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in-a-daddy-state-of-mind · 1 year

Text

Getting Up Next To You

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader (background Jake Lockley x f!reader)

Summary: Steven keeps waking up next to you after you and Jake hook up

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of smut, social anxiety, some angst, general self-hatred, let me know if there is anything else I missed. MINORS DNI

Notes: I just love the idea of Steven being an awkward little bean after waking up next to you. Also the idea of him slowly falling in love and you two being little anxious messes. I’m just obsessed with him and I think he could make me like myself more. As always interactions with the post are appreciated as well as feedback!

The first time you met Steven Grant was when he woke up next to you unaware that you would be there. To say he was surprised was an understatement. Waking up next to beautiful women he didn’t remember was not a common occurrence in his life.

Steven almost fell out of the bed when he turned to find you peacefully sleeping next to him. You quickly proceeded to try and calm him down or at least convince him you weren’t an intruder.

“Jake told me this might happen. Are you Marc or Steven?” You quickly questioned trying to deescalate.

It took a second for Steven to process your words. Jake told you? Christ, what had his life become since the third alter joined them.

“Steven. Wait a minute, you know Jake?” He questioned back still confused.

“Yes, we slept together last night. That’s why I’m here.” You answered seeming way too calm for someone that woke up next to a different person sharing the body of your one night stand.

Of course Jake would do something like this. Bring someone into their house and then not even have the common decency to see them out. Steven couldn’t understand how he shared a body with someone so different from himself sometimes.

“I was kind of… spent last night. Couldn’t really walk home afterwards. I’m so sorry I’m bothering you now.” You apologized clinging the bedsheets to your chest.

Oh god that meant you were naked under the sheets. Steven desperately tried to wave that thought away.

“Alright, that is probably more information than I needed to hear. And you’re fine.” Steven said moving away from the bed.

“Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of you. Neither sure what to do in this situation.

“Do you want to have some breakfast? I make some mean scrambled eggs.” You offered moving away from the bed still clinging to the sheets.

Steven was in a dilemma. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was here or if Jake would be mad if he accepted. By the situation you two were in, it was clear his alter wasn’t looking for a lasting relationship. Yet, you seemed so kind and there was so much hope in your offer. Damn Jake, he was the one that put Steven in this situation and he would have to deal with the consequences.

“Breakfast sounds lovely. What’s your name by the way?”

You introduced yourself offering your hand for Steven to shake. You were unreasonably cute. Part of Steven wished he was the one that had met you first.

Steven gave you your clothes and moved to the kitchen busying himself while you changed. He was so different from the person you met last night it almost gave you whiplash. You obviously had liked Jake, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone home with him. Yet where Jake was all sharp edges and hungry looks, Steven was smooth and soft. The fact that he didn’t even try to sneak a look at your naked form really solidified you were dealing with someone different.

Once you were fully clothed, you made the breakfast you promised: scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. You and Steven ate together making conversation. You asked him lots of questions and seemed genuinely interested in his answers. What was his favorite breakfast food, how long has he lived in London, did he prefer breakfast or dinner. Being socially anxious this was your strategy for when you met new people. Just ask them as many questions as you could, start from what you are doing now and try to trace it back all the way to their family roots. This way conversation would happen and you didn’t have to panic about being in silence and them hating your presence.

Steven was surprisingly disappointed when the meal ended. He wanted to keep talking to you. In the short amount of time you spent together he had rather enjoyed your company. Nobody was usually interested in spending time with him, and yet here you were. A complete stranger that had managed to learn more about him over the span of a meal than most of the people he had been working with for years.

“I’m off then. It was lovely to meet you, Steven.” You said after you helped him put all the dishes in the sink.

“It was lovely to meet you too. I hope we’ll get to see each other again.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. But I hope so too.”

The smile you gave him made his heart melt. Gosh, he would have to beg Jake to make this not a one night stand.

Steven had berated Jake with questions after that morning. He wanted to know all he could about you and yet he was met with the answer of “you were just some girl he met at a bar”.

It’s not like Jake didn’t like you. He most certainly did. You were hot, the sex was amazing, and he actually enjoyed talking to you at the bar. But Jake was not in the business of collecting repeated trading cards. He was not looking for a relationship and was very secure in his choices which just made Steven more displeased that really it was unlikely he would meet you again.

That was of course until he once more woke up next to you and this time actually fell out of the bed in surprise.

“Steven, calm down! It’s just me!” You shouted trying to calm your own rapid heartbeat from the shock of being woken up like that.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“You reacted the same way you did last time. Also you have a British accent. Jake told me the other one doesn’t.”

“Jake told you?” Steven questioned uncertain as to why his alter would just offer you information like this. “Yeah, I asked him about you.” You said nonchalantly.

Steven could almost hear his heart stop. Fuck, you asked about him. He tried to not get his hopes up but the very fact you wanted to know more about him had to mean that you also thought about him after. Right?

“I have been dreaming about those scrambled eggs.” He said with a smile.

And about her. You won’t shut up about it. Steven ignored Jake’s voice in his head.

“I’ll gladly make them again for you!”

With that you two did the same as last time with Steven moving to the kitchen to grab ingredients while you put your clothes back on. This time, however, it felt comfortable. Familiar. You didn’t feel stressed around Steven despite the fact you had only met him once and the fact that the voices in your head weren’t screaming that this was awkward and you needed to leave as they usually did was something you didn’t know what to do with.

Truth be told, you had secretly hoped Steven would be the one you woke up next to before you fell asleep the night prior. When you saw Jake from across the bar the previous night you wanted to sink into your seat. The two of them hadn’t left your mind since the last time but as usual it would take way too much courage you didn’t have to actually go speak to him. And he clearly had meant for it to be a one-time thing, you could get the context clues for that. So you can imagine your shock when Jake approached you again, just as flirtatious as last time. One thing led to another and you were once again here with Steven eating eggs.

This time around you asked him if he minded you turning on the TV while you two ate. So you sat next to him watching a re-run of Doctor Who while you still asked questions. This time the questions were all related to his interests and you were perhaps the first person Steven met that didn’t seem to immediately check out when he went on a rant about how Gods of Egypt had gotten it all wrong. Steven was in trouble and he knew it.

Once more, the meal seemed to end way too quickly and before Steven knew it you were taking the dishes to the sink and picking up your bag.

“Wait, don’t you at least want to see the end of the episode? I mean I would be devastated if you didn’t know what happened about those blasted Weeping Angels.” Steven offered.

Truth was you had seen Blink more times than you could count but you still accepted Steven’s offer. There was so much hope in his eyes you just couldn’t say no. You both sat on the couch and continued watching the episode making comments about your thoughts on it. You ended up watching the episode they aired after it too and it was afternoon by the time you finally left.

Steven really hoped Jake would choose to bring you home again.

Before Steven saw you next he argued with Jake endlessly. He lost count of how much time he spent in front of the mirror just grilling Jake on why he wouldn’t invite you on a proper date. He clearly liked you and it was the least you deserved. If Steven couldn’t be in a relationship with you, he at least would like for someone in the system to do it. Yet, as always Jake would give the same answer: he was not interested in a relationship. True, he had slept with you twice. And brought you to the actual apartment versus your own house or the cab. All steps he hadn’t taken with anyone really but that was it. He wouldn’t cross anymore boundaries with you and a date would definitely cross many.

And then, after weeks of arguing, Steven woke up next to you again. Except this time he wasn’t frightened. He didn’t scream or fall out of the bed, he just laid there looking at you and trying to figure out how he could not disturb your sleep and yet still get to spend the day with you. After what felt like years but was probably a couple of minutes your eyes opened and focused on Steven’s. The moment they did you opened an enchanting smile.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this, Steven.” You joked.

“I rather like the sight of you first thing in the morning.” Steven said making your cheeks turn red.

He really hoped that wasn’t too straight forward but it was like these feeling inside of him refused to be contained. He was had it bad for you. Really bad.

“So breakfast?” You simply said already sitting up and looking around for your clothes.

“Actually I was planning to go to the museum today. A new exhibition on modern art just opened and I was going to go today anyway so maybe you could join me? We could get breakfast at the coffee shop there.”

Steven’s voice almost broke at the end. He was so nervous but he just couldn’t bear to think you would leave so early again.

“Don’t you work at the museum?” You questioned.

“Yes, but my boss Donna can be real nasty. She would never let me actually see the exhibition during work hours.” Steven explained.

“Sure then! I would love to!”

Steven almost couldn’t believe the word coming out of your mouth. How could he be so damn lucky?

You two went to the museum and Steven couldn’t have dreamed of something better. You had a genuine discussion about what art was and what your favorite painter were. You ended up seeing the new exhibition but also just walking around the entire museum. You stayed at least an hour in the Egyptian exhibit as Steven told you every detail about every piece and the history behind it.

Steven was enchanting. Gosh, when he went on his rants his eyes lit up and the perpetual dark bags under his eyes seemed to disappear. He was always beautiful but in the museum he absolutely glowed.

When he got too excited about showing you different things he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you from one piece to another. The contact was so small and innocent compared to the ones you’ve had with this same body in the past but it still made you blush. Fuck, you were whipped. You liked Steven. Not only Jake but now you truly couldn’t deny that you were crushing bad on Steven.

By the time you were finished with the museum it was late afternoon. Steven couldn’t remember a day he had enjoyed more. You both had decided to get food at a vegan restaurant close to the museum he loved. The meal was going lovely as always but one thing was in his mind and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Why do you still sleep with Jake?” Steven blurted out almost involuntarily.

“What?”

“You clearly deserve better! You don’t deserve to be with a bloody wanker that will sleep with you and then not even have the decency to wake up next to you!”

To say you had not expected this was an understatement. You stuttered not really sure how to respond.

“Do I deserve better?” You asked letting your insecurity come through.

“Yes! You deserve the world.”

“It really doesn’t feel like that sometimes.” You confessed.

Steven quickly moved from his position on the other side of the booth you were sitting in to get closer to you. He placed his hand on your cheek making you look him in the eye.

“Oh, love. You do. You’re brilliant and you deserve someone who will make you feel like it. You deserve someone who will worship you.” Steven said softly.

“Someone like you?” A boldness took over you and forced you to say it.

You immediately regretted it and was about to apologize when Steven cut you off.

“If you’d have me.”

Instead of replying, you closed the distance between the two of you and kissed Steven. First the kiss was soft, temptation but as soon as he responded it quickly become hungry. Steven had been waiting for this moment for more than a month now and it felt fantastic. It was all he wanted and dreamed it would be.

The next time Steven woke up next to you was different. He wasn’t on the other side of the bed as usual. Instead he was pressed against your back, feeling your warmth as he snuggled closer to you.

He was the one that got to fall asleep next to you the previous night after he was the one to finally ravish your body. Hearing you scream his name as he plunged into you was enchanting and he understood why Jake kept coming back to you.

And now here he was. Getting to look at you in the morning knowing exactly how you both ended up in that position.

You stirred in your sleep and turned to look at him. You opened that same sweet smile that melted his heart.

“Good morning, Steven.”

“Good morning, love.”

#moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x oc #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x reader #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #steven grant fanfiction

962 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

a little banged up

steven grant x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral m and f recieving, mxf sexual intercourse, tiny dom behaviour from reader if u squint okay and maybe like voyerism? idk what to call it NOT REALLY BUT JUST STAY SAFE OKAY) swearing, mentions of blood, description of wounds

a/n: heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy okay this has no plot like i said, i tried my best i just luv him okay! i also love you! goodbye!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Steven! Come on, I know you’re in there!” You bang on your neighbours’ door for the fourth time today, and with each passing moment of silence, the dread in the pit of your stomach grows a little heavier. You keep pounding your fist on the door though, hoping he’s just still asleep.

You and Steven have been living across from each other for a couple of months now, and ever since you moved in you couldn’t help but be completely intrigued by him. He was definitely a little.. different, to say the least, but he was always sweet to you, opening a door or bringing a coffee by your place if he left early, and it only drew you to him more. It got to the point where every day when you passed in the corridor on the way to work, or got caught in the elevator together on the way home, he never failed to make you smile.

Which is why when his boss had called you asking if you knew where he was, you were a little too happy to cross the hallway and knock on his door. You weren’t sure exactly how his boss, Donna, had gotten your number, something about your number being scribbled on his notebooks at work, but she had seemed a little more worried than her typical angry tone. She told you how she hadn’t seen him in days, and no one could reach him.

Αs soon as you hung up, you realised you also hadn’t seen Steven in a while, your usual chats in the hallway dwindling in the past few days, and you hadn’t even heard him open his door. You were fairly preceptive of his schedule, both of you leaving and arriving around the same time, and it was also due to your not so tiny crush on him that you paid extra attention.

“Steven! Is everything okay?” You stopped knocking and pressed your ear to the door. You hadn’t ever been inside his apartment, but it was probably a similar layout to yours, so why was your heart beating so fast when your hand found the door handle?

You were worried, that must be it. You hadn’t turned the handle, assuming it was locked, but you still thought to announce yourself.

“O-Okay. I’m gonna try to come in.”

Your eyes widen when the door easily swings open, and you quickly shut it behind you. Holy shit. You were in his apartment. It wasn’t exactly how you had pictured the moment, more specifically in your mind he would have invited you in after a perfect first date, maybe kiss you sweetly as he made you a cup of tea. But here you were, alone, standing in a giant pile of books and trinkets strewn on the floor.

“Steven?” You call out again, and allow yourself to take in the rest of his place. It was organised chaos, stacks of books so high you were surprised they could stay up, and a mix of random items, dishes and clothes thrown wildly in piles. You take a couple steps, extending your neck to look around to where you know his bathroom is. The curtain to the shower is closed, but no one seems to be in there, and you figured if he was in there he would have said something - or fallen over in a rush and alerted you, knowing Steven. The bed in front of you is a mess, blankets heaped up in a corner, but that isn’t what stops you in your tracks.

Was it sand? You lean down to touch it, and it was definitely something like that, the fine grains falling through your fingers as you squat down to look at it closer. Watching it fall, you see the two foot prints facing the door imprinted in the circle that surrounds his bed frame.

You push yourself up and stand, looking further into the apartment. At this point you were almost positive he wasn’t here, unless he was hiding in the floor, but your curiosity was getting the better of you. Walking over to his desk, you can see the open book under the light of the lamp, and skimming it you see a couple of names of Egyptian Gods you recognise from conversations with Steven. He got so excited when you showed even the slightest interest, so you paid as much attention as you could every time he spoke, even though all you could think about was leaning just a little bit closer -

You freeze when you hear a loud thump coming from the bathroom. You checked there, didn’t you? The curtains were closed, but Steven would have heard you if he was in there, right? Unless something has happened. Oh god, you didn’t even think he might be hurt, you just assumed he was out, or forgot about work or something.

“Steven? Is that you?” A groan echos into the main apartment, and you move fast, sliding into the bathroom and ripping the curtain back, gasping at the sight of him. “Oh my god! Are- what happened?”

His head flops back, hitting the tiled wall making him groan again, and you drop to your knees and slip your hand behind him to soften the blow. It seems like it takes him a minute to recognise you, or even realise where he was, but he smiles a half smile and says your name when his eyes find yours.

“Got m’self into a bit of a spot, ‘aven’t I?” His accent was thick and a little slurred, and you were worried he might have a concussion, the small cut on his head leaking trace amounts of now dry blood. “What ‘ave I done now?”

“I’m not sure. Looks like you hit your head?” Your fingers come up to lightly brush over the cut on his head, and he sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering closed. You don’t know how you hadn’t noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but its as his muscles flex when you let your fingers ghost the side of his face that you physically have to tear your eyes away form ogling him.

“I don’t rem - were we together? Did we-”

“No! No, I just - your boss called me - a few times, actually. Asked where you were, yelled a bit. The usual, but I was worried. I haven’t seen you in a while, Steven. Are you alright?” You let your eyes scan his face, and you can see the usual bags under his eyes have gotten a bit deeper, and his hair is all messed up. He was also wearing extremely tight jeans, which you definitely would have noticed if he had worn them before.

“I’ve had a real bad go of lately. Donna’s gonna have my head.” He sighs, and you feel the air leave his mouth under your hands, which you still have wrapped around his face.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s get you out of the tub first, yeah?” He smiles a little and leans into your hand before pushing himself up using the edge. “You okay?”

“Brilliant really.” His tone is light and he doesn’t sway or get light headed when he stands, so maybe he just fell asleep. That doesn’t really explain the cut, though. One problem at a time. “I am really sorry about Donna, she’s not always everyones cup of tea.”

“It’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He steps out of the tub and your hands go out to help him. As soon as you connect, his head comes up and your eyes meet, and for a second you think he might pass out again. His eyes lose focus and he has a hint of a smile on his face as he stares as you. “Steven?”

“Oh! I- um. How did you get in here?” Your eyes widen a bit at the fact you have to admit you kind of broke in. “Sorry! That was completely rude. Thanks for all this. I promise it’s not as strange as it looks. I don’t think.” You laugh as he loses his thoughts staring at you again.

“You left the door open. I knocked for a while, but like I said, I was kinda worried! Missed our little chats in the elevator so I though I would come check on you.” You smile and walk with him into the apartment, heading towards the closest chair, letting him sit down and watching how his muscles strain in those damn jeans. You need to get a hold of yourself, but seriously, where did they come from?

“I saw you this mornin’, didn’t I? I always remember seein’ you.” He sits forward, looking up at you from the chair as you step closer.

“I haven’t seen you in 2 days, Steven. I think you might have a concussion. We should probably take you to the hospital.” He flinches and looks in the mirror to his right. He seems a little more out of it than usual. Sure, Steven has this adorable confusion about him in general, but this seems like something a little more. You hear him mumble something while staring at his reflection, and he shakes his head.

“S’ alright. I can - just need to stay awake, yeah? Tea? Do you want tea?” He stands up but you dont step back, and he freezes his movement when he feels your hands come up to rest on his bare chest.

“You need to relax. I don’t know what’s happened, but you need to just sit and take a beat. I’ll make some tea, and we can figure it out together, okay?” His lips part slightly and you can feel his heart slamming under your hand, a searing heat of excitement rushing through you at the thought of having any kind of effect on him. He blinks at you a couple times, then just nods and lets you push him back down on the couch.

You move through the kitchen swiftly, Steven funnily keeping a lot of things in the same places you do, with your identical layout you get two cups of tea ready in no time. Bringing one to him he is still staring at you, almost in a trance as he takes the cup and watches you walk into the bathroom. You open up a cupboard and find the first aid kit, bringing it back out and placing it on the arm rest.

“Oh days, you really don’t have to do that. I’ll clean myself up in a bit I-”

“It’s fine. I want to help.” Your hand comes under his chin and he looks up at you, face relaxing into the dopey smile you recognise from your meetings in the hallway. “May I?”

You gesture to his lap and he nods eagerly, quickly placing the cup of tea next to yours on the table and shuffling back into the chair. He lifts his hands on to the arm rests, and you smile at how adorable he looks, so unsure of how to handle the situation. You want to take it slow, not completely sure where his head is at, and you aren’t expecting anything from this, you just want to help him; to be close to him, whatever that meant.

You sit down and hear him suck in a small breath when you drop your weight. He was deceivingly muscular, legs easily supporting you, and the abs you could now see from a taller angle were defined underneath tanned skin. You reach across and pull out a small gauze and some wound cleaner, dabbing a bit on.

“This might sting a little, okay?” He nods and squeezes his eyes shut, and you resist the urge to lean down and kiss him, his face screwing up in preparation. You make quick work of it, cleaning away the dried blood and gently cleaning the actual wound, which is a little deeper than you thought. Throwing the gauze on to the table you find some steri-strips and bandage it as best you can, trying to sooth Steven as he twitches underneath you when you touch a sensitive spot.

“Ouch. T’s a bit stingy.” He breaths and you laugh.

“Sorry about that. It’s actually a little worse than I thought.”

“So whats the diagnosis, Doc? Will I make it out with my head?” You giggle, and the arm behind you moves closer, you can feel the ghost of its touch on your lower back, and it sends shivers up your spine. With his attitude seemingly a little better and his eyes focusing in more, losing that hazy glow from before, you think he’s just overwhelmed. So no concussion, which meant that the way he was looking at you wasn’t from a head injury, but a genuine gaze. You bit your lip to ground yourself before you spoke.

“Nope. This is the end. You had a good run.” He sighs, and you put the first aid kit on the table, your hand unable to resist the temptation to rest on his chest. You can see him tense each muscle as your fingers touch them, his breathing stammered.

“Not a terrible way to go, then.” He looks up at you, and you lean your face toward his, feeling his breath on your face.

“Are you feeling any better?” You let your hand run lower, pressing your forehead to his as your hand stops on the belt wrapped around his jeans. He nods rapidly, and you smile at him, looking up through your lashes. “Missed you around here.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll - I don’t want to go anywhere, I swear. Sometimes I just - lose track of time.” You giggle again, seeing how flustered he is just under your touch. You hope he can tell you are feeling the same nerves, although you might be better at hiding it than he is.

You have always had a crush on him, ever since your first little interaction, and it soon became the best part of your day, seeing him around the building. You take in a deep breath and close your eyes as the silence hangs in the air. You drag your free hand up to the back of his neck.

“Is this okay?” You ask and you can hear him swallow.

“Y-yes. Anything you do is okay, very much so.” His eyes are wide but he keeps his fore head pressed to yours, arching his back a little so he presses closer to you.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes squeeze shut just for a second before he answers.

“God, yes. Please.” You are smiling when you press your lips to his, and he responds instantly, the soft feeling of him moving against you sends shockwaves through your body. He was as sweet as you pictured, and you took whatever he gave you, kissing him slowly and letting his hands come up to hold your face to his, using your own to tangle in his hair.

You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip, asking for permission and he opens for you, ever the pleaser. He fits so perfectly against you, and you wonder how you could ever stand to kiss someone else when he was right there, just across the hall.

One of his hands drops from your face and finds your hip, tugging and pulling to bring you closer. You take the hint, thankfully the chair was big enough that you could fit both of your legs on either side of his so you were straddling him much closer that before. You move your hips to get comfortable, and his grip on you tightens when you hear him moan in your mouth.

“Darling, sh-should I-”

“Shh. Just relax. Let me take care of you.” His mouth is open and a strangled sound comes out as you grind against him, and he tries to say your name but you just kiss him again. His arm wraps around your back and holds you as tight as he can, and you can feel the familiar static feeling in your stomach every time you move your hips against him, arousal building by the second.

“This feel good, Steven?”

“Yes, y-yes, yes, ye.. God.” He’s losing composure by the second and it’s the single hottest thing you have ever seen. His eyebrows are furrowed together, and every time you move your hips his eyes open on instinct, only to close again when he feels your lips connect with him.

You want to see every tiny reaction, hear every noise he makes, and every time he says your name it only fuels your fire, so when you slide off of him you aren’t surprised when his eyes shoot open. A flash of disappointment washes over his features, only to be replaced by curiosity as he sees you on your knees in front of him.

“What’s wr- oh. Oh god.” You waste no time in slipping those fucking jeans down and taking him into your mouth, him already being painfully hard just from you sitting on top of him.

You gently suck on the tip of him, letting your tongue swirl around him while you stare at Steven, not wanting to miss a single second of how he looks at you. You take your mouth off him and make sure your looking him in the eye as you spit down his length, one hand coming up to stroke him gently, and his entire body shudders in the chair.

“You taste so good, Steven.” You can see he’s trying to say something, but all that comes out is strained gasps and moans as you take him back into your mouth.

You feel him hitting the back of your throat and your eyes roll back at the knowledge of him being so deep. Your hand twists gently around the part you can’t take into your mouth and you set a slow pace, wanting to draw out his pleasure for as long as possible.

“Sh-Shitshitshitsh- aaah! Feels i-incredible I-“ he manages and you take him out of your mouth, running your tongue from his base to swirl around the tip again.

“Relax. You can come whenever you want.” You go to put your mouth on him again, but the hand that tangled in your hair pulls you, a light tug stopping your intended direction.

“Wait! I want- want to…” His hand comes around to cup your face and bring you back up to him, your hands falling to the side and pushing off the floor. When you reach him, he kisses you softly on the mouth.

“Want to what? Tell me.” You whisper in his ear, and you swear you can hear him whimper, the pooling arousal between your legs only gaining momentum. You drop one of your hands between you to stroke him slowly.

“Can’t th-think when you do that-t.” He stutters out, eyes closing again and you kiss along his neck as his head falls back.

“C’mon, you can tell me.” You feel his hard swallow against your lips and you smile, loving that you have him this out of it so quickly. You never imagined how good he would look doing it, though, and if he doesn’t touch you soon you think all the build up might cause you to explode. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want this to end. Not yet.” He splurges out, the sentence coming out so fast you only just make out the words. Your face comes up in front of him and he instantly takes the chance to kiss you again, both of his arms wrapping around your back, holding you.

“It’s okay, really. I’m not going anywher-“ you don’t get the chance to finish because he kisses you again and in one motion you are in the air, hearing his belt and jeans hit the floor. His arms come underneath both of your legs to wrap around him as he moves you. Your eyes are closed until you jolt forward a little, nearly slipping out of Stevens grasp as he trips trying to step out of his pants. You laugh into him and he drags his lips away to shake the last clinging bit of denim off.

“Bollocks. Stupid bloody things.” Finally he steps out and you can feel him smiling underneath your mouth.

“I like them.” You whisper and you feel the muscles in his neck tighten under your hand.

“Oh! I’ll- i’ll keep them around then, maybe?” His voice goes up an octave as he walks with you, tilting his head as he searches your eyes for approval. You just smile and kiss him again, both of you falling backwards onto the bed.

You only look down for a second to admire him, completely naked and crawling on top of you, but you can’t resist finding his eyes as he trails his hands down your torso, stopping at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” You nod as he starts to pull the fabric up and over your head, goosebumps following his touch as your skin is exposed to the cool air. You shiver, but it’s not the cold that makes you react, it’s Stevens hands, explorative and curious as they smooth over you, wandering back down your stomach and under your back as you arch into his touch.

He looks up at you for approval as he bows his head, curls tickling your chest as he kisses you there. You just say his name and thread your fingers through his hair, careful not to pull too hard. He goes slow, and you would think he was teasing if he wasn’t Steven. You know him, though. You know he is just taking his time, wanting to enjoy every part of you he can.

He hooks his fingers into your pants, pulling them down with your underwear. Suddenly you feel a little insecure, and you try to cross your legs over, hiding yourself as much as you can. Stevens hands come to your hips, kissing each one before sliding off the end of the bed, dragging you down to the edge by the backs of your knees.

“Is something wrong? We can stop I- are you okay?” He is noticing how you are bent at a weird angle, trying to hide how very exposed you are to him.

“No! Please don’t stop. I’m just, ah, it’s been a while. Nervous, I guess.” You try to smile. You want this, god do you want him to, but it’s just been so long since someone has done, well, that that you can’t help but be a little insecure. Especially when it’s Steven between your legs, all perfect and hard and beautiful.

“You are bloody gorgeous.” He says, and his eyes are kind of glazed over as they scan your body, chest heaving under his watch. “I’ll do whatever you want to do. Just tell me, okay?”

He moves his face away slightly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable but you instantly miss the heat of his breath on your skin. You shake your head and pull a little on his hair, making a sound similar to the ones he was making earlier although higher pitched and maybe a little more desperate.

He slides his hands down your thighs, and gently pushes them open, trailing kisses along the inside. You open yourself further to him and he takes the encouragement, shifting his weight to get comfortable before his tongue finally meets your centre.

He starts slow, looking straight into your eyes as you gasp his name. It’s like he’s reading your mind, moving at exactly the right pace to make you comfortable, but also building that same pressure from earlier, sparks shooting up your body. You shiver again and his hands keep rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

“Is this okay? Please say it’s okay.” The vibration of his words only increases the warmth spreading across your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed and you let your head drop back, allowing yourself to enjoy every second of him.

“God, yes Steven. Feels so g-good.” You can feel his smile, and he moans into your core as he quickens the pace. When he adds a finger, curling it inside of you, you see stars, and you cry out and arch your back. “Fuck!”

“So pretty. So, so pretty.” He murmurs into you, his accent coming through strong as he strings together compliments, and he takes your most sensitive spot into his mouth, the pressure effecting your entire being.

Everything feels light and warm, and you swear you start floating as Steven adds another finger inside of you, easily hitting that spot. You know your so close, your orgasm making you start to twitch. Steven slides his free hand across your stomach and holds you down, preparing to fuck you with his fingers and tongue no matter how much you squirm.

His strength surprises you and you sneak a look at his arm, muscles flexing as he easily holds you in place. You can only look up for a second, and you see Steven looking right at you, and the sight is the last thing you need.

You come, harder than you expected, white hot pleasure making your toes curl and your stomach flex. His name is the only thing you can say, the only thing you can think of, so you shout it into the quiet of the apartment, and you feel Steven moans with you, never ceasing his perfect movements.

As your mind floats back into your body you feel the loss of his mouth, and you go to pout when he surprises you again, already having climbed back on top of you. He kisses you harder, more needy. You can feel his hard length against your thigh, and knowing it’s just for you takes all that relief from your orgasm and spins it into need, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you to fuck me, Steven. Please.” His forehead presses against your own, and he sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, eyes finding yours through his lashes.

“God, yes - I mean yeah- yes okay. Fuck.” His eyes are blinking rapidly and he looks down between you, letting out a desperate sound just at the sight of you both, naked and as desperate for him and he is for you. Your hands come behind him, one drawing lines up and down his back and the other pulling the back of his neck down to kiss him.

You feel him line himself up with you, running the tip through your folds just once, both of you keening at the feeling of one another. He keeps kissing you, tongues and teeth clashing as he slides into you. You hear him sigh, and your nails dig into his back as he rocks inside of you.

“You feel- Jesus, incredible darling. Is this good?”

“Mm. More. Please.” He laughs into the crook of your neck and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy to think you made him laugh even now.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay, whatever you want.” He speeds up, hitting you harder and faster, his hidden strength evident in how hard he was slamming into you. Both of your moans are echoing in the apartment, which is why your so surprised when you hear a ringing in your ear.

It takes you a second to realise it’s a phone, and the sound is coming from the pillow under your head. You reach up and pull it out, recognising the name flashing across the screen.

“You gonna get it?” You whisper and it’s obvious Steven hasn’t noticed it, his eyes closed and completely focused on you. You bring your hand to his chin and make him look up at you.

“Huh? S’ fine. Forget about it.” He shakes his head against yours, and you stop meeting his thrusts, an idea clouding your pleasure for just a second.

“Sit up.” The phone keeps vibrating in your hand, but he does what you say, blissed out and under your control. He slides out of you and moves up, leaning his back on the backboard of the bed. His hands never leave you, sliding up to your hips as he comes up next to you. You keep the phone in one hand and straddle him, already missing the feeling of him inside you.

“Oh god. Oh whoahhh-“ he moans as you sink onto him and his head falls onto your chest. You nearly completely forget what you were doing, but when the phone starts vibrating again, his hands tighten on your hips.

“Sh-she won’t stop calling ‘till you answer.” His eyes widen, and he begins to shake his head, but you push yourself up and drop back down on him, and he actually whimpers before sliding one hand up your forearm, fingers fiddling with the phone. “Play a game with me, Steven.”

“I-You want me to…” You look at the phone in his hand and he nods, looking up at you to make sure it’s what you want. You kiss him, smiling a little at how easy that was, and he looks down at the name, eyes rolling and head falling back, half in annoyance and the other in pleasure as you roll your hips again.

“Answer, and if you can keep quiet about where you are, I’ll let you come inside me.” You lean next to his ear to whisper the last part, it feeling so dirty that you can’t look him in the eye. He shudders underneath you as you continue to roll your hips, and he just keeps nodding over and over, pleasure completely taking over his mind.

“H-hello.” His voice cracks as he brings the phone to his ear, and he looks up at you and bites his lip. “No I- I know. Yes, she found me.” You assume that is you by the way he smiles a little, eyes drifting to where you sink down on his cock, and the hand you put on his face muffles a small moan that comes from him

“An accident - yeah. That’s it. No, just a little-“ you drop down on him again and he lurches forward, chests pressing together. Your second orgasm is building so fast, and when Steven drops his free hand to circle your clit, it’s you who has to cover your mouth. “A little banged up at the moment.”

Amongst the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building under your skin, you can’t help but laugh at his ironic response. A lazy smile is mirrored on his face, and when you roll your hips again he’s seemingly had enough.

“Okayyepgottagobye.” He rushes out and clicks the receiver, throwing the phone into the wall next to you.

“Steven!” You laugh and he kisses you, both arms wrapping around you and he finally starts to fuck up into you, your body shattering under every thrust.

“How’d I do, darling?” He croaks in your ear and you struggle to get a breath in between your moans.

“So good. So good.” He fucks you harder, holding you and moving you up and down so that even though you are on top, he’s doing all the work. He hits you deeper every time, and you know you can’t last much longer. “God, Steven! Please cum inside me. Oh shit please, please…”

“Fuckin’ hell. C-c-“ Whatever he was going to say is lost when he feels you tighten around him, cumming for him for the second time today. Your body is on fire, every fibre of your being absorbed in the feeling of him, the smell of him, of just him.

You feel him go with you just seconds after, his thrusts starting to falter as he looses himself in pleasure. You open your eyes so you can watch him fall apart underneath you, everything about him making your heart flutter.

Your breath was uneven and you could feel Stevens was the same, and he held you close against him. He was kissing your shoulder as you folded your body over him, and he gently shimmied you both down, sliding out of you and pulling you against him as you both laid down on his bed.

“Are you okay?” You ask, face dangerously close to his, and he just leans forward and kisses your nose, making you blush.

“Never felt bloody better. Practically a new man.” He cuddles you close, your legs intertwining. As you shift, you hear a rattle at the end of the bed, and your eyes catch on the chains, leading to a small cuff. Was that…

“Oh god. It’s really not what it looks like. I swear it’s not a-“ his voice drops an octave and he whispers, even though it was just the two of you”- a sex thing.”

You burst out laughing at how red his cheeks go, and he just buries his face into the covers, your hand coming up to hold his face against yours.

“I wouldn’t really mind if they were.” He swallows hard and you can’t stop laughing, kissing him through gasps.

“I sleepwalk, you see. I know it’s a bit left field, but swears it’s a- ah. Wait, what?”

“Nothing at all. Sleep. You need it.” You see his eyebrows furrow, but you just nuzzle into him, his strong arms keeping you snug against his chest.

“Alright. Sleep. I can try, I guess.” He curls up, making it impossible to tell where you start and he ends, and you drift off to the sound of his heart beating in time with your own.

When you wake, Steven hasn’t moved an inch, and you don’t want him to , so you just watch how peaceful he looks, all relaxed and sleepy. You think about how many times you had imagined this, and you hate that you wasted so much time sleeping alone when he was just across the hall.

As much as you loved your chats in the elevator, his little stories and how his eyes lit up when he spoke; the way he looked underneath you will forever be etched into your brain, and even though your apartments were identical, there was never a place you felt more at home than here.

Tangled in his arms.

#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #steven grant x oc #steven grant smut #moon knight x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel tv #steven grant fic

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 11 months

Text

raindrops keep falling

steven grant x f!reader prompt: rain theme: fluff (tags beneath the cut)

“Goddamn—shit!” you cursed, giving up your attempt at fishing your car keys out of your bag to wrestle with your admittedly ancient umbrella. The sudden gust of wind had almost managed to blow it straight out of your hand, and you swore again as you quickly became drenched by the rain. The flimsy fabric and metal frame of the umbrella jerked and broke before the damn thing finally wrenched itself out of your hand, blowing haphazardly across the street to be flattened under the wheel of a passing truck. “God, I hate this stupid, fuck—”

You turned; your bag immediately knocked out of your hands as a man barreled into you. The contents spilled out onto the rain-soaked pavement.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry—” he bent down as quickly you did, scooping up your wallet. His head bumped against yours as you both reached for your keys. “I’m sorry, I—”

He broke off as he looked up, his expression freezing, lips parted softly, as your gaze met his. His dark eyes - weighed down by even darker circles - seemed to study your face, the curls in hair weighed down by the rain and clinging to his forehead. He blinked rain out of his eyes, and you felt a fluttering in your chest as he seemed to realize he was staring. He glanced down at his hands before looking up at you again, a brief, embarrassed smile touching his lips.

“Hello… H-hi,” he said, in a tone you could almost consider bashful.

“Hi.”

You felt your own lips twitch in a smile despite the rain still soaking you. “You said that already.”

“Sorry.”

“You said that, too.” you said, your smile widening. “Y/N.”

He breathed a huff of a laugh through his own smile, ducking his head for a moment. “Steven. Steven Grant.”

You nodded down at his hands. “You’ve still got my wallet, Steven Grant.”

“Oh, I—” he glanced down at his hands, thrusting it back towards you apologetically. Your fingertips brushed over his as you took it from him, and your skin warmed where it met his despite the icy rain still clinging to your skin. He gave you another self-deprecating smile, pushing dripping hair away from his forehead with one hand. “I have the urge to apologize again.”

You laughed, biting your lip. “Tell you what, how about we go to that café on the corner up there and you keep me company until the rain stops, and we’ll call it even?”

Steven turned to follow your pointing finger with his eyes, before turning back to you. “I… I would like that.”

“I might even let you pay for the coffee.”

He chuckled. “Generous.”

“I’m a generous person.”

@startrekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark

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guruan · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your artwork! I found your work when I first started in the Moon Knight fandom! Speaking of the Moon Boys... if you're still taking requests and it's not too much to ask... can I ask for drawings of the Moon Knight boys embracing/hugging a plus sized reader/figure?

Hi dear! Hope you like them ❤❤

Guruan's 1k followers celebration

(Not intentional but I kinda drew different poses but all of them side profiles for them??? Hahaha)

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multific · 2 years

Text

My Girl

Jake Lockley x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader

Words: 2600

Warnings: Cursing, mention of sex, break up, Jake can be a dick

Summary: Marc had a suspicion he had another person in him, Steven wasn��t the only one, that was evident after what happened with Harrow. But neither Marc nor Steven could be prepared when they met Jake.

When Marc realized that Khonshu tricked them, he was fuming, and so was Steven.

“You said you would let us go!” yelled Marc.

“I said I’ll let you and the worm free, never mentioned your third party.” Marc and Steven both felt as if their stomach fell, the feeling of being played was devastating.

They found themselves on yet another mission. A mission they thought was long over, yet here they were, standing in a weird temple and the worst is that Layla was with them.

“Khonsu, you liar!” she yelled. “You said you would set them free!”

“Again, I never mentioned the third one, if he chose to work for me, that has nothing to do with you.”

All three knew Khonsu had a point. Yet, still, they were super mad.

“You played us!” said Steve as he came forward.

“Can we get over this, please? We are here to catch someone very dangerous before you three decided to arrive, the plan was going swimmingly," said Khonshu.

Layla followed who she thought was Marc, that is how she got there and how thankful she was that she went.

Then they met the guy they were there for.

His name was Jacob Highs, according to Khonshu he likes to torture people and plays cruel games with them.

"Marc Spector, I know everything about you. Now, it's time for you to face your demons!" the man let out a wicked laugh.

"Kill him Marc!" yelled Khonshu. "Kill him before h-"

---

"Marc?" he heard Layla's voice.

"What happened?" he asked as he opened his eyes, he found himself in an old dingy house. From the window, he could see the outside was pitch black. No landscape, nothing, only darkness.

"I-I don't know but..." Layla couldn't finish her sentence as Marc was hugged suddenly.

"Oh, Marc! I thought you died!" said Steven.

"Steven? How is this possible?"

"Told you Highs is dangerous." said Khonshu, "He likes to play with people. This is one of the realms he created."

Marc finally stood up and he noticed another man, another him.

"So, you are Jake." all three looked at Jake who rolled his eyes, not answering. The three started to talk trying to figure out what to do.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Layla who looked at all three men and Khonshu.

"We wait." said Jake, finally speaking up, everyone looked at him.

"Wait? Are you out of your mind?"

"Technically, yes. I am."

"How could we just stand and wait?" asked Steven as he looked at everyone.

"We will die here if we don't find a way out." said Layla.

"Yeah, let's just start walking, get out of this filthy house and see what we are against." said Steven as Marc was thinking.

"No, we need to wait." said Jake again with a firmer tone.

"Why would we just sit here and wait?" asked Marc, annoyed with the man in the hat.

"Because, unlike you two, I have a girlfriend who is actually useful." said Jake and just as he said that Jacob's unconscious body flew through the window, shattering the glass as he landed. Jake made an 'I-told-you-so' face at the others before the door opened and a woman came in, you.

"Oh," you looked at all the people in there. "Hello." you offered a small wave. You looked at Khonshu. "So, he doesn't speak and I didn't want to kill him in case that would get us stuck here forever." you said and then turned to the others. "Well, this is... awkward."

"Hi, Mi Amor." you smiled at Jake and placed a kiss on his lips, he pulled you close by your waist.

"There they go again." said Khonshu as Jake whispered Spanish words into your ear before disappearing to find a way out.

The other three just watched in disbelief. Now it all made a lot more sense to Layla, whenever Marc forgot a date or he was late, or he had marks on him that wasn't from fighting, Layla had a suspicion he had another woman, but she never knew Jake was there and that he had someone.

When you finally pulled away from Jake, he kept you close, kissing your neck, determined to leave a mark on your delicious skin.

"Sorry, this is a bit, come on now." you tried to push him away, but it didn't work.

"Who are you?" asked Steven.

"You must be Steven, lovely to meet you and you Marc, and oh what was it? Lauren?"

"Layla," said Marc with a very annoyed tone but you didn't mind.

"Right, lovely to meet you all, Jake did mention you three, but as you can see he's not big on talking." just as you said that Jake pulled you closer, and it made you giggle but he also bit your neck a little.

"My name is Y/N, I'm Jake's girlfriend and partner in crime. I'm a descendant of a Goddess, not too sure which one, I have certain powers. Like I can see the angry pigeon standing behind you." everyone turned to see Khonshu there.

Jake finally finished with your neck as he let you go, but still kept you close.

"I wasn't able to find a way out." he said before he turned to Jacob, he was out cold and he will be for a long time. "We will stay here and when he wakes up we will convince him to let us out."

"Lovely, this is like camp when you are a kid. I would love to get to know you all better. Let's start with you Steven." you sat down on the floor, creating fire in the fireplace to keep you all warm.

And you talked.

---

You talked a lot. Marc was sure he has gone mad. Not that he wasn't already insane but this...

To finally meet the man who killed many, whom he didn't know about, who he cannot even remember, and he had a girlfriend?

Marc was loyal to Layla, always.

But this, this was too much, and by Layla's expression, she thought the same.

"So, how does this work?" asked Marc with a very annoyed voice. "We find out that Khonshu lied to us, we are still Moon Knight, and now this. Another me and you?"

"I know you feel cheated, Khonshu did hide this from you b-"

"And just who the fuck are you?!" Marc was now angry.

"Amigo! Watch your fucking mouth when you talk to my girl! If it wasn't for her that fucker would be out there torturing us."

"This IS torture!"

Steven wanted to defuse the situation, he really did but he agreed with Marc.

"So, how does this work?" he asked the same question Marc just did.

"He comes to me, we go on dates, usually that includes killing people Birdie tells us to kill, then we go back to my place or to his, sorry, yours and have sex. Easy life. I leave before he wakes up or he leaves my place before you switch."

The way you were so causal about this was disturbing. They all made a face.

"Look, I know you all are new to this, but I am a good fucking person okay? I help people, I save people and I knew what I was getting into when I met Jake. He told me about you three, he told me how this works, you all can be angry at me all you want, but you cannot deny a man from his love."

Layla was too quiet during all this, even you noticed. It must be hard for her to hear all this, but this wasn't just about her.

You loved Jake and Jake loved you, they all have to live with that as you live with the fact that Marc and Steven love Layla.

"Nah, I say we vote. It's two against one. You two have to stop... this." said Steven.

"Vote? Are you mad? Do you want me to crush your skull?" spoke Jake but you put your hand on his shoulder.

"Try me." you said. "Try it, try and separate us, Steven, even you Marc, I challenge you to try." They didn't know what you were capable of. And for Jake, you'd do everything.

Suddenly everything felt cold, the windows started to freeze and the fire went out, the wooden floor began to get slippery with the ice on the surface.

You weren't joking, Marc thought you were, but you were not.

Powers? Definitely. You were scary, Marc didn't want to mess around with you, not for one bit.

That fire in your eyes as you stood up for the one you loved, he had never seen that before, not even in his own eyes.

It made him question so many things.

And by the look on Layla's face, as she excused herself to another room, he knew.

You watched as the two left, leaving Steven behind.

"So, Steven, I heard you work in a gift shop in a museum?"

"Used to work." he corrected.

"Right, so, anything you learned there? Jake never really liked it, although he did like one of the tour guides." you said sending a side-eye towards him.

"It was you? You asked her on a date to the stake house!" now it made sense even to Steven, he did find it difficult to believe Marc, who was married would ask someone on a date.

"Yes, but I found someone better." you smiled as Jake finally sat down beside you. "Tengo Frio, Amor." he said and you put the fire back on. Steven sat down close to it, thankful that the ice was finally gone.

"Look, Steven, I understand this is a lot to take in, it was a lot for me as well. But I'm not going to let Jake just leave. Maybe it is unfair to Layla, but if you take him from me, that is unfair to me. You have to understand, please. I love him. And I'm sure I can love you too. I mean no harm."

You spoke so gently like you were trying to make a child understand something huge, and you kind of were.

You understood their side, you really did. But you were not willing to let go of Jake. Never.

When Layla and Marc arrived back, they looked... not happy. To say the least.

"Okay, now that we talked about this, ready to leave?" you stood up as did Steven and Jake.

"W-But I thought you said you can't-"

"I never said I can't get us out of here, all I said is that I'm not willing to kill him to risk getting us stuck." you said smiling at Steven.

"Smart girl." said Khonshu as he waited. You closed your eyes but then remembered one more thing.

"Oh and Mr Lockley, you better thank me for this! You know what I like!"

"Ice cream."

"That, and you on your knees baby." you winked and before anyone could answer, you quickly worked your magic.

---

Marc woke up in his bed, alarmed at what just happened, he wasn't sure if it was a dream or not.

"Steven? Was it all a dream?"

"If it was, we dreamt the same thing. We have to go to work."

Marc got dressed and let Steven take over so they could go to work. Both of them were thinking hard. Was it really all just a dream?

Steven worked as usual, having a smile on his face as he served everyone. And just like Marc, he couldn't think of anything else.

He knew he will need to talk to Layla and you as well. But how would this work out? Would this work out at all?

---

Well, Layla wasn't happy. At all.

It seemed like she understood the fact that Egyptian Gods were real better than that a person can have D.I.D. It broke Marc's and Steven's heart.

She left them.

Marc blamed you, of course he did, but Steven, he felt something else, curiosity.

He wanted to find you, and he was willing to ask Jake for help. But he knew better than to mess around with Jake especially since Marc knew about Steven's steps.

Another week ended, you let out a sigh as you stood in front of the their workplace. Jake asked you to come since he wanted to go to a restaurant. You eyed the woman he asked previously on a date.

"Damn, she's gorgeous." you said as she smiled at her colleague and left.

You turned around to look at the stairs, seeing one person coming your way.

"Would you look at that, I was waiting for," you checked your watch. "Five minutes...hmm... it felt longer." You moved your arms around his neck as you kissed him.

But something was off, instead of his arms moving around you, he just froze.

"Shit. Steven?" you asked as you quickly pulled back.

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh, sorry, Jake said he wanted to meet, I thought you were him. I'm sorry."

You wanted to leave, disappear.

"I-I actually wanted to speak with you. If you are up for it."

"Sure, let's go eat something I'm starving."

You two arrived at a steak restaurant, you ordered a nice plate of steak while Steven only asked for a salad.

"You are charming." you said and it made Steven stutter.

"Thank you."

"Charming, smart, handsome and British. Nice combination, makes all the panties drop." you probably shouldn't have said that especially while he was drinking, but you did.

"Layla left us." he said with such a sad tone it made you feel bad.

"I'm sorry Steven."

"It was her decision, she said she couldn't bear the thought of Marc with someone else."

"So, is he blaming me? Are you?"

"No, it was her decision, we could have made it work." you could have, really, but if she wasn't up for it.

"Alright then, Mr Accent. Let's not talk about your ex on our first date. Tell me about you. You obviously know a lot. You might be able to help me."

"Help you?"

"Yes, you see, I am really interested in my past, I'm still not sure where I got my powers from and I want to find out."

He looked interested like a new quest just opened its doors for him.

"How much do you know?"

"Besides the name of the orphanage I grew up in, nothing."

Then his eyes changed.

"Hi Marc."

"I'm not angry at you, you didn't make Layla leave, but what are you doing with Steven?"

"Asking for help, that's all." you really had no other intentions but you understood that Marc was protective over Steven.

"I'm sure you will grow to like me. I like Steven he is kind." Marc was still not sure about you. Then you looked up at the building behind him, he did as well as he saw Khonshu.

When he turned back, you noticed the change immediately.

"There you are" you smiled as he finally appeared.

"Who was it?"

"Both actually, she left them."

"Good." Jake called over the waiter ordering a steak.

"Don't be mean, she was nice."

"She didn't fit me. You do." Jake was always harsh you were used to it by now, it also rubbed off on you a little so now you were the same from time to time. "Now, Marc has to get used to the thought as well. And you will be able to move in as I asked you before."

"Whatever you say, Babe." you smiled as you drank from your wine.

You could only hope that day would come.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

dream a little dream of me. | steven grant

Abstract: He thought it’d be awkward. He thought the lie would be too much and that he wouldn’t be able to keep up, that perhaps his shyness would get the best of him, and though he wanted desperately to try for you, he was terrified he’d somehow mess it all up. But he finds himself at ease, a sense of home he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

Words: 3K

Content: f!reader; fluff, just fluff, fake dating, a little awkwardness, them being down bad for each other, yes it’s november and i’m posting a christmas fic

A/N: is this based on this tiktok i’ve seen months ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about? yes it is. but moving on - (scene is from doctor who’s christmas special “the time of the doctor”)

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

“Emergency, you’re my boyfriend.”

For a moment, he thinks he hasn’t heard you correctly - it’s not the first time he receives a call from you that starts with an absurd statement, question or words that overall leave him confused. He’s almost grown fond of it, though this time it takes him too long to process what you’re saying.

“Ding dong, okay,” he replies, and frowns at himself - what? “I might be a bit rusty in some areas, but -” stop talking. “No, no,” you sound frantic, a clatter in the background followed by a string of curses under your breath before you clear your throat. “You’re not actually my boyfriend, Steven.”

“Oh, that was quick,” you snort, only to return right away to your muttering and swearing, followed by more loud noises that truly make him worry for your safety. “What’s going on? Why do you sound like that?”

“Because it’s Christmas, and I lied to my family, and this bloody oven won’t work and I’m so behind with dinner - fuck,” he knows your phone slipped and fell to the ground - there’s more rattling, a slam, a sigh. “They’ve been setting me up on blind dates for ages until I told them I had a boyfriend, and they said they couldn’t wait to meet him for Christmas - I thought they were joking, but now it’s Christmas and I don’t have a boyfriend and they asked about him for tonight, so I need you to be my boyfriend. Please.”

The last time he heard you so panicked was when a group of school kids had run inside the museum, escaping the control of their teachers. You had fussed and worried about the artefacts in spite of the glass cases, and he’d had to bring you a hot chocolate to calm you down as the children settled back into order, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you at last got up for their tour.

“You do know I’m Jewish, right?” he asks then, and you groan quietly. “Well, mazel tov - you’re still coming to your girlfriend’s Christmas dinner,” he laughs then, shaking his head a little - of course he is, he’s decided the moment he heard your nervous rambling, getting up from the desk to get to the closet and change out of his worn out clothes - he knows it’s play pretend, but his mind still started reeling about the need of making a good impression on your family, and he cannot do that in a washed out white shirt and old trousers with more than a hole in them.

“Alright, alright - so bossy,” he replies, and hears you exhale in relief, a temporary pause that is interrupted by a too loud ding that makes you yelp, quick steps passing by, more noise. “Hey, take a deep breath for me, love, will you?” he calls out - he knows the phone is still on the floor, speaker on, your hands otherwise busy. Later on, once he gets to your place before the rest of your family, he’ll find it there, still.

“Can’t,” you call right back, yelling a little over the sound of running water. “I’ll be there in a bit,” he sighs, and hangs up before you can respond, hoping that, at the very least, your house won’t burn down in the time it takes him to get ready.

To say your family is loud is an understatement. From the moment they walked through the door, Steven’s senses have been assaulted by greetings and laughters and too-tight hugs.

He finds he doesn’t mind it one bit.

He helps you bring the food to the table, keeping an eye on your injured hand - a shallow cut from a broken glass he cleaned and bandaged himself because you refused to lose too much time going to get it checked. Stubborn, he’s muttered under his breath, and you’ve waved a spoon in his direction in mock threat, making him laugh.

He truly doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen so much food, vegan options thrown in the mix he knows for a fact you’ve done last minute when he’s accepted to go along with your lie - he’s thankful for it, for you, for this night.

Your mother is the most curious about him - and where did you meet, she asks, and how long have you been together, and how’s his job, and -

“Mum,” you call just then, loading her plate again with a pointed look. “It’s Christmas, not a job interview. Give him a break, will ya?” “I’m just curious,” the woman shrugs, looking at you and then Steven, then back at you. “You always talk so much about him, I want to hear some of those things from him,” she protests, and for a moment your movements still, face heating up.

“Ma!” you complain, a quick glance in Steven’s direction as he grins - his cheeks hurt for how much he’s been smiling tonight.

He thought it’d be awkward. He thought the lie would be too much and that he wouldn’t be able to keep up, that perhaps his shyness would get the best of him, and though he wanted desperately to try for you, he was terrified he’d somehow mess it all up. But he finds himself at ease, a sense of home he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

And it’s not so difficult to pretend to adore you, to be in love with you - it’s not pretending at all, really. So he slips into it, that tugging at his heart that makes him feel warm all over whenever you hug him, or rest your hand on his arm, or talk with him in that enthusiastic way that makes your eyes shine a little bit brighter.

“Well, we met at work,” he clears his throat, pushing the few crumbs that remain on his plate around to stop himself from fidgeting with his hands too obviously. You fill his glass again, a new surge of affection in his eyes when he glances at you. “It was her first day, and I still worked at the gift shop - she bought too much candy right after her first tour ended and accidentally started her second one late because I kept her talking about some of the newest artefacts,” you snort, shaking your head a little - it feels like ages have passed.

He doesn’t talk about everything else - about Khonshu, and Marc, and Ammit. He doesn’t mention the help you’ve been during the whole mess, that you’re most likely the only reason he’s still got a job - and a promotion on top of that - and how you’ve kept him sane in the aftermath just by being his friend. He wants to say you’re probably the most important person in his life as for now, but he doesn’t because his mask would fall then and expose him to everyone in the room, you included. For now, it’s just pretend.

“In his defence, I’m the one who started rambling, and he had to remind me I actually had a job to do, so -” you shrug a little, but the smile doesn’t leave your lips. He’s looking at them too often tonight, he knows, but he can’t help himself.

“Is that why you called him your saviour?” your mother chuckles, and you almost drop the glass in your hands, eyes widening. Steven coughs on his mouthful of wine.

“Did you, really?” he wonders, and doesn’t want to sound amused but truly cannot help it. “I thought you’d said it as a joke,” he still remembers - the embarrassed laugh, frantically reaching for your badge as you walk towards the exhibition area, calling over your shoulder a you’re my saviour, thank you!, quickly hiding the candy in the pockets of your skirt.

“Half joke,” you scoff, bumping your knee with his under the table - that’s just for him, not for the show, and he smiles again. “I reckon I wouldn’t have liked it particularly if I had been fired on my first day.”

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have liked that either,” he muses, your nose scrunching up with your smile as you lean in a little. “But we’ve been friends since - she also helped me get out of the gift shop, somehow convinced our boss I should do some of her tours.”

“That she told us - spent the whole day complaining about Donna, is it?” both of you groan a little at the woman’s name, then quickly exchange a look that your father, not-entirely distracted by whatever was playing faintly from the TV, notices with his eyebrows raised.

“What she did not tell us,” your mother chimes in again, hands locked under her chin, “is how this,” she gestures between the two of you, a coy smile upturning her lips, “happened.”

“Ma!” you say again, one hand rising to cover eyes and forehead as you sink a little into the chair. At his side, your grandma chuckles, elbowing Steven gently.

“They’re shy, can’t you see?” she tuts, her eyes moving from Steven to you. “Haven’t even kissed once, these two.”

“Come on, leave the kids alone,” your father says, now no longer paying attention to the TV. “What? It’s just a kiss!” the older woman protests, grinning up at Steven. “It’s Christmas after all, what’d you say, young man?”

“Oh, God,” you mutter under your breath, both hands lifted to cover your face. Steven feels his neck burn, words tangling on the tip of his tongue as he glances at you, back at your grandmother, you again, unsure of what to do, say, think. “As long as you drop it.”

There’s an apologetic look in your eyes when you drop your hands and turn towards him - he wants to say it’s fine and don’t worry but he can’t, because you’re leaning in and brushing your lips to his. It’s quick, a peck, a brush of lips that makes his heart flutter, and you’re holding your breath, the tip of your fingers caressing his chin before you’re pulling back, leaving him dazzled, yearning for the taste of wine on your mouth.

“There,” you clear your throat, reaching for your glass with a hand that shakes slightly - there’s a groan at the other end of the round table, and in his temporary haze Steven sees your eyes widen, fingers curling around nothing, a notch away from the glass.

“You call that a kiss?” suddenly you’re wondering if you should’ve stopped bringing bottles of wine when your grandfather refilled his glass for the 6th time, his mood certainly turning jolly. Loud. Boisterous. “Come on, lad. Give her a proper kiss!”

“For the love of -” you look at him and sigh again, shaking your head a little. “Pops, really, it’s not -” you turn to Steven, still apologetic looking.

A split second, and he’s kissing you. Steven shouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation, he knows, but it’s a proper kiss and your grandfather is laughing. And Steven is kissing you, a proper kiss - gentle, delicate, and your hands come up to cup his jaw before you can help yourself, suddenly not wanting him to part from you. His stubble scratches your palm, and you let your eyes flutter shut at last, surprise leaving place to ease.

It’s easy, kissing Steven. It’s soft and gentle and warm all at once, and his hand is on the back of your head while the other rests on your thigh - his fingers trace a pattern over your clothes, and through the small fireworks popping in your mind you manage to discern letters. S-o-r-r-y, the apology on the tip of his fingers as the kiss goes on for longer, his lips parting and yours with them, melting towards him.

You would laugh, if you could remember how to breathe. Instead you’re carefully bringing your hand to Steven’s curls, slowly smoothing them back from his face, and your lungs are burning because you’re supposed to be breathing but really you don’t want this to end, you want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you’ve grown tired of it and then some.

It’s Steven that eventually pulls away, and there’s an odd noise trapped at the back of your throat as you force your eyes to open, to make it seem as if that wasn’t your first kiss, as if you didn’t feel the ground rock beneath your feet, and your heart wasn’t trying to jump out of its place behind your ribcage.

The tip of Steven’s nose is bright red, as if he stood in the cold for too long, and it spreads across his cheeks like a rosy brushstroke - his lips are a little parted, short bursts of air coming out of it as he looks back at you with his eyes shimmering a little. He looks unbelievably pretty, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you to turn away instead of diving right back towards his lips.

“So, who wants dessert?”

You’ve been looking at him for a while. He’s in the living room, carefully stocking up the empty plates from the table, setting the cutlery aside, the paper crown sitting a little askew on his curls. He’s humming as he does so, and a smile catches on your lips - it’s Dream A Little Dream Of Me, a song you’ve found yourself singing often in between tours, Doris Day’s version constantly stuck in your head.

“I will deal with that in the morning - you’ve already done more than enough,” you tell him softly, reaching his side. He looks up towards you, your eyes meeting for the first time since after the kiss - it still burns on your cheeks, lips, neck, the tip of your ears. “Thank you.”

“I cannot possibly leave you with this mess,” he argues, still gathering what’s left on the table - empty glasses and paper from gift wrappings and Christmas crackers. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” he grins a little, and you laugh, shaking your head. The clock behind his head signals 2:34 AM.

“I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you for what you did tonight,” you reach up to fix the paper crown on his head, and he forgoes the plates and forks to turn to you. “I enjoyed it,” he’s fidgeting a little, fingers tapping along his thighs. “My family - it’s never been like this, I’ve never had anything like it. It was nice. I’m glad you asked me.”

Steven’s never spoken a lot about his family, or Marc’s family - he’s mentioned things off-handedly, but has always been quick to change the subject, and you haven’t asked, there was no need. Still, the hurt is palpable each time, and it makes you ache for him. For them.

“Well, you’re invited next year as well, then,” you say, stepping a little closer and lifting his hand towards him in offering, the other reaching for your phone in your pocket. “Come, there’s one more thing.”

Steven frowns but obliges, watching as your thumb quickly slides across the screen while you wrap your hand around his, and soon enough soft music starts playing from the speakers - the first notes of the song turn Steven’s lips in a smile as you put the phone away again, looking at him again.

“Not Ella Fitzgerald’s?” he wonders, your now free hand reaching for his shoulder. Tentatively, he places his hand on your waist, slowly catching on on your intentions when you start rocking side by side, following the music.

“My grandma would play Golden Girl all the time when I was with her,” he starts following your movements, albeit a little slower, a little unsure. “I think it stuck,” you shrug lightly, taking a little step to the side, then back - Steven follows, looking down towards the floor. “Steven.” “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking up, then back down. You smile a little, drawing closer.

Once the initial awkwardness vanishes, Steven is great - he finds his footing and begins leading, steps becoming wider, more sure, and you let him move you both around the living room as you hum the words almost under your breath, never looking away - Stars fading but I linger on, dear / Still craving your kiss / I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear / Just saying this…

He’s looking at you, too, and smiling still - for a moment you wonder if there truly was too much wine, because his eyes are shimmering, and his cheeks are still red like right after the kiss, as if he’s still warm all over, and then -

“Mistletoe,” he says, so soft you almost don’t hear him, even if the music is low, even if you have stopped singing for a while. You look up towards the doorframe you’re somehow under, and Steven is unbelievably close, his chin tilted up to look at the small plant hanging above your heads, throat exposed to you.

“Steven?” he snaps out of it as soon as you call his name, gentle, and meets your eyes. “Yes, love?”

You desperately hope you haven’t misread the whole evening. You also hope the wine induced courage won’t leave you right now as your eyes flicker to his parted lips. You lean in, gripping his shoulder a little tighter for balance, and the moment your lips brush his he shudders a little, but pulls you closer right away. He hiccups lightly, dips his head forward, and though the kiss is initially hesitant, it’s true.

It’s somehow softer than the one at the table, slower, gentler, and you both melt into it, into each other, hands untangling only to reach for the other - your arms wrap around his shoulders, and his palm presses gently against the small of your back. Steven sighs into the kiss, shoulders sagging as if in relief.

It doesn’t last long, and when you pull away, he chases the contact for a moment longer, lips searching for yours once, twice, and then he stops, eyes widening again as he looks at you. You feel yourself smiling, hand moving from the back of his neck to brush his curls away from his forehead.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper, the tip of your nose bumping his, and his face splits in a wide grin, holding you a little closer, a little tighter. He won’t let go now - not for the rest of the night.

“Aces.”

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guruan-is-not-here · 1 year

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I've been sketching stuff...

I have yet 2 other rounds of these to share 😊😊

Cropped ver. under the cut

I don't know exactly how to tag this? I guess the other body can be a "YCH" or self insert in general, if it fits for you...

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360iris · 9 months

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Shae and the boy obsessed with books, flowers and her 📚💐🌞

#my oc #steven grant #steven grant x oc #moonknight headcanons #art #procreate #illustration #visual development #artists on tumblr #original art #moonknight fanart #my art #moon knight #moon knight system

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juneknight · 1 year

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Slow Degrees

Chapter One |

“Perfection is attained by slow degrees; it requires the hand of time.” — Voltaire

OR: the fic where Steven is a practically a blushing maiden and you corrupt him step by step.

About this: fem!un-named original character/Steven Grant. Explicit. 5k

You walk with a purpose that sets you apart.

This Saturday, the British Museum is crowded. People meander from one spot to another, their steps slow and eyes on the exhibits. Bloody good on them for using the weekend to experience some culture, but it’s bloody terrible for you: side-stepping prams, dodging couples with clasped hands lest you burst through their linked arms, nearly tangling yourself in the leash of one toddler whose mother gives you the stink-eye.

The gift shop is even worse somehow, and then you see that the stuffed animals are having a two-for-one sale and you feel liable to scream. Fate is like a teenager on the bus, sticking out its foot for you to trip over. But you haven’t come all this way for nothing. Without any sense of pride, you thrust yourself through the ring of children blockading the stuffed animals and begin to wade through the synthetic furs and empty marble eyes.

“No, no, no,” you groan under your breath. You spot a black stuffie in the arms of a girl no more than six and have to struggle not to snatch it from her—not that it would do you any good. When she turns, you see that it isn’t the animal you’re looking for. No tall, sleek ears nor a long muzzle. You can’t help but look up towards the heavens and mutter, “Why are you punishing me?”

“Can I help you?”

You whirl.

“Maybe,” you admit while you fish your phone from your pocket, glancing at the nametag pinned to the employee’s lapel. “Donna. Don’t ask why, but I’m desperately looking for this stuffed animal.”

She glances at the phone and steps around to the other side of the 360-degree-display. Face twisting, she points to an empty section wedged between stuffies resembling alligators and hippos. She gives you a look of contrived sympathy cultivated through years of customer service no doubt. “Sorry,” she says. “Looks like that’s been a popular one.”

“You’re out?” you ask, fingers itching to grab her by her business-casual blouse and shake her. “You’re positive? Because I need this; I’ll pay double, triple whatever the marked price is. I’m desperate.”

“I can see that,” says Donna dryly. “But—”

“I’m sorry,” another voice breaks in. “Maybe I can help?”

Your eyes track the sound of the soft accent. Standing just a few feet away, boxes of indeterminable tourist-trap merchandise in his arms, is a man. The first thing you notice about him are his eyes—tired. Dark brown, dark bruises beneath that hint at many sleepless nights. The next thing you notice are the curls: inky, charmingly chaotic. A small, wary smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he glances between you and Donna, shifting on his feet to try and make the load in his arms more comfortable.

The last thing you notice: he is so absolutely handsome.

“You, help? Doubtful,” Donna says, just as you say, Absolutely.

You tilt your phone towards him. His face lights up in recognition, and for a moment, the seed of hope in your heart blossoms, threatening to break through soil. He’s going to be able to help you. You can feel it. But then his eyes move past you towards the display and his smile falls.

“Oh, no,” he murmurs. “Let me just pop these behind the counter and then I’ll help you look, yeah? There might be one hiding amongst the others. Kids don’t always set them back where they’re supposed to.”

“Steven,” says Donna, voice tight with disapproval. “The display is empty.”

“Please,” you grit through your teeth at her. “I said I would pay, didn’t I? I have eighty pounds on me, and if you direct me to a cashpoint, I can withdraw even more.”

In the face of your insistence, Donna gives in, though you can tell by the thin press of her lips that she isn’t happy about it. Rolling her eyes, she waves a dismissive hand at the both of you and turns away, stalking off to some other part of the gift shop.

“Pleasant, isn’t she?” You glance at Steven, your mood already lightening at the earnest kindness on his handsome face. “Are you her boss?”

“Am I her—oh god, if only she’d heard you say that.”

Together, you and Steven scour the display from top to bottom, but to no avail.

“Can I ask, why the urgency?” he calls, elbow deep in stuffed scarab beetles. “Not a lot of people offerin’ to empty their bank accounts for Egyptian-themed stuffed animals.”

“It’s for my nephew,” you admit. “He has autism, and he’s absolutely fixated on Egypt right now. Has been for years, really. Last time they were in London visiting me, my sister bought him that stuffie, and apparently he’s grown quite attached. Yesterday, she called me about an electrical fire at her building in the flat below hers. I guess they won’t let anyone back in until they know it’s safe, not even to get their effects. They’re staying with our mum in Leeds, but he’s taking it so hard, being in a different place and all that without anything familiar. She asked me if I would try to find another of these loveys for him and send it through the post overnight, but she couldn’t remember the museum she’d bought it at. You know how many museums there are in London?”

“Too many, by your count I would imagine,” he says in sympathy.

“Spot on. Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

He smiles, eyes looking a little distant and wistful. “I’m an only child. Always wanted a sibling though. I guess my mum had her hands full enough with me.”

Usually, small talk is a form of torture, but you can’t help but want to press, to know more about him. Already you have begun squirreling away facts about him. His name is Steven, with a V. He works at a gift shop in the British Museum. He is an only child. “Were you rotten when you were young, then?”

“Aren’t all teenage boys?” He smirks, a quirking of his lips that makes him look years younger. Mischief makes a home in him, you can tell. But you can also tell that he isn’t rotten, not at all. Not many grown men would wade through stuffed animals for a stranger. Bruised, maybe, like an apple that has been dropped too many times by careless hands. But aren’t those apples just as sweet as any other?

“You don’t strike me as someone who has ever misbehaved a day in their life,” you tease. All at once you realize that both of you have stopped rifling through the toys. Perhaps it is just in your head, but electricity bounces between you two, charging the air until your hair feels liable to stand on end. Your voice has dropped on instinct into something smoother, warmer, the voice you usually reserve for flirting. Steven doesn’t blush per say, but his mouth can’t seem to close and he looks a little warmer than he was a moment ago.

A little girl jabs her sharp elbow into your side, working her way in between the two of you to get access to some falcon shaped animal on a lower tier of the display. The look she casts up at you suggests that the ache in your ribs is entirely your own fault.

“Well,” Steven says, clearing his throat. He can’t meet your eye. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’re fresh out of your nephew’s favorite.”

The moment and whatever charge had been growing between you two has popped like a soap bubble. Your eyes burn. How will you have the heart to call your sister and tell her that you’ve come up empty handed?

“There’s one last place I could check,” he says. “But if Donna finds out I took you, she’ll have me sacked for good. Come on then, let’s be quick.”

It is cooler in the stockroom, wall-to-wall Egyptian goodies hibernating under the fluorescent lights. Out of respect, you linger just inside the doorway, unwilling to take advantage of his generosity by looking around in an area where customers clearly aren’t meant to be.

Steven disappears for a long time behind some boxes—knocks over a stack of overpriced, bagged gummies that you nearly enter the room just to help him pick up—before reappearing looking even sadder than before.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

You try and scrape together a smile for his sake; he looks about as devastated as you feel. After the three other museums you had visited across the city today, one would think you would be used to the disappointment. “It’s certainly not your fault. Not unless you’ve got a stash of Bastet stuffies you’re hoarding at home. There are a few more places I can—“

“Sorry, so sorry—Bastet? You showed me a picture of Anubis.”

You blink. “No. Here, look—says right here on the website that this is Bastet.”

“Bastet takes the form of a cat or sometimes a lioness depending on what dynasty you’re—well, anyway, that’s not a cat, is it? That’s Anubis, a jackal. Website must have it wrong. You never saw the stuffed animal?”

“Once, the day they bought it, but it’s been ages.”

“Could he be mistaken about the name then?”

“I’d trust him more than I’d trust myself when it comes to such matters.”

“Then,” and he pulls from between the counter an extremely similar stuffed animal to the one you showed him on your phone, except the ears are curved and feline, the muzzle not nearly so long and thin, “this is your goddess. Cheers.”

You clutch your heart, flooded with relief and triumph so keen that a happy shout bubbles up in your throat, just barely able to be swallowed. “Thank you so, so much, Steven. I really can’t explain how much I appreciate you going above and beyond for me. It’s going to make a big difference to my nephew, that’s for sure.”

The praise flusters him, that not-quite-warmth growing high in his cheeks as he looks away, unable to meet your eyes. The angle only emphasizes the sharp line of his jaw. On instinct, you glance at his hands which fiddle with a nearby mountain of ankh-shaped erasure. No ring.

He takes you back to the gift shop and rings up the stuffed animal, only charging you the normal price despite your insistence that you would pay more. Passing you your receipt, he gives you a smile and the most endearing wave you’ve ever seen. Maybe it’s in your head, the sweet sadness you see in him. The reluctance he has to part ways. If it is, then oh well. You’ve never been one to shy away from a risk when the reward could be so sweet.

You pluck a ballpoint pen from his side of the counter, turn over your receipt, and scribble down your name and number. “If you’re interested, I would love to take you out sometime. To repay you.”

He looks at the number with wide eyes. “Oh, that’s—really, you don’t have to. It’s my job, innit?”

Firmly, you slide the number back towards him. “If you’d rather not, just toss it. After I leave though. Then, if you don’t call, I can just pretend you lost it.”

Without another word, gift bag in hand, you turn and begin to sift your way through the busy shop. You spot Donna by a stand of puzzles and make sure to stop and point to Steven, insisting, “He deserves a raise!” Her face twists as if she’s swallowed something sour. Her own tongue, hopefully.

Before you’ve even made it out of the building, you have your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, calling your sister with the good news.

Days pass, and then a week, and then two. Sometimes Steven crosses your mind: when banners go up advertising a new exhibit opening at the British Museum, when you spot a man of similar build ahead of you in line at the coffee shop. He never calls, which you understand. Perhaps he has a partner or you misread the situation. You try to just be grateful that he helped you find what you were looking for, and you put the handsome gift-shoppist from your mind.

Until he does call.

Another Saturday, though this one doesn’t find you with blisters on your heels from running all over London. Instead, your feet are curled up beneath you, a bowl of sugary cereal balanced on your lap while you alternate between spooning breakfast into your mouth and scrolling through the news on your phone. It’s a bloody morbid way to start the day, thanks to the state of the world, but it’s a habit that is hard to shake.

All at once, a news story about the latest political drama disappears, a strange phone number lighting up the screen.

“Really,” you mutter to yourself. “Telemarketers even on Saturday? Don’t you people bloody rest?”

Swiping to answer, you tuck the phone to your ear and noisily slurp a bite of cereal. “City morgue,” you chirp.

Silence on the other end, and then Steven says: “Sorry, I must—did you say city morgue?”

You choke, inhaling milk and sugar and nearly upending the bowl on your lap as you scramble to set it on the table beside you. Wiping milk from your chin with the back of your hand, you clear your throat as quietly as you can.

“Steven? Is that you?”

“Oh, it is you! I thought I recognized your voice, but then I thought maybe you’d given me the wrong number on purpose which, well, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? Would be strange for a person to go around offering fake numbers, they usually just give them out to creeps who won’t take no for an answer, don’t they?”

“They do, and you are far from that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I? It’s just that I can’t believe I actually called you. Not that I haven’t been thinking about it, got the number memorized by now. But when I picked up my phone, I swear I was just thinking about calling my mum like I usually do on the weekends, and somehow I must have dialed your number instead–”

“Would you like to hang up so you can call her?” you tease.

“I’d like to take you to dinner,” he says, pleasantly surprising you.

“Yes,” you agree easily. “But I’ll be the one taking you to dinner. I offered, didn’t I?”

The two of you agree on a time that evening, considering neither of you have plans (and you’ve waited long enough for dinner with the gift-shoppist, thanks very much).

Before you say goodbye, you tell him: “Steven? I’m really glad you called.”

“Me too,” he breathes.

After hanging up, you can’t help but spread yourself out on the sofa, stretching like a satisfied cat who has caught the canary and drank all the cream and whatever else cat’s enjoy doing. Thank you, Steven Gift-Shoppist’s mum, you think to yourself.

“Lookit you,” Steven says, standing from the table when the maitre ‘d leads you across the dimly lit restaurant. It has a cozy atmosphere, perfect for couples with secluded tables tucked into nooks to give the illusion of privacy. Steven’s eyes trail over you from head to toe, lingering on the soft curves of your waist, the dress that clings to your figure. You’re showing a little more leg than you’re used to, but it’s worth it for the way his throat bobs at the smooth expanse of skin. “You look amazing.”

“So do you!” And he does—dark slacks and a form-fitting dress shirt, the collar open to reveal a glimpse of his tan throat. You see the chain of a necklace, though it disappears inside the fabric. His curls may be tamer by a fraction. Gods, he really is handsome, you think. How are you going to get through this dinner while thinking about setting your teeth into the warm, soft skin of his neck? Or tangling your fingers in his hair so that you can guide his mouth between your legs?

It’s been too long since you’ve had sex, and far too long since you’ve had sex with someone who you felt so attracted to. A part of you—the part not including the bits between your legs—cautions you against coming on too strong.

Slow and steady, you think, while he kisses both of your cheeks. He smells softly of cologne, and you have to let a measured breath out of your nose. Easier said than done.

“I almost thought I had the wrong place,” he admits while helping you into your seat like a gentleman from an old black and white film. “Never been somewhere so fancy.”

It ends up being one of the best first-dates of your life. Steven’s humor is witty and sometimes biting, his education not formal but nonetheless robust. If there was any doubt that he was interested in you romantically, it fades in the face of his sweetly clumsy flirting. How a man so attractive and enjoyable could be out of practice dating is beyond you, but you’ve never been one to question a good thing when the universe drops it into your lap. You talk about every topic under the sun (that’s appropriate on a first date), and with every new detail you learn about the man, you find yourself being more and more charmed by him.

Between the appetizers and entrees, you pull out your phone to show him a picture of your nephew asleep among a sea of blankets with Bastet tucked under one arm. Steven lights up, even looks a little choked. “Not often do I get to make an actual difference to someone with what I do,” he says. “Just a cashier, aren’t I?”

“I’d like very much to see you again,” you say while he walks you out of the restaurant on his arm. There are only a few minutes until your cab arrives, so the two of you linger beneath the restaurant’s awning watching the busy London nightlife pass you by.

“Really?” Steven asks.

“Of course.”

“I—I would like that too. Very much.”

You shiver a little from the cold, goosebumps blooming on your exposed legs. Steven tucks you closer to himself, suffusing you with his warmth. The wine simmers sweetly in your belly, so you can’t blame the way your head swims on him entirely. But you feel a little drunk on him as well. The smell of him, the feel of his body beneath the thin dress shirt, the burning heat he throws off. When you glance toward him, your breath brushes against his neck. It’s his turn to shiver.

It rests on the tip of your tongue to invite him back to your place. You’re a modern woman, if the connection was right, you would have no qualms about sleeping together on the first date (and Gods is the connection right).

By your sides, his fingers brush against your own. Keeping your eyes on the busy London street, you take note of how very still he has become, as if he is holding his breath. Another brush, his calloused thumb brushing over your knuckle. Turning your hand over, he lets his fingers lace with your own. He lets out a sigh of relief.

Here you are thinking about getting his trousers off, and he’s trying to scrape up the nerve to hold your hand.

Slow, then, you think. You meet his eyes, dark like ink in the dim light, and he grins. Butterflies spread their wings in your tummy. I can do slow.

But it isn’t just slow, is it?

It’s glacial. Your fourth date arrives, and short of holding hands and the breathless, closed-mouth kisses he bestows on you before he sees you safely into your cab, there has been no forward momentum.

There are benefits to the pace, though; the intimacy is divine. Tonight finds you both swimming beneath a blanket in his apartment, fingers tangled together while you watch a French drama. Steven has the subtitles on for your benefit, though you wouldn’t mind him translating, murmuring the lines to you in his warm voice.

As the movie progresses, your positions meld together until he is mostly reclining with you nestled into his side. His every breath moves your body, his hand resting on your own, thumb making sweet passes over the pounding pulse of your wrist.

The movie begins to pass in a blur, subtitles blending together. All you can think of is Steven beside you. The obscene warmth of his body. The masculine, clean scent of him. You angle your face upward into the hollow of his throat, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin but not close enough to kiss him.

You sigh shakily, breath fanning across his skin. His throat bobs. A kiss couldn’t hurt, right? Your lips positively buzz with the urge to feel his skin beneath them.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you think, leaning in so that your softly-parted mouth can brush against his throat. Steven keeps clean shaven, but you have the feeling he’d be able to grow an amazing beard if the stumble beneath your lips is any indication. You’re close enough to hear the sound of him swallowing, his jaw clenching.

“Is this okay?” you murmur, lips brushing his skin.

“You’re killing me,” he whispers back. But he tips his head back to rest it against the couch, baring more of his throat to you.

This time you press a kiss to his pulse. When you feel his heartbeat hammering beneath the thin skin, you nearly groan. His smell here is potent, the clean scent of his cologne, faded throughout the day. It’s enough to make your head go light and fuzzy. All of the sudden Steven gives a punched-out noise above you, and you realize that you’ve lapped your tongue against the hollow of his throat.

“God in heaven,” he says. The hand which had been resting against the armrest clenches into a tight fist.

“Should I stop?” you ask. Part of you is only teasing him, but part of you needs to know the answer. You’ve been working so hard to take things at Steven’s pace, but you were beginning to think that he needed you to make the first move. Either way, you didn’t want to be strongarming him into this; you wanted him to be a whole-hearted participant.

“I–do you want to stop?”

“Honestly? No. Not unless you’d like to, in which case, yes.”

“In what world would I want you to stop?” he laughs breathily. “I mean, your mouth—oh god, I shouldn’t have said that. Now all I’m thinking about is your mouth.”

“Is this the first time you’ve ever thought about my mouth?” you murmur.

Steven goes stiff. You draw back, sure that you’ve made him uncomfortable. The flush on his face, clear even in the dim lighting of the flat, tells you that it isn’t that. He’s embarrassed. When he speaks, he stammers over his words: “I—do you mean?—well of course it, I mean—”

You let him circle around the subject for only a few moments before your smile fades away. Is this normal shyness? You’ve had many partners in the past (though it has been longer than you’d like since your last), and you had never classified yourself as a blushing virgin. You couldn’t classify any of your past partners in that category either. But part of you wonders if Steven’s hesitance isn’t more than typical first-time-with-a-new-partner jitters.

“Oh, no, I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” Steven says when you draw back. “I just, I’m not sure what the right answer is, love—”

“No, no, you haven’t offended me, honest.”

That’s how the two of you end up cuddling and talking about your past sexual histories. Steven seems to find it easier to talk when you’re facing away from him, nestled in the hollow between his body and the couch, both of you watching the lights flare and dim just outside the flat window as cars come and go on the street.

“What was your first time like?” you ask him.

“I—well, to be honest, I don’t really remember.”

You glance up at him, looking for any tells that he’s lying. But Steven isn’t even looking at you; his eyes are still on the window. Distant, brows a little low as if he’s racking his brain. Is it even possible to forget your first time? you wonder. Even if it was the most lackluster, boring occasion, don’t most people remember something?

“Maybe it’s best that you’ve forgotten,” you jest weakly. “My first time wasn’t all that special.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Not really. I don’t even think I began enjoying sex until I was much older.”

“Does it bother you that I’m not very experienced?” he asks.

“Not at all. Does it bother you that I am?”

He smiles. “Not at all. Someone has to know what they're doing, eh?”

“I know plenty that I’d like to do,” you tease. You test.

Steven swallows, his eyes dipping down to your mouth for a moment. “Yeah?”

You hum. Shifting a little, you move to rest on top of him, your forearm braced against the armrest that his head lays on. Earlier, he said that you were killing him, but you don’t think he has any idea how much he’s killing you as well. Just having him beneath you, curls a mess, mouth parted as his breathing picks up, eyes unable to linger anywhere that isn’t your mouth. He already looks on the verge of being fucked out.

“I am absolutely going to wreck you, you know that?” you murmur.

Then you relax into him, letting your body rest against the hard, warm planes of his own. He’s already hard, shockingly erect and sizeable even beneath the restricting denim of his pants. His eyes slip shut at the pressure of your hips against him, at the crush of your breasts against his chest. Leaning down, you cover his mouth with your own. He meets you eagerly, all tongue and gently nipping teeth, tasting so sweetly of the dessert you had shared at the end of your dinner. When he groans, it vibrates through your body landing squarely between your legs.

“God I want you,” you pull back to whisper against his lips.

“I want you too,” he whispers. “I think I’d like to take things slow, though. Savor you. I don’t ever want to forget this.”

“I like the sound of that. Should we stop, then?”

“Bloody hell, no. Kiss me again.”

So you do. And you do. And gods, you do. Your mouths are swollen, lips raw from the kisses you share. When you trail your burning tongue across the sharp angle of his jaw, Steven moans, a sound that has you groaning as well into the hollow of his throat. Besides the sound of your wet, slow kisses and the heaving breaths you share, the flat is silent.

Opening your mouth, you drag the sharp line of your teeth across the stubble of his throat gently, and his hips jerk upwards, hard cock dragging along your lower stomach.

“Ohmygod, do that again,” he gasps.

You whine, shifting upwards so that the next time you drag your teeth against his skin, his cock presses against your aching center. It’s enough to have you gasping, toes curling in your socks. God, you’re wet. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this wet from foreplay, even, much less just some sensual kisses. But every reaction of Steven’s is so raw and honest and wrecked that you can’t help but tighten the muscles in your thighs, lean up and grind down against him hard.

“Fuck, oh—oh fuck!” Steven’s hands grip at your thighs, knuckles turning pale.

“You’re so hard for me, love,” you breathe just to watch the way his eyes squeeze tightly shut. You drag your clothed pussy along the hard line of him, relishing in the muted friction against your clit. You’ve never been the kind of person to hold back from something that feels good, so you let your body chase the feeling, grinding yourself against him again and again just to feel the zap of pleasure. “Gods, I’m so wet for you.”

“You are?” Steven gasps.

“Soaked, can’t you tell?”

“I—”

“Won’t be surprised if I soak your trousers. How the hell are you this bloody sexy? Your cock feels so good and you aren’t even inside me—”

“Love, I—” the frantic lift of his voice combined with the sharp surge of pressure where he grabs at your waist has you freezing, lifting yourself up and away from him even if your cunt aches at his absence.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

His grip on your hips tightens as he urges you to rest your weight against him again, the cords in his neck standing in sharp relief. “Fuckfuckfuck don’t stop, oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m so sorry—“

“Fuck,” you breathe, resuming the ocean-like drag of your hips over his spasming cock. He’s cumming. From just a little dry humping. Like a teenager.

God, you’d never been so turned on in your life.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x oc

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crystalaris · 1 year

Text

This was massively inspired by @novanitee

I have to say I loved a lot of your Yandere Moonknight stories and couldn’t help but wonder how a Yandere would react to someone who doesn’t want to leave and one who’s happy to stay. So if I’m being honest this was more for me, but I loved how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved your stories

Leaving Isn't an Option

Yandere Moonknight x OC

It's not so bad, being stuck here.

And 'stuck' is the right word.

I'm not really trapped, per say, just... encouraged to stay put.

Which is easy, it's not like I did anything else before. Go to work, pay the bills, cook, repeat.

Life was monotonous and very, very lonely.

I'm not sure when, where or even how I ended up in the world of Moon Knight. Or even the Marvel Universe. I didn't really get out much, didn't really have a reason to.

Just a boring and lonely existence.

Maybe it was wishing something would happen.

Maybe it was staring at the moon and quoting, "Second Star to the right and Straight on till Morning." Never really knowing if the star was my right or the moon's right because it's never been specified.

But something happened.

Something shifted.

I was no longer there, but here.

Which I understand makes absolutely no sense, but it happened without my knowledge and my days went on like normal.

I've never watched the news, it always felt misleading.

Never bothered with facebook, FarmVille had long since become boarding and redundant. Who waits 4 hours of real life time for one patch of strawberries to grow?

I wasnt going to spend five dollars on speed enhancers.

Never really called my parents, they finally got the kids out of their house? Why would they want to see me?

I've only ever talked to my fellow fan fiction writers and readers on Discord, but we all were focused on our mutual love for Undertale. So not really friend friends, but also not not friends.

Weird, believe me I know.

So absolutely no real reason to leave except for food and the extremely rare occasion for eating out.

I had no real reason to even suspect being on someone's radar.

I had never been and forever assumed I would never be.

Friends and acquaintances? Easy.

Family? Yeah, well you either have them or you don't.

Lovers? What's that? Can you eat it? ...Ew, on second thought don't answer that. Please.

So really, my life wasn't't anything special.

Or shouldn't have been anything special.

My life changed when I had decided I didn't want to cook that day. So I went to a Burger King next to a Starbucks. Simple.

Fill up on the fries and drink, have a burger for breakfast, all for a debatable price of 10 dollars.

Again nothing special.

A sit-down would be expensive and would remind me just how alone I was.

I guess I was pretty predictable, always going to the same places to eat or shop, but I never really noticed.

Never really cared.

Not until he, well I should really say 'they' , pointed it out. And they never pointed it out until they made sure I could never leave, which again I don't really mind.

I met them, him when I walked out the door accidentally spilling iced coke all over the poor guy.

Apologizing profusely, I had offered to buy him lunch as an apology, its not like I could buy the guy a new shirt.

I'm somewhat surprised I didn't recognize him to begin with, sure he looked familiar and his name was Steven, but what really should have sold it was the fact that Steven with a 'V' was Vegan.

Though I was more surprised that Burger King had vegan options, the impossible burger? Really?

I guess its in the name. Still, shocking, both the burger and my own stupidity.

But I liked him.

He was nice, well muscled, dark hair (that was my weakness, those cheating bastards) and polite.

Honestly, what wasn't there to love? We talked. A lot.

I was pretty thrilled when he shyly asked for my number. I thought 'Why not? It'd be nice to have a friend again.' And we traded phones, I never noticed him activate the tracking part of the phone.

I probably shouldn't have been so lazy and trusting (Jake has lectured me a lot on that, really that sweet worry wart) handing Steven my phone, in my defense I've never had to worry about that.

Steven once told me he finally understood why Marc and Jake had wanted to protect his innocence once they had met me.

Others probably would have been offended, me? I was honored and kissed him.

It was... nice, having someone to talk to, someone to text.

Someone I could just be me.

Steven would send these really cute or funny history bits, mostly Egyptian, sometimes complaining that gods can be annoyingly demanding.

Again, I should have noticed, but really would you notice? Or even care too? We all complain about god.

Looking back, I feel like my past self was one of those side characters on Doctor Who that never noticed aliens or the blue police box.

To be fair, its easier to notice things when they don't happen to you. Still makes me feel stupid though.

I never really found it odd that we kept meeting up when ever I was out shopping, passing it off as coincidence time and time again.

Sure there were times I felt someone watching, but every time there was no one following me.

Sure there was a feeling or two that made me glance over my shoulder a few times just to check, but then Steven would show up and it would stop.

Which was extremely relieving, having Steven by my side. After a while it turned stressful without Steven there to shop with. I tried not to, but calling him and asking if he'd like to shop together made the day that much better, that much less lonely.

It was on one such day, after feeling a piercing stare and finding nothing, that I ended up laying my head on his shoulder with a sigh of relief.

Of course I removed it with a shit load of apologies. But to my utter amazement, after he got over his shock, he just smiled and gently placed my head back on his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" I asked, again still a bit worried.

His smile was so gentle, so sweet, so warm, "Of course, luv." And placed his arm around my shoulder. Heaven could never have such forbidden fruit.

I, gladly, soaked up as much as I could.

Steven could be the nectar of the gods with his sweetness, he laughed quite happily when I told him that once, well it was a mumble, but still... true.

We didn't just shop together, I rather enjoyed inviting him over so he could teach me some vegan recipes.

Being with Steven made life, easier.

It was easier to breathe, to enjoy breathing again. I wasn't just moving through the motions of life, I was Living again.

I could actually look forward to tomorrow.

And when tomorrow came, Steven asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend.

I was flummoxed.

Me? Steven wanted me?

I didn't know it but Jake was rather close to fronting and yelling at me for daring to hurt sweet Steven, when I hadn't answered soon enough.

Tears had slowly fallen from my eyes and Steven nearly went into a panic seemingly about to apologize when I softly asked, "Me? Are you sure?"

It was the first time anyone had ever asked. Had ever looked at me.

His smile could have melted gold, easily shattering my shields, ones I never knew had surrounding my heart.

It burned, but somehow in a good way, still it was too much and I looked away.

He had to cup my cheeks in his hands, getting me to look at him. His thumb wiping away a stray tear, "I would love that, luv. Would you be willing to be mine?"

Choking back a sob, "No one... no one ever... ever... no one's ever wanted me."

I couldn't help leaning into his gentle touch, missing the frown that formed, but he quickly wiped it away from their face, "Not like that anyway. I've...I've had a few crushes, but nothing ever..."

I couldn't help looking into his eyes, practically begging for this to not be a dream, searching for even a hint of a lie.

I searched his face, soft and gentle, "Are...are you sure you want me?"

"Oh, baby girl of course we want you."

I wailed clutching him tighter as he leaned me on to his shoulder, as he shushed me rocking me back and forth, " I've got you, baby girl. Shhhh. We've got you. Shhh" years of pain, anguish, want flowed into those tears. "Let it out, mi amor. Let it all go."

I didn't leave his arms that night, or even that weekend. We refused to let go of each other. Sometimes the grips were tighter, or stronger but all it felt like was safety and home. I didn't want them to let go.

I was wanted.

I was happy for the first time in forever.

It nearly tore me apart watching them walk away, but I did have work in the morning.

Work had never been such a drag until then.

It physically hurt to be away from Steven, so I did the one thing I could think of. I went to the hardware store after work.

As much as it hurt not to ask Steven to come I wanted it to be a surprise, but like always I felt those eyes boring into me. It made me want to call Steven, but... but picturing his, hopefully, happy face? I could deal with the discomfort.

The feeling didn't stop, at least I think it didn't, I'm not sure when it did but the older clerk behind the counter had smiled when she saw my fidgeting, "Ah, someone special?"

I could only blush violently and nod my head nervously. Her smile widened, "What a lucky man." She reached behind the counter, and started running the machine.

"Well, ...he's my, my first... so..." my nerves were eating me alive, but it'd be worth it.

"Really?" She looked surprised as the lady looked me up and down, "When I'm glad. You seem like a sweet young lady." The clerk chittered on.

It was nearly ten minutes of constant chattering as the clerk milked me for information.

I didn't really want to brag, didn't want to jinx it, but it felt good to share.

It felt good to smile.

The clerk watched on with a warm smile of encouragement as I called my boyfriend, biting my bottom lip as she handed it over and I placed the small box into my pocket.

-click-

" 'Ello?"

Swallowing nervously, "Steven?'

"Luv?" He sounded a bit worried.

"Yeah, ah hi. I was wondering..." I couldn't stop tapping my fingers on my leg just to use some of my extra energy. Steven, sweet, sweet Steven just patiently hummed, "if you wouldn't mind coming over? Please."

Not even noticing the man walking away on the phone two isles down.

"Sure I wouldn't mind luv."

"Great" I squeaked before quickly repeating it in a more normal voice, " See you in a few"

"See you in a few, luv."

-click-

Letting out a large breath, I turned and thanked the clerk as I handed over the money with a smile on my face, "Thank you."

"No thank you for making this old lady's day. I wish you luck."

I couldn't hold back my chuckle, "And I wish you a good week of good customers."

That made her laugh as she handed me change, "Ah, I see, another fellow retailer?"

"Yeah, first few years of college were horrible."

"Say no more." She said with a smile on her face.

I returned it, "Again, thank you."

"It's no trouble, now go on, shoo!" She waved her hands, "you've got a boy to gift. Shoo!"

I laughed on my way out, feeling happy and hopeful.

A great day indeed.

It turned into an even better day when Steven opened the box to reveal my new extra house key.

I didn't see the kiss coming, "It's absolutely beautiful, baby girl."

Completely shocked, missing how his accent had dropped as I touched my lips a deep blush forming. "What? Baby girl, what is it?"

Looking up, I blushed deeper catching a glance of his lips before staring into those deep eyes, they were the same, yet they somehow held more.

"That- that was my first..." I squeaked.

"Oh, oh!" I never noticed as he held me closer, leading me into a hug as Steven glared daggers at the reflection.

(Jake was so proud, both at Marc's kiss and Stevens glare. His boys were growing a backbone!).

"I'm so sorry, luv!"

I couldn't help hugging him back, squeezing a bit before asking, "Could, could we... again?"

This made him smile as he leaned back and looked into my eyes with his warm, ice melting ones, "Sure."

The second one was warm and comforting, the third became ruff and deep and I couldn't help loving all of them, I felt wanted, I felt loved again.

This man was slowly becoming my entire world.

And everyday he would come over after work.

Everyday he would kiss me at least three times, each with there own flare, each with their own intensity and still I greedily accepted each and every one.

— — —

They, well Steven had been dating her for months, with Jake and Marc coming out on occasion. She never seemed to notice or if she did she brushed it off.

They loved her, they really did, but sometimes he wished she would notice. Wish she'd ask questions, it'd make it much easier to come clean.

Though Marc seemed to enjoy the lack of in his words, 'unnecessary' questions. Jake bemoaned the fact that she was so oblivious.

This may have started with an order from Khonshu, but it had become an obsession over time.

Layla was a strong woman and Marc had loved her in his own way. Marc's ex was strong alone, could easily, has easily fought confidently, side by side with Marc and Steven, but she and Jake clashed, each just as bull headed as the other, making a relationship a bit difficult with the three.

Plus Jake wasn't happy when Layla had smacked Marc across the face.

Marc had defended her saying he deserved it since he left, but Jake refused to let Layla be alone with Marc or Steven.

Deserved or not, if she did it once she would do it again and Jake refused to leave his boys defenseless.

He knew Marc and Steven wouldn't fight against Layla, Jake however...

So the three were just friends, while Jake only tolerates Layla for his boy's happiness. Sure they were sad at the end of the relationship, but Jake knew they deserved better. It's why he stayed as Khonshu's Avatar (and boy was that a shit show when he had dropped the beans, they forgave him and moved on. He really does love them.)

So when an order came to watch someone who doesn't belong in this world, all three went, each curious in their own way.

They would admit the woman was... ... ...boring?

Normal?

Well, she didn't seem like she was any different, but hey Harrow fell off the deep end why can't she?

So they watched and watched, it was an order, an easy order but an order none the less until Khonshu deemed her to be just another pathetic worm that no longer needed their attention.

They... didn't really stop.

They had noticed her schedule, had memorized it to the point they ended up following it subconsciously.

If anyone was to blame it was entirely the god's fault.

Steven thought she was sweet.

Marc noticed how lonely she felt.

Jake saw.

Saw how she was withering away, how she practically begged for protection.

Jake really liked how she seemed to sense them, liked how she trusted her instincts, weak as they were she still had them.

She was a walking contradiction in some ways.

She kept her head down and avoided people, avoided being seen, but they saw her.

They watched her.

They noticed how she seemed to hide and it flared all of their protective instincts.

Originally it was a way to pass time.

They didn't really need to work for money anymore, they had plenty and Khonshu had them take certain jobs, and if Jake could get some money out of it, then all the better.

Steven never really liked the 'blood' money, but Jake and Marc refuse to let Steven get stuck in retail or with another piece of trash boss again.

(Donna is still lucky to be alive, the two are still waiting for the perfect time. Its not murder if something just 'happens' right?)

But Steven didn't mind watching her, so they compromised.

Watching her for the day, and working with Khonshu at night (they slept when she went to work, no biggie).

At first it wasn't hard to leave for Khonshu's 'trips', but it became harder as time passed on.

Soon returning ended up as their priority and Khonshu could careless so long as the job was done.

Since Marc and Steven wanted the job done just as much to get back, Khonshu didn't really have any complaints, "Apparently even a worm has its uses."

He was dutifully ignored.

They wanted to get to know her, to be apart of her life.

And if she broke their heart? Well, Jake would take care of it.

All three had found something in her that they enjoyed.

For Steven, she was sweet (Hah! Told you guys so!) and so welcoming. She enjoyed listening to him and both genuinely enjoyed the documentaries that Marc and Jake became bored to death with. Even making a game of it at one point when she started explaining why one documentary was wrong, elaborating each point and encouraged him to do the same.

Marc, well Marc loved all the cuddles and how she showed that she cared (for Steven) making food and learning recipies together, always finding a way to touch. And just leaning on them in general.

It helped that she never pried or asked for more information. If she did and he said 'no' she dropped it unlike Layla, and would always remind him she was there if he wanted.

It was refreshing if Marc was being honest.

Jake rather enjoyed how she depended on him (them). She would tense up when they watched her from afar, like he said she had instincts.

He really liked when she started calling them every time she even felt remotely scared. Jake loved how she would lean on them for comfort and melt into their embrace after that first time.

It felt good to be needed in subtle ways.

She would ask for their opinions, but would also ask why instead of just obeying. He liked the little arguments, they were fun and unlike with Layla she didn't get violent when angry, just puffed out her tiny little cheeks, ardilla listada (chipmunk) he had called her and she responded with Qué?

"¿Asi que hablas espanol?"

"en inglés por favor"

He barked out a laugh and he loved the way her eyes sparked as she nailed the accent, all three were rather impressed.

"No."

"Sí"

"No"

"Sí!"

Jake, over all, enjoyed her spunk.

He did however nearly lose it when Steven asked her to be their girlfriend and she didn't respond, she nearly broke their hearts, but then it broke for another reason entirely.

She cried because nobody had wanted her.

And, well, that just sealed the deal, she wouldn't leave them, ever.

They'd never allow it.

If only they could get her home, right now.

...but even a starving predator is patient. So they settle for just holding her tightly in their arms, each taking their own turn, but refusing to let go.

Leaving was one of the hardest and yet the most satisfying things they have ever felt.

And Damn, it hurt to leave, but the way she refused to let them out of her sight, the way they could feel her eyes on them?

They had never walked so slow before, never looked back to her window so much. It was amazing to know she didn't want them to leave as much as they didn't want to leave.

So imagine their rage when she was late returning home from work.

Oh, they wouldn't have been worried (they were) since they followed her phone to the hardware store.

If she was mugged it'd be the last thing the asshole would ever know.

When it turned out she was the one to make a side trip, Oh they were pissed.

They loved her, but she should have, no needed to be home with them, she shouldn't have left! Job or no.

Jake wondered if it was too soon to dish out a bit of punishment. They really didn't like how the lady looked at their girl.

Jake did, however, settle a bit when he saw how she looked around and fingered her phone, the other two noticed as well and calmed down, just a bit.

It helped to know she was still thinking of them, still she needed to be at home.

They chose an isle that was close enough to hear them, but still had the perfect view of their girl. Tense shoulders relaxed as their discussion went on.

So imagine their surprise when they answered the call. When Steven met them and was handed a personal gift.

She was definitely forgiven.

And in a way, it allowed each of them to come out. To show themselves to her.

She eagerly accepted their affection and they couldn't be more thrilled.

She was their innocent bean.

———

An: how she came here and how it ends I leave that up to you. Personally I’m a sucker for happy endings

#fan fiction #jake lockely x oc #jake lockely x reader #khonshu #marc spector #marc spector x oc #marc spector x reader #steven grant x oc #steven grant x reader #yandere #fluff #jake lockely fluff #marc spector fluff #Steven grant fluff #fluffy Yandere #it’s not sad #oneshot #transmuted

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terry-perry · 10 months

Note

if I may, can i ask Steven’s relationship with Marcy like? Like it must be precious seeing sweet Steven trying to have father/daughter time with his black cat daughter. Thank you!

Steven loves his darling girl

He treats her like a fragile being when she’s a baby

He makes sure he’s holding her correctly, reads every book and article he can on child care

Loves assisting her during important milestones

Needs to be part of every one of them and hype her up!

Once she gets to stage where she can laugh, Steven will do all it takes to get her to do so

Loves to hear to her laugh

Reads to her every night

You know trips to the museum are a must

Will teach her everything he knows about history, literature, and, of course, Egyptian mythology

Will answer every question his little Marcy has

As she gets older and develops her own interests, he does his best to show an interest in them, even if he doesn’t really get them

“Well, this singer certainly likes to scream, huh?”

“I have a booklet with the lyrics, if that helps,”

“Thank you darling,”

He tells her about the weird stuff he thinks she might like to know about like the mummification process, dark romantic literature, crazy torture devices from history

She explains to him her makeup process when she’s cosplaying and will give some information on the character she’s portraying if he isn’t familiar

He’ll listen with a very open ear and ask questions

She, in turn, will listen to him ramble on about whatever he wants

She does get a little embarrassed at times like any other kid since Steven does tend to try too hard and can’t help but still see her as his little girl

But like Marc, she’s very protective of him. No one is allowed to treat Papa Steven poorly!

She appreciates everything he does for her, even if she won’t always admit it

#marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu #mcu au #imagine #mcu fanfiction #headcanons #dad!steven grant #steven grant #moon knight #child oc #Marcy Spector #mom!reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x oc #steven grant x y/n

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letstevengrantsleep · 2 years

Text

Come back to bed

Steven Grant x f!reader

word count: 1,819

summary: Steven's not been sleeping well, so when you find him alone, reading late one night you decide it's time you found more creative ways to bring Steven back to bed.

warnings: 18+ content, dirty talk, f receiving oral, sub!steven, begging, restraints, unprotected sex

masterlist

Steven couldn't sleep, he hadn't been sleeping well for weeks actually. Every night you'd drift off to the sound of him playing with his rubik's cube and wake up to an empty bed, and up until now he'd assured you that he was okay and that he was falling to sleep soon after you every night.

But tonight, you caught him in his lie. Drifting out of sleep you awoke at 2am to a cold bed and no Steven. Padding out of the bedroom you look around and find him sat on the sofa in the front room, reading a book.

"Steven?" You call out quietly, watching as he drops his book and gives you a sleepy smile. "Why aren't you in bed?"

He sighs, giving you a look as he puts the book down and pulls you in by the t-shirt so that you have no choice but to sit down on his lap, one knee either side of his hips. "I couldn't sleep, love," he almost whispers, running his hands up and down your thighs innocently. You look at him, worried, and wait for him to elaborate, knowing deep down that this is what he must have been doing for weeks now. "I didn't want to wake you up so I, uh, thought I'd sit and read."

"Is this what you do every night?" You ask, shifting to find a more comfortable position on his lap, eliciting a small intake of breath from Steven, almost too quiet to hear. That makes you stop, mainly because his grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly, forcing you to sit still. "Steven?"

"Mm?" He starts, moving his gaze from where it lies on your legs up to your face. "Oh, right, um," he stops, eyes wondering again across your body, "yeah, yeah." He trails off, distracted by the way that the t-shirt your wearing has risen up while you've been sat. It's his t-shirt, he'll never get used to seeing you in his clothes, every time it makes his head spin.

You catch on quick, knowing that needy look in his eyes as he sits staring at you, prompting you to adjust yourself just a bit more on top of him.

His tone turns stern as he says your name, "I'm going to need you to stop doing that honey." He carries on, grip becoming even tighter on your thighs as you look at him with doe eyes, pretending not to know what he's talking about. "No, no, love, don't give me that look." He practically begs, hips involuntarily stuttering up into you, making his eyes roll back ever so slightly. "Fuck." He whispers under his breath, eyes scanning over you as he tries his best to keep the control he has over the situation.

"Why, baby?" You ask, cocking your head to the side as you push your hips ever so slightly forwards, watching him squirm as he tries and fails to keep himself composed, hands running up to your hips and stopping there. "Tell me?" You ask, hands running over his toned chest.

He doesn't respond, just sighs and rolls his head back, using the grip he has on your hips to push you back and forth over his growing erection. As much as you'd love to give him exactly what he wants, you think it'll be a lot more fun to tease poor Steven until he's desperate, so you lift yourself up from his lap and watch as his eyes snap open, a choked out plea leaving his lips.

"What are you doing, love?" He asks, his hands following after you as you get up off him, eyes wide and needy.

"Oh, me? I'm going to bed Steven." You start, turning to walk away as you hear Steven groan and begin getting up after you, making you smirk. As you begin to walk away from him two hands come to snake around your back and onto your hips, Steven following behind you like a lost puppy. "You're coming too?" You ask, acting oblivious as he grips your t-shirt in his fists, pulling tight against your figure as he whimpers under his breath.

As you reach the foot of the bed and turn to Steven you catch his eyes raking over you with an intensity you've only seen in him a few times before. He looks so desperate.

He stares, waiting for you to say something, anything, that will get rid of the pulling need growing inside him.

"On your knees, love."

His eyes widen as you speak, and there's a moment of hesitation before he drops to his knees in front of you, staring up, needy, desperate. You run a hand through his hair and pull ever so slightly and he takes the hint, running his own hands up the back of your thighs, pulling you towards his expectant mouth.

Steven takes his time, kissing up your thighs and playing with the hem of your underwear, only pulling away an inch as he tugs them down your legs and off your feet. Seeing you bare for him has Steven practically feral, he's nipping and biting and licking his way to your already dripping core, using one hand to pull your thigh up so your leg is over his shoulder. He looks up at you, asking for final permission before pulling you down onto him.

Sucking and licking and moaning into you, Steven quickly has you close to the edge. It doesn't take much with such a skilled tongue.

"Your fingers, Steven, I need your- oh- fuck."

"Yes love." He mumbles into your cunt as he drags one hand up your inner thigh and presses two of his fingers into you. He curls them at an angle that has your legs shaking and your breath shallow. He takes the hint and pushes his free hand onto your stomach to get you to lie down onto the bed, never taking his mouth off you as you collapse down.

He drags your first orgasm out with his fingers, curling up to hit spots only Steven knows about. The second he pulls out of you with his tongue pressed flat against your clit, moaning into you, sending just the right kind of vibration through your throbbing core. You're still shaking when he comes up, crawling over you to press a messy kiss to your lips.

"Tell me what you need, baby, please." He whimpers, continuing to kiss you over and over, "tell me," he begs, eyes darting over your body as he attempts to relieve some pressure by grinding his bulge over your thigh.

You drag one hand down over his torso to land on his crotch where you palm him roughly through his joggers. "I need this, baby." You sigh out contently as you watch his eyes flutter shut at your touch, hips involuntarily pushing forwards into your palm.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of Steven's ankle restraint and suddenly feel very bold, an idea coming to mind that makes you squirm with excitement.

"I need you on your back, naked, hands above your head." You order, watching in awe as he does what he's told without question, cock twitching as he hurriedly kicks off his joggers and boxers, pulling his t-shirt off and throwing it as far away from him as possible.

While he's doing what he's told, you make quick work of un-clipping the restraint from its usual spot on the post and climb up on top of Steven with it in hand. A strangled moan leaves his throat as you straddle him, bending down to buckle his wrists together.

"Fuck, honey..." he whimpers, immediately testing the strength of the restraint by trying to pull his wrists apart.

"If you touch me, I stop, understand?" You say as you reach between your legs for his dick, slowly rubbing it over your clit and teasing your entrance. Steven's eyes begin to go hazy as you tease him, his hips begging to push up and bury his dick into you. "Words, Steven, I need words." You speak again as you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, watching as his mouth opens wide and his head falls back.

"Yes, yes, please y/n, I'll do anything baby, I just need you to move." He begs, lifting his head to watch as you start bouncing on his cock, mouth agape. It doesn't take long until you're back on the edge of another orgasm, rolling your hips down, burying his dick as deep as it will go inside you to hit the spot that gets your body shaking. He watches through half open eyes as you bring your hand down to start playing with your clit, his own hands clenched into tight fists. He wants to be the one doing that, bringing you over the edge just how he knows you like it. But instead he just watches, pushing his hips up under you as you start to moan out.

You're close, he can feel it, the way your cunt is clenching around his dick, making him groan and whimper as you come undone on top of him.

"Come on baby, cum on my cock," he clenches his jaw, biting back the urge to fight his way out of the restraints to touch you, "use me honey you know I love it."

"Oh fuck, Steven." You moan out, shaking violently as you reach your peak, spilling out all over him as you collapse down onto his chest. Hands still shaking, you move up to loosen the restraints and his hands immediately make their way to your hips, gaining control as he begins bucking his hips up into you harder.

"Oh fuck, baby I'm gonna-"

"Ask nicely and I'll let you cum." You manage to say, eyes shut tight in pleasure as Steven ruts into you over and over.

"Please, y/n I need to cum honey, can I- oh god, fuck- love, please." He stammers, hands running up your sides to squeeze at your tits.

You bend down, kissing his jaw before whispering into his ear, "cum for me." Immediately his thrusts become sporadic, loosing his rhythm as he lets go and fills you up, cumming violently as he moans praise into your ear.

"Thank you, baby," he whimpers, "so fucking good to me," Steven sighs, head falling back onto the bed as he tries to steady his rapid breathing, hands smoothing over your hair as you lie on top of him, cock still buried deep inside you.

It's a few minutes before you get up from on top of him, watching as a strangled noise escapes his lips when his dick pulls out of you.

After cleaning up and slipping into bed, Steven pulls you flush to his chest and sighs, content, as he drifts off into the first good night's sleep he's had in months.

#marvel #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight smut #mcu #mr knight #steven grant x oc #steven grant x you

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

days in between

steven grant x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (m x f masturbation, sexual content, overstimulation? oral f receiving)

a/n: i don’t think anyone is surprised that i have found myself here. god save me!! bye!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You can always tell when Stevens having a bad day.

It’s probably because you watch him all the time, taking note of how his eyes light up when someone asks him a question, or how they get darker throughout the day, especially on Fridays. It’s because of this keen sense of observation that you can see today has taken its toll.

He’s standing behind the desk of the gift shop, sorting tiny hippo toys onto the shelf next to him. His back is half turned away from you, so you can still see his face past his slumped shoulders. He moves slow, taking one toy at a time and spending a little too long placing it before turning all the way around and starting again. He’s usually tired, a little lethargic at the end of the day, but the way he sighs every few minutes and scrunches his eyes trying to force himself to focus makes you realise he’s struggling.

Donna comes up behind him, and he flinches slightly as she starts to speak. Donna can be a bit of a bitch, you know, she’s your boss too, but for some reason every time she yells at Steven it makes you angrier than you can explain. It’s probably to do with the fact that you can’t take your eyes off him - you had developed quite a crush on him ever since you started your exchange here. You were an expert on ancient Egyptian burial customs, and Steven was seemingly the only one in the museum who actually found it interesting. You were used to people being bored by your specialty, but Steven was enthusiastic. He was the only person you had ever met that could talk to you, like really talk to you about the things you studied inside and out. He asked questions and was so attentive - so unlike any of the guys from your home state. He was part of the reason you extended your stay here. Okay, maybe most of the reason.

Not that you had actually told him any of this. No - you just stood at the other end of the lobby staring at him like a creep, watching as Donna chewed him out for something that was probably not his fault. Your eyes examined his posture, and it’s not that he was intimidated by her, but he looked so over it that he was just nodding slightly, still turning every so often to pick up another toy hippo. You couldn’t stand there and watch anymore, and before your brain could register what you were doing, suddenly you were leaning up against the gift shop desk, forearms pressed against the glass top.

“Donna! Thank God I found you, a guy was looking for you. Something about the toilets being clogged?” Steven turns first having heard you walk over, and you could see the instant relief as his shoulders rolled back a little when he saw it was you. Donna rolled her eyes and cut herself off from whatever she was saying.

“Again? Seriously?!” You shrug and point down the hallway you know is the longest, hoping to give Steven enough time to escape, or at the very least hide before she comes back. You watch her go and Steven still stares at you.

“Thought I’d come save you. She seems a bit… high strung today.” You smile up at him as he faces you, his height looming over you as you lean down on your arms.

“You…” Half his mouth curls up in a smile and he takes a breath “Perfect timing. I’ve ‘ad a hell of a day.” You reach into the basket and pull out one of the toys, and Stevens eyes follow your hands as they fiddle with it on the table.

“Well she needs to take it down a notch. It’s seriously dramatic.” You stand but keep your hands braced on the table, leaning over it subconsciously to stay as close to him as possible. He laughs and shakes his head, and you wish you could read his tired expressions easier. From all the time you’ve spent watching him, talking to him, you can never really figure out if his attention is merely because he’s just a sweet guy - he does also talk to Donna and the security guard who never remembers his name, or if there’s something more. You know you make him nervous, so there’s something, because he always stares at the ground or his hands when he talks to you, losing all his words when he looks you in the eye.

You’ve tested the theory rigorously - catching his eye in conversation, making sure to be as attentive as possible when he’s splurging out information, and as soon as he realises your looking at him, he stutters, or forgets where he was and has to restart. It makes your heart race - to even think there might be something more to this, to him, and you hope you can eventually get closer than leaning over his desk.

“Your tours! They all go okay today?” He places the last hippo on the shelf except for the one in your hands and turns back to you. A smile that meets your eyes spreads across your face.

“Yeah, all good today. Mostly school kids, so at least they think the mummified dead people are cool.” This makes him smile. You feel bad, talking about tours when you can tell the passion he has is wasted here, but he always asks about your day, and you couldn’t deny him anything. “What about you? Any new and incredibly adorable fluffy toys for me to steal?”

“Oh! I did actually - bollocks, where did I put it?” He disappears behind the counter and you lean over to follow him. You watch from above as he scuffles through a huge box full of stuff, clanking plastic toys and metal keychains around as he searches. It became a bit of a thing - it’s something you used to do in your home town before you moved.

You collected all the cute little toys they had in the museum every time they changed theme, or a new exhibit opened up. This museum was three times the size, so your collection was growing a bit out of hand, but Steven always saved you the newest ones because he knew you liked them. “Must of left it in the store room. I swear I pulled it out.”

“All good! You locking up for the night?”

“No! I’ll go get it. Wait her-“ He cuts himself off as he sees Donna come around the corner, and you follow his gaze and see she’s clearly pissed off. “Oh - she doesn’t look happy.”

“Well, I did send her in the wrong direction. To the wrong bathroom - not that any of them are actually flooded.” His eyes go wide as you slide around behind the counter. “You got your store room keys?”

He nods and moves quickly, practically bursting through the door and holding it open as you go in after him. He tried to shut it softly but fails and it slams, making a huge noise and no doubt alerting Donna to where you are. He fumbled with the keys like his life depends on it, jamming the right one in and locking it. He leans his back against to door, and you haven’t stepped very far into the room with the new boxes still piled up at the front, so when he looks up your faces are inches apart.

You can tell he’s a bit thrown off - maybe by the fact that Donnas footsteps get louder as she walks behind the counter, or maybe by the way the hot air of your breath brushes against his cheek, or how you are so close that he can smell your perfume, and you swear if you just leaned forward an inch-

“Steven? What in the-“ Donnas voice is muffled through the door, and the lock starts to click and your hand shoots out to hold it at the same time as Stevens. His hand covers yours, skin disappearing underneath him, and you realise it’s the first time you felt him. He must think that too, because he’s staring at your hands, fingers slightly interlocked as they cover the hinge.

She pushes against it and your other hand braces on the other side of Steven, essentially boxing him in. He is too busy staring at your hands to notice, and you use your combined strength to make sure the door doesn’t budge. Your hoping she will think all the new boxes are blocking the door - thank God there’s no cameras in here.

“Bloody Steven… fix… tomorrow…” Her voice trails off and you let out a breath in sync with Steven, who straightens back up now that he doesn’t have to use his weight against the door. You were hardly pushing, more focused on how close your face was to him, so he must be hiding more strength than you thought under all those sweaters he wears. It makes you warm all over to think about it, and having him so close, practically pressing up against him nearly has your knees giving out.

“Close.” He whispers. You feel like you have to whisper as well, even though Donna is long gone. The air in the room is thick and it feels like you only get half the amount of oxygen in, even though your breathing is rapid. You just nod, and Stevens eyes are so intense. He was - god, he was really pretty. Like, you knew he was good looking, but up close it’s like he was carved. Like he was one of the statues you walked past every day. His throat bobbed and you realised you were probably staring for too long.

You take a step back, knocking into one of the boxes behind you. The distance allows you to catch your breath, and your head drops letting your eyes search for anything other than Steven. You had no idea how he felt, how he would react, and you weren’t sure you could stop yourself from kissing him if you got that close again. Swallowing, you bend down to pick up the toy in the box.

“That’s it! That’s the one. From today - I haven’t put them out yet. She’s cute, isn’t she?” Stevens clearly got his head screwed on faster than you have, because you just nod, holding the little cat in your hands, black fuzz soft in your palm. Steven steps closer. “It’s Bastet, not that- not that you wouldn’t know. Of course. They’re doin’ a whole new thing for your section.”

“Adorable.” You could hear your own heart beat, and the silence of the store room was amplifying the very physical reaction Steven was eliciting every time he closed the distance. You weren’t even sure if he knew what he was doing, but he kept looking to the side, staring into the reflective surface of the metal table next to you.

“Yeah, she’s got- Oh! Wait, there was something else. It’ll be here. Just..” He turns and reaches into another box next to the door. He pulls out a smaller item, square and flat, and his fingers fumble a little with the tiny latch before it opens. “Here she is, in bronze. Well, it’s probably plastic, but… still.”

A golden necklace sparkles under dim light, a tiny depiction of the cat goddess sitting upright, just how she is in the amulets out in your section of the museum. It was actually pretty nice for a gift shop throw away piece, but seeing Steven standing there and pulling out the necklace, the one he saw and thought of you, makes it the best thing anyones ever given you. You can’t help it - the temptation is too much. You walk up to him, and your fingertips brush against the back of his hand as you examine it closer. You hear his breath hitch as your hands meet again.

“It’s really pretty.” You let the chain run through your fingers again, and when you look up, Steven is staring at you.

You spent a lot of time staring at him, which is why you recognise the look in his eye. You blinked up at him, trying to figure out is what you were seeing what real, or if you just saw what you wanted to see. He was a bit nervous, but there was a smile on his face - almost admiring.

“May I?” He says it so softly you nearly don’t get it, but he goes to unclasp the necklace, and you don’t answer. You just spin around, thankful he can’t see how hard you were biting your lip trying to contain yourself. Your entire back was warm, and you could feel the soft material of his sweater brushing against the back of your arms. He moves your hair, gentle fingertips lightly grazing the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

His arms come around you, careful not to touch your shoulders no matter how badly you want him to. The cool metal rests on your chest and you let your eyes flutter closed, just for a second to soak in the moment. Of how close he is, of how he smells like vanilla and old books, and how unsteady his breath is as he fiddles with the clasp. When his arms fall to his sides, you pray he doesn’t step back to quick. You want to spin around and have him that close, without a desk or a table in between you - and when you do turn around you can’t help but smile when he doesn’t move away.

“Pretty.” He says, not looking at the necklace. You can’t move. You want to - you want nothing more than to close that tiny gap of distance between you but you just don’t know. You need him to do something - anything to hint that he might be feeling as desperate as you are. You have watched him for too long, waited for him for too long to mess it all up by coming in too early. You will wait, however long he takes. For now, having his undivided attention as he looks into your eyes is all you need.

You swallow. You can still feel the ghost of his touch on the back of your neck, and he looks down to the metal table again. He says something, mumbles it so low that you can’t hear, but when he looks up at you again, a new look crosses his face. One of… determination?

He shuffles his feet and you think your toes are touching in your shoes, but you can’t look away from him long enough to check. He says your name, gently like he’s trying to soothe you. He looks down and his hair tickles your forehead. You feel the warmth of his hand in your palm, and you didn’t realise how much you missed his touch, hands intertwining and fitting like two pieces of a puzzle.

His head moves slow - achingly so that you feel like you are imagining it. His eyes were deep and dark, a little hazed over, and the last thing you saw was a tiny smile on his face as your lashes fluttered shut seconds before his lips touched yours.

He tasted like honey. You don’t remember the toy you were holding as you drop it to the floor, and you don’t remember that you were still locked in the storeroom. All you can think of is that he tastes like honey, inexplicably sweet. He kissed you, letting you sink into him slowly.

You start to kiss him back instantly - gone was your apprehension as you moved with him. The hand in yours gripped tighter, and his other one came up to your cheek. His thumb grazed along the high point of your cheekbone, and you didn’t hold back the sound of a small moan when he pulled you a little harder against his lips.

This seemed to do wonders as he walked you sideways, backing you up into the metal table. Your hands unlinked and you missed the feel of his skin, but your need was satisfied when he found your hip, his thumb and one finger slipping in between your pants and shirt finding the tiny sliver of skin there. You slipped your arm around his neck, hand getting tangled in his hair. He sucked in a breath and kissed you harder, with more intention, and you imagined how his eyebrows would be scrunched together in concentration.

In one motion he picked you up and sat you on the table, sliding in between your legs. You shuffled so he could come closer, and the way your heat was pressing against his abdomen made your head spin. As soon as he moves, breathing in making his abs flex and shift an inch against you, you moan and bite his lip a little, and the sound he makes sends a jolt through your body, and your hips buck against him.

“I-Oh god. What is-“ He cuts himself off and latches himself back on to you, and both of his hands come to your hips, pushing you impossibly closer. “Can we just. - just-“

“Steven. It’s okay. We don’t have to.” You kiss him softly and finally your eyes flutter open. He looks a mess - his hair is all over the place and his sweater is pulled to one side exposing his collarbone. You press a kiss to the exposed skin and he shivers, wrapping his arms around your back. You think he will pull you off the table, start to rationalise. He is so smart, and you don’t think you have the capacity to make any good decisions right now. You would do practically anything to get him to kiss you again.

He doesn’t pull you off, though. Instead he buries his head into the crook of your neck, arms still wrapped around your back, interlocking to hold you against him. It feels good - strangely so. He’s not moving, just holding you there, his lips pressing light kisses just above your collar bone, but it feels like he is buzzing electricity straight through you. You feel his head lift and his forehead presses against your own, and he takes a few breaths before he speaks.

“I want-“ He swallows and you find his eyes, keeping your heads together “I want to.”

“Okay.” You kiss him again and feel his hands get tighter on your hips. They begin to slide across your tummy and find the hem of your pants, fingers dancing near the button and leaving heat in their path.

“Is this okay? Can-“ Your already nodding, helping him undo button. He kisses you and begins to slide your pants down. You suck in a breath when your legs come into contact with the freezing cold metal of the table, and Steven pulls back from your lips, eyebrows screwed together in confusion and a little bit of worry. “A-are you okay? Did I do something?”

“S’cold. I’m fine, please don’t stop.”

“Oh! Here - one second.” He makes quick work of his sweater, pulling it over his head. He gently starts to slide it under your bare thighs, and you forgot how exposed you were - Steven just had a way of making you comfortable instantly. You shuffled around until the soft material was underneath you. “Better, yeah?”

You nod and kiss him again, and you feel his muscles relax now that he isn’t wearing a sweater. One of his hands ever so lightly traces lines along your bare thighs, and you sigh into his touch, letting him feel every part of your exposed skin. His hands were a surprising contrast, fingers soft but calloused palms dragged after them, the sensation setting you alight. You needed more - you had a taste of his skin against yours and now nothing would stop you. Your hands whipped his shirt over his head and Steven let you, lifting his arms so you could pull it off and your hands began their own exploring, nails lightly scraping along his spine. Stevens back arched, and his now bare abs pressed directly onto your core.

“Oh god, Steven.” His kisses were getting lazier, and when you moaned into his mouth he began to kiss your neck. He didn’t focus on any spot in particular and you kept your eyes closed, wriggling every time he found somewhere lower. He made his way down like he had all the time in the world - and to be honest he did, because you would sit there forever just to have him touching you.

He stops when he reaches your chest, and you open your eyes just in time to see him drop to his knees, perfectly in line with your open legs. Both of his hands run up your thighs, his thumb pressing hard enough to massage your muscles, already shaking in anticipation. Both of your hands cup his face, and he looks up at you, eyes glazed over in the same way when he was kissing you. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm.

“You don’t have t-“

“Please let me. I’ve thought about you - about this too long.” He starts moving closer and you shift to give him room, your legs automatically opening for him. He’s still looking at your for permission, for you to tell him no. “Is it okay?”

“Yea-h. Shit, please.” He presses another kiss a little closer, letting his tongue dart out occasionally. He kept looking up at you while he made his way closer, but when you could feel his breath on you, your arousal evident when one finger brushed over your clit, you saw his face change and screw up in focus and you let your head drop back.

“So pretty.” You hear him mumble in his thick accent as he spreads you open with his fingers. The anticipation was killing you, but you couldn’t open your eyes. You couldn’t even lift your head. When his tongue finally met your pussy you cried out, slapping a hand over your mouth as you remembered where you were. The other hand grabbed onto Stevens hair and he moaned against you.

He slid one finger inside of you, working in tandem with his tongue to build you up from the inside out. You couldn’t stop the movement of your hips against his face, and he wasn’t holding you down, so you could grind yourself against him as much as you wanted. You tried to look up, your eyes already fuzzy with pleasure. He was in full concentration, determined to pull every ounce of pleasure from you that he could.

It wasn’t even his face, eyes closed and mouth taking your most sensitive part in his mouth, sucking and kissing until you saw stars that made you cry out so loud nothing would muffle it. It was his hand, his other hand, that was unbuckling his trousers and slowly beginning to jack himself off. Sweet, caring Steven on his knees in front of you, one finger inside you while the other one was wrapped around his cock, working himself to the sight and taste of you.

“Oh fuck Steven! Sh- shit I can’t- fuck!” Your hips start jerking faster in circles and he never misses a beat, matching every movement.

“Taste so g-good.” You feel his words. He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks, kissing in between motions. You know you need to stay quiet, anybody could still be there but - oh fuck it’s too good and you can feel it, feel him everywhere.

“Steven I’m gonna cum. I-ah fu-uck” He hums against you and you catch a glimpse of his face, and a slight smile comes to his eyes as he watches you and it’s all too much. You come without another second, your eyes rolling back with your head as it drops.

Your thighs shake and shut around him on instinct but he makes no move to pull away - just keeps licking and sucking and murmuring sweet praises into your skin. He slides another finger inside of you, his eyes mesmerised by whatever you look like right now, and his mouth leaves you for a second, pressing kisses up and down.

You tug on his hair for him to come back to you - you want to make him feel that good. He doesn’t respond to your subconscious want to please him, just stays on his knees, fingers curling slowly as he keeps you on the edge.

“You think you can give me one more, love?” His tongue swipes at your clit and your hips buck. You have no idea if you can - he’s already got you so mind numbingly high off his touch. But he asks so sweet and touches you all over that you just nod and relax your hand, massaging soothing circles on his scalp. He leans into the touch as his mouth finds you again.

The relief is instant. Only a few seconds from coming down and you were already begging for him to touch you again - trying to keep quiet while also letting him know just how fucking good you feel.

“Holy fuck. S’good.”

“Yeah? Gotta keep quite for me, love. Okay?” You whisper a soft reply, something along the lines of how you’ll try and he just hums, and you can feel his smile against you.

Shit - he’s too good at this. How is he so good at this? This is so far beyond what you ever would have pictured. You spent so much time staring at him, talking to him every chance you got - how the hell did you miss all the quiet confidence? It was almost like it was muscle memory - like he knew what to do on basic instinct.

Everything was shaking and burning hot pleasure was bursting in your stomach all the way up to your throat, and it took everything in you not to scream out. The fist in his hair became less and less soothing and you tugged and pulled on him, desperate for something, although you weren’t sure what. He was giving you everything you’ve ever dreamt of - leave it to Steven to be the embodiment of perfection and not even know it.

“Steven I can’t - fuck I-ah!” You bit the palm of your hand, trying to shut yourself up. Anyone with a key could walk in at any moment. The museum was surely closed by now, but there was still security and Donna with a master key.

“You sound so bloody hot. So good.” Your back arches and slumps forward, both of your hands now holding Stevens head to you, not that he was going anywhere.

“Someone mi- oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuc-I’m-“ Your second orgasm hits you like a truck, slamming into you from all angles and doesn’t stop until it’s wrecked you completely. You try to open your eyes but everything is white, so you just let it take over. Every muscle in your body reacts - electricity catching fire to places you never thought possible.

It was an out of body experience, and you felt like you would never come down. Like it would never end. You didn’t want it to - and Steven was relentless. Not once did he take his mouth off you, tasting the evidence of your first orgasm mixing with the second and devouring every part of it. Every part of you.

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and your body fell back against the metal of the table. The only sensations that brought your mind back was the soft material of Stevens jumper, now soaked between your thighs, and Stevens tongue, now working alone as his palms ran deep lines up and down your legs, calming the shaking muscles.

“You are so beautiful. I want one more. Please - Is that okay?” He was whiny and greedy - and every part of you was drowning, but you let your body talk for you, hands bracing in his hair. A second before he inevitably breaks you for the third time, though, you remember how worked up he was, and how badly you want to make him feel as high as you do.

“Let me - d-do somethi-“ You hiccup, angry at how out of your mind you are feeling right now that you can’t pull yourself up, can’t string together a sentence to tell him how bad you want him to use you, how you want to help him relax.

“You are. This is. Please I-I need this.” You think if he tacked on a please, and said it all whiney like that you would let him do anything - would do anything for him. He pops up off the ground and takes your face in his hands to kiss you deeply. You get a glimpse of him, the slick of his length evidently covered in you. You shiver at the thought - he was using your cum to get himself off. God - it was all so fucking dirty and hot and his mouth left yours and immediately found your clit again and -

“Shit! STEVEN! Oh my fucking go-“ To hell with being quiet. Steven seemingly had the same thought because you heard every little groan and curse and you could feel how hard he was jerking himself off. You only wished you could see it - or better yet do it yourself.

“That’s it. Good girl.” Oh shit. He doesn’t even give you time to think, to absorb what he just said because he’s fucking you so well with his mouth and fingers that your whole brain melts and it’s just him him him and all of a sudden you are right back where you’d started on that edge and he was walking you off it.

“Jesus your so fucking goo- Ah! Please don’t sto- oh god.” You know your going to cum in seconds, and the only thing you want is him. “Come here. Please, Steven.” He keeps his fingers working you, the same incredible pace his mouth was, and you can see the muscles in his forearm flexing as he jumps up on the table and crawls on top of you, stopping so both of his legs were on the outside of your thighs.

From this angle he could still be buried inside of you, but you could wrap your hand around his cock and be the cause of his pleasure - be his undoing. As soon as your hand began to reach up he started to jerk and shift on top of you, and when your thumb brushed over his tip, he sucked in a harsh breath.

“Oh- fuck. S’soft. God yes.” All that tension in his shoulders and back you saw from an hour ago released, and you could see each part of his exposed body react to how you gripped him hard and pumped him faster, matching the pace of his own hand inside of you. “Not gonn- mm. I can’t-“

“It’s okay. Steven, please give it to me. Want it so bad.” You were talking about him - making you cum, having him cum on you, having him in general. You wanted it so badly your head hurt, and you wanted to show him so much more than this, but you were still in a stock room at your work; you had almost forgotten.

You watched as his free hand slid your shirt up, exposing your belly so he wouldn’t ruin your shirt. He fucked into your hand as his other arm continued to build you up to your third orgasm and you were trying so hard to hold back so you could make sure he came with you - because you knew seeing his face would be your undoing.

“Your so perfect. So good I- Oh i’m gonna cum. Fuck I can’t wait I’m g-“ He sucked in a breath and choked on his words, and the last thing he did was scream your name loud enough for everyone to hear as he came, shooting the warmth all over your stomach and thighs.

You were right - seeing his face as he came and hearing all the sighs and gasps with your name in between messed you up so bad. He drove you right into your release and you were speechless - not even a scream could form in your throat as your whole body locked up. You wouldn’t be surprised if you blacked out - but you didn’t care. Everything felt incredible, like you were being hit again and again and you couldn’t stop it but you never wanted to.

You felt the warmth of Steven still above you as his hand finally came out of you. You heard the sound of him sucking his own fingers to get a final taste of you, mumbling something about it not being ‘enough’. You were delirious and didn’t have the strength to sit up, but one hand came up to your stomach to run your fingertips through his cum. You mirrored him and took them into your mouth, moaning at the taste of him. This would have to sedate your curiosity for right now - because when you finally opened your eyes Steven was so fucked out he could hardly sit up. You shimmed out from under him, using his sweater to easily slide in front.

“You okay, Steven?” He looked up, eyes half lidded and a lazy smile on his face. He just kissed you a nodded into it, and the kiss only broke because the two of you were smiling at the same time.

“So pretty. Did I tell you that? Always thought you were so pretty.” Your cheeks warm at his compliment - he just made you cum three times yet him calling you pretty makes you blush.

“Your pretty too.” He laughs and you see the blush mirrored on his own face. He kisses you again, and then uses the sleeve of his already ruined sweater to clean off your stomach. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologise. You can ‘ave all my sweaters. Really.” You have to laugh at how serious his face goes when he says that, and he takes the opportunity to slide you off the table with the sweater, bringing your abandoned clothes to you, holding them so you can step in.

It was the sweetest thing, because your legs were still so shaky that you didn’t think you’d be able to bend down, but you didn’t even have to ask. He just knew - like he just knew how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine with out ever having to ask. It made you feel all fuzzy inside, and you tried to focus on getting your clothes on before analysing everything that happened just now.

“Do you - um. Do you want to come back to my place? I caught the train- it’s not long. Only if you-“

“Yes. Please.” He fixes his belt and tugs the shirt of his head, and you help him pull his head through the hole. You try to smooth out his hair a bit so it’s less obvious what the two of you were just doing - and when you look at him to assess your work he’s just staring at you, that same glazed over look on his face. “Ready?”

“Guess we should face the music then.” He takes your hand and picks up his sweater in the other, and you fiddle with the keys on top of the box, quickly unlocking the door.

You are silently praying that no one heard you - you did have to work here, after all. But there was another part of you that didn’t really mind. You wanted people to know, not the details, of course, but you. wanted them to know he was with you.

You.

That he was holding your hand, and you were going home with him tonight. Probably tomorrow night too. You hoped there would be lots of nights - and days in between.

#steven grant x reader #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant smut #steven grant x oc #steven grant fic #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel tv #marvel

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 2 years

Text

Gods and Monsters

Marc Spector x Goddess!Reader, Steven Grant x Goddess!Reader, eventual Jake Lockley x Goddess!Reader

Part 1

Greek mythology crossover

Part 2

A/N: Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy! Reblogs and feedback is much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts! And let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You were sent on a mission to investigate and put a stop to a string of supernatural activities that had been picked up. Using your gifted senses, your trail eventually leads you to the steps of a museum, where you stumble upon the unexpected.

Warnings: language, violence, sexual themes, plot with smut.

You stared up at the building in front of you, pushing the frames of your dark purple oval sunglasses on top of your head and blowing your gum out in a pink bubble with a loud pop, earning a few disapproving looks from those near you though you payed no mind. The stone pillars of the museum towered over your human form as you squinted against the bright rays of the sun that you were not quite yet adjusted to after being occupied in the darkness of the world below, scrunching your nose in the process as you wondered whyever the readings you picked up on would lead you here. "Huh. I guess this is the spot then, what do you think Aragorn?" You turned your head down to your Doberman who only looked up at you with his curious black eyes and a tilt of his head.

"I’m gonna take that as a yes." You muttered out, giving your dog a scratch behind his ears before instructing him to not attract any attention and to wait out for you till you came back. Tourists and locals bustled past as you walked up the stone steps leading up to the museum, the majority of them much too preoccupied with themselves while a few stared your way, eyeing your expensive black suede ankle boots, Christian Louboutin, known for their iconic red soles. Pulling your claw clip out from the pocket of your dark charcoal grey cashmere coat, you lowered your head to the floor, putting your hair up into a simple updo before heading though the entrance. The artificial lighting and the air conditioning of the place hit you as you entered, a drastic change from the rare case of a sunny day in London that you just came out of. You had been here before, as you had with many of the museums of the world, and yet you always found yourself coming back to them. The museums were like a faint reminder of the past, a distant reminiscence of the days of old where you used to wander the sandy and stoned streets of ancient civilizations. Adjusting the front of your champagne colored button up silk blouse, you strolled through the different showcases of ancient Egyptian artifacts, the block heels of your boots clicking against the terrazzo floor as you walked about, all the while keeping a sharp eye and ear out for anything out of the ordinary.

You eventually stopped at one of the Sarcophaguses on display, your arms folded over your chest as you stared into the large lifeless eyes painted onto the carved resemblance of whoever once lied dead inside. A slight frown slowly made its way on your lips, syncing along with your scrunched nose as you let out a small huff of air. You had been so preoccupied with looking at what the museum had to offer that you had completely forgotten about why you came here in the first place. And the more you stared at the sarcophagus, at those lifeless painted eyes that expressed a bit too much enthusiasm despite the context, you could not help but begrudgingly think about your job back home and how much you needed a break from it. But fortunate for you, your thoughts of work were soon spared as the sudden feeling of someone knocking harshly into you brought you out of your daze. With widened eyes of surprise and annoyance, you turned around to glare at whatever unfortunate soul had risked their existence bumping into you, only to be faced with the top of someone's head of tousled dark brown curls of what looked like one of the museum's employees, judging from the name tag on his jacket, his body currently hunched over from the impact.

"Oh god! I am terribly sorry. Didn see where I was going." The man fumbled out in a quiet voice as he struggled to straighten up while balancing the boxes of merchandise in his hands, only to fail in the process as you watched three of the small figurines spill out from the edge of the cardboard box.

Without thinking, you reached out and caught them before they hit they ground, just before the employee reacted and attempted to grab them as well.

"So sorry! That's eh quite some reflexes you got there." The man muttered out another apology once he saw the figurines held carefully in your hands, straightening up to look at the person who just saved him a scolding from his manager. "Clumsy ole me wouldna have been able to-" Opening his mouth to issue you a thanks on his behalf, the man stopped like a deer in headlights once he saw your face, completely taken aback by your beauty and not being able to hold back the small wow that breathily escaped his parted lips.

“Who’s this.” Marc muttered to himself out in the depths of Steven’s mind, his reflection taking in the sight of you. You looked like you could have been a model, a painting even. And as much as he found you to be attractive, there was something different about you, something that bothered him at the back of his mind. It was as if you were concealing something. Malicious or not, he could not quite tell. But perhaps he was just making something out of nothing. After all, you were a complete stranger, a wealthy one, judging from your articles of clothing and the cashmere Burberry coat on your back, those things cost easily more than a thousand. Something about you gave off an aura of old money, and dare say, even royalty.

You quirked your brow in surprise with a blink of your eyes, your face cast downwards as you stared at the tile floors and wondered if your ears picked up on that right. Straightening your back, you decided to finally take a look at the mess of the man who could not even express his thoughts articulately nor walk in a direct manner, and instead were met with a pair of the deepest brown eyes. It was like looking into windows that overlooked the deepest and densest forest imaginable buried in the middle of fall, where all the leaves transformed into warm shades of browns, deep maroons, and copper. And yet, it was quite different to walking though that forest in the middle of the afternoon. No, his were darker, richer, resembling the quiet hour when day became dusk, and whatever was left of the sun setting over the horizon had instead slipped through the thin cracks between the thicket of trees in illuminant streaks, casting the ancient woods in a glow of the deepest golden amber.

Was he…..was he really just standing there staring at you?

“Steven, quit the staring.”

"Oh god." Steven briefly squeezed his eyes shut once you gave him a questioning look, his cheeks turning slightly red just from the glimpse he received of your eyes, eyes that he thought to be the most mesmerizing he had ever seen, filled with colors words could not describe. It was now he realized he might have stared just a moment too long at a complete stranger and wished the earth would swallow him alive. "Sorry...I eh.....didn see where I was going an uh-"

"..............No need to apologize." You sighed, giving the man a polite smile as you held up the gift shop figurines, your cold demeanor scarcely softening into a mixture of sympathy and pity. "Wouldn't want you to drop these."

"Yeh uh, thanks for that." The man clutched the boxes closer to his chest as he took another look at them. "That's uh-"

"Isis." You answered, the faintest smile on your face as you placed the figurines back in the box. "The Egyptian goddess of fertility, magic, healing and death."

Steven stared at you in wonder, enamored by the sound of your voice. It was warm and ethereal and even a bit husky; a combination of velvety and smokey, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa of the deepest and richest dark chocolate, with notes of caramel and cinnamon. In fact, the poor man was so caught up in your presence that he almost didn't take in a single word you had said.

“Steven…...”

“..........right. Isis yeh....goddess of magic. I eh....I see you're lookin at a sarcophagus. Pretty neat eh?'

“What are you doing? Steven.” Marc shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought the man was going to go on one of his endless rambles of Egyptology.

".....Lithos sarkophagos."

“Lithos what?”

"Sorry?" Steven furrowed his brows, not understanding a single word you said.

"Lithos sarkophagos." You turned back to face the display with a blank expression, your hand stuffed into the pocket of your black trousers while the fingers of your right hand absentmindedly played with the smooth coolness of your gold tetradrachm pendant. "You know, the original Greek term meaning flesh-eating stone."

"Right." Steven blinked in surprise, staggered by the fact that you knew such a small detail but more so that you were sharing it with a man such as him. And though he tried so hard to find a correct knowledgeable response to add in to your little bit of insight, Steven found himself unable to focus as he became captivated by your perfume which hung perfectly to your body. He almost couldn't describe it but you smelled of many things like burnt sage and herbs, that distinguishable scent of dragon's blood, a field of lilacs under a moonlit night, ancient amber, dark aged patchouli, toasted almonds, ghostly white musk and a hint of absinthe and spices like clove and cinnamon. Yet there was something else, another scent that he could not quite place a finger on, a scent that slightly overpowered and stood out from the rest; wisteria and deadly nightshade. You smelled absolutely divine, as if he had just stepped into one of those metaphysical shops and he could not help but be drawn to you, wanting to unravel the cloak of mystery that embodied you and get to know everything there was to know as to who you were.

“Steven wha-are you smelling her?”

Forcing himself out of his thoughts, Steven cleared his throat, eventually finding the words to say. "Right. Ehm because of eh...the limestone was thought to uh help with the decomposition of the bodies."

"You know your history. Not bad." You gave the man a smirk, amused at the way he blushed under your gaze. "What're you doing hauling merchandise around anyways? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, guiding the guests around the museum or something?"

"Oh uh..." Steven looked away bashfully, his eyes cast downwards as his face became almost unbearably hot, afraid to look into your eyes or else he would melt into a puddle right at your feet. Not only did he find your eyes to be beautiful and hypnotic, but they were even a bit intimidating, in a way where it felt as if you could see straight into his soul and pluck out his deepest darkest secrets. He could not figure out what it was about you that made him feel small, was it your heels or just your posture in general that made you appear much larger than everyone else around you. Or were you just intimidating in general?. “Oh um, I'm not the tour guide."

"You're not?" You turned to face him, your arms folded across your chest as you looked him over bemusedly.

"Nope." Steven gave you a smile of disappointment. "I'm afraid not."

"Hm. It's a shame really. I feel like you’d do a decent job. So, you got a name?"

“Pardon?”

“Your name. They still use names nowadays don't they, or is that like a thing of the past.”

“My-my name?” Steven stuttered as he unconsciously tightened his grip on the boxes, his veins appearing from beneath the skin of his hands in lines of faint teal, his entire form frozen in shock with the fact that you would even bother to ask for his name. Mostly everyone brushed it off and referred to him however they liked, but you, god, a woman of your league wanted to know his name, the name of Steven bloody Grant. The poor fellow began to question his reality, wondering if this was some sort of dream or if you were just toying with him.

“Christ Steven. Pull yourself together.”

"...........I'm eh Steven. Steven with a V. I eh...work at the gift shop."

Gods, you really did not know how to feel about this one. And yet, there was something about him.

"Steven." You let his name play on your tongue as if you were tasting a new flavor of a decadent dessert, not being able to help the devilish smirk that played itself upon your lips from the way he ever so slightly shuddered at the sound of you saying his name. You were enjoying this far too much for your own good, relishing in the way he was around you as if you had some hold over him. Truth was, Steven was completely bewitched by you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even though he so openly failed to hide it. He was a stark difference to most of the mortal men you had come across, many of them whom you thought to be foolishly bold for attempting to woo you much less approach you. Most of the time you just found them to be downright cocky and disgusting, a pathetic specimen of the male human species. But to see a man completely succumb to your very being and fold himself just by the direction of your gaze was enough to have you keen with interest and dare say, even aroused. "Hm, a bit basic really, but I suppose the name suits you. My friends call me Kate for short, that’s if I had any. But you can call me y/n."

“Did she just…….is she flirting?” Marc scrunched his nose, not sure whether you were flirting or being insulting at the same time.

"It's uh.....a pleasure to meet you y/n." Steven gave you a smile that paired almost pleasingly with the soft chuckle that followed it. "I'd eh shake your hand n all but I've got my hands quite full." His eyes followed your hands as you ran your perfectly manicured fingers delicately across your collarbone, your almond shaped fingernails grazing across the skin there before adjusting the collar of your blouse that lay unbuttoned at the top, coming to a close just at the top valley of your breasts. The man began to wonder how your hands felt, from the grooves of your knuckles down to the slenderness of your fingers that looked like they were carved by none other than Michelangelo himself. And as Steven pondered on the thought, he believed that your whole essence resembled one of the marble statues sculpted by the hands of Gian Lorenzo Bernini, from the arch of your brows, to the long curl of your thick lashes, to the hook of your nose, right down to the soft curves of your tinted lips. It was as if you were the most beautiful thing out of everything that sat in the museum. And as you moved your hand down to rest in the pocket of your coat, Steven caught the glint of the silver ring that nestled on your finger; a round moonstone in the middle with silver crescent moons on either side of the stone, wrapped around by silver vines that formed the band. “That’s uh….that’s a nice ring. Moonstone, is it?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, bringing your hand up to display the ring, the moonstone catching the light in hues of whites, pale azures, and periwinkles. “It’s my favorite stone.”

“So uh. You from around here?"

"Oof, what gave it away, my accent?" You let out a sarcastic tone with a playful roll of your eyes.

"I eh....I suppose so, you do have a bit of an accent there now that you mention it." Steven smiled shyly.

"Steven we have work to do."

"Well I guess you could say I’m a long ways from home. I’m originally from....Athens, but I live in Bordeaux."

"Oh. That must be nice, I’ve uh never been to Greece.” Steven ignored Marc with a tight jaw. “Just been in London my whole life really, I'm afraid. What uh, what made you move to France?"

"I work in Paris actually. I'm a curator of Greek Antiquities for the Louvre."

"Oh!” Steven widened his eyes upon hearing your profession, not being able to help the curiosity that overtook him as he wondered about how many old and ancient artifacts you had come across and handled with your own hands. "You're a curator? I had a bit of a hunch you were…a historian of some sort. That must be fun yeh? Being surrounded by relics belonging to civilizations much older than yourself."

“Okay, Steven, tone down the excitement yeah?”

Ha. Older than yourself. If only he knew.

"Riiight........yeah. Something like that." You gave a forced smile as you reflected on your age. "I work with a close friend of mine so....she helps keep me company during my day job."

"Day job? Do you like....have a separate job at night?"

"Sort of."

"Oh? What-what do you do?"

“You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” You squinted at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Oh ehm…s-sorry I eh didn mean to-“ Steven stuttered as he tried to form an apology, thinking that he might have offended you in some way. Truth was, he was completely smitten with the shape of your lips. And the way they curled into a smirk was enough to get him weak in the knees.

“Relax, I’m just messing with ya.”

“Oh…um-“

“But yeah, you don’t wanna know.” You let out a short sarcastic laugh. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Oh my god." Marc's voice echoed in Steven's mind. "Is she a str-"

"Stop it Marc." Steven hissed under his breath, his face turning the brightest shade of red at the thought that there was a possibility that was your choice of occupation at night.

You gave Steven a curious look at the way he just acted, your eyes carefully wandering over his form as if he were some puzzle that you had yet to solve, a challenge for you to piece together. This one was peculiar.

"No, of course he wouldn't believe you. What’re you gonna tell him, that you work in the land of the dead and keep an inventory of dead people and lead them on a hiking trail to the underworld? He'd think you were a lunatic." You heard someone else say, a sarcastic voice that you recognized all too well.

"You didn't hear that did you?" You casually glanced around in response, worried that the man in question suddenly appeared on Earth and that the mortals would see him and freak out like they had done many times before, a mess that you had to clean up. Your eyes darted between each person as you tried to find the owner of the voice only to see him nowhere in sight. He was in your head instead. You hated it when he did that.

“Wait…did she? No, that’s not possible.” Marc watched you carefully from the reflection of the glass case that held the Sarcophagus, his eyes intent on your face is if trying to figure you out. “……….Something’s not right about her. Steven-“

"Uh no. No, I didn't hear anything." Steven shook his head with the slightest panic, thinking for some reason that you somehow heard Marc as he eyed your expression curiously.

“Never mind. It was probably just some bug.”

“Did you just refer to me as an insect?!”

“Stay out of my head.” You hissed mentally, your jaw clenching at the fact that he had the nerve to come down to meddle in your affairs.

Steven tilted his head at you, confusion written in his eyes at your statement. “….sorry…a bug?”

“You’re wasting valuable time. Hurry up!”

“Stevie!” A blonde woman who looked to be his manager called out to him, her hands placed at her hips and an irritated expression on her face. “The bloody hell are you doing? Your job is to work at the register and sell merchandise yeh, not trouble the guests and talk their ears off.”

“Oh it’s okay, really. He’s not bothering me at all. ” You stepped in only to be ignored by the woman.

Did she just? Oh hells no.

“Ah ah ah. I know what you’re thinking. And as interesting it will be, DON’T.”

You rolled your eyes in disappointment, wishing you could use just one tiny little flick of your wrist.

“It’s..it’s Steven, not Stevie.” Steven replied with a tight lipped smile, nodding towards his name tag that was pinned on the front pocket of his gray jacket. “Says it right there.”

“Well I don’ care yeh. Now get over here an’ do your job instead of wastin’ company time.”

Huh. She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Well.” You breathed out. “She seems like a fun bunch.”

“Sorry bout that.” Steven grimaced a tad bit. “Can’t really complain now can I. At least I get to work in a place like this one.” A sigh escaped Steven’s lips, his shoulders dropping as he let out an awkward chuckle, wishing you didn’t have to see that interaction with his boss. He wished he was able to stick around more, not just to be in your captivating presence but to also get to know you better. “Well uh, as much as I’d love to uh…..speak of ancient relics, I betta get going. It was eh…it was nice meeting you y/n.”

“It was nice meeting you as well Steven.” You gave a soft smile, watching him give you an awkward nod before heading off. The smile on your lips quickly disappeared after noticing someone step up beside you, recognizing that all too familiar and distinct cologne of pepper and spices, smoke, tobacco, aged leather, oak moss, cypress, opium, a slight hint of wolfsbane, and the sweet scent of pomegranates that lingered from being around his wife.

“Gods that was painful to watch, and I live in a place surrounded by dead people.” He spoke from beside you, his voice deep and toneless, much like his eyes of the deepest darkest burnt umber that pierced through the mortals around him. There were times you swore his irises were just black, darkened to a point where not even light could reach them.

“Well speak of the devil. Hades.” You turned to give the tall man a forced bitter grin.

“Hekate.” The man stared straight ahead at the sarcophagus just as you had done, his hands folded behind him as he lifted his chin. You had always thought Hades to be the handsomer of the gods, form his tall and strong frame to his his raven curls that fell down below his sharp jaw, to the dark angled brows that paired well with his dark and intimidating eyes and the small scar that ran down his brow. But of course, his appearance held no real significance to your feelings, he was your friend more than anything, no matter how many times he managed to vex you.

“You’ve got some balls coming down here and interrupting me in the middle of my work. Oh and also, please tell me you didn’t just appear here out of the blue in a puff of smoke like you usually do.”

“Oh please Hekate.” Hades rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Take the NOT out of the last statement and you’ll find yourself an honest man.”

“Enough with the sass Hekate.“

“Who? Me?” You scoffed, faking a offended expression, throwing your hands over your chest in a mocking manner before inspecting your nails. “You’re the drama. Not me.”

“Oh please. You practically wear that term as your crown.” Hades rolled his eyes, a bit fed up with your attitude despite having dealt with it for thousands of years.

“Shut up before I steal your wife.”

Hades widened his eyes at your statement. He knew you would never do such a thing. But it was the fact that you could get away with doing it if you ever decided to that made his face warm.

The two of you scowled at each other mid argument, your fists and your jaws clenched in synchronization and your eyes nearly blazing in flames until one of the humans bumped into you, causing you both to glare at the person. “Watch it!” You both hissed at the stranger the same time, watching him widen his eyes and scuttle away. With narrowed eyes and flared nostrils, you faced each other once more to resume your little quarrel.

“Don’t you have better things to do like, you know, pestering the dead instead of pestering me.“ You smiled sarcastically.

“I was just checking up on the situation at hand.”

“Sorry what? Situation at hand? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“You know what I speak of. The situation regarding the supernatural activity that was picked up.”

“Yeah yeah supernatural hocus pocus.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hekate-“ Hades hissed between his gritted teeth.

“Oh, you mean the job you specifically sent ME to do since it’s MY expertise. Don’t you trust me to do my own job? The same job that I have done since basically the dawn of the human species?”

“Well yes-“

“Then what?”

“The readings Hekate.”

“Yeah, I know that. Why do you think I’m here genius.”

“Then why were you making bedroom eyes.” Hades stared at you blankly, the lids of his eyes lowered to express his skepticism.

“I was not making bedroom eyes.” You scoffed with a sharp roll of your eyes.

“Then what in the pits of Tartarus was all that.” Hades gestured dramatically.

“Improvising.”

“Improvising?” Hades cocked his head back, his loose curls bouncing as he did so. “You were flirting with none other than a mortal. M-o-r-t-a-l. Mortal.”

“Yeah mortal, I get it. I know how to identify species considering I spend more time here than you. Look, Hades, I know what I’m doing, alright. I’ve been doing this for what, a couple thousands of years? Relax, I'm a big tough girl. I tie my own sandals and everything.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “Go get a cocktail or something. Clear your head, and let me do my job.”

“Then what does the mortal have to do with this?”

“Well I think he has SOMETHING to do with all this.”

Hades furrowed his thick dark angled brows at your statement before turning to look at Steven, watching the man who stood behind the counter nearly trip over himself as he fumbled with more boxes of merchandise.

“This is a joke right.”

“Nope.”

“You’re kidding.” Hades turned to you with a wtf expression, finding it hard to believe that a mortal such as him would hold any correlation to the supernatural activity that had been going on.

“I’m not.”

“Him?” Hades scrunched his nose as he regarded Steven with slight distaste. “But he’s so………………pathetic.”

“Even more to be suspicious about.” You looked over to observe Steven with Hades, returning the small wave he just sent you from behind the counter and watching the way his smile ever so slightly dropped after noticing Hades. “His energy is all off. I can feel it all around him.”

“Well you better be right about that.”

“Hey, when have I ever been wrong?”

“I’m aware.” Hades sighed as he turned back to you, his eyes darkening at a thought. “You’re my right hand Hekate, I trust your judgment. Zeus on the other hand, well, you know how he can be.”

“I know.” Your eyes darkened at the mention of Zeus, knowing well just how angry he can be at the smallest of mistakes and what it is like to be on the receiving end of that anger. You had been there before, and it is a place you would never like to experience ever again.

“The last thing we need is Zeus coming down here with that temper of his and making a mess of things.” Hades added.

“Tell me about it.”

“So what will you do?”

“I have a plan.” I think, you added to yourself.

“Remember.” Hades put his hand on your shoulder, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Do what you must.”

“No matter the cost.” You whispered back, your mind drawn to the cold metal of your dagger that sat concealed at your back as you watched Hades walk out the entrance of the building, his form disappearing out of sight. With pursed lips and thoughts of different strategies that filled your mind, you reached into your pocket to pull out your phone, your thumb hovering over the call button of one of your contacts as you contemplated your decision. Pressing the button, you lifted your phone to your ear, listening to the ringing until a woman’s voice answered on the other end. “Hey, Diana? I need a favor.”

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