eyes flash to them before returning to his face. You seem reluctant, but Marc is practically gravitating towards the door frame.

Is she scared of us? Steven’s noticed your tense posture too, but his voice is quiet beneath the chaos whirling in Marc’s mind.

There’s a pause in which neither of you give an inch, but your eyes dart to his clenched fists again and you seem to shrink in on yourself a little more. Then - “Uh… sure.” You step aside and let them in. They’re barely over the threshold of your tiny apartment when their body jolts and Steven blurts out -

“I’m so sorry! Whatever it is I’m - we’re - so sorry. Please tell us what’s wrong so that we can fix it! I promise -“

“What?” You cut his rambling off, bewildered by not just his words, but the mental whiplash of such a rapid alter-change.

“I know you’re not okay with us right now but please, my love, we can’t lose you. Please give us a chance to fix this -“

“ - Steven - “

“ - Did something happen? Did one of us do something - “

“ - Marc - “

“ - Whatever it is, love, we didn’t mean it. We love you so much, please don’t leave us -”

“ - Steven, please, stop - “

Somehow they’ve crowded into your space and you find yourself backed against the cupboard by the door, their closeness blocking any escape opportunity you might have had and the rapid changing of who’s in charge of the body is disorienting. It’s the flash of fear that crosses your face that brings the hurricane to a halt.

For a moment, Steven’s face goes blank, his body going still in mid-movement like his brain is rebooting. Then their face floods with life again and you instantly recognise Jake staring back at you.

He’s unnervingly calm, and there’s a softness to his features. Even his hands are pointedly relaxed by his sides as he takes a deliberate step back away from you. You wonder if he saw the fear that spasmed through you at Marc’s imposing behaviour, maybe he’s trying to put you at ease.

“Honey… are you sick?” His dark eyes hold yours steadily, something swirling in their depths.

Despite the gentle tone of his voice, you’re startled for a second, heart still pounding from the onslaught they’ve just accidentally hurled at you.

You take a second to assess the man standing in front of you. You find no aggression, no threat, just concern - and is that fear? - on his face. Thoughts start to rush through your head. You’ve managed to keep this regular nightmare under wraps in your relationship so far, and although you knew it would be unavoidable eventually, do you really want to be having this discussion right now? Did you really want to drag them into this… mess? But Jake’s velvet eyes are swallowing you whole and words leave your mouth without your permission.

“Sort of.”

You sigh, giving in to the inevitable and releasing some of the tension keeping you upright. Your instincts drag your torso down, curling protectively around your middle just a little bit - despite wanting to collapse completely. Jake sees it, and suddenly sympathy passes across his face.

“Do you have everything you need? I’ll go to the store for you if you need anything. Or find a doctor, there’s got to be an out-of-hours service.”

You want to cry at the soft affection in his tone. You feel your soul latch onto Jake’s just a little more, and suddenly you crave his company - Marc and Steven’s too if they’ll have you.

“It’s fine. Right now I just need to sit down.” You admit quietly.

Jake swears at himself. He should have thought of it sooner - he’d seen how pale you’ve been and the tension in your body for the last 24 hours, of course you need to rest.

His mind is already supplying potential causes - illness, stress, depression - but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions in case he misses something essential.

He’s already moving as these thoughts spin in his mind. One hand extends towards you but stops short of touching. He hasn’t forgotten the way you practically flinched out of your own skin when Steven tried to hug you earlier. Instead his other hand reaches blindly behind him to gently close the door and he settles for following carefully behind you as you head back into your apartment. He darts forward to snatch a fallen blanket out of your path as you carefully take a tense seat on the far end of the sofa, a worrying reflection of your positioning in their apartment a short time before.

His eyes catalogue several things in a few short seconds - blanket on the floor, wheat bag on the arm of the sofa, painkillers, chocolate and a hot drink on the table in front of you. You refused to eat with them earlier, didn’t want to be touched, seemed to flinch at sounds and movement… Something clicks in Jake’s head, and he hears Marc reach the same conclusion a second later. Steven takes a moment or two longer, but the flush of relief mixed with slight shame at his delayed understanding is potent when it arrives.

“Honey, you don’t have to stand on ceremony for us. Lay down.”

Your face drops with relief, and as you crawl unceremoniously across your sofa and curl up across two of the three seat cushions, Jake offers the blanket out towards you. After a second of hesitation, you gratefully open your arms to let him settle the blanket over your curled form.

Jake drops into a crouch in front of you as he gently pulls the blanket up to your waist, careful not to touch you. Tilting his head slightly to match your eye-line, he keeps his voice soft.

“Is it always this bad?”

A flush fires across your cheeks, and Jake hopes his face shows the completely genuine lack of awkwardness he feels.

In the headspace, Steven has paused. He’s never experienced a partner who suffers this way before, but his academic brain is already analysing it from a more abstract perspective, and it isn’t making him uncomfortable. In fact, he’s preoccupied with all the potentially useful information he’s come across.

Marc isn’t awkward either, quite the opposite. He’s had partners before, and although they’ve never had much more than mild discomfort and a few days of not wanting to be intimate, he’s aware it isn’t that easy for everyone. Jake can hear the concern in his thoughts.

As if you can read his mind, a frown forms between your brows as you ask “What’s wrong, Jake?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Marc wants to know if you’ve seen a doctor about it. He’s worried because he knows it can be a symptom of other things.” Relief and understanding wash over your features. “Yeah… They did a load of tests last year and didn’t find anything, thank God. Apparently I just get it pretty bad. I have to go back for a checkup every year just to make sure but they don’t expect anything to turn up.” Jake is nodding. “Good. I mean, not good, obviously but -”. You chuckle softly. “- It’s okay Jake, I know what you mean.” He nods again, quiet for a moment before he sighs and shakes his head. “Okay, fine… Steve wants me to tell you that he knows you’ve probably tried everything on the whole planet, but he’s happy to look up some natural remedies that people recommend.”

A look of adoration passes across your face before it twists into a playfully-irritated smirk as Jake continues. “ - I mean, I hear an extensive sex session is the best remedy -”

You snort and shake your head, swatting at his arm. He sniggers and watches as your expression falls, your jaw working like you’re trying to figure something out. Jake cocks his head to the side. “What’re you thinking, honey?”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring instead at the fraying edge of your blanket. Your voice is so soft Jake has to strain to hear you. “Are they mad at me?”

He can’t hide his surprise. “What? Why would they be mad at you?”

You shrug. Jake sighs. “We - It’s just that we were worried we’d done something wrong. Y’know, having a relationship with someone who has a life like ours isn’t easy -

You cut him off abruptly. “Your first thoughts were that one of you had done something wrong? You automatically assumed it must be your fault?”

Jake is aware of Marc’s tension in the headspace as he listens in. This wasn’t Jake’s explanation to give, but he also knows he’s the only one who can give it. “For Marc especially, he grew up always being blamed for things by his mom, punished whenever anything went wrong even if he wasn’t there. Steven got some of it too, although he doesn’t really remember it. It’s so built in it’s hard to break away from, y’know?”

He feels Marc’s shame, feels him draw back further into the headspace. Steven is tense too, a whirl of thoughts fighting for dominance as he observes both his headmates simultaneously.

A devastating look of sadness settles on your face, and Jake vows that he never wants to see it again if he can help it. Somewhere in the back of his head he knows they will see it again, not least when they finally tell you their full story. Your words interrupt Jake’s thoughts abruptly.

“I’m gonna need a quiet word with your mother.”

Jake releases a startled laugh, feeling Steven’s bafflement and Marc’s flinch in the headspace. The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them.

“Lucky for you she’s already dead.”

What the fuck man?! Marc exclaims in the same moment as Steven squeaks Oh my God, Jake…

A stricken look crosses your face, and Jake has to take a few deep breaths - not least to try and hush his headmates while he formulates a response.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t exactly say I’m filled with grief after everything -” He cuts himself off, watching your mouth open and close a fews times soundlessly before he clarifies. “I promise we’ll tell you everything, just… not right now.”

Your mouth snaps shut as you nod jerkily, and Jake offers you what he hopes is a reassuring look before he turns his attention inwards again for a moment.

He senses his headmates are settling again, going off into their own thoughts once more. Leaving them to themselves, he turns his attention back to you and finds you watching his face carefully.

“They’re okay.”

You nod, a look of relief settling on your face. After a second’s hesitation, Jake holds his hand out carefully in front of him - inviting you to take it but not touching you without your permission. After a moment’s pause you close the short distance and lightly entwine your fingers with his. Your eyes glitter as your voice comes out in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, it just makes my skin really sore - like I’ve got a fever. And I get kind of overloaded, y’know? Noises, and how things feel, and everything takes so much energy -”

Jake’s already shaking his head, well aware of these things in himself, and particularly in Marc and Steven.

“ - You don’t need to explain honey, just tell me what you need.”

#Moon Knight #moon knight fanfiction #Moon Knight fan fiction #Moon Knight fanfic #Moon Knight fan fic #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac characters

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fictive-fodder · 2 years

Text

|| Steven Grant vs. You : III ||

A tiny story where you discover that your sweet, handsome coworker is just as much into Egyptology as you are into ancient Greece- and the playful battle that ensues.

PART I - PART II - PART III

Word Count: 2.9K

Tag List

Read this on A03!

Referenced works- Hesiod. Theogony and Works and Days (Oxford World's Classics) OUP Oxford. Richard Mayde. Ancient Egypt, Dodd, Mead Gerald D. Waxman, Astronomical Tidbits: A Layperson's Guide to Astronomy

Let us begin our singing. It will haunt this great and holy mountain, and we will dance on our soft feet round the violet-dark spring and the altar of the mighty son of Kronos. We will bathe our gentle skin in Permessos. Then, on the highest slope we will make our dances, fair and lovely, stepping lively in time. From there we go forth, veiled in thick mist, and walk by night, uttering beautiful voice.

So said mighty Zeus’ daughters, they breathed into me wondrous voice, so that I should celebrate things of the future and things that were aforetime. Come now, from the Muses let us begin, as they tell of what is and what shall be and what was aforetime, voices in unison. The words flow untiring from their mouths, and sweet.

“I mean… just wow…” Steven sighed, eyes twinkling at you from across your desk.

“I know.” You nodded with deep satisfaction.

“You’re right, too.” he continued, “You really do get this sense that they were there.”

“It feels like it, huh?” you agreed, “With ancient Egypt, you have Pharaoh as the representative of higher power, but there isn’t this deep and messy interaction with the gods that I’ve come to love so much out of Greek myth. Especially when historical artists made work where they themselves interacted with gods, or were at least in conversation with them, like this or like Sappho.”

Lately, when Steven worked mornings, he had taken to peering into your cubicle on his breaks to see if you weren’t too busy for him to visit. It was quickly becoming your favorite ritual, and you found yourself often looking past your cubicle’s entrance as if you could will his curly head of hair to appear.

“I think the closest equivalent I can come to is the temple of Philae…” Steven thought aloud, he leaned over your desk excitedly. You smiled, nodding as you thought of the description of it in the book Steven lent you.

Close by this temple of Osiris at Philae was a small one, dedicated to his queen and sister, Isis. A later writer speaks of it as “the most strangely wild and beautiful spot he ever beheld. Here spreads a deep drift of silvery sand, fringed by rich verdure and purple blossoms; there, a grove of palms, intermingled with flowering acacia; and there, through vistas of craggy cliffs and gloomy foliage, gleams a calm blue lake, with the sacred island in the midst, green to the water’s edge, except where the walls of the old temple city are reflected.”

“From the little I’ve glimpsed so far, it seems like Osirus and Isis’ marriage is a very popular story?”

“Oh, yea, super.” Steven nodded significantly. “And for good reason too- I mean sewing your husband’s body back from fourteen pieces is quite a testimony to your love, I think.” There was a quiet pause as you took a moment to make sure the two of you were still being ignored, before Steven continued, “Is there a love story you like from Greek mythology?”

“Oh-” you took in a deep breath, overwhelmed by the question. “There are so many… I mean so, so many. You have the big ones, you know- like Odysseus and Penelope, Patroclus and Achilles, Hades and Persephone, the love triangle of Aphrodite, Ares and Hephaestus… the Greeks adored a good love story. They had 8 different kinds of Love, after all.”

“Eight, really?” Steven asked, leaning even further over your desk, his smile unfading.

“Yes! You have Storge, familial love. Philautia, self love. Agape, which I quite like, that’s love for everyone.”

“Ooh that’s very grand.” Steven chuckled.

“It is! Philia is also lovely- that’s deep friendship.”

“Alright, that was four.” he counted, tilting his head as he looked into your eyes. If there were any emails or phone calls incoming you would have never known. You met Steven’s gaze, smiling back at him and feeling, strangely, as if you couldn’t inhale as much air as you would like to.

“Mhm… then we have Mania, which is obsessive love. You know, when you can’t stop thinking about someone and you’re just-” you shook your head, grinning, “kinda like when you first fall in love for someone, really hard, and you can’t think about anything else, you’re just tortured?”

A change passed over Steven’s face that was initially hard for you to read. At first, you thought the brightness of his eyes dimmed at your last words, but as you searched his face you realized that his eyes weren’t less bright due to dismay or boredom, they were less bright because his pupils were dilating as he watched you. Steven was so close to you that you could even see your own silhouette in his widening gaze.

“Um…” you continued on, swallowing dryly, “A..Another favorite of mine, Ludus… which is playful love, or like- young love. Eros, probably the best known, as it’s the spicy one. And lastly you have the love I’m certain Osirus and Isis shared…”

“What’s that one called?” Steven asked, eyes widening.

“Pragma, longstanding love… kind of the end goal, really.”

You jumped with a start as your desk phone began to ring loudly. Steven cleared his throat, pulling himself off of your desk and back into his chair, rubbing the side of his face with one hand as you twisted to pick up your phone. You frowned as you recognized the number on caller i.d. to be the gift shop’s extension. “Ut oh Steven…” you mumbled, picking up the phone. “Reception- how can I help you?” you answered as neutrally as possible, but you almost lost your professional composure as you glanced nervously at Steven, and found him staring at you like a child caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“Hello- could you please tell me if there is a gift shop employee in the office? His name is Stevie?”

“Stevie?” you repeated, confused. Steven rolled his eyes, exasperated. “No, there is definitely no Stevie here I’m sorry to say… office is pretty empty. Is there something I can help you wi-” the phone clicked in your ear. Frowning, you pulled the receiver away from you to look at it, before hanging up the line and looking at Steven.

“Did Donna just hang up on you?” he asked, startled.

“I think she did?” you replied laughing, aghast.

“Oi- I hate that, I’m sorry.” Steven grimaced, standing up. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“I’m not concerned, we work in two totally separate departments.” you shrugged. This seemed to reassure Steven as he patted down his pants pockets and made sure he had everything.

“Time to go sell some plastic ankhs?” you teased, grinning.

“Oh yes.” Steven replied lamely. “Some Nike of Samothrace snow globes as well.”

“Ouch- you got me.” you laughed, standing up too. You opened your mouth to ask about seeing him for lunch before you stopped yourself- what if you were being too demanding of his attention? With these new visits, any free time Steven had was being claimed by you. It felt presumptive to assume he wouldn’t like some time for himself. “Um… do you have any plans you're looking forward to, today?”

“Finishing the Theogony, that’s about it.” Steven replied, stepping out of your cubicle. “Talk about it over lunch, yea?”

You felt yourself blush. “If you want to!”

“Cheers!” Steven exclaimed, before darting away.

You sat back in your office chair and swiveled to face your computer, smiling to yourself. Steven was good. He was so, so good. Sighing dreamily, you refreshed your email and watched your screen filled with messages.

As you clicked through your emails you couldn’t help but to keep thinking about Steven, how lucky you were to become friends after only a few weeks of working at the museum. Even though Donna and Steven’s relationship didn’t seem great, part of you envied the amount they got to interact as a team. Your role was mostly emails between curators, accountants, marketing agents, and the Liaison Department.

You straightened in your chair as something occurred to you, hadn’t Steven said that he wanted to be a tour guide? You opened an email from Marketing briefing the Liaison Department on a new collection of work that would be showcased soon, asking the liaisons to study up on the attached pdf’s of art history so they could speak about the collection. You still hadn’t figured out why you seemed to be CC’d on every single email from any department under the museum roof, but now that didn’t seem so bad. They were all there- any branch manager you needed was available to you… even the curation team for the ancient Egyptian collection.

“What have you got today?” you asked as you sat down beside Steven in the break room.

“I think what you mean is, what have I got us today!”’ Steven said triumphantly, as he pulled from his bag not one, but two lunches.

“What!” you exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

“Yea dove I made you lunch!” Steven grinned, all the more satisfied by your surprise. “It’s not bad either, we’ve got apples, some crisps, and avocado sandwiches! They’re quite good really, they’ve got lettuce and tomato in, and this spicy mustard.”

Steven set your lunch before you with a level of excitement equal to a conductor beginning a symphony. All you could do was stare, and make some strange smile with your mouth partly open, as you looked between him and the slightly crumpled, but still appetizing sandwich before you.

“I wanted to try and make this vegan caramel for the apples but I rather bungled that…” he continued, reminiscing on his caramel attempt with a cringe.

“I’m-“ you started to say, but you didn’t actually know what you were. Aside from the obvious attributes: deeply flattered, touched, and surprised. There was a tightness in your throat that you’d only usually felt when you were about to cry, but there were no tears forming in your eyes. You stared at the sandwich as if it held monumental power.

With a crunch, Steven bit into his apple. He nudged your arm with his elbow as he took another bite. You jumped a little and picked up your own.

“Cheers!” Steven said, tapping his apple against yours. Chucking, you took a bite.

You couldn’t have known how strange it was for Steven to be eating a lunch he made with a friend. He was nearly as surprised as you, that he was able to sit down with you today and provide this meal. Steven had never been very good about remembering to make himself up a lunch to take to work, but the idea of also making one for you, however modest it may be, was so exciting that it stuck in his mind. Instead of only remembering he should have packed food by the time he was clocking out for lunch, he had stopped at the market on the way home last night, imagining how this very moment would play out. As was usual, he had been hesitant to fall asleep, but the thought of having time in the morning to carefully assemble sandwiches gripped him with excitement and so he’d done his best, making sure his ankle restraint was tightly fastened to his leg no later than midnight, and stared up at his dark ceiling, silently begging it to let him sleep peacefully.

When Steven woke up it was nearly dawn. He was so bewildered by the unique light of early morning that for a moment he thought he’d only slept for a few minutes. His ankle was still securely fastened to its brace, and even more profoundly, he felt rested. Steven felt like he had won, but there was also a bitter sweetness to realizing his night had gone exactly as intended- that it was unlikely to happen again, or consistently.

He tried to brush off that anxiety though, as he watched you take the first bite of the sandwich he made. Whether you were just being angelically polite or genuinely enjoying it, he appreciated your attention nevertheless. What was better? To try and have some plans, some gifts, some special moments never materialize- or to never meet the opportunity to surprise you and make you smile?

That was an easy answer.

“You failed to mention earlier,” Steven started, chewing through a large bite of bread, “what your favorite ancient Greek love story is?”

“Oh right! Well that’s so difficult!” you groaned, grinning. “The reason may be nuanced, but I love Selene and Endymion’s story.”

“What is it?”

“Selene is the Moon goddess in the ancient Greek pantheon, and Endymion was a mortal shepherd Prince that would take his flock over hills and mountains at night. They fell in love, but because she was immortal and Endymion was not, Zeus extended his life by casting an eternal sleep upon Endymion.”

“Alright?” Steven responded, gesturing for you to keep explaining.

“That’s pretty much the whole story.” you laughed.

“Why is that your favorite then?” Steven asked, more spellbound than anything.

“Because! Okay this might sound a little cheesy but-”

“Sorry, I can’t do cheese. I’m vegan, remember?” Steven said with mock severity.

“Wow.” you replied flatly. You leaned back a little to watch Steven have a very hard time not laughing at his own joke. “Proud of yourself?”

“Go on, keep telling me why-” he choked out, bringing his hands to cover his mouth.

“No, no…” you replied, you resisted the twitch of a smile on your own face. “I don’t think I can after being eviscerated by your lactose free wit.”

“Please-” Steven wheezed faintly, nodding encouragingly, “Please, tell me.”

“Well-” you sighed haggardly, “What I was going to say is that I like it, because to me it feels metaphorical? No one should really ‘see’ the moon because it is at its best when we should be asleep, and yet we have and we do- and we have done for hundreds of years? Cultures with no connection all over the world have fallen in love with the Moon, which appears in its highest glory when our eyes should be closed? And I just think of that when thinking of Endymion. I think of how the night sky infatuates us, how humankind has always been so rhapsodic about it, even though as creatures we are useless in the dark and the night does little for anyone in a practical sense.

“Endymion is in this eternal sleep, induced by his love for the Moon… again, metaphorically, he’s fed by his affection for something so lovely? It just so simply encapsulates this understanding that people had way back then that even in a time of hardship, beauty was longed for and nourished humankind?”

Steven had stopped eating. He was simply staring at you, eyebrows raised.

“I know it sounds like I’ve thought about it too much- it’s because I do.” you qualified, embarrassed.

“No-” Steven replied, voice soft, brow furrowed. “You’re alright… that was, that’s good.”

You were not convinced that Steven was genuine in his reassurance. You cast your eyes downward, mind racing. This was an overstep on your part- you got a little too romantic, waxed a little too poetic about your favorite topic. You wanted to try to ground your thoughts. “Um… there’s an… there’s a quote from this book.” you offered weakly, pulling your phone out of your pocket for reference.

You read aloud, “There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff.“ The quiet you were greeted with felt unbearable. Quickly tucking your phone back in your pocket, you smiled, and sighed. “I mean those are the words of an astronomer, but the ancient Greeks were saying the same thing- We can’t help ourselves. We’re all in love with the moon.”

Mania. Steven thought.

“I…” Steven started, before stopping himself with a shake of his head. He still hadn’t touched any food. Sighing your name, Steven glanced into your eyes, head still shaking. “You… um, you think- You think very beautifully.”

“Hah-” you breathed, it was a sound of deepest regret. Why? Why had you been so open. You could have probably cooked an egg on your cheek, it felt so warm. You were desperate for some way out of being the talkative one. “You know, I don’t actually know if there was a Moon god in the Egyptian pantheon?”

“Oh-” Steven’s tone changed to something significantly less enchanted. “Yea. His name is Khonshu, god of the Moon, protector of those who travel at night.”

“...not a fan?” you asked, unable to help smiling at how personally offended Steven seemed by invoking Khonshu.

“Not really.” he replied, shrugging.

“Aha!” you grinned, taking a triumphant bite of your apple. “And there it is.”

“What?” Steven asked.

“The beginning of the end, Steven.” you hummed, “Greek god versus Egyptian God, Selene beats Khonshu.”

“HAH!” Steven laughed so loudly the rest of your coworkers in the break room glanced over. Why did this always happen to you two? Steven grasped at his chest, his eyes closed by the strength of his giggles. “Alright dove, that one you can have.”

TAG LIST:

@oliviagreenaway @then-he-was-wrong-about-me @b0xerdancer

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #steven grant / reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moon knight x you #mcu moon knight #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight imagines #non binary reader #non binary fan fic #steven grant vs. you #fictive-fodder #fictive fodder

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avatarofseshat · 2 years

Text

Meet Mr. Knight

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: Just a short drabble. We need more of Steven in the suit.

Part Two - Truths

---

“You wanna dance, yeah?”

You would know that voice anywhere and it piqued your curiosity so you decided to change course to the direction you thought it came from.

“Lie down, mate!”

You heard as you came upon a dark alley and cautiously peered between the brick buildings. You blinked unsure of what you where seeing. You quietly observed as a figure dressed head-to-toe in a tailored white suit that nearly glowed in the moonlight. Even his head was covered hiding his identity. He skillfully fought off the crooks as the rest went running.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you where holding “Steven?”

Steven’s blood nearly ran cold at the sound of your voice. Why where you here? What did you see? What would you think? He took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his heart that was still pounding due to the adrenaline.

You watched intently as he turned towards you and you let out a gasp at the sight of the glowing white eyes that observed you back. Your eyes involuntarily widened as the mask dissipated before your eyes revealing the soft brown eyes and curly ebony locks of the man you loved.

“(Y/N)…” he breathed as he closed the distance and embraced you “What are you doing here, love? Are you hurt? Did they…I’m…”

"I’m fine, Steven.”

“Thank god,” he sighed as pressed his forehead to yours as you nuzzled into his neck. “Let’s get you home, yeah?" He could tell your mind was buzzing with questions "I’ll explain everything.”

#steven grant x reader #mr knight #mr knight x reader #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #marvel #moon knight fan fiction #mcu fanfic #the sun & the moon

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bansheescreamsfics · 2 years

Text

Queen of the Underworld, King of Justice.

A/N: It’s a working title for this, but I’m trying my best. Moon Knight has inspired me to write so I decided to start this series and see what happens. Plus I love Anubis since I am training to become a funeral home director/embalmer.

About: Harrow is trying to get Ammit back to earth through his passage through the underworld. It is up to Jake, Marc, and Steven to fight through the underworld with the help of Anubis avatar y/n (you).

Warning: possesion. cursing. speaking of the afterlife.

Pairing: Jack Lockley x reader. Later chapters will have Steven Grant x reader and Marc Spector x reader.

Chapter: 1 | 2

The rush of the wind as you ran down the stairs stung but it was all you could do to keep yourself safe. It was one thing to be the best embalmer in the business but another to be suddenly wanted because of it. The men chasing you approached you during an embalming of what they said was their leader, Arthur Harrow. You were simply just trying to do your job but they were trying to take the body away once you were finished.

It was strange for his will to explain how he wished to be embalmed in the way the pharaohs were. Making it hard to gather the materials needed for such a task, but another to suddenly have his so called “followers” now chasing you, and accusing you of his murder. You told them that you didn’t even know who he was but you damn sure would never do such a thing. The answer was falling on deaf ears and now you were running for your life.

You turned corner after corner until suddenly you were in an alleyway with a dead in. You cursed loudly and touched the wall before you. You wished it would give way so you could escape but hearing the men now walking towards you told you that you were very much stuck. Slowly you turned around and sunk as far against the wall as you could holding out your hands in mercy.

The men simply laughed while you closed your eyes slowly preparing for the gunshot to end your life. However it did not come. You sunk to the floor holding on to your legs and hiding your face between them as you heard the sound of a feral dog. It was so loud that you covered your ears in an attempt to make the noise stop but there was no hiding the sound of skin being ripped apart. You didn’t dare open your eyes while tears streamed down your face.

Suddenly the dog was in your face, his wet nose sniffing you. You whimpered and were simply frozen in place due to fear. You tried to accept your fate until you heard someone in your head.

“I will not hurt you.”

It was almost booming inside your head and as you slowly opened your eyes stood the dog in human form. You shock as you begin to think that maybe you have died or finally lost your mind completely. What stood before you was Anubis in his human form who was now kneeling down in an attempt to be on your level but still looked giant.

“You are a good human. You do your best to assist souls to the other side for me to assist them to where they need to go. You have managed to make my job easier. I have tried my best to stand on the sidelines but I’m afraid I’m unable to. Take my hand young one and I’ll explain it all,” Anubis reached out with his hand a mixture of human and fur of a dog and you shook in fear.

“I will not hurt you. You are my avatar, young one. No harm will come to you. I promise that.”

As much as you wanted to believe this was a dream, the smells, the visuals and the feel of the ground beneath you made you realize this isn’t a dream. Even as you tried to pinch yourself without Anubis seeing he was very much in front of you awaiting your answer.

Before you could reconsider you found yourself holding on to his large hand. Anubis inspired you to do your job each day with respect to the body and their soul in their passage. You trusted that he would not lead you astray now, and even if you were dreaming what did you have to lose. You would simply wake up in the end wondering what it was all about.

Anubis smiled as you took his hand and helped you off the ground, “lets go young one. It’s time to get you ready for what’s to come.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Jake was tired at this point and just wanted to go to sleep but Khonshu consistently had other plans.

“Arthur is trying to fight his way to ammit in daut. No idea where he got that idea but he managed to not freeze yet. Ammit must be keeping him safe on his journey, and we need to get there before Ammit manages to get back and finish what she started,” The old god sounded annoyed but Jake just rolled his eyes. He stood there in Steven’s living room and sighed.

“So what’s the plan?” He finally asked looking over his shoulder to the god attempting to sit on the small couch compared to his body.

“The thing is other gods are realizing the situation and summoning their avatars as we speak. One in particular needs to be on our side or we’re doomed.”

Jake chucked before raising his eyebrow, “And who’s that.”

“The one who runs the underworld. Anubis is now on the playing field. If we don’t convince him to be on our side then he’s too vulnerable to be persuaded by Ammit to be on her side. If she has him on her side the underworld could leak out onto your planet and destroy everything.”

The god's voice sounded almost scared and desperate to Jake, but he understood why he was worried. The dead walking the earth was everyone's nightmare and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let that happen, and he sure as hell didn’t want to see his mother once more.

“So who’s the avatar?”

“Y/n Y/L/N. She’s an embalmer. She’s in Egypt now trying to complete Arthur Harrow's wishes right now. She’s thorough, and is damn good at what she does.”

“We stop her from completing it. That means his soul can’t continue its journey,” Jake was catching on which made the old pigeon nod its head.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Just get me there and I’ll do what I need too.” Jake said, already holding his backpack and before he could say another word they were both zapped in Cairo once more. He looked up to see he was staring at what looked to be a funeral home.

He pulled his cap further down before pushing his way inside. He just hoped he could get to her in time before disaster struck.

You looked out as you sailed on the boat through daut. To you it was strangely beautiful but now was not the time to sight see.

You look over your shoulder to see taweret steering the boat while Anubis stood at the bow of the boat looking ahead. Slowly you approached him but you knew he could sense your presence standing beside him.

“We are almost where we need to be,” He said softly.

“Shouldn’t I be with the body? I can do more with messing up his embalming than being here,” You said softly.

“It sadly isn’t enough but don’t worry you will be making those adjustments soon. But I must ask you a question first,” The god turned towards you slowly before you looked up at him and sighed. This night was going crazy just like your dreams and you were still not sure if it wasn’t. The small bruises on your arm you keep making between your fingers is evident enough that you’ve been trying your hardest to just wake up.

“Sorry young one, but this is not a dream,” He said, holding out your arm in his hand to see the bruises forming on your arm. He could see the marks from long ago that you made on your body in an attempt to end your life which made you turn your head away from him. “I’m happy it did not work out,” He said gently, running his thumb against it before kneeling once more.

“Will you protect the souls of the dead in their journey to the underworld? Will you be willing to do what it takes to protect the right of those journeys but also make sure no one tries to abuse it either?”

The speech was simple and to the point but you knew what he was asking. You didn’t understand why but knew what he was asking meant going forward you would be doing his job on earth. At first you hesitated but realized you were already doing his duty on earth. Your hand slowly reached up to the coffin-like necklace that had his image sealed inside. It was slowly becoming clear that your life was being pushed towards this very moment since birth.

You moved your hand in his grip so it could take him fully and looked up. This decision was going to change your life and even if it was a dream you knew your answer would still be the same.

“Yes.”

Jake woke up with sweat dripping down his body and the wind blowing through the window was of no help to him. He pushed himself from the bed to look out into the city to see the merchants begin to open up shop below. He had no idea where Harrow was being sealed and protected but he knew that if he wanted an egyptian burial that he had several days with salt sealing his body before they finished.

Even within a few days he was unsure if he could even find this so-called avatar of Anubis but he suddenly saw a woman with her hair wrapped in a scarf scurrying towards the funeral home.

“There you are, la cosita,” He murmured to himself. “Maybe this mission isn’t as hard as I thought.

You rushed past every merchant attempting to say good morning to you as you made your way to the building. You prayed no one had touched the body, and if it wasn’t for the strength of being Anubis' avatar you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk as fast. The moment you were suddenly alone in the street you heard his voice inside your head.

“Rush on all fours. You will find you have better speed that way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion but he made no sound. This fucker is serious. You thought to yourself.

“I’m not what you call a fucker. Though I’m not exactly celebite either.”

The statement actually made you stop in your tracks and look over to see him in his dog form looking at you. He tilted his head towards the building that was less than a mile away down the street before taking off on all fours. You watched him and shook your head, “well I guess I shouldn't be surprised that even the god of embalming and the underworld gets around.”

You began to run on just your two feet before you stumbled and landed on your hands. Instead of stopping you managed to get a few steps just fine. You stopped and looked around to see if anyone could see you, “I can’t believe I'm actually going to do this.”

Before you could think too much about it you began to run on all fours before you began to feel a shift in your body. At first it was painful and made you land on the ground, on your stomach in pain before finally pushing yourself up. It was then you realized you were no longer human. Looking down you saw what looked like Jackal’s legs and fur growing. The pain was still there but it was manageable for you to finally stand.

“Fuck,” you whispered but what you heard was simple a bark.

You looked ahead to see Anubis in his jack form waiting in front of the building. Even in his jackal form he looks very pleased with himself. You wanted to smack that smirk off his face so you quickly began to move your legs. It was awkward at first to maneuver four legs like this but the moment you got the hang of it you realized how quickly you got to your destination.

You hand slam your back legs down to stop yourself from running right into Anubis who didn’t even flinch once you were in front of him.

How do I change back? Was your first question you thought of.

It isn’t hard. Just simply think of your human self. I wouldn’t dare make it more complicated for you.

You heard yourself whimper at the response before looking down at the ground. You closed your eyes and thought of what you looked like just moments before. Then the pain began to hit at your dog form collapsed on the ground and began to morph on the ground into who you looked like before.

By the time the transformation was complete you were still crying and looking up at Anubis who managed to change into his regular form.

“It’ll get easier little one i promise,” He said softly before looking at the door. “We have work to do and if I hear correctly you have more problems coming your way right this minute. Get up. Time to get to work.”

Next Chapter ---->

#moon knight #jake lockley #khonschu #anubis #moon knight x reader #jake lockely x reader #marvel fan fiction #moon knight fan fiction #moon knight imagines #moon knight series

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bigbadripley · 1 year

Text

I Wish you Roses - Prologue

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn't help but notice how familiar he was.

18+!! | 1,417 Words | Third-person omniscient | Dark?fic/Angst/Eventual Smut | AU/AT | Warnings: OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Mention of childhood sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, the effects of child abuse in adulthood, murder, suicide, alcohol use, drug mention, all the parents in this story are terrible, The only saving grace is Steven

A/N: The songs used for this fic may not have anything to do with the story besides my thoughts when I hear the chosen lyrics. That being said, the chapter titles won't always make sense. It's just an idea I had.

I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Lastly, Marc/Steven being involved and the addition of a traumatized psychiatrist is in no way meant to romanticize, fetishize, or otherwise; mental illness or illnesses/trauma.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"Never thought I would be without you I wish you love, I wish you well I wish you roses while you can still smell 'em With pretty flowers can come the bee sting" -"I Wish you Roses" by Kali Uchis

I'm not great at writing like you are or brave enough to tell you all of this to your face. I don't even know if I'll be able to give you this note, but I want to try. I think you're great, and you should also see that in yourself. I like your hair and how soft it always is, same with your skin. I like the clothes you wear even though you don't always like them, you always look good. You're super funny and smart as fuck, and you're really pretty. I can't stop thinking about how cool it would be to not have to cut through the woods to get to your house anymore. Maybe we could get a place after graduation? I know your mom only likes me sometimes, and this is probably really weird to read, but I'm okay with just being best friends if you don't like me like that. I don't want things to be weird, so we can still run away and play bingo in the old folks home when we're 70. No matter what, I love you Moni.

-Count Spector

P.S. if you read this and you don't like it please don't yell at me.

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon when they met.

It likely wouldn't have happened if Steven hadn't insisted that he and Marc go see an actual therapist, and Marc finally broke, telling him to go on his own.

Ever since the divorce was finalized, Marc had been acting this way. They both obviously had their issues, but Marc was convinced that Steven would likely be his only companion again from then on.

That was what drove Steven to try and seek professional guidance. How do two people living in a single body branch out and get to know other people? He took the first step by finding a psychiatrist in the area.

Steven wasn't sure what to expect when he picked Dr. Dooley, a polite-looking gent who was likely 60 years old. He just knew one person with an open appointment slot had experience with their problems.

He arrived 20 minutes early in hopes of getting their paperwork filled out and getting in sooner. Neither he nor Marc expected to walk into the waiting room and be stopped dead in their tracks.

Directly behind the reception desk was a wooden door with a metal plaque that dawned "Dr. Simone Fredrick" on it, and to the side was a crystal clear glass window to the office.

The blinds were drawn, and they spotted a woman in a yellow button-up top through that window. This woman had long dark hair, skin that took the same tone as a cup of London Fog, and the sweetest smile that fit perfectly to the lower half of her face. She was chatting with another man who was barely visible through the window but was clearly the doctor they came to see.

She was the most incredible woman Steven had ever laid eyes on. It was terrifying for him.

Without further deliberation, Marc backed them out of the office and outside. "Steven, Holy shit!" He said.

"She was gorgeous, yeah?" Steven replied. Marc popped back in, feeling slightly panicky.

"We can't go back in there."

Steven felt Marc's anxiety but couldn't pinpoint why he was suddenly feeling this way. "Why the bloody hell not? We have an appointment!"

"I know that woman, or I knew her, at least," Marc said. Steven took control, thinking he had never seen her before, and stepped over to look through the glass doors.

There she was, still talking to Dr. Dooley. She turned her head in their direction, and he moved to the side of the building again before she could spot them.

"How do you know her?" Steven asked, trying to make sense of it.

"We were friends in school. She was probably the only friend I had. She's-"

"She's so attractive it's unreal. I gotta meet her." Steven insisted. Marc took back over without warning and began walking in the opposite direction of the office.

"Nope. Absolutely not. Odds are she'll recognize me, and it'll be weird."

Just as quickly, Steven changed their direction. "She won't recognize me, though." He said. Marc wouldn't budge on the subject. Knowing Simone, she would clock him right away. He pivoted and began walking the other way again.

"Right, the guy who shares a whole fuckin' face with me. Genius! We're going home."

"Why are you the one chickening out?" Steven asked, stopping them where they were, realizing to passersby they must look nuts pacing back and forth.

"Because I know she's gonna take one good look at us and say 'Marc motherfucking Spector' and hit me! And she's got a ruthless right hook that I don't think either of us wanna be on the business end of."

As he spoke, he started taking off further down the sidewalk.

Under no circumstances are we coming back to this place. Moni looks happy, let's not fuck that up. Marc thought to himself. Steven had just about given in to Marc's insistence.

"Excuse me?" They heard a sweet, American voice speak up from behind them. They stopped and turned around slowly to find Simone, who had seen them looking through the door after all, waiting for them to respond.

Steven got in the driver's seat, and Marc retreated back to his corner of their collective brain.

"Oh, hi." Steven greeted.

Simone couldn't quite place it: she had seen this man before. Somewhere, somehow. She was surprised that he had a local accent, seeing as she didn't know many locals, particularly ones this gorgeous. She figured there wasn't any harm in coming out and asking.

"Do I know you? I saw you from inside, and I could've sworn-"

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," Steven said, holding his hand out. "Steven Grant," He introduced himself as casually as he could muster. She was even more beautiful up close.

Though Simone found him charming, she indeed hadn't met him before. She stuck her hand out and shook,

"Simone Fredrick." She greeted. She found him quite handsome when he wasn't creeping through her office door. So much so that their handshake was dragging on a bit longer than average.

The pair realized this at the same time and pulled their hands away. Simone gestured to the building they were standing by, realizing there was zero context to how she spotted him. "I work just inside there, by the way. I'm taking lunch now, but I can help if you were looking for someone through that door." She said, followed by a laugh.

Steven found the humor in it, realizing they hadn't backed out soon enough and admiring how adorable she was about teasing him for it. "Just never been in that building before. Wanted to see what it was all about... psychiatry and all." He told her awkwardly.

Simone sensed this was a lie, but Steven spoke up again before she could overthink it. "You got a business card?" He asked.

There was silence between them for a second as Simone thought about it. Business card? Like, he wants my office number? Who am I, Patrick Bateman?

"I don't, actually. But-" Simone stopped and dug through her bag for a moment, pulling out a pen and an old punch card to a bubble tea place nearby. She put the card on the brick wall and wrote out her office number before, in a feat of spontaneity, she also wrote her personal cell number. "The first one is the number to the office, with my direct extension. The other is my cell." She told him as the card changed hands.

Steven looked at the card and smiled, noticing how professional her handwriting looked and how she crossed her sevens. "I'll be using these." He told her. He took a second to think if he should ask her to lunch right then and there but realized how quiet Marc was.

Shit, he thought. I should get home and talk to him about this.

"I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Simone." Steven said, backing up down the sidewalk. Simone flashed him a million-dollar grin and nodded,

"You, as well, Steven."

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