#steven grant/reader

[asimplearchivist]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ there was no possible way that you could have romantic feelings for steven. right? pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.1k a/n ☽ ⤏ my sixth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter ii. ⤏ trying to resist the urge to tell myself this is repetitive. had to cut it off there or else it would’ve been way too long. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

You’re going to give us an ulcer if you keep this up—and I, for one, do not want to have to chug that wretched pink shit for the next few weeks.

“Hush,” Steven muttered, glancing towards the window next to him to level his host with a dark glare, but he was distracted by the skewed angle of the lapel lying haphazardly across his clavicle. He frowned in concentration as he readjusted it and smoothed it back down to rights with a clammy, trembling palm. “You’re not helpin’.”

Marc’s brow was furrowed, arms folded tightly over his chest, appearing rather dour to be mirroring the pressed, brightly patterned shirt and light slacks he’d talked Steven into wearing—Marc’s canvas jacket suited the look as well as the stormy weather, although Steven’s insistence on wearing his favorite dress shoes was the one concession that the alter was unwilling to sacrifice.

Marc had argued with him for nearly ten minutes not to wear the suit coat for just a quick bite before returning to the flat, and Steven had only relented once he’d realized that you’d still be wearing your casual clothes since he was picking you up from work. He knew that you liked to dress up, too, if he made the effort to do so, and that you grew a little self-conscious if you looked ‘frumpy’ (although, in his opinion, you never looked anything short of stunning—even with dust smudged on your cheek from the shop’s prolific collection of old books, espresso splattered all across your sleeves, or ink smeared on your hands after your long days spent working and studying), so he’d sooner invest in your comfort than to preen at your expense.

…Not that he was trying to preen or anything. You just made him feel like the biggest catch this side of the Thames, for once in his life—and while he would never willingly admit it, Steven liked the idea of showing off a bit for you. His nerves and insecurities still got the best of him every now and again, but most of the time your adoring gaze and easy smiles served an invaluable salve for his fretful tendencies.

He liked to look nice for you—liked the way you’d give him that lingering once-over out of the corner of your eye like you didn’t think he’d notice it. Depending on the colors he wore, he could elicit varying intensities of a reaction; the studious side of him was fascinated with how soft shades of blue kept your gaze trained on the contrast of the collar and his neck, whereas deeper jewel tones of crimson and juniper drew your stare further up to his unkempt curls and eyes. Trim slacks and khakis caused lingering glances towards his legs and posterior, if he happened to have his back turned to you. If he took off his coat, you’d peek at the silhouettes of his arms and shoulders under the pressed cotton. If his sleeves ever happened to be rolled up, you blatantly and openly gawked at the muscles flexing in his forearms and the articulation of tendons in his hands—that flustered him more than anything else.

You weren’t shy about telling him that you found him attractive, either. Although he was still growing accustomed to your consistent sprinkling of compliments—each as sincere, as meaningful, and as thoughtful as the last—he appreciated your earnesty beyond any thanks he could express with simple words. He stood taller in your presence, didn’t stoop or hunch to make himself appear smaller; he didn’t stutter as much, and he spoke with confidence and ease even when launching into his infamous tangents and drawing skeptical glances from strangers; he even found it getting easier, over time, to flirt with you in return, learning that you grew flustered when he gave you half-lidded looks or shivered when he lowered his voice into a murmur near your ear (although he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle, subconscious changes in his behavior had Marc not remarked upon them).

He felt comfortable with you—attractive and valuable and wanted without deceit nor facetiousness—something he had never before experienced beyond his connection to Marc. To others, he was an overenthusiastic nuisance, or a negligible commodity at best, but to you he was important. You cared for him, wanted him to be happy, and never expected anything in return, save his honest companionship.

…But the boundaries for that had started to blur, hadn’t they? Ever since he and Marc had returned from Cairo, you and Steven had grown closer than ever before. With you given just short of full disclosure about his situation (although this was not for lack of faith in your reasonability, since Steven himself hadn’t been aware of all the details until relatively recently—and they would cross the bridge about telling you about their suited vigilante days when it became relevant, although he hoped it never would be), he no longer felt the urge to keep up appearances. He no longer had to fret about hiding the more cornering traits of his supposed sleeping disorder from you, since the true nature of his midnight meanderings had been discovered. He had no more secrets save those that no longer occupied his life at present, no more worries, because you saw and knew and understood most everything that encapsulated him.

That, inevitably, led to a rather blatant and ardent infatuation on his part, seeded by his initial attraction and long-standing friendship with you and germinated by your steadfastness and dedication even after their…episode—one extremely difficult to restrict, and one for which Marc had been teasing him relentlessly now that he had met you, too.

You really ought to tell her, you know, said the devil about whom he thought.

“Yeah, right,” Steven scoffed, tilting his head forward to scrutinize and pick at the layers of unruly curls parted along the side of his scalp with his fingers—they never did sit quite right, even when he made the effort to comb them while they were wet. Marc had wanted to plaster them back with gel to avoid the hassle altogether, but Steven had resolutely set his foot down—you adored their curls and Steven despised the sensation of the pomade on his scalp, so he would not stand to see Marc glue them down like he always did when he had the steering wheel. “Sure, I’d love to put myself out there to be rejected again. You know how bloody well that went the last time I had a date.”

That was my fault. Marc owned up to it, at least. But it won’t happen again.

“You don’t know that,” Steven told him, hushed and tense. “I could just…she’s said we’re mates, yeah? But she could think we’re just mates.”

The way she looks at you? Yeah, totally platonic, Marc remarked, rolling his eyes. You’re her ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world’ and she just so happens to want to climb you like a tree when you ramble about regicide in Ancient Egypt of all things.

Steven’s face prickled with heat as he glared at his host. “How would you know, huh?”

Marc tipped his head forward and raised a knowing brow. The bastard had the gall to smirk at him.

Steven scowled. He could point out how utterly insufferable his host had acted around Layla, awkward and ignorant like a teenager as far as reading her as he had been, but he wouldn’t stoop so low…for now. (As long as he didn’t continue to take the piss out of him, that is.) “Oh, Mister ‘I’ve-Been-Married-A-Grand-Total-of-Once’ is suddenly an expert on the art of interpretin’ female attraction! I’m sure you’ve just got the entire situation nailed down like a psychoanalysis, yeah?”

Give me ten minutes to let me direct the conversation and I can tell you all of her—

“No! No, thank you,” Steven blurted, dragging a hand over his eyes and nose to clasp over his mouth. If his face had grown any hotter in the handful of awkwardly silent seconds that followed that particular statement, Steven was certain that it would have been capable of spontaneous combustion. He floundered for a moment, mouth opening and shutting in search of a response, while Marc started chuckling, but he was saved by the bell, so to speak.

“Hey, darlin’!” you chirped through the doorway as it cracked open and you slipped out of the coffee shop. “I didn’t realize you were here at first, but Amy saw you in the window. You could’ve texted me, you know—I hate that you stood out here in the cold.”

“Oh, I haven’t been here long,” Steven assured you, turning to offer to take your purse. You allowed him to hold it while you shrugged on your coat and wrapped the scarf he’d recently gifted you around your neck. “Where would you like to eat tonight, love?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d let me try my hand at something new tonight,” you started, then hesitated. “If that’s, uh, okay. I’d have to run into the store to grab some groceries, so if you’d rather wait for another night we can. I completely understand if it’s too late for that.”

And refuse your feats of culinary masterpieces? He thought bloody not. “That would be wonderful, as long as you’re not too terribly knackered to stand over the stove,” Steven said brightly. “I can help.”

Your smile was dazzling even under the unflattering whine of the fluorescent street lamp. “Thank you. I think you’ll like this one.”

“As if I’ve ever disliked anythin’ you’ve cooked for me,” he scoffed in disbelief.

“Okay, sure, but I think you’ll really like this one,” you amended, slinging your purse over your shoulder and grabbing his arm to tug him towards the bus stop. “Come on.”

The ride was filled with idle chatter about each other’s days. Steven was still adjusting to working during the day shifts after his reemployment as a tour guide at the museum, and he somewhat missed sitting with you while you closed up the coffee shop already—but it had given him the opportunity to tidy up the flat and to clean up before returning to the block to fetch you. You’d been tasked with reorganizing the used classical and poetry section, so you’d spent the better part of your day elbow-deep in dusty old books. (Steven was having a very difficult time resisting the urge to snuff the biblichor lingering on your scalp—there was nothing better than the combination of your signature perfume and books to him.) An older man had walked up on you to ask you a question and it had startled you—you’d barely stopped a whole row from toppling down on you since you’d been standing on a stepstool at the time. He’d apologized profusely, but you said that the image of you teetering on that rickety old hunk of metal was probably the funniest thing you’d pictured yourself doing in a long time.

“But you’re not hurt, right?” Steven pressed, brow furrowed.

“No, I’m good,” you answered, nudging him in the side with your elbow. “I’ve got a thick skull—you ought to know that by now, darlin’.”

The stop in the general store was, true to your word, a quick one. He recognized some of the ingredients, but he had no idea how you were going to combine them all into something undeniably delicious. By the time you both got to his flat, you were cutting up and he was laughing a bit louder than what was appropriate close to midnight.

“Here, I’ll get started,” you told him as you unloaded the sacks on the kitchen counter, “why don’t you go pick something to put on for background noise?”

“Sure thing, love,” he responded, turning to do just that. When he came back, you were in the middle of warming oil in a saucepan while dicing some vegetables. “What can I do?”

“I’d kill for some of that lemonade we made the other day if you have any left over,” you commented. “But you could help me get this chopped up. I’ll need the emulsifier. It’s just a simple soup I thought was interesting—I haven’t used sundried tomatoes before. It reminds me of a pasta sauce I’ve seen before, but this is more like a tomato soup than anything.”

“Sounds divine,” Steven told you, stooping over into the fridge to pull out the pitcher in question. He’d left enough for two more servings. “Will you want a grilled cheese?”

“No, I’m okay.” You bumped your hip into his as thanks when he set a glass within your reach, the ice clinking against the glass. “I’m kind of beat, honestly, so if I can get this down before I pass out, I’ll be lucky.”

“I washed your spare clothes if you’d like to go shower while I watch the pot,” he offered. “They’re on top of the dresser.”

“I may take you up on that offer,” you admitted. “Can you dice these tomatoes?”

It, perhaps, should have been a little worrisome how easily he fell into such a domestic routine with you. Even if Marc suspected you had feelings for him that weren’t strictly platonic, Steven wondered whether your natural exuberance was causing him to misread your behavior. But it was in the moments that you intentionally brushed against him when such contact could’ve been avoided, displaying your comfort so loudly without saying a word, that he dared to let that little flicker of hope breathe itself to life. You seemed committed to keeping some form of contact with him at all times, your hands touching his arms or sides as you orbited him like his own personal little moon. You only spoke in that low, inexplicably soothing tone.

Steven watched the pan while you retreated to the bathroom. You reemerged with damp, shiny hair and dewy, softly-scented skin, and it was even harder for him not to catch a whiff as you floated around him grabbing cutlery and bowls and napkins like you had the layout of his flat memorized. You even put the kettle on without him even having to ask, setting out a mug and a teabag for him to fix how he preferred it.

After blitzing the vegetables together and adding a bit of coconut cream to smooth it out, your dish was completed and smelled utterly divine topped with fresh basil. You both ended up settled shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch in front of the television, slurping spoonfuls and idly commenting on the film he’d chosen. It was cozy and calm and exactly what he needed after having a class of rowdy six-graders that had seemed interested in anything but what he’d had to say during their field trip for which he’d been tasked to provide a tour that morning (he should have suspected something was remiss when the teacher’s name had popped up on the itinerary and all the other guides had—quite brightly and appraisingly—suggested he take it; it was a marvel to him, really, that the school could miss the fact that she had utilized the opportunity to be paid to scroll on her phone while he was forced to wrangle the feral children supposedly under her care).

That was exactly the tale he regaled when you asked him, midway through the movie during a lull in the plot, if anything interesting had happened to him that day. You looked rightly disgruntled on his behalf, huffing that he was far too nice to tolerate that sort of negligence and that you would have set her in her place had you been there. He’d gently, if amusedly, informed you that it had somewhat worked out in the end—with no small (nor well-hidden) amount of satisfaction, he told you that his obligation to supervise them all had ended upon delivering the troop to the gift shop at the end of the tour…where Donna had been stuck on shift yet again (since so few people applied for the position due to its low wages combined with the high turnover rate as a result of her nasty behavior and poor management style…but Steven wasn’t normally one to gloat over such things; you, however, had been utterly delighted to hear it).

“At least that bitch got some of what she deserves,” you said, tipping your chin up and glaring down the end of your nose at the screen. “I hope she regrets every last negative word she said to you now that she has to pick up all the shit she dumped on you.”

“It doesn’t matter in the long run, love,” he reminded you, although his chuckle was difficult to smother. It did give him some satisfaction to see it, else he’d have been made a liar to suggest otherwise…but just a little bit. “I don’t answer to her anymore.”

“Good, or else I might’ve felt the need to cut a bitch,” you grumbled.

Steven jumped slightly as Marc’s low, huffing laugh caught him off guard. He glanced over at one of the mirrors he’d mounted on the available space of a nearby bookshelf, and his host’s moody, brooding eyes were twinkling with equal parts mirth and mischief. He didn’t say a word, as he tended to give the front a wide berth when Steven was having personal time with you, but the weight of his presence was a reassuring one. His host lifted his brows and glanced pointedly in your direction, tipping his head towards you for emphasis.

Steven cast him a dark glare. Marc had been teasing him for a week now about finally making a move in the most cliché and inane manner possible, but Steven was resolute that it was not ideal. He respected you highly and didn’t want to give you a poor experience that might smother any chances he had of winning over your good graces. Your ex had been the pushy sort, and he wanted to be anything but. It was simply unfortunate that his and Marc’s individual approaches to romance were vastly contrary.

“Let’s not add ‘murder’ to your long, impressive list of accomplishments, yeah?” Steven proposed mildly, watching you glance up at him with a smirk and glittering eyes of your own.

“Fine,” you sighed, resting your temple briefly on his shoulder. “If you insist.”

“I do,” he nodded. “Wouldn’t be very good if you wind up in prison defending somebody like me.”

“You ought to know by now that there’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for you, Steven,” you responded, rolling your eyes, but there was something couched in your tone that piqued his attention.

He blinked, then glanced towards the mirror again, but Marc was gone. So much for his bloody help regarding women.

“You do know that, right?” you prompted a little quieter, and when he looked over, you were gazing up at him through your lashes out of your periphery.

Steven relaxed as that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling unfurling within his chest like the blooming of a flower in the morning. “I do,” he returned softly. “And I hope you know that sentiment is mutual.”

You stared at him, then, head turning little by little until your full, beseeching gaze was fixed on him. His heart pounded raucously against his ribs as he became acutely aware of your hand slipping over to squeeze his knee gently—he was shocked you couldn’t hear it, because it was loud enough he very nearly didn’t hear your next words. “…Can I kiss you?”

He swallowed roughly, a reflexive action that caused him to jump. His hand, shaky and clammy, settled over yours, his fingers slotting alongside your own. He licked his lips, sucked in a breath that rattled in his lungs, and managed a jerky nod. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Please?”

Your free hand cupped his chin, fingertips tracing along his jawline with undeserved reverence before settling his cheek into the cradle of your palm, and he stooped slightly to save your neck as you lifted your chin to meet him halfway. He blinked, startled, as your lips—soft and smooth—chastely met the corner of his mouth. The split-second confused thought of you missing was promptly erased when you tilted your head and repeated the motion to the opposite side, lingering just a tad bit longer there.

Oh. Oh.

He clamped his eyelids shut.

The featherdown flutter of your doe-like lashes tickling the arch of his cheek as you kissed him proper, gentle and slow and tender, skyrocketed his pulse. He wondered idly, somewhere in the back of his muddled mind, if he was in any danger of having cardiac arrest at this rate. Heat flooded his face like wildfire, sweat springing up along his hairline as he reached out to touch you, too.

His trembling fingers made contact with the side of your neck, first, and to his inexplicable delight and relief he could feel your heartbeat racing alongside your throat, too. He curled his hand around your nape, thumb stroking the tender skin beneath the shell of your ear as an indescribable, high-pitched whine escaped you. He cracked an eye open to watch your expression cringe with embarrassment, but you made up for it by sliding your fingers into his curls to tug his head into a deeper angle. A gutted, broken groan bubbled out of the pit of his chest before he could stop it.

You began to litter his lips with quick, light pecks, and never before had Steven quite felt cherished. You pulled back just a hair’s breadth to catch your breath. “You have…no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“I can hazard a guess,” he mumbled, pulling you back in, “‘cause you’re in the same boat as I am.”

You let out a needy, desperate little noise that lanced down his spine. Steven Grant had never considered himself a selfish person by any stretch of the imagination, but he was quite certain at that moment that if he didn’t hear it again immediately he would die.

Oxygen became a hazy concept, but even the most ardent and devoted of adorators required it. When you broke away to suck in a lungful, Steven dared to look at you. You were dazed, eyes hazy and lips puffy, but the way you glowed in the dim lighting was like nothing he’d ever envisioned in all his studies of art. And you were staring at him as though he had hung each and every last individual star in the sky.

“I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” you murmured, “but I couldn’t hold it anymore.”

“I never wanted to assume,” he added quietly. “I was fine with being mates, but I always wondered…I didn’t want to pressure you, after…I just wanted you to feel comfortable if…”

“I know,” you interrupted him mercifully, leaning back in. “I know. Thank you for being patient.”

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you,” he mumbled into your mouth, too enchanted to shut off his stream of consciousness, “but it never felt right, and I didn’t want to lose my only friend—my best friend—yet it was absolute torture not knowing—”

“I didn’t know if I could bear to make myself vulnerable to be hurt again,” you returned, shifting to kiss along his cheek, “and I had to work myself up to take the risk. You’re all I’ve got left anymore. Maybe I’m selfish to want more than what we have, but God, Steven, I want you so bad, I can hardly stand it.”

The lump in the pit of his throat nearly choked him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder, arms coiling around you and holding you tightly against his chest. “I do, too,” he breathed. “Like I need air.”

You returned the hug with a ferocity he hadn’t felt from you before. You were shaking, too, and it soothed him to know that the nerves were mutual, as well. For being very transparent people by nature, the both of you had managed a miracle of hiding your feelings from each other for so long.

“I need you to know that I can only do it if you’re all in,” you said, muffled by the material of his shirt. “My heart can’t take it otherwise.”

“You have all of me and more, poppet,” he told you, smothering his face into your scalp. “I swear to you I’ll do better than anyone else has or could. I’ll earn it, I promise. I can be worthy of you. I’ll sooner hurt myself than ever dream of hurting you.”

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #reader insert #steven grant #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #moonknightevents

[soft-girl-musings]

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

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

wc: 1,078

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

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

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

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

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

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

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

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

“Ha-ha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not.”

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

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

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my days–” 

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

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

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

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

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

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

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

“What, no hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

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

#my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #jake lockley/gn!reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant/gn!reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector/reader #marc spector x gn!reader #marc spector/gn!reader #never getting this system out of mine

[midgardian-witch]

can i request moon boys walking into the room to see reader just zoned out and like. slapping/tapping something repeatedly😭😭i know this sounds really weird but i do it all the time and i wonder how theyd react. i feel like theyd really understand zoning out often while doing some random task

It's not that weird, anon, no worries! I do hope I managed to fit what you imagined and that you like what I came up with 💙

Tapped Out

tags: fluff | domestic situations | established relationship | gn!reader

ships: Moon Knight System/Reader

AO3

Marc

The suit unravels around him as he crawls through the open window into your shared flat. Marc takes a cursory look around until he sees light coming from the bathroom. 

Walking over he makes sure to make his footsteps louder than usual so you don't get spooked when he suddenly appears behind you. 

As he opens the door to the bathroom further, the sudden light disorientates him for a moment. He blinks and squints his eyes before he sees your silhouette in front of the sink. The mirror in front of you shows your face, toothbrush hanging limp in your mouth as your eyes stare blankly into nothingness. You look kind of adorable like this, like a puppy that forgot where it was going and just looks off into space. 

It takes him a moment, distracted by seeing you and realizing how much he missed you even for those few hours, to notice the sound. 

Your hand is slapping against the bathroom sink, no rhyme nor reason behind the timing of the hits. Marc cannot discern any pattern behind the slapping. Maybe something you do subconsciously? Well, as long as you didn't hurt yourself he really doesn't mind. 

To get your attention he starts rapping his knuckles against the doorway, not too loud, softly starting a rhythm of his own. Slowly your slapping adjusts to his rhythm until the two of you are synchronizing. 

It takes a few moments until your hand rests flat on the sink, the sound of your tapping fading out as Marc stops his movements too. He watches how your eyes regain focus in your reflection. You blink a few times before you see Marc behind you through the mirror. Toothbrush still in your mouth you turn around to greet him. As your mouth forms the words to your cheery hello the brush tumbles from between your lips onto the bathroom floor. 

Marc chuckles and steps towards you, kneeling down to reach for the toothbrush and hand it to you. "Hey sweetheart," he greets you with a smile, "Sorry for being late. You know you don't have to stay up for me, right?"

You take the brush from him and place it on the sink. "I know, but I like to see you before I go to sleep. Preferably I'd be going to sleep with you in bed with me," you counter and lean down to kiss his cheek sweetly before he gets up from the floor. 

"Hmmm, bed sounds good right about now," he murmurs as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close. He doesn't mention that you've zoned out, doesn't comment on the toothbrush debacle - that's not important. Important is that he can hold you in his arms. 

You wrinkle your nose at him. "Alright, but you're taking a shower first, Mister." You both laugh and Marc nods, "I get your point. Wait for me in bed?" 

Steven

Your lips pull into a sly grin. "Who said you're taking that shower alone?" 

As he gets home from work, a spring in his step at the thought of coming home to you, Steven is a bit worried when you don't respond to him calling your name. 

"Love?" he calls nervously into your shared apartment. As he walks into the living room he sees you staring at a book, your fingers tapping rhythmically against your thigh, the book held tightly in your other hand. 

He tilts his head quizzically, watching you in silence for a moment. You looked like you weren't even reading, your eyes just staring blankly at the pages in front of you. 

Steven doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to scare you of course but you seem so lost in thought. The dull sound of your fingers tapping against your thigh echoes through the room. He doesn’t even dare breathe, afraid he may spook you with even that. 

Very quietly Steven makes his way over to you, the couch leaving enough space for him to fit comfortably beside you. 

You feel the weight on the couch shift, the subtle difference slowly pulling you back to reality. Steven freezes as you blink at him owlishly. With an embarrassed smile he waves at you. 

"Hiya, love," you watch him lean closer, taking a not so subtle peak at your book, "You ok?" 

"Yeah, I just spaced out a little. I didn't even hear you come in," you respond a little embarrassed. Steven just smiles at you kindly. "Ah don't worry, love. Happens to the best of us," he tells you with a wink. 

Jake

Carefully you put your book to the side, placing a bookmark where you left off and lean into Steven. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you cuddle. 

As Jake enters your shared flat, his hat safely placed onto a coat rack, the sounds of something repeatedly hitting the granite counter and of something bubbling echoes from the kitchen. Curious, Jake walks over to investigate the noise and is greeted by the sight of you. 

You're standing at the counter, back turned to Jake. Your gaze seems fixated on the bubbling pot in front of you, a delicious scent emanating from it, as your hand repeatedly hits the granite counter next to the stove. 

Your hand is inching a little too close to the hot stove for Jake's liking, so without thinking he steps forward and gently grabs your wrist. You flinch, looking at him with wide eyes. "Perdón, mi vida. I didn't mean to startle you," Jake raises your hand up towards him and places a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, an apologetic smile on his face. Your gaze softens and you lean forward to press your lips to his cheek and return his kiss.

"It's ok. I zoned out a little and didn't notice you." He hums thoughtfully and carefully lets go of your wrist. "I noticed. I was worried you might hurt yourself by accident, mi alma," Jake replies and points at the hot stove that still has a pot bubbling on top of it. You nod in understanding. As you turn back to your cooking, unsure what else to say, you feel Jake wrap his arms around you from behind.

"I know you can't control when you zone out, just as much as we can't control who fronts most of the time just…," he trails off and you can feel the nervous energy practically radiating off of him. You lean into his embrace. "I'll try to be more careful. Please don't worry too much about me, baby."

You can feel him smile against your skin as he kisses your neck softly. "I know you are capable of keeping yourself safe, mi vida. Just let me worry a little."

With a soft laugh you nod, "Just a little."

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #marc spector/reader #steven grant/reader #jake lockley/reader #moon knight/reader #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight system #fran-writes

[apesarecuul]

How different Oscar Isaac Characters hold you while you’re riding NSFW

Just had a few thoughts

Steven:

Steven is a tits guy. Guy or girl he’s sitting up so his face is buried in your chest using both hands to push your pecks/breasts closer to his face. He’s messy. Spit is everywhere and you’re both going to need a bath later. You will have to do most of the work because this man is too lost in the sauce to do anything other than mouth at your chest and tell you how pretty he thinks you are.

Jake:

He differentiates between two options, both hands on your hips or one hand on your hip and the other gripping your neck. He sits up so he can stare at all your little expressions. He likes to have leverage so he can hit that spot that makes your eyes flutter.

Marc:

If you two are testing the waters or just not emotionally intimate he definitely has both hands on your thighs while he’s laying down. Once he’s comfortable however…. He’s trying to be as close as possible. One arm hooking under yours so he can grip your shoulder and the other on your thigh. He’s honestly just taking whatever skin he can reach.

Blue:

Orderly!Blue lives to see you ride. Club Owner!Blue however needs a lot of convincing. They both gravitate towards whatever soft bit of skin they can reach though. They grip onto the soft skin on your neck, hips, thighs, they especially love the meaty bit between the neck and the shoulder. He needs to sink his teeth into it.

Anselm:

He’s a lot like Blue and Marc in the way that he will hold onto any skin he can reach. He’s not as desperate though. He’s patient. He likes to sit against the headboard and just watch. Caressing your body oh so gently. That is until you start slowing down. Then he grips the meat of your hips telling you that you can do better than that. Oxygen tank is nearby.

Cecil Dennis:

We all love him. We’ve all come to accept that he isn’t the best at the whole ‘god in bed’ thing but I’ll be damned if he can’t make it up with desperation. He has one hand behind him and the other on your chest. Looking up at you and hoping you like it. He ruts into as fast as he can until you tell him to slow down. He cries if your pace is too slow for him.

I wish they had more colors

Johnathan Levy:

He does his best to be calm and collected. He starts with just two hands lightly holding onto your hips but he can’t keep it up for long. It starts with him sitting up planting his feet to rock into you. Eventually devolves into him holding you so he can just move your hips into a slow grind before he begins slamming his hips into yours. Similar to Anselm he keeps his inhaler nearby because our man has asthma.

#oscar isaac #marc spector/reader #Anselm vogelweide/reader #steven grant/reader #Jake Lockely/reader #Blue Jones/reader #Cecil Dennis/reader #Johnathan Levy/reader

[drinkingwithkhonshu]

thinking about jake lockley in an apron and briefs kneading bread with flour on his nose and all over his arms, the muscles bunching and flexing as his fingers curl the dough into a smooth ball to rest before he begins to braid it into a masterpiece

thinking about marc spector, dressed in dark, tight clothes without a speck of food on him, chopping vegetables and meat for dinner, so particular about keeping the knives and boards separate, adding it all to the pot and propping the spice cabinet open to season it all and bringing it up to heat and filling the flat with mouthwatering, savory aroma

thinking about steven grant with his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he trails his blunt fingertip down the page in the recipe book propped open on the counter, powdered sugar sprinkled in his dark curls as he finds his place to follow the next step in the recipe

thinking about you orbiting all of them as they work, helping where you can while fixing your own side dishes, letting your hands brush against their sides and wrists and back as you slip behind and around them, littering kisses and murmuring lovings

just…the moon boys being domestic in the kitchen🥺I think food is my love language

#it is fall and I am thinking about holiday food #num num num #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #reader insert #steven grant/reader #marc spector/reader #jake lockley/reader #headcanons #mine #fisara’s scrawlings

[coloredcrystalcinnabar]

Pet Names

Marc: baby

Steven: love

Jake: mi amor

Khonshu: You little worm. Tiny bug. Gross, insignificant mortal. My child. Pathetic squirming fleshbag. My pet.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marvel #mr knight #khonshu/reader #khonshu x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector/reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley/reader

[din-jarhead]

Sweet

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (bye bye minors)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Tags: smut, porn with a little plot, subby!Steven, soft dom!reader, loss of virginity (Steven), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv (don’t do that in real life pls), dry humping, praise kink, use of pet names (good boy, etc.), cockwarming if you squint, aftercare

A/N: Look, I… I don’t know what to say for myself. Steven does things to me and I just wanna see him beg, okay? No Moon Knight spoilers, this takes place vaguely before the events of the series, and is also not really canon compliant anyway lol.

Steven Grant is sweet. No word can better describe the man. He’s shy, kind, a bit of a disaster. You just want to wrap him up in a blanket and give him some tea.

But you also want to make him squirm.

Maybe it’s depraved, but you can’t help it. Every time you see him awkwardly wringing his hands together and trying his best to hold a conversation you imagine how he would look and sound under you, desperate and needy. You figure he’s a virgin, the way he can barely look a girl in the eye, let alone ask one on a date. But that doesn’t matter to you, you want him.

Your fantasies aren’t entirely cruel, though. Yes, you want him whining and begging, but you really just want to take care of him. You know that getting him worked up would make his release feel so much better in the end, and he deserves that. You want him to be your good boy, but you don’t know how to make it happen.

The aforementioned inability to form a coherent sentence in the presence of really anyone, let alone a beautiful woman, makes things difficult. You know he isn’t completely socially inept, he’d obviously managed to get a job and seemed to have a friend or two, but he has obviously been under a lot of stress recently. Hence your desire to help him relieve it.

You had been building up to it, slowly. You’d started by just being a friend. You made sure to be patient with him whenever he stumbled over a word, giving him an encouraging smile when you passed him at work.

You moved up to having the occasional lunch together, allowing him to control the conversation, or lack thereof. You didn’t mind sitting in silence with him, if that’s what made him comfortable.

After a few weeks, you’re having lunch most days, enjoying casual conversation. You can still see the stress on his face and in his eyes, but it doesn’t seem to be stemming from having to interact with you.

You decide it might be time to take the leap.

“Steven?” He was zoned out, you’d hit a pause in the conversation and his mind had wandered elsewhere. You get his attention, reminding him that someone else was there.

His eyes refocus, landing on your face. He doesn’t quite make eye contact still, but he makes an effort.

“Sorry, was just thinking.”

“That’s okay, I just have a question for you” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

His brow furrows, confusion evident on his gorgeous face. You’d been shocked when you first met him that everyone wasn’t falling all over themselves to get a date with this man, he was so pretty. Even though he dressed in clothes that were too big for him and never remotely matched, you could tell he had a great body and his face was like a Greek god. Then you’d had a conversation with him and understood why most people wouldn’t want to put in the effort of getting him out of his shell.

You take his silence as a cue to continue.

“I was just wondering if you might want to get dinner or a drink or something after work.”

“Oh, yes that would be nice, do you mean— is this… I mean—“

You smile at his hesitance, clearly trying to figure out if this was a date or not but not sure how to ask.

“Yes like a date, Steven” you explain, seeing his expression change from worried to relieved.

“Okay, good, yeah. Dinner sounds good. I don’t really drink so… yeah dinner.”

“Great, I’ll meet you at the gift shop when your shift ends?” You pick up your bag and stand, making your way back to work.

“Okay” he practically whispers, looking dazed and clearly processing what has just happened.

“Okay, see you later, Steven” you reply cheerfully, also excited for the evening.

The rest of the work day feels unbearably long, but you get through it and it’s finally 7, the end of your shift and time to meet Steven. You make your way to the gift shop, waiting quietly as Steven finishes with his last customer. He was thankfully not late or otherwise a frustration for Donna today and did not have to do inventory.

When the customer leaves, Steven looks over and sees you, his face lighting up. You give him a small wave, and he grabs his bag and walks to you. He has both hands holding tightly to the strap of his bag, clearly nervous but not unhappy.

“Hiya” he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

Since you were done working, you’ve unbuttoned your shirt a bit, and you see Steven’s eyes fall briefly to your more exposed chest, which is exactly what you’d hoped for.

“Ready to go?” Steven nods. “There’s a great place near my flat that has a lot of vegan options, it’s really good but also a casual atmosphere, you wanna go there?”

“Sounds lovely.” Steven’s face flushes a bit, seemingly catching on to the implications of you mentioning the proximity to your place.

You make your way to the restaurant, chatting about your days as you walk. You fortunately get a table tucked away in the corner, not too close to anyone else so you can talk without feeling surrounded by strangers. You and Steven have a wonderful conversation, he’s very excited to talk with you about Egyptian mythology, and you love the way his face lights up when you ask him questions. When the check comes Steven insists on paying, adding to your increasing anticipation of getting him back to your flat.

When you walk out of the restaurant, Steven seems unsure if the evening is about to be over or not. You hold his hand, fingers lacing with his, and he looks at you hopefully.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” You ask, not bothering to think of a reason for inviting him there since you both know what you really meant.

His breath hitches.

“Yeah. Please.” He nods quickly.

The walk to your place is quick, as intended, and soon you’re sitting on your couch next to Steven, letting your thigh brush against his.

His nerves had clearly gone up exponentially, and you can tell he wants to say something.

“Everything okay?” You ask gently, wanting to make sure he really wanted this and he didn’t feel pressured.

“Yeah, I want to do this, trust me” he emphasizes, eyes scaling your body, “I’ve just, um… I haven’t ever, you know…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I don’t care about that, Steven. Just follow my lead and let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable okay? I’ll take care of you. Will you be a good boy for me? Let me make you feel good?” You move one hand to his knee.

He whimpers a little at your words, nodding slowly.

“I need you to use your words, love.”

“Yes, yes I’ll be good” Steven manages, swallowing thickly as we waits for your next move.

“Good. Just say stop if there’s anything you don’t like, okay? We’ll start slow. Can I kiss you?” You had moved your hand further up his thigh, rubbing soft circles with your thumb.

Steven nods, then remembers to use his words, good boy, and takes a steadying breath.

“Yes.”

You move your unoccupied hand to his face, pulling him toward you. Steven’s eyes flutter closed as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is a little awkward and stiff right at first, but Steven quickly gets the hang of things and lets himself relax into it. After a moment you coax his mouth open with your tongue and he follows your lead, licking into your mouth with hunger.

His hands had at some point moved to your hips, pulling you closer to him. It isn’t quite close enough, yet, so you shift, planting one knee on either side of his hips and straddling his lap. That earns you another small whimper, which sounds even better than you had imagined.

With some effort, Steven breaks the kiss, sliding his hands upward slightly to the hem of your shirt. “Can I—?” He looks up at you hopefully, small creases forming on his brow as he searches for an answer.

You can’t stop yourself from moving a hand to his face again, gently smoothing those little creases with your thumb.

“Yes, baby, of course” Steven sighs, crashing his lips to yours again as he allows his hands to slip up and under your top. His hands find your breasts, touching with hesitance at first but then becoming more greedy. When his thumbs brush over your nipples, your hips grind into his slightly, causing him to buck up against you.

He’s already painfully hard, and you can feel the impressive size of him through his trousers.

You move your lips down his neck and your hands to his chest as Steven decides you no longer need your top, and unbuttons it the rest of the way. You shrug it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground behind you.

You can feel how fit his body is through his shirt, confirming your suspicions.

You suck a mark into his neck, causing him to groan and buck his hips again, getting more desperate.

He moves his hands back down to your hips, trying to pull you against him more, but you resist.

“Patience, sweet boy. No need to rush”

He whines— finally, beautifully. Just hearing the sound you’d been dreaming of for so long sends a wave of arousal through you, breaking through your facade of dominance and allowing your own desperation to seep through.

You stop kissing him abruptly, causing that soft crease to form again on his face, and stand.

“I think it’s time to move to the bedroom, yes?” You ask, grabbing his hand and encouraging him to stand as well.

“Yeah” he rasps, then clears his throat, “yes I agree.”

You make the short journey to your bedroom, watching as Steven’s eyes scan your belongings to assess your more hidden personality.

You remove the rest of your clothing quickly, refocusing Steven’s attention solely on you, and help him to do the same.

His length is as impressive as you had felt earlier, throbbing and neglected.

You lay on the bed, legs spread to invite him to you.

He crawls onto the bed, but stops short of where you had expected him, hands resting on your legs and eyes locked on your center.

“Fuck— you’re so wet, love. Can I taste you? Please? I don’t know if I’m any good but I’ll do whatever you tell me. I just want to so badly.” He rambles, asking so earnestly for something you’d never refuse him.

“Of course, sweet boy. Don’t think too hard about doing it right, just do what feels good and I’ll tell you if you should do something different” you instruct, carding your hand through his hair to encourage him toward where you need him.

He places a kiss on your stomach first, something no one else has ever done before. You’re not exactly sure why he does, but it feels like he’s claiming you, acknowledging the parts of your body that don’t explicitly serve a purpose for his pleasure.

He then moves downward, licking a broad stripe through your folds. Encouraged by the sound you make when he does that, he continues exploring you with his tongue, finding your clit quickly and circling it.

“You’re— fuck— you’re doing so well, Steven. Stay right there, if you just, just suck—“ you cut yourself off with a moan as he follows your instructions, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and applying just the right amount of pressure.

You’re basically babbling now, a string of good boys and other praises flowing from you as he gets more confident in his ministrations. Your words clearly have an effect on him, you can hear his little grunts of pleasure as you talk.

You see his hand move down the front of his body, wrapping around his weeping cock to relieve some pressure, but you can’t have that.

“Steven, no touching without permission. Don’t want you getting yourself too worked up, do we?” You try to use your most stern tone, but it doesn’t come out quite as firm as you’d hoped in your state of arousal.

He lifts his head briefly, eyes wide.

“M’sorry, it’s just— shit, you feel so good I couldn’t help it”

“It’s okay, love, just don’t do it again or I might have to restrain those pretty arms” you tease as he returns his mouth to your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The groan Steven makes lets you know that he definitely liked the sound of your little threat. Next time.

You’re so close now, for his first time Steven’s enthusiasm has definitely gotten him far, you just need a little more. You encourage him to use his fingers, telling him how to curl them the right way to hit that one spot inside you.

Once he does that, you’re barreling toward your release, clamping down on him hard.

“That’s it, good boy. Don’t— oh— please don’t stop I’m gonna fucking cum, yes yes yes—“ you hit your peak and lose the ability to form a coherent sentence, practically screaming Steven’s name and holding onto his hair for dear life.

He continues to lick you slowly as you come down, stopping only when you tell him it’s too much.

You drag him back up to your face, kissing him desperately and tasting yourself on him.

“Was that good?” He asks as you pull away, seemingly genuinely unsure as if you hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Yes, oh my god baby yes that was amazing, I knew you’d be good at that” his face lights up at your praise, and he unconsciously bucks his hips again, and you can feel how hard and desperate his cock is for some attention.

You push his shoulders to encourage him to flip, his back hitting the bed and you straddling his hips again.

You start to grind your dripping cunt over his length, causing Steven to gasp and drop his head back onto the pillows.

“What do you want, sweet boy? You wanna fuck me?” You ask, tone almost mocking.

“Yes, yes please I need to feel you” he rasps, fingers digging into your hips as he tries to move you onto his cock.

You decide to push him just a little more, make him complete putty in your hands.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure you really mean it. If you want to fuck me, beg for it. Be a good boy and let me hear how desperate you are for me” you lean down to say the last sentence right in his ear, nibbling the lobe then pulling back to see the wrecked look on his face.

"Please-- I need you. I need to be inside you, please I'll do anything you ask. Just let me fuck you darling" He begs for you, whimpering and practically gasping for air, pleading for you to give him some relief.

This is what you wanted, all the thoughts in his pretty little head completely replaced with need, totally consumed by you.

“What a good boy, asking so nicely for me. Of course you can fuck me baby, wanna make you feel good” you soothe, bringing your lips to his again as you lift your hips and gently take his cock in your hand to notch it at your entrance.

As you sink down on him, you both moan, and you can feel him throbbing as he fills you all the way.

Even after he got you ready he’s still a stretch, and you wonder if he really knows how well-endowed he is.

“You’re so big, love, you fill me up so well.” Steven seems to have lost all ability to form words, as the only response you get is a stifled moan and his hands gripping you a little tighter.

You start to move, lifting your hips up and down slowly, knowing that if you went too fast things could be over pretty quickly given how worked up you’d gotten him.

You feel Steven’s hands trying to pull you down onto him quicker, and he finally whimpers a small “please,” asking you to go faster.

You decide to let him set the pace.

“That’s it sweet boy, take what you need” you encourage, and he starts rocking into you quickly, at just the right angle to hit the spot inside you that works you up quickly to another release.

You’re glad to be close again because you can feel Steven’s rhythm faltering, clearly not able to hold out much longer.

You consider making him slow down, seeing how far you could push him, but you decide that’s probably too much right now, and you just want him to feel good.

“You getting close, love? I can feel you. Don’t stop, I’m close too, want you to cum with me” you say softly, mouthing along his neck and nipping at his jaw between words.

Without having to be asked, Steven moves a hand to the front of you, circling your clit with his thumb, which is just what you need to fall over the edge again.

You place your forehead against his, as your cunt clamps down around his cock, and you feel him throb and release inside you, as he chants your name like a prayer, over and over.

You both tremble as you recover, Steven’s hands maintaining their bruising hold on your hips.

You brush his hair back, damp with sweat and sticking to his face.

He looks up at you with awe.

You move to lift off of him, not wanting to overstimulate him, but he doesn’t release you.

“Stay, please. Just for a bit longer?”

“Of course sweet boy, whatever you need” you whisper as he hugs you close to him.

He eventually lets you go so you can clean him and yourself up, and you take your time with aftercare, whispering more praise and making sure to keep touching him throughout, as he seems to need skin-to-skin contact the most.

You end up back in bed, your back to him as he holds you close.

“Are you okay, Steven? Was that what you had hoped for?” You ask, feeling sleep creeping in but wanting to check in one more time.

“No, it was better. Definitely better. Thank you.” He softly kisses the back of your head, allowing himself to fall asleep, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Tags: @mswarriorbabe80

#steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant/reader smut #moon knight #steven grant x f!reader

[az-cain]

self care hcs

moon system x reader ≈ 1.1k words masterlist here

the beard is the gif below 😗

—

shaving

sometimes the boys get busy and they’ll forget to shave, or sometimes they just don’t have a razor

jake really really wants to grow it out into a full beard

steven likes the clean-shaven look or a little bit of stubble, but is fine with whatever

marc wants a full beard. badly.

when they go on long trips, jake and marc get their wish. they get a nice beard.

one time, they come home after a long trip and you decide that you really like their beard

it’s a little scratchy while it’s growing out, but feels nice when they kiss you

plus, they look really good with it

from then on, they usually let it grow to about that length

whenever marc is fronting, he likes to trim it with the fancy little shears you’d gotten him a little while ago

you got them when you noticed him trimming his beard with steven’s craft scissors and that would not do

so you bought him some and gave them to him, showing him how to fit him fingers into the small holes and rest his pinky over the ring

you helped him get straight cuts by holding the hair between two fingers and overlapping each piece he cut with the next to get it even

hair cutting

you also cut their hair for them most of the time

it was about a monthly occurrence, their latino genes making their hair grow wayyyy faster than most people’s

marc didn’t really trust people other than you and himself with sharp objects next to his head, too many bad experiences in the marines

the first few times with the new shears you missed a few spots, but found them within a day while you were playing with their hair

you went “oh crap” and tugged them back to the bathroom to fix the mistakes

they didn’t care much, as long as marc felt that he looked tidy enough to take himself seriously

marc wanted really short hair, a high and tight like he had as a marine

jake wanted to grow his hair out, long enough to pull back into a little man-bun or pony tail, with an undercut underneath

steven liked their haircut, and he got to make that call a) because it was an in-between from jakes’s and marc’s wishes and b) because he was the one who had a normal 9-5 job with the most human interaction

jake liked to front when you were cutting their hair, the feeling of your fingers and comb soothing him in a way most other things couldn’t (for once, he felt protected)

you eventually got really good at cutting their hair, perfecting the fade from long to short. they were so happy with it every time and it made you super happy

showering

they all love showering with you, obviously

marc takes super short showers, ever the military man (5-10 mins)

jake takes long, burning hot showers, and sometimes even baths (30-45 mins)

steven takes hot showers and often forgets he’s in there (like hour-long showers)

they all have different soaps, which can get a little pricey, but you’re all fairly well off so it’s okay

marc has vanilla bar soap for his body and scentless nivea men’s shampoo and conditioner

he’s the most likely to buy 3-in-1 in a pinch or while on a mission

jake has orange and sandalwood scented shampoo, conditioner, and body wash

he also has a long-ass facial routine every night before bed, and you’ll often stand beside him and do your own: neutrogena salicylic acid facial cleanser, sephora toner, a serum that’s way too expensive, eye cream because he never sleeps, and a neutrogena hydro-boost moisturizer

he won’t let you touch his face for 10 minutes after his routine is done, no exceptions unless you’re crying

steven uses everist vegan shampoo and conditioner that comes in nice little waste-free aluminum tubes (except the cap, which he diligently returns to the company), and uses a nice bar of vanilla body wash from a local market

water. literally just water.

steven is the most likely to stay hydrated with a conscious effort all the time, but jake is just always thirsty

you got each of them a nice 30 oz bottle: navy blue for marc, sunflower yellow for steven, and burgundy for jake

steven’s is absolutely covered in stickers and dents, and he fills it up and drinks it 3 times a day at work

marc’s has very few dents, meticulous as he is. he’s pretty forgetful, but does his best to remember it and when he does, he gets through the bottle

jake’s is barely a cylinder anymore. it’s also not recognizable as red. everywhere he goes, he gets a sticker. everywhere. if he sees one while he’s on a mission, he’ll grab it and stick it in his bag to put on later that night. he has to fill it 10-11 times/day on missions, 4-5 if he’s not being too active

working out

jake fronts to run three miles every morning and does strength training at least 5 times per week. usually it’s early in the morning, he never sleeps more than 10 hours, and that’s only after hard missions. otherwise it’s a max of 8 hours. very unhinged.

marc likes to do cardio at night, especially if he’s stressed, which is 7 times out of 10

steven doesn’t work out. like ever. not even when he’s upset.

overall the body gets in 3-6 miles per day, and about 3 hours of strength training per day minimum

they’re strong as fuck

eating habits

jake, as the protector, knows how to cook

he also really enjoys it, cooking for you and himself at night or waking you up with a nice breakfast after he’s gotten back from the gym and showered

steven likes to eat, but oftentimes forgets, especially if he has his nose buried in a book

you’ve taken to leaving snacks on his desk— apples, pears, bits of the dark chocolate you know he likes— and packing him a lunch every day before work. you try to get him in a little of every food group: some yogurt, pinwheels, and more chocolate is his favorite meal you pack him

marc forgets all the time. every time he fronts, especially around a meal time, you grab him something good to eat. if he fronts for long periods of time, you’ll pack him full meals that will last with or without cooling. you always throw some beef jerky into his bag, too.

masterlist here

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight/reader #marc spector/reader #steven grant/reader #moon knight hcs #marc spector hcs #steven grant hcs #jake lockely hcs #az writes #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley/reader #jake lockley hcs

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side

Part 2

Steven Grant X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: SELF-INDULGENT WARNING, creepy dude following reader, lovey dovey syndrome, fluff, pinning, TYPOS, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

A/N: ahhhhahahaha, sorry I couldn't get this out of my mind. Set in ep 1 when Steven has just realised he has missed his date. No y/n.

Summary: Steven Grant’s day is going poorly to say the least. He’s lost days, missed his date and now a stranger has sat down opposite him who seems to know him? It would be nice if our favourite Gift-Shopist could catch a break.

Word Count: 3747

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

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“It doesn’t change the fact that today is Sunday, which means lose my number. Cheers.” 

“But-”

The line went dead.

Steven stared at his phone. This was, this didn’t- The date on the screen said Friday. He couldn’t have lost two whole days. He-

“Hi!” 

Your voice snapped his attention back to the seat in front of him as you sat down hurriedly. 

“Sorry I’m late! It’s so good to see you!” You were speaking a fraction too loud and Steven had never seen you before in his life. 

A frown began to form on his features, knitting his eyebrows together. He wasn’t sure if he could take one more thing today, first Gus, then two missing days and now whatever the hell this was. 

“I’m sorry b-”

“There’s a guy,” you had turned your head to the side and placed your hand on your cheek to hide your mouth while you pretended to look at the menu. Your voice a whisper and it was only now that Steven could hear the wobble in it, see the slight shake in your fingers. 

“He, I don’t know, I think he was- is following me. Since- it doesn’t matter, he- I just cut through the alley and this was the first place I saw that was open, and I mean, I could be really misunderstanding everything and just overreacting and, I’m so sorry, I saw the empty seat and I just thought that, maybe he would, you know, if I was with someone, I didn’t want to cause a scene and,” the words just tumbled out and bled together in a mess. 

Your heartbeat thumped so hard in your chest that it was making you lightheaded. 

Steven’s frown deepened as he looked over your shoulder to the alleyway you had just rushed through.

This was so stupid. No one was following you, and you’ve just made a massive fool out of-

“Blue jacket? Stupid white trainers?” 

A small panicked smile sprung to your lips without your control and you nodded furiously. 

You didn’t want to look behind and check. You really didn’t. But it seemed your body had other ideas. 

One quick glance told you that you had been right. The guy was just standing there on the opposite side of the road. Looking directly at you. 

Tightness gripped at your throat. 

Moral disgust suddenly overwhelmed all other thoughts in Steven’s brain. This was not on. He straightened his back without thinking, hands on the table as if he intended to stand. 

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing mate?” His voice sounded stern, intimidating even. “Just going around following people, yeah?” 

Relief,  mixed with the anxiety flooded your veins. You weren’t alone. 

“That’s not on, is it?” Steven continued.

You risked another glance and saw the man who had been following you beginning to walk away and disappearing down a side street.

“Not even going to apologise?” Steven shouted after him before turning to you. “What an,” His tone was still a little worked up, but kind, soft on the edges. “Absolute wanker.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your heart started to calm.

 “Are you alright?” It was only now that you truly took in the man before you with his attentive brown eyes and dark curls. He looked like an illustration, some fairy tale prince that surely couldn’t exist in the real world.

You almost forgot how to speak. “Yeah, thank you.” 

“He should, he should be bloody arrested.” Steven gestured to where the man had been standing. “Do you want me to, I could call?”

“No,” You said, a little too fast. “Thank you, I just, what are the police gonna do? ‘Oh no this guy was walking near you.’” You swallowed and looked down at the table for a moment. 

“I mean they should do something? Creep bloke following you in the dark?” Steven leaned forward a little, his voice kind.

“Yeah, it’s just, you know.” You closed your eyes; it was easier to speak without seeing. “Nothing actually happened. I had something similar happen before and, it was just all, ages to speak to someone and then, we can’t really do anything, why are you wasting our time.” 

“That’s just awful. I, sorry, I didn’t mean you had to call the police or anything, not trying to tell you what to do.” He sounded so sincere, so honest. It bordered on painful.

“No, it’s alright, I know what you mean. I’ll probably report it to 101 or something later. Just in case.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“I’m Steven by the way.” He gave you a little wave that brought a smile back to your face.

You told him your name and shook his hand when he held it out to you over the table. It was a purposefully over the top movement on his part that made your smile break into a grin.

“I see your guest has arrived at last,” the Waiter’s sudden appearance made you jump slightly. “Would you like to order?” His tone was friendly, but you could hear an element below that, something that bordered on irritation. 

You and Steven spoke at the same time.

“Oh, I-”

“Erm,”

“I’ll give you five minutes, but just to let you know the kitchen is closing shortly.” He gave you both a stiff smile before turning and walking quickly away.

“I’m so sorry,” It was only now that you clocked the roses, the chocolates. You were totally gate crashing a date. A wave of embarrassment flushed along your face and neck. “You’re waiting for someone and I have just got right in the way.”

“No, actually, erm,” Steven looked down at the table, smoothing over the edge with his finger tips. He bit his bottom lip and you frowned. He couldn’t have been stood up, could he?

 “I mixed up the dates.” Steven let out a breath of a laugh and looked up to you. It was a half truth, but saying ‘I’m missing two days’ to someone he has just met didn’t feel like an excellent idea. Wouldn’t exactly seem normal would it? Would probably make you think you’d be safer with creepy-stalker-stupid-trainers. “I thought we were meeting today, turns out I’m about 49 and a half hours late.”

“Shit.”

His shoulders slumped, defeated. You must think he was a loser. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean, I’m so sorry.” You looked so sincere, so genuinely sympathetic. “ That’s awful.”

Steven snapped his mouth shut with an audible pop. That, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“First date?” 

He nodded, his mouth dry.

“You could always try again?”

“I think I’ve blown it actually.” He waved his phone. “Been told to lose her number.”

“Shit.”You repeated, unable to stop the frown pulling at your features. That seemed so unfair. Okay, so it was a kinda big mistake and his date had probably thought they were stood up, but he seemed so kind. Not the sort to play games. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Well, not long, just a little bit.” He looked down again, shrugging a little as he fiddled with his fingers. It was an obvious lie. 

The Waiter appeared again at your side, having somehow mastered the ability to sneak up silently on unsuspecting patrons. “Have you had a-”

“Sorry,” you turned to him, all smiles and a surge of confidence, “literally two more minutes.”

He nodded briskly and walked away.

You watched him move away a safe distance before you leaned across a little closer to Steven. “He’s a bit pushy isn’t he?”

He chuckled, the expression lighting up his whole face. “I think he’s bloody fed up with me.” 

You shook your head.

“Been wasting his time.” 

“No-” A loud growl from your stomach cut you off, your hunger hitting you now the fear had passed. “Wow,” You laughed, “I’m so sorry; my stomach obviously wants to talk to you instead.” 

“No, I should be apologising, I didn’t, would you like something to eat, my treat, I mean-“

Okay that was not the reaction you were expecting. 

Steven must have seen something in your face as he quickly tried to cover his words with more words. “Not that, sorry, I didn’t mean you had to eat anything or stay here, you’ve probably got places to be and-”

“Steven,” you put your hand in the middle of the table. He looked so lost. Oh, what the hell. You shook your head a little just to clear your mind and smiled warmly. “I would love to eat with you.” 

The wide smile that broke out on his face nearly cracked your heart in two. Being under his gaze seemed so different, like you were the most interesting person in the world, like he wasn’t fighting the urge to check his phone. It was strange. It was... nice. “And I should be treating you; you’re my hero of the hour.”

“No, I just,” he shook his head dismissively.  “Anyone would have, I only told him to get on his bike.” 

“That’s more than most people would have.” A looked at him for a moment longer before adding. “Steven the Saviour.” 

His smile broadened, a hint of red colouring his cheeks. There was the smallest second when your eyes met fully, a beat in time where everything seemed to stop, to hang still in the air. 

Steven looked away first, the crimson on his cheeks growing just a hint darker as he bit his bottom lip and scrutinised the menu. 

You quickly mirrored his action, trying to ignore the buzz of electricity that ran along your spine and shook your fingers ever so slightly. You swallowed while scanning the paper: steak, meat, what you assumed was another cut of beef that you had never heard of before and-

“Erm,” Steven’s voice made you look up. He was holding the menu a little away from himself and squinting. Short-sighted.  There was something else to his expression as well, something that yoy had the feeling you would recognise instantly if you knew him better. A slight disgust? “Apparently this is the best steak in town.”

You nodded and blurted out, “is this the worst time to say I’m a vegetarian?” 

He looked up at you with the purest sense of relief, the tension in his shoulders dissolving. “Oh my god,” he gestured to himself with the menu. “I’m vegan.”

You both laughed.

The admission warmed your chest like a hot chocolate on a cold winter night. He had obviously booked a tablet here because he thought his date would like it despite his lack of food options. 

“Okay,” you placed your open menu down, “I’m thinking lots of sides.”

“Lots of sides!” Steven’s excitement was infectious. 

There was a brief, but detailed discussion of what sides to order, and while the options with a ‘V’ and ‘Ve’ next to them were not extensive, there certainly were more choices than expected. 

The Waiter was obviously a little exhausted when you both excitedly ordered, but he tried to hide it well.

You had explained when asked, that you had originally been in central to meet an old friend, but their son was unwell and they didn’t want to leave him with their parents, so they had cancelled at the last minute. 

The food came out surprisingly quickly, and you both talked animatedly about your work life; Steven’s enthusiasm about Ancient Egypt was heartwarming and a complete juxtaposition to your own dry humour about your job. You did make him laugh though. 

Your banquet of sides was long finished, and you sat with your elbows on the table, your chin resting in your hands listening enraptured as Steven spoke. 

He paused mid sentence, “I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I?” 

It was only then that you released you had been staring at him intently. You sat up, putting your hands under the table and shaking away the metaphorical hearts spinning around your head. “No,” You spoke a little too quickly, your mouth dry. “Continue.” 

This couldn’t be happening; this couldn’t be the best date you’ve ever been on. This whole meeting was circumstantial, an accident. He was just being polite. It shouldn’t feel like Cupid had shot an arrow through your chest. You took a quick slip of your drink, mainly melted ice now, to try to refocus yourself.

Steven grinned. “I feel like I haven’t let you get a word in edgeways.”

“Stop,” you put your glass down carefully,” I’m not going to let you leave me hanging, you have to finish telling me about ancient Egyptian agriculture.”

“Well,” he shifted a little in his seat, bashful all of a sudden, “you know I was kind of finished anyway.”

“Okay,” you bit at your bottom lip, you didn’t want him to stop talking, you never wanted him to stop talking. You’d gladly listen to his voice for the rest of time. “Actually,” a random thought popped into your brain, “have you seen that program, ahh, it was on ages ago, but I just saw it on iPlayer about Ancient medicine? There was a whole episode about the Egyptians and how they set bones and they found remains were a labourer's bone was better healed than a nobleman, because the labour would need to use their arm more and therefore needed better care. Which is amazing. But they were talking about, erm, hmmm, what is the name? The something Smith papyrus?” Oh this was stupid, why were you still talking, you should-

“Oh, the Edwin Smith papyrus!” Steven exclaimed.

“Yes!” Relief flushed through your veins.

“Dates back to around 1,300BC, which is mind blowing. Actually the date is a bit of a hot topic, buuuut historians are very sure that the information is older, because this text was most likely transcribed from another text. So it probably dates back either further. And this is just the only copy that has survived that we know about. It’s actually not even complete, the scribe never finished it, literally stops in the middle of a sentence!”

You grinned at his passion; it was calming but exhilarating at the same time. 

“I am literally talking too much again.”

“No, please,” you stressed the word, “I am having the best time.”

Steven smiled. “Me too.”

“So sorry to interrupt,” you managed not to jump at the waiter’s sudden presence this time, “but the restaurant is closing.” He smiled politely and placed the bill in the middle of the table before waiting.

“Wow,” it had only seemed like you hadn’t been there for very long, a quick glance at your watch told you otherwise. “I didn’t realise the time.”

“Bunch of dirty stop outs aren’t we?” 

You laughed and went for your bag as Steven grabbed his wallet. 

“Here.”

“No, let me.” You hurriedly searched for your purse.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Steven said, quickly using the card machine that the waiter handed him before you could get a chance. The waiter handed him his receipt and bided you both a ‘good evening’. 

“Steven…” You were touched. “Thank you.”

“Ah,” he waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Let me at least send you some money towards it.” You rummaged in your bag again, why was there so much stuff in there?

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“Alright,” you paused, chewing your bottom lip before you added, “you’ve got to let me get the next one though okay?” 

Steven broke out into an even bigger grin, which should have been impossible and nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeated, hardly any sound leaving your mouth.

There was a long moment where both of you just looked at the other, captured in each other aura, trying to retain the fine details to perfect memory.

The waiter cleared his throat while tidying another table.

“We should,” Steven motioned with his hands and began to stand.

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little before nodding.

He quickly put a note down, pining it to the table with the central glass candle holder to ensure a rogue gust of wind didn’t blow it off. The sight warmed your heart.

“At the very least I should be the one leaving a tip.”

“No, no, no, I mean, he did put up with me for a while beforehand.” Steven shrugged while picking up the flowers and chocolates. “Which way are you heading?” 

“Oh I can get the bus,” you paused, trying to remember your sense of direction before pointing behind Steven, “that stop,”

“By the M&S?” He looked hopeful, looking at you from under his lashes, his eyes large and doe like.

“Yeah.”

“Me too, if you don’t mind if I walk with-”

“No,” you cut him off a little too quickly, your excitement jumping to your throat, “please, I would, please.”

Steven waited for you to start moving before he fell in step with you. “Do you live far?” He pulled a face. “If that’s not terribly weird to ask.”

You laughed again. “No, not too far, near Greenwich.” Greenwich wasn’t really where your shared flat was, but everyone usually seemed to know where it was and it was easier than going into a whole description. “About thirty minutes at this time.”

“South of the river?” Steven tried his best to hide the disappointment from his voice; you were going in the opposite direction.

“I’m guessing you're on this side.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “But, I’ll wait with you. Till your bus comes, erm, I mean, only if you want.” 

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“Really, no inconvenience at all. Unless you don’t want me to, which is no problem. You can say the word.” He covered up his anxiety with cheeriness, punctuating the end of his sentence with a thumbs up.

You laughed again, unable to stop smiling. Oh god, you were besotted with him. “I would love for you to wait at the bus stop with me.” As you spoke, you gently nudged you shoulder against his arm as you walked.  

He looked down for a few seconds beaming, “yeah good, yeah!”

You both turned the corner onto the main road and your heart sank. Your bus was just coming. 

Steven clocks your expression. “Your bus?” 

“Yeah,” you said uncertainty. 

Steven did seem to hear your apprehension and jogged the few metres to the stop, his arm outstretched. 

The bus pulled in and opened its doors.

A sudden jolt of panic gripped your heart. Okay, so it was late, on a Sunday and the next bus probably wouldn’t be coming for ages, but it all seemed so much better than the alternative of never seeing him again. You didn’t even have his number. 

“Thanks.” You said and paused by the door. Maybe he wanted you to get on, maybe he was just trying to be polite, an easy way not to see you again.

Steven’s smile had faded; the realisation that he had no way to contact you outside of this moment dawned. He gazed at you, blinking quickly, all the words having fallen out of his head.

“Is someone getting on?” The driver asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” The social pressure to get on, to move was suffocating. But still you didn’t move, didn’t take your eyes off Steven.

“Here.” His voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper as he pressed the flowers and chocolates into your arms.

“Steven-”

“I can’t eat them, cow’s milk.”

“I-”

“I’ve got a time schedule to keep.” The driver sighed.

The pressure was too much, the spell of Steven’s eyes was broken and you placed one foot on the bus. “Sorry.” You nodded to the driver and then quickly turned back to Steven, still half on the bus.

Don’t get on, ask him to get on. Give him your number. 

The driver didn’t miss a beat. “Miss-”

You rushed forward, your heart beating so hard it made you lightheaded, and gave Steven a quick kiss on his cheek before fully getting on the bus. 

It started moving even before you could even tap your oyster. Your heart sank and stayed on the pavement outside.

 You give him a wave through the window, your cheeks burning. You shouldn’t have kissed him, that was inappropriate. You should have kissed his lips. You should have stayed. Why didn’t you give him your number?

Steven gives you a small wave back, a little dumbfounded. All words still seemingly gone. His heart was beating too fast. He should have got on the bus with you, though that’s a bit creepy isn’t it? A bit like he was trying to follow you home. He wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea.

He watched the road until the bus disappeared, and then a little longer after that still, gently touching his cheek were your lips pressed against his skin.

#steven grant #moon knight #fanfic #my writing #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #no y/n #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #f!reader #steven grant x f!reader #steven grant / f!reader

[asimplearchivist]

‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once). ⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I��m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #reader insert #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction

[soft-girl-musings]

Stranger Danger

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

MK Spring Bingo entry #5

tags: reader is being stalked & responds in a way the author (a woman) has been taught to, emotional protector steven grant to the rescue, no use of y/n

wc: 1,138

fic summary: There's safety in numbers, do you want mine? (too soon?)

_____________________

“Oops, careful!”

Steven drops the last of his veggie wrap as a pair of kids rush past the bench he’d been hunched over. As he picks up the debris, he sees where one of them dropped their hat. He picks it up and half-jogs after them to return it.

“Gotta stay aware of our surroundings, yeah? Don’t want to lose our valuables.” The kid rolls their eyes but thanks him before running off to catch up with their friend.

“Oh my gosh, hi!”

Steven turns around to find you walking swiftly toward him, your smile too wide and tone too familiar.

He’s never seen you before.

“... hello,” he answers cautiously, taking one step back but failing to put much distance between the two of you. You practically cling to his side when you approach, takeaway cup and phone in hand.

“Sorry I’m late, but you are terrible at giving directions, mister.” Taking his arm, you begin to walk away from where you’d appeared.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s forgotten conversations or plans. But as he racks his brain for something, anything tied to you in his memory, Steven notices the panic in your eyes and the slight waver in your voice.

Your hands shake a bit as you unlock your phone, passing your cup to him. He takes it, still bewildered but obedient. “I swear, the cafe never spells your name right. Let me make a note for next time.” You type swiftly, showing him the screen.

being followed, please pretend you're my boyfriend

Steven doesn’t know you.

But he nods, grasping your arm closer with his free hand and gives his most convincing grin. “Steven with a ‘V’, love.”

Relief instantly washes over your features and you relax a little. “Right. I’ll remember that… Steven.”

His smile grows before he remembers why you're holding onto him. “Do you want to sit down? Or go somewhere else, maybe I could call someone–”

“N-no, it’s fine. Let’s just sit. In plain sight,” you half-whisper. Steven nods, ushering you back to the bench in the middle of the busy square. When you sit, you don't let go of his arm.

Instead, you type into your phone as you speak. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Steven glaces at your notes app again.

do you see a man in a black jacket?

Steven scans the area, careful not to look too suspicious. Unlike the person he’s sure you’re referring to: a man in dark clothes, hands shoved into his pockets and rigid as he looks around with increasing urgency. His prominent frown grows when he sees Steven next to you.

“Yeah,” Steven says to both your questions. He looks away from the menacing figure, but sets your drink down and wraps his arm around you. He's glad to feel you settle into his side, still shaking but catching your breath.

“I take it you don’t know Mr. Black Jacket?”

“No, I do. Sort of. He’s a regular customer of mine,” you sigh. “One who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Ah.” Steven keeps the guy in his periphery, splitting his focus between him and you. “Stalker, then?”

You freeze up at the term. “Yeah… he’s been pretty relentless.” 

You meet his eyes, which are swiftly filling with concern. “Thanks again for… this. I usually find a mom or another woman to walk with me until he leaves, but I saw you with those kids and just… panicked, I guess.”

“S’not a problem, love.” Steven knocks your foot with his, drawing a small smile from you. “Glad to help you feel safe.”

You laugh a little. You let your gaze drift over to the man in black, an uneasy pit growing in your stomach when you briefly make eye contact.

“He usually goes away after a while. I've told the police, but they can't do anything unless he… you know.” Your brow furrows as your grip loosens. “I don't mean to take over your afternoon, but would you mind waiting with me?”

In that moment, you could have asked Steven for the moon and he'd find a way to lasso it down for you. 

He squeezes your hand. “‘Course I can. Lovely day with lovely company, quite the ideal afternoon in my books.” 

Steven dives right into talking about anything and everything that comes to mind– which, as you learn, is a lot. Normally he'd hit a wall after a few minutes, either because he'd realized he had talked himself in circles, or his less-than-captive audience was visibly zoned out. But you hang on his every word, grateful to be arm in arm with a stranger describing the supposed viscosity of ancient Egyptian embalming oil. It's a welcome distraction. 

So distracting, in fact, that after an hour you realize the crowd has thinned around you. With Mr. Black Jacket nowhere in sight.

“I think he's gone,” you sigh with relief. Steven stands when you do, handing your things back.

“Patience won out in the end,” he beams. You see a brief look of panic cross his features.

“He doesn't know where you live, does he? Do you need an escort?” Steven's already taken a ludicrously long lunch break, but the inevitable lecture from Donna would be worth it if it meant ensuring your safety.

You shake your head. “I've been careful.” Extending your hand, you smile. “It was nice to meet you, Steven with a ‘V’.”

“Likewise, love.” He shakes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Another look crosses his face before he continues.

“Do you want my mobile number?” His words come out too fast; if you hadn't spent the past hour listening to him, you might have missed what he said. “Just in case you need someone to wait with you again, or keep an eye out. Would that be alright?” He shakes his head, stepping back. “'Matter of fact, forget I said anything, don't want you to think you've traded one creep for another–”

“Sure.”

Your simple answer stops him in his tracks. “Oh, you don’t have to–”

“No, it’s fine. Really. When you offered, it felt nice to know someone could be in my corner on this side of town.”

You take out a scrap of paper and a pen from your bag. “How about this: you write it down, and I’ll add your contact if I ever need my knight in shining armor again.”

Steven concedes, pen and paper in hand as he scribbles his number down (then asks for a new paper in case the first was too illegible).

When you leave, he watches until you turn the corner. He goes the opposite direction, back to the museum. Part of him hopes you’ll never have to reach out, for your own sake. The rest of him hopes you do anyway.

_____________________

A/N: oh steven, the man that you are. a couple more bingo prompts will be focused on this dude, which is excellent practice for some exciting projects down the line...

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

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

#my works #just edited the word count lol #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant/fem!reader

[midgardian-witch]

From the prompt list: “Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.” with Steven Grant please.

Since I already did this prompt with Jake I decided to approach this a little differently. And it turned out much longer than I had planned. I still hope you'll like it, anon 💙

Stupid Sexy Steven

tags: friends to lovers | kissing | cursing | Steven being effortlessly adorable and sexy | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You've been avoiding Steven. It's not the bravest thing to do and you're not exactly proud of it but you don't know what else to do. 

You need the space to figure out how to deal with your emotions. It's not an everyday thing you realize you're in love with your best friend. So avoiding it is. 

You know you'll have to say something at some point, you just didn't know how to say it. It's like your brain just shuts off when you look at him nowadays. He's just so genuinely kind and loving, and that goofy little grin he makes when he gets excited, and the way his brows furrow when he focuses on something-

Focus. Don't get distracted. 

So yeah, you get a little silly around him since you figured out that you have a crush on him. It happens. But also you don't want to make a total fool of yourself so some distance was in order. 

You just didn't account for Steven to just not let that happen. 

It's your day off when the inevitable happens. You were just getting ready to catch up on a TV show you had on your watchlist for a while when your doorbell rings. You get up, confused because you didn't expect any visitor or delivery, and walk over to your door. You open it to find the one man you didn’t plan on seeing. 

Steven smiles at you, standing there in your doorway like an excited puppy. 

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing you but we haven't seen eachother in a while and I wanted to check up on you."

Curse him and his puppy dog eyes. How could you turn him away like this? 

You clear your throat awkwardly and step aside to let him in. 

"Hi Steven. Yeah it's been a while. I didn't want to worry you."

He steps inside and you lead him into your living room. 

"You've been busy then, yeah?", he sits down in front of your TV and you join him, "I mean you didn't answer my calls or texts either so I thought maybe you weren't feeling well."

It's only now that you see the little container he's holding. Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

He got you soup because he thought you were sick. 

And all the while you had muted him in your contacts so you wouldn't be tempted. You were the worst human being on the planet. 

You take the offered soup, thanking him profusely. Quickly you carry it into your kitchen and return with some water for Steven. 

"You really didn't have to do this. See, I'm fine."

You smile at him as you place his water on the table. Steven returns your smile before his face turns thoughtful. 

Fuck, he looked so pretty even like this. His mouth twists into this little pout and you are once again wondering what it would feel like to press your lips against his, what sounds he would make as you lean in to kiss him, how he-

"-so it was either that or you were avoiding me."

You didn't even notice Steven was talking again. Curse Steven and his stupid, kissable mouth. 

"I- well…", you stammer. You couldn't lie to his face, you had to say the truth. "I was kind of avoiding you."

You regret it immediately. Steven looks at you like a kicked puppy. "Why?", he asks and just with that one word your heart breaks for him. 

It's too much, the guilt and the still lingering thoughts of Steven's lips on yours destroyed any brain-to-mouth filter you've ever had. 

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, a desperate attempt to stop the words that have already left your lips. Steven stares at you, mouth agape and cheeks flushing. He starts stuttering and you can’t really make out what he's saying. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to just dump this on you. I swear I had a plan and everything.", you groan, annoyed at yourself and hide your face behind your hands. 

Cautiously, softly, Steven asks: "Do you really want to kiss me?" 

He sounds like he doesn't believe it, that you couldn't possibly want that. And that could not stand. 

You take your hands off of your face and look directly into his eyes. 

"Steven Grant, I have been thinking about nothing else for the past weeks than how badly I want to kiss you. So believe me when I say that yes, I really really want to kiss you."

The noise that leaves Steven's mouth is the sweetest sound you've ever heard, something between a whine and a moan. You can't believe that he doesn't know what an effect he has on people. But you're happy to show him. 

"Would you- Do you want to- now?", he stumbles over his words, nerves overtaking him as he looks at you with such need in his eyes it almost leaves you breathless. 

Not a moment later you are on him, lips locked with his in a desperate first kiss. You swear you can see fireworks behind your eyelids as your lips connect. Steven whimpers into your mouth and his trembling hands hold onto you for support. In your rush you push Steven into the couch, all but laying on top of him as the two of you kiss to your heart's content. 

You force yourself to break apart from him with a gasp, forcing as much air into your lungs as possible. Steven looks up at you with dreamy eyes and a far away look, his face even more red than before. 

"Could we- Can you do that again?", he all but begs and with a laugh you nod. 

"Yes, Steven. As much as you want, whenever you want."

Immediately he pulls you back on top of him and seals your lips together again in another heedy kiss. 

#steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant/reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #fran-writes

[apesarecuul]

Oscar Isaac characters and video games/gamer!reader

Anselm one was inspired by @reallyrallyauthor

Steven Grant:

I know what you’re going to say. Cliche but he 100% plays animal crossing. It’s cliche but it is RIGHT. He loves digging up little artifacts and seeing them in the little museum. You will have to try hard to get him to play anything else. He’s not much of an action game guy. One night he’s watching you play Red Dead Redemption 2 and decides to give it a try. HE LOVES IT. Does he make any progress? absolutely not. Does he make you watch him play? absolutely.

Marc Spector:

Believe it or not I don’t see Marc as a first person shooter guy. He’s seen more guns and death than you can imagine. Why would he play a game about something he’s already seen first hand? I do think that once he finally gets comfortable he’ll secretly play games like Stardew Valley or Firewatch. He likes experiencing lives he hasn’t had. He won’t tell you that’s the reason for it. He is going to tell you that he plays them ironically. That’s why he romanced every character in Stardew…. To be ironic.

Jake Lockley:

We all know that Jake is an old man on the inside. He’s never been able to indulge in anything that really takes time. So when you got him a tablet for Christmas he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with it. It was ok at searching up things but not as convenient as his phone, you couldn’t use it to call people but it was good for searching up cooking tutorials behind your back. Once when you got bored on a long car ride you borrowed his tablet and downloaded a few of those games that are riddled with ads. Merge Mansion, Candy Crush, Dragon City, etc. Once he gets it back he’s like ‘what the hell is this?’ And now he’s addicted like an iPad kid. Congratulations. I bet you feel proud of yourself 😠

Anselm Vogelweide:

(NSFW)

He’s not exactly a ‘gamer’. Sure he has all the fancy equipment, VR, PC, haptic suit, tracking, etc. He bought it for you before you two even really started dating because you mentioned wanting a VR headset one day. He doesn’t deny that he was attempting to seduce you and you don’t deny that it worked. What made him start using it however was when you mentioned something called virtual reality porn. Look at what you’ve done. He now has access to even more porn. As if he didn’t have enough. When you’re gone for more than a day he pulls it out and tries to pretend it’s you. He wanted you to make a VR porn game just for him. You had to break it to him that you had no idea how that would even work. Don’t you worry. He will find a way.

Cecil Dennis:

Call of Duty. He has a ratty taped up controller that his cousin through against the wall. He loves the Story mode way better than online. He doesn’t like online because he enjoys the plot more than the competition. (he’s bad at the game and gets bullied) He doesn’t rage. He cries when he dies too many times on a hard segment of the game and either makes to sit in his lap while he tries to get past that segment or he flat out lays ontop of you. Face buried in your neck sniffling.

#steven grant/reader #marc spector/reader #anselm vogelweide/reader #jake lockely/reader #cecil dennis/reader #no Blue this time because I can’t think of anything for him

[loki-hargreeves]

Only Fools Rush In

Pairing: Steven Grant x gn!Reader Warnings/Tags: unrequited feelings [or so they think], angst, break ups, bad dating, idiots in love, fluff, implied smut at the end if you squint Word Count: 3,9k Summary: You and Steven have feelings for each other, but are convinced they’re unrequited. Instead of talking, you try dating other people but always end up comforting each other when dates go wrong. In the end, Steven can’t keep doing it anymore and so he finally confesses his feelings to you. A/N: I was going to write smut but I had a rough day and I needed to write something like this instead. I hope you like it! <3

+ here’s my Steven Grant playlist if you want to listen to it while reading :)

YOUR POV

“I'm sorry it took so long, I stopped by the shop on my way,” Steven let you know, being the sweet man that he was. There was a small bag in his hand that he paid no attention to once he saw the tears on your cheeks, the sight wounding his heart.

About an hour earlier, he had inquired about how you were doing and when your reply was as short and simple as ‘got dumped’ he knew he had to come over. Of course, Steven had asked if you wanted company since he never wished to overstep his boundaries. And of course, you had welcomed him to your apartment. How could you not?

Shaking your head, you let him know it was okay, “Don’t worry about it,” You didn’t want him to feel bad. All that mattered was that he was there now.

Steven invited you into a warm hug, which you needed at that moment. You wrapped your arms around him needily and buried your face against him, careful not to leave makeup stains on his shirt. For a moment, you relaxed against him and tried to forget about everything else. When Steven enveloped you in his arms and caressed your back softly, you knew that you’d be fine. Being close to him was comforting, but only for a brief while since you were just friends and you didn’t want to make things weird. 

“Thank you,” You were grateful for his company, but it didn’t shake away the thoughts that had burdened you for months on end now. It was almost ironic that moments after getting dumped in public, you were standing in front of the man you had been trying to forget about all along. Steven was your friend, yet you desired to be more than that. He was wonderful, funny, passionate, kind… everything that drove you absolutely wild yet he was so far out of reach. It was a hopeless crush you had tried to get over without much success.

Now there you were, leading him further inside your apartment with a heavy feeling in your chest. Sure, it sucked that the guy dumped you. He wasn’t that bad and perhaps deep down you knew it would never work out, but to dump you in the middle of a fancy restaurant was far too dramatic even for you. Everyone had noticed although you hadn’t even caused a scene. It had been humiliating, to say the least. 

“How are you feeling?” Steven wanted to know, wondering what he could do to cheer you up. That was a stupid question, he thought, knowing you weren’t doing too good. Before he could regret his choice of words too much, you spoke;

“Been better,” You sighed deeply, “but I’ll be fine, Steven. I’m glad you’re here.” That much was true.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

For a moment, you considered it. Venting about it might’ve been a good idea, but on the other hand, you didn’t want to annoy Steven. Now that he was there, you wanted to change out of the lavish clothes you still hadn’t taken off and talk about anything but your dreadful day. Steven had a talent for taking your mind off of things, which was greatly appreciated on days such as these. 

“Not really. There’s not much to it. Got dressed, went out, got dumped in the middle of the restaurant and I took the walk of shame home. Now we’re here,” You summed up the story as well as you could, only giving him the compact version of events. 

“What?” Steven furrowed his brows, feeling awful to hear that they had left you in public. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve to have that happen to you, not like that.”

“Well, at least that’s over now.”

How could someone leave you, especially like that? Who dumped someone in a restaurant? Steven wasn’t sure what your ex had thought, but clearly, they weren’t thinking straight. Steven thought you were absolutely incredible, good company, smart and brilliant. It helped that he found you absolutely adorable. If he ever got a chance with you, he knew that he would never take it for granted. 

But Steven was convinced he’d never get that chance and he was trying to accept it. You were friends. After all, you were seeing other people so he took that as a clear sign you weren’t interested. When Steven told you about him asking his co-worker out, you seemed happy for him. When he followed up on the story and revealed it had been a disaster, you had been there for him as a friend. Now there he was, simply doing the same for you. 

Life wasn’t a romance novel or an intriguing mystery. Many things were often as simple as they seemed which meant that not everything had a deeper meaning. You were just friends, that’s it.

“Do you want some tea?” Your question snapped him out of his head. 

“Sure, that would be nice, love,” Steven wouldn’t say no to that. However, when he watched you make your way to the kettle with trembling hands, he felt a twist in his gut, a voice yelling at him to help you.

“Here, let me,” Steven quickly joined your side, placing the bag down on the counter and placing his hand ever so softly on your wrist. “I can make it. I’m sure I remember how you prefer it by now.”

“Thanks,” you appreciated that, “I’ll go get changed and wash this mascara off my face. I probably look like a raccoon.”

“Well raccoons are quite cute, don’t you think?” Steven was just trying to cheer you up, but little did he know how much his words truly affected you. They would be on repeat in your head when you would try to sleep, you knew it. 

“Sure,” You felt far too overwhelmed to argue with that. Part of you was upset, another mortified from the public humiliation and yet you felt flustered, like a teenager with a crush on their friend. You thought these silly crushes wouldn’t be so bad as an adult, but you were so incredibly wrong. 

Steven had brushed his hand against your wrist and that alone was enough to make your heart flutter in your chest. For a moment, you just stood there, wondering why on earth your heart was set on someone you considered to be your best friend. How cruel was it to want someone you couldn’t have? Was your subconscious trying to punish you for your past mistakes? Why couldn’t you just be satisfied with him being your friend? Couldn’t that be enough?

Before things would get awkward, you left Steven in the kitchen and made your way to your bedroom, ready to get out of the partywear and ruined makeup.

Steven had placed two cups on the counter and grabbed your favourite tea, knowing exactly where you kept it. This wasn’t the first time he had made tea at your place. Had the circumstances been different, it would be quite lovely. Expect this time around, Steven felt sorry for you. He was also angry because he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact someone had treated you like that. The respectful thing to have done would’ve been for them to break up with you in private. 

As he stirred the honey into the boiling water and watched the tea swirling around and darkening the liquid, he took a deep breath and tried to chase those thoughts away. He was there now and all Steven wanted to do was to cheer you up. There was a copy of ‘the Prince of Egypt’ in the bag along with some treats you both liked. There was still a few hours left of the day and they could be nice. The entire day didn’t have to be tainted by one idiot.

           It was astonishing how one moment you had been crying on the floor out of frustration and now you were on the couch, perhaps a little bit too close to Steven, having a great time watching the movie. The only light in the room came from the television screen which made the atmosphere quite lovely, lights flashing softly by and colouring the room all the colours of the rainbow. 

There were pillows and blankets all over the couch for ultimate comfort and snacks that Steven had brought with him. At moments like that, you felt carefree and joyful, like nothing else mattered than the present. 

When you had walked out of your room in pyjamas, Steven had nearly dropped the boiling hot cups of tea. Seeing you like that, so comfortable and casual was a sight he’d see when closing his eyes for long afterwards. Steven didn’t want to be creepy, thinking about his best friend like that but he would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t adore you and your cartoon pyjamas. There was something so domestic about it, something so lovely that was simultaneously jeering his heart.

Of course, he had kept his gaze on your face and brushed off his wandering thoughts. They were surely going to wander right back to him later though, but for now, you were there, watching a movie together and eating snacks. Steven had bought those hard sweets that you had called ‘grandma candies’ which he found quite amusing. Grandma candies or not, they were absolutely delicious.

“I love this song so much!” You exclaimed excitedly as if Steven hadn’t heard you say that the dozens of times you had watched this before. Every time, it made him smile just as brightly. 

“The soundtrack of this film is amazing,” He agreed, looking at you for a bit longer than he probably should’ve, just glad to see the innocent bliss on your face instead of misery and tears. A sense of pride filled him along with deep longing, a wish that this could be the norm, that he could make you happy for the rest of your lives. Not only when someone else failed to do it and he was simply being a good friend.

You caught Steven’s chocolate eyes lingering on you for a while and you ignored the screen for a moment, turning to face him. That’s when you realized how close you truly were, nearly shoulder to shoulder as you had the snacks between you. As you had reached for them, it had forced you closer and closer until you couldn’t get any closer. 

The realization made you hyper-aware of the fact that Steven was right there, a fuzzy blanket covering both you and him, the scent of his cologne softly filling your lungs. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, silently trying to lure you closer like how light guided moths in the dark. 

‘All I ever Wanted’ was playing in the background, the characters of the movie singing which still wasn’t quite enough to drown out how loud your heart was beating, how it made blood rush in your ears. It was almost comical how the lyrics spoke to you, aligning with how you wanted Steven, to feel his lips on yours. To be home, a home being wherever he was. Was it really that unrealistic to imagine that he wanted you too?

Steven wasn’t stupid, he knew that there was something between you at that moment. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, perhaps not, he felt the indivisible bond that tried to close the gap between the two of you. It terrified him, made him feel nervous and he was sure his palms were sweaty. Before he could let it misguide him, Steven snapped his eyes onto the screen and ignored that look in your eye, telling himself it was just in his head.

Lucky for him, the Prince of Egypt was full of tiny details that he knew much about. In a desperate attempt to forget about what had just happened, Steven focused on those details instead and began explaining the history behind them to you.

Did he have any idea what he did to you?

You sat there and listened to his expertise, which you usually loved to listen to. Steven was passionate about his interests and he was great at explaining his rich knowledge too, which made listening to him one of your favourite things to do. Right now though you failed to hang onto his words as your own thoughts raced in your head, creating a whirlwind of chaos and questions. 

Did that just happen?

                                A buzz in your pocket let you know that you had gotten a new message. You grabbed your phone and saw Steven’s name on your screen along with a message,

‘You wouldn’t happen to be in the mood for premium Belgian chocolates by any chance?’

Something told you his date hadn’t gone well. That much was clear, otherwise, he wouldn’t be texting you. With a sigh, somehow ridden with pity and relief, you opened the message and began typing your reply,

‘Do you want to meet at your place or mine?’

The two of you knew each other well enough by now that you could tell what was going on just via texts. Steven was upset and you were going to do everything in your power to cheer him up, just as he always cheered you up. That was what friends were for.

It had been a couple of weeks now since you got dumped and threw a pity party at your apartment. A couple of weeks since the incident. You had been thinking about it day and night ever since and it even haunted you in your dreams. Had you imagined it or was there truly such a longing gleam in his pretty eyes? Had there been something between you or were your own fantasies trying to break the boundaries you had set between you and him? Was your mind warping the memory or had Steven glanced at your lips? 

Before the memory could bother you for much longer, the phone screen lit up as another message arrived from Steven. You had set a bee emoji next to his name which always reminded you of the way he had once said ‘float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V’. It had been so precious that you wanted to remember it forever. Oh, and he also told you about bees and their connections to ancient Egypt. Fascinating things really.

‘I’m on the bus on my way home. You’re welcome to join me but don’t feel pressured to. I can come there if that’s what you want.’ 

That’s it, you were convinced Steven was the sweetest person that walked this earth. Always so considerate of others, always saying the things that pulled on the strings of your heart and made it melt. Even when he was upset, he didn’t want to let it affect others, putting everyone else’s needs and desires before his own. All you wanted was to put him first, especially today. You didn’t understand how a date with Steven could end poorly. He was so much fun to be around.

‘I’m on my way. See you in a bit!’ 

                                  Somehow you and Steven arrived at his place at the same time, you catching him fiddling with the keys behind the door as you walked up the stairs. His neighbour had walked past you and bumped his shoulder into you rudely, but you paid no attention to that anymore. Steven seemed out of it, struggling to even open the door as a box of chocolates rested in his arm. The shape resembled a heart and somehow that made the mood furthermore melancholic. 

“Hey,” You made your presence known, walking up to him. Steven was startled to hear you, dropping his keys as he turned to look at you.

“Oh, sorry,” He apologized and bent down to grab the keys, embarrassed by that, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Are you okay?” You wondered, concerned when you saw how he was acting. This wasn’t much like the Steven you knew, who was usually so optimistic and chirpy. 

Steven pushed the key into the lock, twisted and finally opened the door, “Yeah, yeah. I haven’t been sleeping that well recently, but what’s new?” 

As you followed him inside, the first thing you noticed was Gus. The fish was happily swimming around the tank, blissfully unaware of what it was like to be human. A human with a stupid crush on their best friend. Did fish have crushes? You tried not to think about that as you wished to cheer up your friend instead. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I have ice cream,” You let him know, looking at his face to see if it made him happy or not. When Steven turned to face you with a weary smile, you felt as if you had succeeded a little bit. At least, you were heading in the right direction. Making him smile always felt good. 

But then his smile faded away, brown eyes gazing into yours with something else in them that you hadn’t really seen before. Silence grew loud around you as you watched Steven who seemed to be deep in thought. Something about him was different but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. He had something on his mind and despite how much it seemed to frighten him, he seemed determined to conquer it. 

“Is this gonna be a habit?” Steven couldn’t believe he actually said that, forcing the words out of his mouth that he had been toying around with in his head for a while now. They were out there, out in the open, you had heard him. Steven knew he couldn’t start something and then back away, no. It would only be fair to you and him that he kept going.

“What are you talking about?” You sensed the shift in him, the underlying tones in his voice that let you know this was serious. 

“I’m talking about us,” Steven swore the air around you two was heavier than usual and suddenly the dust that had gathered upon his books seemed more interesting than they usually were. He tried to hard to be brave, to have this conversation here and now but a part of him wanted to think about anything else but those words. This wasn’t the time for him to let his mind wander. He just hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake, because losing you would be the greatest pain he could possibly bring upon himself.

“Steven,” You spoke his name softly, partly hoping he’d continue, partly wishing he wouldn’t say another word. There was no way to tell if what happened next would be good or bad, but you knew somehow that something was about to change drastically, as if the stars had aligned and everything in the entire universe had led up to this very moment.

“How long are we going to go on like this? Going out with people, frankly on bloody awful dates and then being upset, cheering each other up until we’re ready to go at it again. How long are we going to pretend that these little moments between us, whatever you wish to call them, are just in our heads?” Steven’s heart was beating so hard he was sure you could hear it. His nerves entangling in complicated knots, worries and fears intensifying in his gut but this incredible sense of relief washing over him too. There, he finally did it. Steven couldn’t believe he just said that out loud. Whatever happened next was all up to you.

Steven was silently praying that you wouldn’t push him away. Not now when he finally found the courage to pour his heart out to you, only if you were willing to listen. Did you feel the same way? If he asked you to, would you stay by his side?

The shocked look on your face startled him just as much as it filled him with hope. When the corners of your mouth curled upward into a smile, Steven could hardly believe his luck.

“So it’s real? It’s all real and I haven’t imagined it all?” You felt feverish, barely daring to blink because you were scared if you did, you would wake up in bed alone only to learn this was all a dream. You blinked. Steven was still there, a longing look painted on his face with a hint of fear. It made your heart tighten in your chest, with a need to comfort him and chase the fear far, far away.

“I certainly hope so,” Steven cracked a sweet smile, relieved that you knew precisely what little moments he had been talking about. It hadn’t just been in your heads. 

Encouraged by Steven’s bold words, you neared him, not stopping where you usually would. Gently, you placed your hand on his face, eyes asking him for permission. Steven’s coffee coloured eyes were looking at you with so much affection and adoration it almost hurt, intensifying the burning sensation that seemed to intensify the closer you two were. To your surprise, it was Steven who leaned in first, Steven who cupped your face softly and finally kissed you.

Your eyes closed as you allowed yourself to relax and melt into the kiss, at last feeling his soft lips on yours after spending so much time daydreaming about what it would feel like, how he would taste. Steven smiled into the kiss, overjoyed when you tilted your head to deepen it, kissing him as needily as he was kissing you. Both of your fears were wiped clean. This hadn’t been one-sided at all. 

It felt like something out of a movie scene, your mind consumed by nothing but him, heart racing like never before. The kiss breathed new air to you, making your skin tingle with excitement and you wanted to kiss Steven again and again. 

Steven wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but right now he had to pull back as an eased laugh escaped his lips. It was soft and contagious, causing you to lean your forehead against him and giggle, now feeling stupid for waiting this long to kiss him. Most importantly, you felt a million times lighter now that you both finally pulled your heads out of the sand.

“All this time,” Steven was back to his cheerful self now, “all this time I’ve wanted to do that, but I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“We’re so stupid,” You rubbed your hands against your face, somehow seeing your entire past with Steven from a different perspective. Maybe you had both been quite obvious about your feelings. Whatever the case, it was out in the open now and you couldn’t be happier.

“Perhaps,” Steven shrugged and then ever so gently cupped your face so you would face him again. Once you saw how happy he looked, eyes half lidded, everything about him absolutely gleeful because he had kissed you, you swore you were closer to paradise than anyone had ever been before. Had Steven been looking at you like that all along?

“You do feel the same way, right?” Steven needed to know that.

“Do I need to kiss you again to convince you?” You wondered, more than willing to do so if Steven didn’t believe you. 

“Well I certainly won’t stop you,” Steven was surprised by his own words, instantly rushing to add onto it, “if that’s what you want to do.”

“Come here,” You felt more confident now, wrapping your arms around Steven, fingers diving into his dark locks, needing something to hold onto as you pulled his face against yours. The kiss was bolder and more intimate. You licked Steven’s bottom lip, surprising him. You could tell by the tiniest hum he let out which went right to your core. 

Steven couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy as he did now. It was almost overwhelming, but he needed more - he wanted more. The kiss was sweet, it was desperate, it spoke volumes, revealing all the pain and longing you both had carried for so long. Finally, that came to an end and you could do as your hearts desired. 

You peppered soft kisses on Steven’s face, leaving a trail of them along his jawline, his scent filling your lungs as you kissed the delicate skin on his neck. Steven’s lips parted slightly, shocked by how good it felt when you kissed him like that. His grip tightened on your arm now, which made you stop just to look at him with a cheeky grin. You swore that man was blushing and it was the cutest sight you had ever seen.

“Convinced now?”

“You could say that, yeah,” Steven answered your question, head spinning after your loving kisses. He was already thinking about where he’d kiss you next, only if you’d let him, desiring to see and hear how you would react to his touch and affections. 

The ice cream in your bag and the chocolates still hooked under Steven’s arm were long forgotten about.

A/N: It’s longing for Steven Grant hours over here. I hope you liked it! <3

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x you #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x gn!reader #moon knight x you #steven grant fluff

[shnargo]

when you're having an onset panic attack [s.g. & m.s.]

a/n: this may not be completely accurate as it primarily is based on my own experiences and is written for my own comfort :) warnings: descriptions of a panic attack word count: 788

-

Steven was going off on another tangent about the shoddy handiwork of the gift shop merchandise

"Really, love, the Ra erasers look more like pigeons than a falcon. It's ridiculous-"

And while you heard the words, they didn't really register. The sound fell numbly on ears that were full of cotton and you hardly managed to nod ever so frequently to ward off suspicion.

It seemed to work as he led you through the busy streets of London, holding your hand to keep you close to him.

The day wasn't particularly windy, but your hair decided to fall all over your face, the sensation grating on your nerves more than usual. You felt a step behind your body and all you could focus on was your breathing.

Too quick, too shallow. Slow down and take in more air before you cry. Since when were you on the verge tears? You could've sworn you were fine just a second-

The rush of a car passing by made you freeze up, the only evidence that it was there in the first place was the breeze that mussed your hair further and the faint resonance of its engine rumbling in the distance.

That gave you away because your stopping caused you to tug Steven back a bit, especially as your grip tightened on his hand.

"Love? Is everything alright?"

The action hardly caused him to stumble, but when he turned around to look at you, his eyebrows knit together and his posture stiffened; the traits that gave away the fronting of Marc.

"What's wrong?"

He took a step closer, his head tilting down to align himself with your line of sight. You really tried to focus on him, but your eyes refused you and stared off into the distance blurrily instead.

"Deep breaths, we're almost home. We still need to figure out what we're gonna eat for dinner, remember? Can you try coming up with ideas for me?"

He gently squeezed your hand, reminding you to answer with another nod. He began walking again, but this time, he didn't let you leave his line of sight.

The rest of the commute was a blur, and you were standing in the middle of his flat, watching Marc hang up his coat and roll up his sleeves while you stood still, unable to bring yourself to move. But he came up to you, lightly tugging your jacket off and putting it away for you.

"Did you come up with something?"

There was only patience in his gaze although you knew how long your response took.

"We still have some pre-made stock and vegetables in the fridge."

Your gaze drifted along the small kitchen, seeing the half-sliced loaf of bread in its box. Words failed to keep cooperating with you so you pointed to it instead.

"Soup and bread sounds good. Can you wash the veggies for me?"

He led you to the fridge, and this time you were able to take the initiative by opening the door and taking out the bag of stale growing but still edible vegetables. You found your way to the sink, pushing up the handle and pulling out the vegetables as the water ran cold.

It was like watching outside of your body as your hands moved without your thinking, mindlessly rinsing and putting aside carrots, potatoes, miscellaneous. You noticed Marc taking out a pot as silently as he could to not disturb you. When he took the clean pile you'd created, he mumbled a soft thanks as he started chopping them into smaller pieces.

The rest of the cooking followed similarly. Marc gave you easy instructions of pouring in the stock or stirring the pot, while he handled the more dangerous aspects of using the knife and likewise.

The noises weren't intrusive, just soothing repetition of the water bubbling or the gentle clinking of the ladle against the metal of the pot. Soon enough the hearty scent of the soup filled the air, making it a little easier to breathe.

You felt a warm hand envelop yours, raising it to rougher lips that faintly pressed against your palm. The earthly browns of his eyes bore deep into your own, and the sight along made your heart tremble because it made you realize: he knew.

His thumb wiped away the wet streaks sliding down your cheek as he guided you close to him.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're alive and safe, and everything's gonna be alright."

Your lip trembled, but you let your head fall into his chest, finding it easier not to give into the thoughts that would normally run rampant in your skull.

"I'm not going anywhere."

With that, you were able to keep breathing steadily.

masterlist

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant fanfic #marc spector fanfic #moon knight x reader #bweep #shnargo writes #mcu reader insert #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant/reader #marc spector/reader #tw panic mention #tw panic attack

[dumbgothbunny]

And so the Lion fell in love with the Lamb

(HAH CHEESY ASS TWILIGHT QUOTE BOOM)

Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x reader

~~~~

Your eyes are as round as saucers, a look of pure awe plastered across your usually stoic face. Your classmates are all gabbing on about the exhibits, but your eyes are dead locked onto one of the many Taweret plushies tucked on a shelf against the back wall of the gift shop. The States never had cute shit like this unless you went to a zoo. You’re thankful that you’re wearing boots with platforms because you spot an extra CHONK of a Taweret nestled on the top shelf. It’s a stretch but you think might be able to reach it. Your black-painted lips purse, arm outstretched. You’ve almost got it… almost-

Steven hadn’t expected a busy day for work, but that had all been shattered the moment Donna dropped a bomb on him that an American College was going to be visiting while on their class trip. Luckily you lot weren’t rowdy in the slightest. He turns after finishing a delightful conversation with your teacher, only for his eyes to instantly fall on you. Your knee high boots- fishnets- black skirt and tshirt. His mouth went instantly dry. It was almost as if Steven’s brain was short circuiting for moment. Your body was stretched as far as it could go, your Black painted nails outstretched in a desperate attempt to reach one of the super stuffed Taweret plushies. Steven quickly walks over to you, his hands behind his back, nervously pulling and twitching at each other.

“ ‘scuse me, miss? May I?”

You turn to look at him, bright eyes locking with his.

Oh….. his accent….

Your heart leaps into your throat and you turn to him.

Stevens eyes settle on your face. You’re beautiful- the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, if he dare says. He’s completely vexed by you- your dark make up that makes your eyes pop, the velvety black of your lips that remind him of the night sky.

His been staring at your lips this whole time.

Bollocks.

There’s a very obviously blush on your cheeks, you can actually feel it stinging against your skin and you have to force yourself not to break out in a nervous giggle. Okay- so the whole British accent thin is just really attractive to you, but this man- he himself radiates attractiveness. He seems kind- shy- soft spoken, and where usually that wouldn’t do anything for you- it’s something about him that just feels… good?

“Y-yeah”

Your voice is a soft whisper at first but you correct yourself instantly.

“Yes, actually uh- I would really love some help. I um-“

You blush even darker and Steven can’t help but find it absolutely delightful.

“I want that really over stuffed Taweret… I’m just short. Even with these”

You kick out your leg a bit to emphasize your point, giving him an up close view of your supple skin, wrapped perfectly in black, thin roped material. He really hopes his gulp isn’t audible.

It is, and it cause a white-hot adrenalin to course through your veins. He shoots you a grin, and you notice the little almost-gap between his teeth. That, matched with his kind eyes and cute nose… and that messy hair-

“No worries, I’ll get it down for ya in a jiffy yeah?”

He steps in front of you, barley having to stretch at all- but when his does….

Oh. My. God.

His ass is perfect. You curse yourself for eyefucking a total stranger. This was your first day in London and already you were fawning over a British man. It was hard to explain, but it felt more than just the usual shy charm you’ve felt speaking with anyone else.

“Ah- there we go!”

He turns to you, a wide, toothy grin stretching across his freshly saved face.

“I present to you, Taweret, the Goddess of Childbirth and Fertility. She’s a good one.”

He winks at you. You almost die on the spot.

“Thank you… I- um Im (Y/N) by the way and you’re Steven,,? Ah! your name badge.”

You point to your chest, as if you yourself are wearing a name tag. He leans in, a playful glint in his eye.

“Yeah… with a V. None of that PH shite”

You actually try to stop yourself from bursting into laughter by clamping your mouth shut, but fail miserably.

“How long will you be gracin’ London with your presence?”

Your shyness has slowly transform into a warmth that envelopes your entire emotional being. It’s an odd sensation.

“I’ll be here for two weeks with my school but I’m not sure if I’m going home with everyone else. It’s our summer trip, I saved up enough to stay longer. Why go back when I can spend the entire summer somewhere new… besides..”

you hold the overstuffed hippo close to your chest. “I haven’t gotten to really see everything the measuem has to offer..”

Steven guides you to the check out counter. He scans the gift shop to make sure everything is still in order (which it is) before returning his attention to you.

“You like Egyptian Mythology then, yeah?”

“Always have. Since I was a child I’ve always been really interested in the history and ancient customs- it’s fascinating. Like they really just take a hook and-“

“Rip everything’ out the ol’ nozzle”

Your laugh gives Steven butterflies in his stomach. It’s silent again for a moment. He takes the soft plushie, ringing it up. He doesn’t bother putting it in a bag, he knows you’ll want to hold onto it. You hand him your Visa card, fingers brushing across each other slightly. This entire time all you’d been able to see was him, and all he could see was you. He didn’t want you to leave.

“U-Um”

The two of you start at the same time. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you look up at him. You don’t want go back to your hotel. You want to stay with him. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You thank him again, clutching your Taweret close and turning to walk towards your classmates. You feel deflated, as if you’d just come down from a high like no other.

Your body jolts when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder.

“Wait.”

When you turn its Steven. His brow is furrowed a bit, his posture completely different than moments ago.

“Estoy enamorada”

You blink, suddenly cursing yourself for not paying attention in High School Spanish. What little you did learn you can’t remember.

“I dont understand…?”

He grins, handing you a piece of ripped receipt paper.

“Dinner, mi Amore.”

His number is scrawled across it. Your cheeks burn once more, something He seems to notice. You take out your phone, trying to calm the shaking of your fingers as you input the number. Y

“Cute British accent and you know Spanish? That’s the language of love I hear”

Your little quip earns a hearty chuckle from him. The noise makes your insides twist delightfully. Your classmates have already left you behind, no doubt walking to your hotel just across the street.

“I have to go but my evenings and nights are free. I’ll text you. Thank you for all your help”

He watches as you run to catch up with your peers, licking his lips. Jake knows he won’t be in control long- but he wasn’t gonna let Steven miss this chance. You were hot, your body language had been obvious to him, and he swears if he doesn’t get to see that black lipstick wrapped around his—-

You send him a text with your name, to which he replies with a time and address. You’re unfamiliar with where everything is, thank god for Uber. Your closer classmates playfully tease you about “The Gift Shop Man” in the elevator.

“Go get you some British dick girl, you know I’m right there with ya.”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

You both laugh, chatting about Steven the entire way to your room. Once inside you kick off your giant boots and peel your fishnets off, tossing them on a chair. With Taweret tightly tucked under your nose and chin you fall onto your back, body bouncing against the mattress. With eyes closed you take a deep inhale. Much to your delight it smells like him.

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